Fury

by Cat Porter

  I ate the bread the next day and the next.

  And the next and the next.

  And the next.

  All I knew now was the touch of her lips. Their width, their soft thickness, the excruciating pressure they exerted. Her mouth took me all the way in, and I bumped her fucking throat. I wanted as much as I could get. My chained hands tightened into fists as her mouth fucked me, her fingertips digging into my hips, keeping me steady. I had no control over my weakened body any longer. All I knew, all I wanted, was her mouth. I craved that mouth, those sensations only it could give me.

  This is what nirvana must feel like. Yeah, this is it.

  That bliss was all there was. It was blinding, detonating through me, filling the room.

  I barely had the energy to respond to the sliced white bread let alone the peanuts she’d snuck me a couple of times and pushed past my lips and made me chew. But respond I did to that mouth. That mouth owned my body, that tongue offered precious moments of salvation. I was dirty, I smelled foul. But the mouth didn’t care. The mouth provided and gave, gave, gave, and did it so fucking good.

  I came, I soared.

  Thank you, mouth.

  Mouth swallowed my cum, and I was clean. For this one, one moment I was clean, unsoiled, free.

  Her hands released me.

  No more touch, no more strands of her long hair brushing the skin of my legs, no more hot humid breaths steaming over my skin. Just my naked body, alone, twisting on the damp concrete, chained to the floor, wanting more. So much fucking more.

  And only from her.

  “Let me...let me...”

  She leaned over me. “What? What’d you say?”

  “Let me suck on you. Let me touch you, something. Come on. Sit on me, something...”

  “No.”

  My legs kicked out, searching for her in the dark. “Let me make you come.”

  “Why? Why would you want to—”

  “I want to. I want to feel you so damn bad. I won’t hurt you. Sit on my hand at least.” No answer. “Hey, are you there?”

  “I’m here. How do I know you won’t hurt me?” she asked, that voice was now hushed.

  Hurt you? You’re my fucking goddess.

  “I’d never hurt you. I want you on me. I want to get you off. I want to taste you. I have to. Fuck my face. Do it.”

  They had shot me up with something the first day, a small dose to keep me swiveling. The high was really just a haze of confusion to keep me compliant.

  The aftereffects, though, were intense.

  They wanted me wide awake and feeling every inch of misery, and I was. My skin was needling, I was edgy, impatient, hungry for a sensory overload of any fucking kind and pissed as hell that I wasn’t getting it. My stomach and head reeled with starvation. Peanuts in her pockets and once, a small cereal bar that was more like cemented sawdust were rare treats. There was no real food for me, but there was this, there was her.

  “I want you on me, dammit,” I shot back.

  I was rabid, foaming at the mouth. A suck and fuck vessel. I could smell her arousal, taste her salty wetness on my tongue already. I knew in the back of my mind, in the tiny rational section that was still functioning, that this was all a game that they had set up, but I didn’t give a shit. Every cell in my being craved that one thing. Craved her.

  Any way I could get her.

  “I should trust you?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But there’s no such thing as trust. You still haven’t learned that?” Her voice teased but there was an edge of grim soberness to it that I recognized.

  “I know.”

  She slumped down next to me, her eyes tense. She was uncomfortable, unnerved. She took in a deep breath of air like she had to bolster herself. “They forgot about me again.”

  “Good. You’re stuck with me,” I pleaded for my life.

  No answer, only her heavy breathing, her feet shuffling.

  My scalp prickled. “Where are you? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m getting dizzy. I don’t feel too good.”

  I twisted my torso toward her, the chains clanking and dragging with my sudden movement. “Hold my hand. Take it.”

  A soft hand grasped mine. Her skin was cool against my sweaty one.

  My heart thudded in my chest, and I entwined my fingers with hers. “I’ve gotten used to the dark since I’ve been here. I’ll be your ray of sunshine, and you can be mine, how’s that?”

