Feyness

by E. S. Carter

  Contradictions; isn’t the world full of them.

  I walk towards the front doors of the Lodge, and they swing wide without me even having to open them. Grim stands before me, a new pet at his feet. She’s not blonde.

  He smiles in that manic way of his that shows his perfect white teeth and sharp incisors.

  “This one isn’t yours. Don’t get your pretty little knickers in a twist. I’ve set the playroom up as you asked.”

  I stride past them both, peeling my leathers off as I go.

  “How many days will Anne be away for?” I call out as I approach the locked door to the dungeon.

  “She returns on Sunday, so three days from now. Make the most of it, because she’s bringing everyone from the sanctuary with her. This place will be like a halfway house for waifs and strays.”

  Great.

  Cole’s legacy.

  He turned Hunter Lodge into a safe haven for any child we’ve rescued from the clutches of paedophiles or traffickers over the last ten years. No one but Grim, Anne and I know that this is what happened to any of the children we found in captivity. Since the day Cole killed our father and took over as head of the Hunters, this had been his quest. When Alec appointed him as his most loyal killer, Cole used the position to plant evidence of theft or wrongdoing on dozens of Red Order members and employees, just so that Alec would send him in to collect the repayment.

  He always took.

  He always saved.

  Dozens of lives saved were owed to my brother and even more deaths, but he only took from those deserving of his wrath. His beast liked to kill, but his tastes were singular and only for evil. Cole Hunter never spilled innocent blood.

  He may have been a monster, a man who lived in shadows but he lived by his own set of morals, and he forced those morals on me.

  Now it was my turn to find my own.

  I unbolt the door in front of me before pushing the leathers over my ankles and dropping them to the floor. Naked, I descend the steps to the playroom below.

  This place was once our hell. The room father threw us in and deprived us of life. The one where I curled up against the rotting corpse of our mother for days and sobbed into her blood soaked skin.

  This was the room where Cole promised me vengeance.

  Now it’s the place where we share the exploration of our demons. Well, it used to be Cole and me, now I have to settle for Grim and his barbaric predilections.

  The air always smells the same down here. Even after all these years, the taste of blood sits heavy on my tongue. Likely because blood still gets spilled, the only difference being, my playmates are consensual. They want to go up against my monster; they want to feel his teeth tearing at their flesh.

  As I step off the last stair, I flick on the single, bare light bulb and illuminate the vast space.

  A smile pulls at my mouth, my cock hardening instantly.

  Three beautiful blondes, as per my request, are bound on various apparatus throughout the room.

  Walking to my workbench, I scan over my tools and select my favourite before I spin around slowly to survey my pets. With which one to start?

  “Who wants to beg first?”

  Whimpers escape the bound and gagged girls, and I finally let my grin break free.

  “No need to be greedy, we have days, my pets. Days and days.”

  Grim

  “Use your teeth. Bite it, bitch. Bite it fucking hard.”

  The brunette at my feet obliges and sinks her pearly whites into the soft skin at the root of my cock just as my crown hits the back of her throat. She gags and bites down instantaneously and I explode with a roar, coating her throat with my cum and her lips with my blood.

  I grip her hair in my fist and yank her head off my dick.

  Wide watery eyes stare up at me while the remnants of my ejaculation and the redness of my blood spills down her chin mixing with her saliva.

  Fuck. That’s a pretty sight. So pretty that my spent dick twitches back to life, craving yet another release.

  She whimpers as I use the fist full of her hair to drag her to standing.

  “We’ll finish this later, I have some business to take care of, so be a good little bitch and get cleaned up in my room.”

  She sashays away. Her firm rump calling to me with each sway of her hips. Fucking cock tease. Let’s see how she likes it when I fuck her arse dry in a couple of hours’ time.

  With Luke locked in his dungeon, likely to be there for the next few days and the absence of Cole, I find myself at a loss, despite my new role of ‘executioner’ within The Red Order.

  This was Cole’s previous role as given to him by Alec Craven, and since they are both gone it has passed down to me.

