by Celia Aaron
I swing again. Mary’s cry cuts through all my layers and draws blood from my soul.
“Much better.” Grace returns the whip to the wall. “Proper form is important, ladies.” With that, she leaves the room and locks the door behind her.
I drop to my knees next to Mary. “Are you okay?”
Her tears make soft plop noises onto the mat. “I’m okay. It’s for the Prophet, so it’s worth it.”
I take no comfort in her words, and remorse threatens to choke me. It only gets worse when I look up and find several sets of eyes on me, distrust glowing in them like dark embers.
After training, hungry and exhausted, we make our way back to the dorm. A Spinner reminds us that we’re expected to be on our best behavior for our weekly night with the Prophet, then tells us to shower and pray.
I enter my room and stifle a yell when something moves on my bed. Flicking the light on, I find Adam stretched out, his hands behind his head, his dark eyelashes fluttering open.
“Close the door.” His voice is thick with sleep.
“How long have you been here?” I push the door closed and walk over to him, sitting next to him instead of on the floor. “And where were you last night? And the night before that?”
“So many questions.” He grabs my arm and yanks me next to him, my body crashing against his as he wraps his arm around me.
“Unf.” My face rests on his chest, warmth bleeding from him and into me. I’m too tired to protest, and I inhale him—some sort of tobacco mixed with a hint of soap.
“I’ve been busy, little lamb. My father is moving fast on getting the faithful onto the Compound. He makes quick decisions based on his vision from God. I do all the fucking legwork to make his prophecy come true.”
His hand snakes down my side and rests on my hip. “Miss me?”
“No.”
“Liar.” He squeezes my ass.
“What was training today?”
I close my eyes and try not to see the welts across Mary’s backside. “Flogging.”
“One of my favorites.” His hand slides back and forth across my ass, then his fingers begin to crinkle the fabric, inching my dress up bit by bit. “Did you enjoy it?”
“No.”
“You will when I get my turn.” His bare hand touches my skin, his fingertips skating across my surface.
“And when is that?”
“You already want my pain. I knew I made the right choice when I picked you.”
“I was just asking a question.”
“You ask far too many questions. Even Jez told me so.”
I stiffen. “She told you about that?”
He laughs, the sound low and dark and pulling me down like a lure at the bottom of a cold lake. “There isn’t a move you make that I don’t know about.”
Chills ripple across my skin, but I can’t tell if they’re from his words or touch.
“What did you think of our little Chapel?”
“I hate it.” Honesty is stupid and will get me into trouble. But a few truths here and there can’t hurt. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“I thought you might.”
“Will I end up there?”
“No.” His answer is quick, his grip on my ass verging on painful. “Don’t worry about that.”
“What makes them different? Why do some of the Maidens go there?”
“You can’t ask questions like that, little lamb. It’ll get you disciplined.”
“You want to discipline me?” I dance across the thin ice, aware of the frigid water underneath.
“Yes.” He pulls me on top of him and hikes my dress up to my waist. “Straddle me.”
I relax my thighs and my legs spread around his narrow hips. When my bare pussy touches his hard length through his pants, I dig my nails into his abs.
“I don’t just want to punish you.” He grips my hips and rubs me back and forth against him. “I want to fuck you raw,” he grits out. “I want to take your virginity and wear it like a fucking badge.”
My hips move along with him, grinding against his cock, pink flooding my cheeks as I realize my wetness is darkening his pants.
“Take it off.” He yanks at my dress.
I pull it over my head. His hands are on my breasts before it hits the floor. He leans up and claims one nipple in his mouth as I continue riding him despite knowing how wrong it all is. I can’t stop. I want this one release, this ecstasy that only Adam can give me.
He lies back and slaps one of my breasts. I’m surprised, but when he does it again, my toes curl.
“My lamb likes the pain.” He twists my nipples, sending desire ricocheting through me.
