Madness

by Kailee Reese Samuels

“I gotta take you home, girl.”

  The ends of my fingertips ease out and curl over his. “That would be wonderful! I could meet your mother!”

  “Do. Not. Bring. Up. My. Mother.” I giggle as he nuzzles my neck and nips at my earlobe. “Will you come on my dick, baby?”

  I smile as he releases one of my hands, and I rest my fingers on the back of his neck. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

  His achingly slow dance builds the sweltering pressure with every strum and pulse of his body matching mine. “Shit, you’re so goddamned beautiful.”

  I blink back the tears as he makes sweet love to my vessel, and his lust seizes me. Twig knows how to increase the tension and work the resistance. And I welcome his training…his taking…his torture.

  He hovers up and leans back on his knees, pulling my nimble flesh to his. I’m sitting on his lap as he thrusts from below. His hands skid over my breasts, and his fingers capture my nipples. I pinch my lip hard between my teeth, and he brushes his lips along my neck. “Oh, shit!”

  “You’re going to...”

  “Yes,” I confide, falling against his chest without an ounce of fight left in me. “How do you know?”

  “I can feel how wet you’re getting,” he mutters, laying claim to me. “And how tight your pussy is sucking on my cock.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m never going to leave you,” he vows, holding onto me. “I didn’t leave you at the cliff; you left me.”

  “I know,” I slowly breathe. “You should punish me for that.”

  “I will, in time, but not yet,” he informs, dipping his fingers between my slit and briskly rubbing my clit. “Right now, you’re going to come for me.”

  “Yes...shit...yes...I am!” I scream out, bucking against his body, as he spews hard inside of me. His grip is so tight, and the only straightjacket I’ll ever need. He’s got me—all of me—and with his devout faith, I will find me.

  He groans, “Fuck, ride it, baby.”

  I stay silent for a moment while we recover, but he remains nestled inside of me. “That was...”

  “Fucking incredible!”

  “Yeah,” I reply, smiling. “Just like you.”

  “It’s just so unlike me.” He lays on the table, taking me with him. “And I cannot believe I’m doing this.”

  “... What?”

  “Falling in love with you.”

  “There was no way to stop it,” I say as he cradles me in his arms. “We were fated from the start.” I kiss his lips and place my hand on his chest. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else or with anyone else. I am sorry if I’ve hurt you.”

  “You haven’t,” he assures grinning. “I’m just a grumbly old goat.”

  “You’re not old,” I insist, trailing my fingers down to his navel. His eyes close, but his smile remains. “You’re just seasoned.”

  “… Seasoned?”

  “Uh, huh…” I giggle, carefully slipping my hand lower. I avoid touching his cock as I massage his thigh.

  His eyes peer down at me. “You want more?”

  “I will always want more of you.”

  “I have to take you to the castle,” he reminds. “And we have to convince The Queen to release Sig.”

  “I know,” I whisper, bringing my hand up from his leg to hold his hand. “I have no clothes.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “Where?” I ask with a shocked gaze as he sits up and whistles loud. I note the bluish-green glowing eyes in the distance, coming closer to us. “Twig?”

  “Calm down.”

  The Spider crawls into view, carrying a black and white box on her back. “Is she…yours?”

  “I just keep Aurélie trained,” he replies. “She is owned by Sig and The Mistress.”

  With a scrutinizing, yet fearful stare, I reply, “I see.”

  “She looks glorious in a web.”

  “I can only imagine the giant, table-sized spider having a lair, just perfect for a girl to get strung up in.”

  “You’d be amazed.” He flirtatiously winks with a shit-eating grin. Taking the box, he sets it on the table as I eye her long legs flicking into the air.

  “She’s creepy.”

  “Nah,” he passively says, setting out my clothes. “You just have an unnatural fear of being tied up.”

  “I have a fear of being bitten by those fangs!”

  He smiles wide. “I have teeth too.”

  Understanding his point, I give the nod. Humans aren’t safe. They are as deadly and dangerous as they come. Twig is bound and determined to realign my thinking in many regards. “Fair enough.”