  I’m not gonna lie, I am made for it. The trouble is I have to reign in my ways and await orders more than ever before. The fun is beginning to leech out of it, and it’s turning into a bit of a buzz kill.

  So, with Luke busy, I’m going off the grid. I know plenty of places where those that deserve to die will hide, and I need this. I need a free kill. I need to destroy someone of my choosing, not theirs.

  I haven’t always lived at Hunter Lodge; I moved in a few days after the Craven Hall massacre. Luke needed my help to contain The Red Order and to maintain control. I owed him that. I owed the Hunters everything. So the choice was a simple one.

  For the last two months, I’ve been at Luke’s beck and call. I don’t mind, seriously, but with him finally taking a breather, one he needs before he sheds his skin in front of the entire world, it’s time for me to shed mine.

  I cruise from Hunter Lodge in my old faithful, Frank Sinatra crooning from the only state of the art equipment in my car – the stereo, and head towards the bowels of London.

  It doesn’t take long to get to my destination, a tip-off I received from a mutual friend.

  Pulling up outside the old warehouse, I kill the engine and debate on casing the joint or saying ‘Fuck it’ and walking straight through the front doors.

  ‘Fuck it’ wins and I lock up my only treasured possession, but not before I grab my tool belt from the boot.

  I wrap the butter-soft leather around my waist, and my fingers can’t help but caress the cold metal implements and the serrated edges of my favourite friends.

  This is going to be so much fun. I do hope everyone is in attendance today. It would be such a shame for anyone to miss out.

  I test the main door, and it must be my lucky day, it’s open. Practically a formal invitation, all I need is a welcome mat to wipe my boots on, though, I’m sure I can improvise. I don’t bother with stealth; sometimes it’s more fun for them to see you coming. You get to watch their faces morph from ‘Fuck off out of here, you freak’, to ‘Please don’t kill me, you handsome sonofabitch.’ Some would say I have a twisted sense of humour, but that shit is funny as fuck to me.

  Silence greets me as I push through the front door, the vacant reception area of this old printing warehouse stares blankly at me and the sun-bleached poster pinned up behind the grotty desk reads: “Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.”

  Well, I guess they mean me. I wouldn’t trust me either.

  To the left of the dusty, unused desk is another door. Unlucky for me, this one is locked. Like that can keep me out. I jam one of my smaller knives into the frame next to the mechanism and pry the door open with very little effort, gouging the wood in the process.

  Sheathing my knife, I put one hand on the door handle and twist, the door doesn’t open and not because I’m a crap locksmith but because of the gun barrel that’s currently rammed into my temple.

  The sneaky fucker crept up on me.

  “Put your hands flat on the door where I can see them.”

  I go to move and hear the safety click.

  “I said, put your fucking hands on the door where I can see them, cocksucker.” The male voice is accompanied by the worst halitosis I have ever encountered, and his rank mouth is right next to m
y face.

  I take a deep breath through my mouth, trying not to smell the stench and I can fucking taste it on my tongue. “That’s what I was trying to do, you fucking cretin. Now, get your manure breath out of my face or I’ll rip off your wrinkly balls and use them as a gag.”

  My as yet unseen companion laughs like he thinks I’m full of shit.

  His laughter propels his manky breath straight up my nose.

  This fucker is going to die.

  A reverse head-butt followed by an elbow to his larynx and the stinky twat is on the floor at my feet. His crushed throat is blocking the air from his lungs and turning his face a pretty blue.

  Gripping his greasy hair, I twist his head to look at me and proceed to show him my favourite toy.

  “This-” I motion to my Busse Battle Mistress, a ten-inch, two pounds, beauty that is quite literally as sharp as a razor, ‘’-is Missy. She comes everywhere with me, and she’s just told me how eager she is to cut off your testicles. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Still choking around his broken throat, the bloke’s eyes go wide when they land on my pretty, pretty girl. His shocked and scared face is a work of art, and I want to stare at him until he pisses himself, but unfortunately for me and lucky for him, I don’t have time.