I gasp, and he grips my hips, dragging me up his body until I’m on top of his face. When he licks me, I grip the headboard, unrestrained need spilling out of me in a moan.
He slaps my ass and buries his face between my legs, his dark stubble rubbing against my sensitive skin as his tongue tours every secret spot I have. Another slap on my ass and I’m moving my hips to his rhythm. When I try to let up on him, fearing he can’t breathe, he hits my ass harder and yanks me down.
“Adam!” I can’t breathe when he goes after my clit, his tongue wicked and perfect and too much but not yet enough.
I grind on him recklessly, letting my hips tell me what to do. Each surge sends pulsing heat between my thighs. When they begin to shake, he slaps my ass again, hard. I thought I had time. I don’t. The pain crosses with the pleasure, and I fall into it, my orgasm shaking me as the waves roll and roll and roll until I can finally take a breath. My hips still, my body languid, and my mind buzzing, I sit back toward his chest.
He grabs me and throws me down, then nestles between my legs. “Fuck.” He stares at my bare, wet pussy and reaches down to unbuckle his belt.
We aren’t supposed to be doing this, and I shouldn’t want it. Shouldn’t want him. But when he frees his cock from his pants, I lift my hips, needing to feel his skin.
“Don’t.” His low voice, barely scratching through his throat, carries more tension than a high wire.
He sits back, the pulse in his neck rapid-firing as he surveys my body, then holds my gaze. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. If you do, I’ll fuck you. I’ll have to fuck you or I’ll lose my goddamn mind. But I can’t.” He strokes himself slowly.
I stare down at it, the smooth head, the way his hand wraps around the thick shaft.
“Fuck, little lamb. I can feel your eyes on it.”
In that moment, I want him inside me. I want to feel him surging so deep that I can’t think of anything except him.
He strokes faster, his fingertips playing along the bottom of his length, while he balances on his other fist. “I’m going to coat you in me.”
I spread my legs wider, and he groans. “Don’t fucking move!”
He strokes a few more times, then lets out a low grunt. Hot come splashes against my bare flesh, and he empties himself on me, his low noises sending sizzles of heat burning through me.
When he sits back, I look down at the aftermath, the obscene, erotic view of his mark on my innocent skin. He can’t seem to look away either. We both come down, our breaths slowing, our hearts thumping instead of racing.
He leans over and uses my dress to wipe me clean, and then himself. Zipping up, he rises from the bed and fastens his belt.
“You’re going?” I can’t process my feelings. The hunger, the exhaustion, the fear—all of it has screwed my judgment.
“Have to.” He turns his back and strides away. “See you at the Prophet’s audience.”
When the door slams, I turn over on my side and curl into a ball. What am I doing? That question echoes back and forth across my mind.
Even when there’s a knock at my door telling me it’s time to see the Prophet, the question still has no answer.
Chapter 28
Adam
I took it too far this afternoon. It was too close. I was too close to the point of no return.
But fuck, I was strung out from two days straight of bullshit, no sleep, and no end in sight.
Noah joins me at the entrance to the Temple. He looks almost as bad as I do, the golden boy glow faded, his clothes rumpled, and his eyes bloodshot. “I really don’t want to sit through this shit right now.” He unbuttons his shirt as we walk.
“Skipping isn’t an option.” I wish it was. Watching my father lord over his crop of Maidens isn’t at the top of my ‘for shits and giggles’ list. Then again, I want to see what he does to Delilah so I can cover over every touch from him with one of my own. If I could have left my seed all over her virgin cunt, I would have. It would be perfect to see the look on my father’s face when he realized what I’d done. But that would have resulted in discipline for both Delilah and me. I can take as many lashes as my father can toss at me, but Delilah doesn’t deserve punishment, especially if it meant she’d be sent to the Rectory.
“Wake the fuck up, asshole.” Noah thumps me on the upper arm.
“Do you need a Snickers?” I unbutton my shirt. “You miss your afternoon snack or something?”