  “I picked this out. I hope you like it.” Holding up the silken blue dress, he asks, “What do you think?”

  My fingers touch the exquisite fabric. The piece looks exotic and luxurious, fit for royalty. “It’s incredible,” I mutter, astonished at his taste. “Can you dress me daily?”

  He smirks. “I can do many things.”

  After washing in the nearby river, Twig dressed me. He even twisted my hair up with a twig…talk about a feeling of possession. The azure gown was the color of his eyes, and the tautness of the cut cinched around my curves, perfectly defining my silhouette. “You look fucking incredible!”

  “I am going into a war, Twig,” I whisper, slightly panicked. “There will be losses in the battle.”

  “There are no guarantees.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “You’re going to try and talk with The Queen first.”

  “To see if she will relinquish control of my life?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And if she says no?” I ask as he shoves on his white sneakers, which aren’t quite white anymore. “Then what?”

  “You have the infantry of The Merrymen at your complete disposal.”

  “And who will run these troops of mine?” I quiz in disbelief. “Because I am nothing more than a teenager.”

  His eyes shift like a fulcrum. “Don’t say it like that when I am having the nasty thoughts I am.”

  “You want to tell me about it?” I inch up to him. “Do we need to have a quickie before our departure? Maybe put a cum stain on the ass of this dress?”

  “Baby,” he oozes a relaxed vibe. “You don’t need any more of a target on that ass than it already has.”

  “Next thing I know, you’ll want to mark up my tramp stamp with crosshairs.”

  “Nah, angel wings,” he snarls, gripping my hand. “Come on.”

  “Are we walking?”

  He rolls his eyes as we approach the clearing, and I spot four black gryphons with red harnesses. “Holy shit!” I am in awe of their size and majestic nature. “Why didn’t we just fly the first time?”

  His finger curls beneath my chin. “Because I wanted to get to know you.”

  My lungs briefly stop working as the odd reality of the dream excites my spirit. “I can’t believe this is happening to me,” I mutter, following his lead to the enormous bird. “Can we ride together?”

  “Yes. And before you ask,” he confirms, grabbing the reins. “You’re riding bitch, sweet ass.”

  With a blush rising on my cheeks, I grin. “I would assume so considering I have no fucking clue where we’re going.”

  “You’ll know where you’re going as soon as I get him up.”

  I giggle and whisper, “That could be said about many things.”

  “I’m in so much fucking trouble with you.”

  He helps me onto the back of the gryphon. “You keep saying that.”

  He mounts and glances over his shoulder. “Because it’s the truth. Hold on tight.”

  We lift off—up, up, up—and I squeal, “Shit!” I cling to Twig like he’s my escort to the heavens, and The Darkland is just a stop along our route. I gaze out at the foggy island terrain and know this place is mine.

  In the distance, I smile at the castle. I will rule with leniency because The Queen has oppressed the citizens for far too long. “I don’t want ever to
stop.”

  “So, don’t,” he suggests. “Just keep believing in yourself.”

  My bleak outlook conquers thoughts of a happy ending. “What if something happens to you or me?”

  “I won’t let that happen,” he promises, guiding the bird to my new home. “These lands are yours, not hers. Take them. Own them. Claim them.”

  I want to say something more, but I know the words won’t do justice to the possible confrontation I may face. It isn’t Twig’s head on the line; it’s mine. Even with The Merrymen’s defense, we could have significant losses, and I must be willing to accept those if I want to wage war for the kingdom that rightfully belongs to me.

  He senses my hesitation and casts a concerned glance at me. I wrap my arms around him tighter because I want to hold onto this moment—where it’s just Twig and me—for all eternity.

  They can’t touch us. They can’t hurt us. They can’t diminish my abilities because of an accident. They can’t make me feel not good enough. I can do this and earn their respect.

  Failure isn’t an option.

  If I’m unsuccessful in ousting The Queen, then I don’t know what happens. But the one thing I do know, I will never be whole. I need to make amends and heal the wounds of the past. And she, alone, guards the gate to my future.

  And she won’t go down easy.