  With two swift slashes, the front of his jeans now have a convenient flap, and with another three slashes, his balls have a new home.

  I leave bad breath bloke, let’s call him Hal for short, howling on the dirty floor. When I say howling, I mean emitting an unintelligible noise as he chokes on his own nut-sack.

  He can’t go saying I didn’t warn. In fact, he can’t actually go saying anything at all.

  I wipe off Missy, return her to her spot at my hip and open the previously locked door.

  My arrival is unexpected.

  How do I know that?

  Because the two men and one woman occupying the room before me, all stop what they were doing and turn to face me.

  And what they were doing is why I’m here.

  “Hey guys,” I smile sweetly as I slowly enter the large room from the doorway, the sounds of a dying Hal creeping their way in behind me. “Did anyone order the blood?”

  Silence.

  Darkness.

  I know he’s behind me.

  Even with my eyes blindfolded I can sense him, feel him, crave him. Every part of me is attuned to him, and he manipulates that fact, and I let him.

  Heat is the first thing I feel.

  The warmth from his powerful legs sinks into the skin at the back of mine. The coarse hairs that cover his muscular thighs tickle my bare bottom, making me squirm against the leather on which my chest rests.

  I am on my knees, my upper body pushed over a padded leather bench, my hands bound behind my back up to my elbows.

  My sight and touch may have been stripped away from me but I can still hear, I can still smell, and I can still taste. By taking away two of my senses, my other three are heightened.

  I can hear his breaths and feel each exhale against the bare skin of my back.

  I can smell his skin, the musky, delicious scent so potent, I want to inhale it, absorb it and let it envelop me.

  I can taste him on my tongue as he wraps one strong hand around my jaw and prises open my lips with his thick thumb. The urge to bite down overtakes and I do just that earning a hiss from his lips and a sharp slap on my rump.

  But he doesn’t speak, doesn’t chastise me or tell me off. Instead, he removes the contact of his body, leaving me cold. I wriggle back, trying and failing to make contact, until only my breasts, and head still lay on the soft leather of the bench.

  “Please.” A breathy plea moans from dry lips. My mouth is arid; my inhales increasing until I am panting with need.

  And still, he doesn’t touch me.

  I wiggle my arse, inviting him to take, to use, to plunder without remorse.

  Still nothing.

  My need turns to anger, bubbling under my skin. My bound arms rub against their tight bindings. My fists curl, forcing my nails deep into the flesh of my palms.

  “I’m yours, Cole. Take me.”

  Five words. Five words that set me free.

  He swiftly scoops up my hair and I feel a tightness in my scalp as he wraps it around his fist. With one hand in my hair, his other wraps around my neck. His large palm burns my skin, his long fingers pressing tightly, just barely restricting my airflow.

  A gasp gets caught in my chest, and he uses that moment to release my hair and spank me, hard.

  “Tell me, Princess,” his husky rasp tickles my ear. “Do you get wet when I take your breath away?” The hand at my neck squeezes possessively, while the one on my bottom caresses the sting from his slap and slides between my legs to find me soaking.

  “Ah, Princess. I knew there was a little darkness in you waiting to be set free.”

  Abruptly, he releases my throat and takes my gasping mouth in a brutal kiss. His tongue plunges deep, dominating mine and stealing the last scrap of air from my lungs. I feel as though I may pass out from the delirious use of my body for his pleasure, and the realisation of the power I have in my submission is the biggest turn on yet.

  Mimicking the thrust of his tongue, his talented fingers dive deep into my pussy, finding hidden places filled with electricity, or that’s what it feels like as waves of pleasure pulse from my core and zap through my body.

  Breaking the kiss, he bites at my lips, then my neck, nipping at my shoulders and marking my body with his teeth.

  By the time his lips reach my bottom and sink in deep, I am ready to explode.

  As if sensing this, his fingers stop their ministrations, and his touch leaves me entirely. A wanton moan, harsh and needy comes from deep in my chest, and he uses it as his signal to feast on me once more.