“I’m not hangry.” He shrugs. “Okay, maybe a little. But I’m just tired of this shit.”
“Welcome to the club.”
“But we should, you know, follow what Dad says.” His tone loses some of its edge. “He’s the Prophet and all.”
“Still got that faith, huh?” I don’t like to fault my brother much, but that one thing—his misplaced belief in our father—rankles.
“I have to hold onto something, man. Otherwise…”
Otherwise he’d let himself feel the heat around us, see the fires of hell closing in, and smell the scent of our burning flesh. I couldn’t argue with that.
“Let’s get it over with.” We follow Protector Gunn into the sacred circle, my father already flying high on his throne in the middle of the room. His coke habit is out of control. Good. I hope it kills the bastard.
I take my spot and kneel. The other Protectors are already here and in position. Good little lapdogs, each of them. But why wouldn’t they be? They get treats all the time, fresh young girls in white, a new one each year.
“Why are you looking at me like that, son?” My father glowers at me.
I didn’t realize I’d been looking at him at all. My subconscious probably had me staring daggers. “No offense intended.”
“None intended, huh? Is that right?” Belligerence lives in his voice. “Well, I took offense. What do you have to say about that?”
Noah rocks forward. “Dad—”
“I’m not talking to you, Noah. I’m talking to the son-of-a-bitch you call your brother.”
My fingers curl into fists as he says it, and I know Noah is just as angry as I am. Our mother is the gentlest soul on this godforsaken Compound. And she’s paid dearly for it.
The doors open, and Grace struts in, her gaze glancing off me before landing on my father. “We are here for your blessing, Prophet.” She even does a little curtsey.
“We’ll finish this later.” My father’s icy demeanor melts as he turns toward the doors. “Bring them in, by all means.” Now jovial, he opens his arms in welcome. A spider welcomes the fly with the most perfect of manners.
The girls walk in, already stripped bare. I search through them to find my little lamb. So pale, she’s striking even in the midst of a dozen other beauties. They’re warier this time, but sit in front of my father as instructed.
When the Spinners bring the poisoned food, only one among them reaches for the fruit. Delilah looks at me with wide eyes. She’ll try to resist, but it won’t work. The Spinners starved them today to ensure a good audience with my father. They will eat, because they have no choice.
“My darling Maidens.” My father stands and walks among them. “I welcome you here once again for our weekly congress. How I’ve missed you all.”
He sits next to one with dark hair, bruises darkening the light brown skin on one cheek. “You are blessed among women. What’s your name, child?”
She remains still, her face impassive. “Sarah.” No inflection in her tone, but something in her eyes tells me she’s a bit cagier than the others.
“Lovely Sarah.” He strokes down her arm, then cups her breast. “I’ve been waiting for you. And you are safe here with me. Always.” He rubs his thumb over her nipple, and her expression hardens even more, an impenetrable shell. “Now, eat.”
She finally looks him in the eye, then gives a slight shake of her head.
“Oh, shit,” Noah breathes. “Oh shit.”
“He won’t do it here.” I watch as my father’s mask remains in place. He reaches for a plate of grapes and plucks one, then forces it between her lips and into her mouth.
A single tear rolls down her cheek as my father waits for her to chew and swallow. When it’s done, he releases her and turns to the other Maidens. “Eat and drink. It is my gift to you. I love each and every one of you. Everything about you is holy to me. Your beauty—” He rises and continues to walk among them “—your grace, your perfect obedience.”
They all eat and drink, giving in to their hunger and the sheer power that the Prophet wields over them. Even Delilah succumbs, her eyelids growing heavy as the LSD seeps into her bloodstream and clouds her mind. She lies back on the pillows, her gaze focused on the gilded upside down cross above the throne. A symbol of our obedience to the Father of Fire, the emblem glitters in the low light.
Noah leans toward me. “Is he going to pick one this time?”