  “Kind of silly.” She let out a small laugh, and a ripple of heat prickled through my flesh. That genuine, easy laugh was more than appreciation for a dumb joke. It was a bright instant of carefree in this dark, bleak prison cell.

  I’d never take a lighthearted moment for granted again.

  I’ll start with right now.

  This girl was sad way down deep. An overwhelming urge to relieve her of the heavy weight of that sadness engulfed me. I wanted to make her smile again. Make her laugh. Make her forget her hell for just a second more. Show her the sunshine.

  “Take my other hand,” I said. “Climb on top of me. Do it. Come on.”

  She straddled my waist and grasped my other hand. I clutched her fingers tight. They were long and thin and cold. Her weight on me kicked up my pulse again.

  I flexed my hips up, my every muscle straining for more of her. “Kiss me, sunshine,” I whispered roughly.

  She leaned over me. Yes, now, yes. Fuck yes.

  Her lips pressed against mine, and a new soft, warm world erupted over me; something smooth and delicate for just a moment. A flower opening its petals in pinks and blues and creamy yellows. My chest ached. I wanted to see those colors again, to feel cool breezes once more. I wanted to be held. I raised my head off the floor, my mouth open, my tongue ready to claim and conquer, but she moved back.

  I groaned, my neck aching, my cock raging. “Please. Please, give me more.”

  Her hair fell over us, its gentle drape keeping us safe and secret. I inhaled her light and flowery fragrance. That scent lifted me on a magic cloud, and I clung to it.

  Lips on mine, unsealing, and soft, not hard, not demanding. Those sweet colors burst behind my lids as her warmth revealed itself to me, growing hotter. She kissed me, her tongue sliding against mine. I was lifted from the dank pit, I floated on the surface of the well, weightless. The two of us.

  Her mouth released me. A small moan filled my ears, and her fingers squeezed mine.

  “Did that make the dark better for you?” My voice came out low, thick.

  “Yes,” came the raw whisper.

  “Me too.”

  She snatched her hands out of my grip.

  I braced. Was she going to stab me with a hidden knife? Scream for help? Shit, I was the real prisoner here. I’d crossed the line, gone too far. I needed to wake the fuck up. I needed to—

  She rose from my chest. Movement. Material shuffled in the dark.

  “Here I am,” she rasped.

  Her musk filled my nostrils. Her thighs, damp with sweat and her arousal, were on either side of my face. My pulse screamed and pounded. My pelvis flexed on instinct, hoping for friction, hoping for her.

  She was grabbing at the light when she could. Just like me. Light was rare.

  I raised my chin and my tongue reached out and found glorious wet heat. I swiped and licked and swirled. A choked moan sounded from somewhere above me as she rocked over my eager mouth, and I dragged my tongue over her, sucking hard, giving her a rhythm. She moved faster. She wanted to come bad, and I gave her all the intensity I could offer.

  Fuck the char-grilled rib eye I’d been daydreaming about, the soft mattress and clean sheets, icy bottles of pop. Fuck all that. This was…all I wanted was this.

  My cock was harder than hard. I grunted, every cell of my being concentrating on mak
ing her come, lapping at her, consuming her, pulsating with her body. Not one cry escaped her mouth, and I was positive it was so they wouldn’t hear us. Only her hips moved over my face, her silkiness throbbing against my lips, her thighs tensing around me. I suckled her clit and focused everything I had on it.

  Come, come, come, come.

  A tiny, high-pitched gasp was quickly swallowed, and her body seized over me. Her wet cunt throbbed as I applied broader, tense strokes. She ground over me slowly and melted at my side, her hair touching my arms, the sensation taking me by surprise like the edges of a bird’s wing that flits by too close.

  I was so fucking high.

  She moved her legs, detaching herself from me. Her body bunched up in a ball at my side, her breaths uneven and short.

  I needed something more right now in the dark. “Touch me. I need you to—”

  Her hand slid around my bicep. “Here. I’m right here.” Her voice was so small.

  “Closer.”