  Parting my arse cheeks, his warm, wet tongue rims my forbidden hole, driving me mad, my hips undulating for more of this taboo touch.

  He ignores my attempts to take more than he’s willing to give and moves further down my sex, licking my pussy like a man starved. His wicked tongue alternating between thrusting deep inside, or feathering against my delicate skin. The effect is maddening. When his hand slips around my front, and his devilish thumb begins strumming my clit, I scream after just a few strokes, my legs locking around his head, my body shaking uncontrollably. Before I come down from somewhere on the ceiling, he fills me in one hard thrust. His thick cock stretches me, touching parts of me that have never been touched before.

  The pain, the pleasure, it’s too much and my eyes water behind the blindfold, the soft fabric soaking up my tears and keeping my overwhelming emotions secret.

  He doesn’t wait for me to adjust to his size, he powers into me relentlessly. My hard nipples rub against the soft leather as he pushes me further and further up the bench until my pelvis is flush with the edge. The added friction on my sensitive clit pushes me towards yet another climax.

  “Cole, Cole, Cole.” A prayer, a mantra that slips from my wanton tongue with each powerful thrust of his cock in my pussy.

  For as vocal as I am, he is silent. Only his heavy breaths let me know that he is as affected by our joining as I.

  Faster and deeper he pounds. Bruising me in delicious ways that are sure to ache tomorrow. I care not for the consequences, the maelstrom of sensations in my body demand release. The reckless savagery with which he claims me ratchets up my need flooding my veins with a narcotic desire.

  Colours more vibrant than I’ve ever seen with my open eyes, burst behind my eyelids, as another orgasm takes hold. My pussy contracting around his length as his talented fingers join the aggressive pounding of his cock to rub at the hard little kernel of tormented, oversensitive flesh that lies swollen between my folds.

  It’s too much. I can’t take any more. My brain feels like it has short-circuited, despite my body screaming, “Yes, more. Yes, more.”

  With one last brutal thrust, my previously silent husband roars out
my name, flooding me with his seed.

  His heavy weight falls across my back, pushing my bound arms painfully into my skin, but I don’t care. It feels right.

  His sweat coated chest sticks to my skin, his cock twitches deep inside my well-used pussy and his laboured breaths push me deeper into the bench restricting my movements. It all feels so right.

  Too soon he pulls away, quickly removing the bindings from my arms, my limbs coming to life with painful pins and needles which he soothes with deep rubs, coaxing my flesh to calm and the pain to ebb.

  When he’s satisfied with his aftercare, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me to the bed, removing my blindfold and brushing away the remaining wetness from my cheeks.

  “There you are, Princess.” His words, the gentle way he cares for me are Cole’s way of speaking the things he will never say. The things he is unable to voice, or perhaps even feel. The words and loving platitudes most wives would expect to hear daily, particularly after sex, are absent. I don’t need to hear them, the verbal affirmation is redundant to me, for I see them. I see all the things he cannot say. The violet in his aura has eclipsed his lust, mingling with his blackness in beautiful clouds that are more precious than any words. I bet even he is unaware of how deeply his feelings run, or of how much I have come to mean to him.

  Two months ago we were born again.

  He drowned for me.

  He gave his life for mine.

  Words seem pointless given that sacrifice.

  At Luke’s demand, Cole and I disappeared. Our lifeless bodies were revived and transported to this safe house. I have no idea where we are, but we are not alone.

  Anne, the Hunter Lodge housekeeper, is here with us too, tending to our every need. You see, my husband isn’t just a monster, he’s a saviour.

  Along with Anne, is Simon, the young boy I met months ago in my first few days of Hunter life.

  Simon is Cole’s protégé. More than that he’s one of the dozens of children the Hunter brothers rescued from lives of horror, helping them, guiding them, educating them and as best they can, fixing them. Also at the safe house are some of the survivors of the Craven Hall massacre. The ones who had no families to return to, the ones that Anne spends all her time with, trying to suture some of the wounds they carry. The emotional wounds that Cole’s team of doctors cannot fix with stitches and medicine.