“He already has.” I watch the dark-haired girl who’d denied my father. Her fate is sealed.
The Prophet stalks among them, then sits again, a Maiden on either side of him.
He pulls them close, then positions them so they face each other. “Nothing is sweeter than the purest fruit.” With my father’s urging, the Maidens kiss. He watches for a while, then takes their hands and places them on each other. Before long, moans rise from their throats and they lay on the pillows, tangled in each other.
“At least we get some entertainment this time.” Noah sits back on his haunches when Dad isn’t looking.
Pleased with his work, my father moves to another set of Maidens and encourages the same behavior, even pushing one onto her back and urging the other to eat her out. I tense when he reaches for Delilah, pulling her into a sitting position. He kisses her forehead, then motions another Maiden over to her.
Everything inside me tenses as Delilah receives a kiss from another Maiden. My father moves along before urging them to baser acts, but Delilah allows the Maiden to lay her down, still kissing her, one of her hands roving across Delilah’s breasts. My cock becomes painfully hard as I imagine it’s me doing the exploring, the touching. I know how heavenly her skin feels, how soft her breasts are, the nipples perfect for biting. The other Maiden runs her hand through Delilah’s hair, and I want to yank the harpy away from my little lamb. But I can’t. Just as with everything else here, I’m forced to stay in line.
I watch them for ten more minutes until the other Maiden is pulled into a threesome and Delilah is left to herself on the pillows. Relief pulses through me, but it’s short-lived. These orgies are a weekly occurrence, and Delilah can’t escape every time. She’ll be drugged and defiled, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
She lies still for a moment, then cranes her neck until we make eye contact. I hold her there, as if my gaze is some sort of force, until her lashes fall and she tumbles into sleep.
The scene continues for another hour, until my father wants their attention back on him. He calls them up to his throne so he can prey on each Maiden individually. I’m relieved when he doesn’t give Delilah any special attention. It just means he hasn’t noticed that this one is different to me. If he ever did … I decide to save those violent thoughts for later.
When each one of the Maidens is looking at my father with dreamy eyes, seeing the Prophet instead of the man, he is satisfied and allows them to return to the Cloiste
r. It’s genius, really. Ensure that the Spinners and the Protectors abuse them every waking moment, then bring them to the Temple where the Prophet offers food, love, and empty promises that sound filled to the brim with hope and solid as a block of granite.
“Grace, I’d like to meet with Sarah alone,” he calls as the women are exiting.
“Yes, Prophet.” A smirking Grace pulls Sarah aside.
The girl is still in the warm bubble of the drug, her limbs heavy as Grace walks her back to my father.
I don’t close my eyes. It would be so easy to do just that. But I don’t. Because I’m here, and I’m not going to do a thing to stop what’s about to happen. I deserve to see it, to hear it, to fucking feel it deep in my gut—the wrongness of it.
My father pushes the girl onto the pillows on her stomach. I can’t see her face, but I watch her anyway. Because it’s what I deserve. Grace stands just in front of her, ready to grab her if need be. He pulls her hips up to him.
When she cries out in pain, I keep watching. Grace grabs her hair and shoves her back, keeping her still while my father ruts on her like a goddamn beast. I keep watching. When he finishes, stands, and then kicks her in the stomach, I keep watching. When he spits on her, I keep watching.
“You are nothing but a filthy whore. All women are. You don’t say no to your Prophet. You do what I say, when I say it. Perfect obedience to me is the only way a bitch like you can get into heaven. You will obey, or you will burn.”
Already in the fetal position, she doesn’t say anything. But she knows what just happened to her. The same way I do.
I am tainted by her violation, and I feel it. Another stain on my soul. Another reason to hate my father.
“And you.” He turns to me, his robe still in disarray. “I’m not done. Your willfulness has guaranteed that I pay your mother a visit this evening.”
“Dad, please—” Noah tries to get to his feet.