  Because what Queen would?

  We smoothly land in the courtyard of the castle, and the drawbridge to the main gate lowers. A few of her soldiers are busy painting over the white and black graffiti marked along the red walls. “Did The Merrymen do this?”

  “We need our freedom,” Twig contends as I twitch with uncertainty. “It’s important that people are informed.”

  “Two wrongs don’t make it right.”

  “Correct, but sometimes…you got to play dirty.”

  I glance away, refusing to quibble with him now. Striding towards the open gate, I feel his hand grab mine. “Ellison, don’t go like this.”

  “Like what? Doubting your intentions? Worrying about The Merrymen and their capabilities?”

  He grips the bridge of his nose. “I’m all in, babygirl.”

  “… But whose side are you on?”

  “Yours,” he vows with pleading blue eyes that I want to melt into. “Forever.”

  “I have to go.” I shy away, distraught by the knowledge of their underhanded game. “Be safe.”

  Without even a goodbye kiss, I walk away and prepare to meet with The Queen. Every step is heavier than the last, burgeoning with remorse. I understand this may be the death of me.

  Two soldiers clench my bare elbows as I hastily turn back to Twig, only to see the eyes of the monster he was in the forest. His intense gaze sullies the notion of a sweet romance; he’s nothing more than an outlaw from the wrong side of the tracks.

  Just what Maddy always warned me about.

  In their grasp, I panic and flinch as the door slams behind me. I shouldn’t have entered the grounds without Twig by my side. He’s right—I am young and stupid and a hot fucking mess.

  I can’t do this.

  I just can’t.

  The guards release my arms as I step foot in the spacious garden. The high society dance and drink without care. They have no idea what is about to occur.

  With red roses lining the perimeter, I check the slackers and loiterers staying out of the fray. I note the presence of a man I recognize.

  “Whitman Dare!”

  Lifting his goblet of wine, he chuckles with a drunken delight. “You should never trust a hare!”

  “You’re evil,” I hiss, knowing he was behind all of this. “Pure evil.”

  “About as bad as my brother.”

  With her hunky, leather-clad soldiers lined up on either side of the main path, I notice two elevated wooden stands. They are heavily guarded.

  On one side, I spot The Mistress, untethered. And on the other, I gasp at the sight of Sig. His olive skin displays the hellish mistreatment with deep bruises and infected bloodied cuts. He’s cuffed to a rack and seems to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

  “We will begin the ceremony now!” The Queen proudly announces, prancing her butt down the aisle with Sisyphus Mott by her side. She glares at Sig and declares, “He’s going to lose his head!”

  The uproarious crowd cheers as the time dwindles.

  So much noise...

  So much noise…clocks ticking…cards flying…

  I glare at Whitman. “You bastard!”

  “Calm down,” he soothes. “He’ll lose his nuts and watch The Mistress perish. It will be a helluva good time!” He flicks his tongue out like a snake.

  “I hate you!”

  His warped, victorious laughter is all I can hear. “Best be careful who you give your mind to, in the future, Lyssa.”

  Ignoring his words, I run as fast as I can to The Queen. Surrounded by her slaves, she’s larger than life as I curiously tilt my head and scream, “… Mathison?”

  “WHO WERE YOU EXPECTING?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer, utterly dumbfounded. Her scantily clad outfit disturbs my common sense. By my recollection, she was prim and proper, the ideal daughter. “Why the fuck do you look like a tramp who has had every dick in the joint?”

  “Because I am,” she lures with a toss of her hair. “Unless you count the ones I’ve…cut.”

  Under my breath, I accuse, “You fed me lies for years.”

  “And you swallowed them,” she sasses, marching to Sig’s platform. Beneath the black eye and split lip, he pops his jaw with rage. “Just like I will savor the fine delicacy of his nuts.”

  9

  Heirloom Hearts

  “You, nasty bitch!” I lunge for her—my sister, the wicked cunt of The Darkland—but two of the buff boys stop my impending assault. “If you touch him, I swear, I will fucking kill you again!”