  Her damp curves melded to my body, and I closed my eyes. We stayed still and silent. Water dripped at the other end of the cell.

  “What is it, Sunshine?” I whispered against her forehead. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  She let out that light laugh again. “Yeah, you better not.”

  “I won’t.”

  She only let out a jagged sigh. No words.

  “Okay, let’s forget the chit chat. How about instead, you get back on and fuck me?” I said into her hair, my leg rubbing up against hers.

  My mind and body raced, imagining how thrusting inside her would feel. My blood simmered at the idea, my skin flaring with heat. I was an animal. That’s all that was left of me. We could just fuck each other for hours and they’d find us wrapped around each other days later. That’d be good.

  “Oh, I can’t do that.” She almost sounded amused.

  My heart shrank along with my cock. “Why the hell not?” My wrists strained against the thick metal cuffs, my weak muscles shuddering, the fucking chains scraping along the cement, and my aching body reminding me of reality.

  Her legs straightened and pressed together. “I can’t.”

  “That’d be cheating, huh? Fucking the enemy prisoner.” A chuckle rolled out of me.

  “Stop.”

  “Why do you stick around anyway? Why haven’t you gotten out?”

  “I’ve tried to run away, and I’ll try again. The last time I got caught, he said he’d kill me. He realized my dedication to him has tarnished. But I’ll deal.”

  “You’ll deal? Why don’t you—”

  “I like being alive.” Her voice was firm, steady. “No matter what, I want to stay alive.”

  My arms hung at my sides, shame dripping over me like a splatter of paint down a wall. Her confidence in a better day, her desire to live, her bravery, the sheer force of her will humbled me.

  Was I like that? I just existed, walked through paces set by everyone around me. She made tough decisions every day. She held it together. She calculated and risked and pushed through.

  My mouth dried, my skull pounded. I was coming down again. I needed her on me, her touch, her skin, her mouth, more than fucking food. More than a hit of any chemical. I wanted to feel her tits in my hands. I didn’t fucking care that she could be doing this on their orders. Who the fuck knew for sure? She was my banquet and I wanted to feast.

  My tongue lashed against the side of her neck. “Blow me again at least?”

  “Once was enough for today.” She drew a fingertip down the center of my lips, and I let out a low hiss. My lips captured that slim finger and sucked. Fuck yes, I was desperate. A monster of need.

  “More tomorrow,” she said, her voice low. “When you’re really hungry.”

  She was hungry. I could tell by the way her lips parted as I sucked on her finger, how she lingered over me, rubbed a foot against my calf.

  I wanted her to be hungry for me.

  I released her finger. “I’m starving here. You don’t have to stand on ceremony or keep to some schedule with me. Suck away.”

  “You’re funny.”

  My pulse skipped at that playful tone in her voice. Was that a yes?

  My every muscle tightened as she gently stroked the underside of my balls, murmuring something. I couldn’t hear her, I didn’t care. I was mesmerized by her warm, sure touch, her sultry voice. That voice was heat blooming over my skin from the inside out. My heart raced in my chest, and a cool sweat broke out along my scalp. I wanted to come now, in her hands. I’d do anything she said just to fucking release this volcano between my legs. I wanted to come for her.

  I was at her mercy.

  “Tomorrow.” Her thumb rubbed at my tip, and she released me.

  I grunted. Not happy. “Come on. Wait, wait—what’s your name?”

  “That doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “Yes, yes it fucking does matter to me. I want to hear it. All this time, and I don’t know your name.” I wanted to know it as bad as I always wanted ice cream on a sweaty, dusty summer afternoon. As bad as I now craved a shower, sunlight, my bike underneath me and a cold wind battering my face.

  “Tell me. Give me that at least.”

  She leaned over me. “My real name is Serena.”

  The syllables cascaded over me like ribbons of silk fabric. Fucking goddess. I was right all along.

  “Serena. That’s pretty. I like that.”

  A smile flickered over her lips. “You like that?”

  Did that give her pleasure? A lift? I fucking hoped so.

  “Like serene? At peace?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Untroubled and tranquil.” A quick smirk passed over her features. Irony. Weariness. “My grandmother was Italian. It was her mother’s name. I loved her name, though. Eleonora.”

  “That’s real pretty too.” I grinned at her. “Never met a Serena before.”

  “I’m your first and probably your last.” Her words echoed inside me, her fingers brushing over my skin.

  First and last. A thick sweet vapor steamed between us.

  “Yeah, you will be,” I said.

  “Here they call me Rena. Bikers like nicknames.”

  The lock turned, metal ground against metal.

  She moved away from me, jerking up to her feet. The door shoved open.

  “Rena?” said a deep voice.

  She stepped off of our private little fluffy cloud and charged through the door, leaving me alone with my slimy chains on hard, damp, mildewed cement.

  4

  “Give the kid a drink!” Med shouted loudly.

  The infamous Scott “Medicine Man” McGuire, so named because he’d been one of the first to create meth factories in the state and provide his clients with all kinds of powdered and tablet style feel-good remedies. Med stood over me, eyeing me like I was the Thanksgiving turkey and he’d been waiting a very long time to carve with style and dig in.

  A large unlabeled glass bottle was shoved in my mouth. Another hand dug in my hair, tugging my head back. The sickening fumes of sweat, body odor, and burly booze filled my nostrils. The alcohol flooded my mouth like liquid fire, searing my throat. I gagged and sputtered, spitting out whatever I could.

  Laughter and howls ripped through the brightly lit smoke-filled room.

  I pushed back and spit again, my eyes tearing. “What the fuck was that?”

  “Our moonshine. You don’t like it?”

  “No.” I blinked and scanned the crowded room. The Guns had company tonight. Another chapter of their club from California was here.

  “You rejecting our hospitality? We’re celebrating tonight. We got our bros here from out west, and we just closed a sweet deal.”

  Cheers and hoots rose all around me, and I cringed at the noise. Shocking. Nauseating.

  “We’ve a
ll decided that we should move on from our differences with your club. Flames of Hell finally got back to us and we reached an agreement. So the other news of the evening is we’re gonna let you go.”

  Boos and howls filled the room.

  My club had negotiated for me? Something inside me went to leap, but I pulled it back.

  Med looked me square in the face. Everything about him was square. Square jaw, square mouth, boxy end to his nose. Stocky, not too tall, no real neck, compact. Leather cuffs at his wrists and a full mop of long wavy brown hair.

  I swallowed against the lingering burn in my throat. “What kind of agreement?”

  “Prospect, you don’t worry about the details. You just worry about doing what you’re told.” He smacked my face once, twice, and settled a thick paw on my shoulder. “This here party is your send off. You’re gonna have fun. I know we will.”

  Sticky laughter bubbled in the giant cauldron of a room. The air was hot, stifling. So many men and women, their eyes gleaming and heavy on me. I searched for Serena, but I didn’t see her in the blur of faces and bodies. I searched for those eyes. I wanted to see her. I needed to see her.

  They shoved me forward, and my body swerved toward the other side of the room. Two girls were on top of a long table, both of them getting fucked, a group of men around them watching intently, waiting their turn. Two other girls were on top of another smaller table, both of them fingering and licking each other with a circle of men watching. Something for everybody.

  My chains were yanked, and I hit a table.

  “Lay him out,” came Med’s voice.

  They laid me out on a long wood table and fastened the chains at my hands and legs to big pegs on the surface. Was I part of the entertainment? My heart banged against my ribs. “What the fuck? You just said you were letting me go. You said this shit was done with.”

  “Yeah, but tonight, you’re my glorious main event,” he spit out on a huge grin. His ferocious excitement speared my insides.

  They partied all around me. For hours they hung over me, putting their cigarettes out on my legs and chest, the sides of my torso. Even the women came over and teased me. “Aw, look at that sad cock! Poor baby!” They laughed. “Here dicky dicky! Here!”