  “How fabulous!” She snidely waves. “I won’t kill you, Lyssa, but all of The Merrymen are mine!”

  Several pumped-up goons bring in the rest of the boys, including Twig. His confidence shines and spotlights his cocky arrogance.

  We aren’t getting out of this.

  Not this time.

  I hysterically scream, drawing a commotion, as The Mistress cries, “Do something! You’re all crazy! Help us! Someone!”

  “There will be silence in my garden!” The Queen commands, controlling her adoring fans and grabbing the serrated scimitar. “Or it won’t just be the family jewels.”

  “Don’t do this, Maddy!” I plead, understanding I cannot reason with the insane.

  The Mistress’ howls echo through the walls as she loses her mind to the fear. I cannot blame her; I would be the same way. “Please don’t kill my lover!”

  “He is guilty of committing freakish carnal sins outside of the castle,” The Queen proclaims. “And the punishment is castration for these crimes!”

  “Stop!” The Mistress yells as the guards restrain her arms. “He only did those things because I consented to them! He would never have done them on his own. I like to be whipped! And flogged! And spanked...with his bare hand while he’s screwing my ass sixty-nine ways to Sunday.”

  The crowd gawks with unease and hushed rumormongering.

  I call bullshit on him not doing it on his own.

  But maybe my sister will have a momentary lapse and succumb to absolute ignorance. I peer at The Merrymen, their wrists bound together with thick, heavy chains. They rattle with every move. Twig is at the end, and I haven’t decided if—strategically—that is the best or worst place.

  “Kill her!”

  “No!” Sig menacingly roars, coming to life with a vehement fight. “You can take all her boys and me, but you must not kill The Mistress.”

  The Queen paces back and forth, and back and forth again, upon the platform. “… Why?”

  “Because she is an innocent,” Sig pleads with a dreadful gaze as he tries to save the band of misfits from extinction. “She never would have d
one any of the things without my instigation.”

  “Yeah,” Zig eagerly adds, standing next to Twig. “Like the time we all got to play dipdick…”

  Twig elbows him in the kidney. “Not. Now.”

  Sadness showers over his expression. “Sorry.”

  Eyeing the sexy pair of stilettos on my sister, I remember his words:

  “Good shoes on an evil bitch, and you’ll trigger my madness.”

  “You,” The Queen says, pointing to Twig. “Who are you?”

  The chains scrape over the rocks as he steps forward. “I am the man you’ve always dreamed of, M’lady.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she says with a smile as the calm conversation eases the tension, and I hope we can reason with the vermin my sister has become. “Such pretty platinum hair you have.” She grins. “Strip him.”

  The Mistress gives an evil eye. “I hate you! You are taking one! Don’t take two!”

  “They all hate me, dear,” she conveys, using her over-the-top diva charm. “That’s why I am The Queen.” She stops to consider Sig’s package and picks up his flaccid beast in her hand. “Deviant.”

  “Fuck you.” He snarls and spits in her face. “Whore.”

  A guard hands her a handkerchief as she blots her cheek, embarrassment flusters her every move. Everything must be perfect. I’m sure if a drop of semen ever touched her skin, she’d feel the need to scrub it until she bled.

  Just like the one time, she got a minuscule stain from a cherry on her Sunday-go-to-meeting dress. We were half an hour late for the sermon so that Maddy could shower and change. She was ridiculous.

  She is ridiculous.

  And I’d been listening to her…for years.

  “Let’s see…” She touches her finger to her cheek in thought. “How about I make you fuck little Lyssa in front of your Mistress?”

  Sig bites his lip, growing more irritated by the minute as he grumbles, “Would it turn you on?”

  “No, but it would hurt her,” she cattily replies, her intention clear. Aiming the sword at The Mistress, she barks, “Wouldn’t it, though? How lovely that would be!”

  “Stop this!” The Mistress demands, glancing between Twig and Sig. “Please! What you’re doing is wrong! You won’t allow our presence in the kingdom for your fetish festivals, and we’re not allowed to engage in our own. If we lick your boots and praise your name, then our sins are overlooked. It’s a double standard.”