Razing Grace: Razing Grace Part 1

by Amo Jones

  Taking two steps at a time, I walk out towards my cabin. The place we have here is much larger than what they had at the old prison. It’s one community, hidden, under the radar. We don’t have to worry about much of anything because we’re taken care of. Power, food, water… hell, even the internet is available here. It’s modernized now, though. The old soldiers Kurr had at the previous prison headquarters were weak. They didn’t believe in the cause or the fight, whereas the soldiers who stand with Kurr today do. They stand by him with heavy boots and loaded semiautomatics. The 6 are different. No one but us know who we are here and it’s always been like that. I may have been born and raised here, but the workers have an expiration date on the base. You reach a certain year, you’re cut. It’s a part of the system and how we’ve always flown under the radar. Who gets the honors of making those cuts, you ask? Well… they don’t call me the executioner for nothing. I sliced a man I had known since I was a kid from ear to ear and didn’t flinch once. The rest of the boys are the same. None of them live overly extravagant lives—well, except for me, I guess. Viking, he has a couple kids, although none of us know anything past his name “Viking”, but it works. The dynamic we all keep works, and it works really fucking well.

  I walk across the gravel road where people move for me. Soldiers, nurses, women, and men, they’re all trained in different ways and they also all know to move when I’m in the vicinity. I didn’t force that; that came with respect and power. The kind of respect that is earned by having a certain amount of power.

  I’m just about to walk up the stairs to my cabin when Joker’s voice stops me.

  “You feeling alright?” he asks from over my shoulder.

  I turn to face him, my arms crossing in front of me. “Yeah, why?” I tilt my head, my eyes narrowing. Why is he asking me this, and why the fuck is he staring at me like I have words carved into my face and he’s trying to read them?

  “Oh nothing,” he teases, and if his mask wasn’t covering that face, I bet it would be sporting a smart ass smile. “Just that I heard Kurr say that you seemed a little tense when he brought the priest into the room with Millie.”

  He’s baiting me, his eyes watching me for a hint or a clue that I might be lying.

  “Nah,” I answer smoothly. “Nothing like that. Kurr is mistaken—again.” He watches me for a few seconds, pausing in between his scanning. “Anything else?” I ask irritated.

  He shakes his head. “Guess I’ll see you tonight.” He smirks at me before walking off. I fight the urge to pull out my combat knife and flick it straight into the back of his head until the blade is lodged deep into his teeny brain, but then I remember how much the piece of shit is an asset to not only The Army, but to me too.

  MILLIE

  “Change,” Tripp orders, pointing towards the pile of clothes that are folded on the floor.

  “What’s happening?” My voice is flat and emotionless. The tears have long since dried, along with my feelings. I no longer have the need to survive, no longer have the drive to sustain anything that’s good. I don’t feel.

  Studying me carefully, his hands push into the torn denim jean pockets, which are hanging off him in a way that has my mouth watering when it shouldn’t.

  “I think in this situation, the element of surprise will be more beneficial to you,” he answers so smoothly that it’s unsettling.

  I watch him closely, my eyes locking onto his potent glare as my thumb slips under my now dirty bra. I snap it off my shoulders softly while my eyes remain entranced into his deep blues. The corner of his eyes narrow, the only giveaway that he’s scowling.

  “This what you want?” I ask him and I know I shouldn’t, but all sense of anything has gone. Numb bleakness is being pumped around my body with every pulse of my veins and every breath I take. I slip my bra off until my bare breasts are springing free. “You wanna make a girl feel like she isn’t worth shit?” I continue.

  His fists tense into balls on either side of him, as his shoulders square and his stance shifts. He saunters towards me, but I hold my ground. With my eyes empty, dry and lifeless, I still hold my ground because I have nothing now. No need to survive. No need to feel. Hell, kill me now for all I care. I’m a mere shell of the girl I was. My dirty blonde hair trails over my shoulders, my blue eyes sinking into their sockets from being so malnourished. I have nothing.

  His hand flies up to my cheeks where he squeezes them together roughly until my mouth forms an O. I flinch and he looks deep down into my eyes, studying every fleck of my being.

  “Get. Changed.” Then he pushes me back until I hit the wall. Stepping backwards and away from him, I look up from my position. “Get changed,” he repeats, pointing to the clothes. He turns on his heel, letting out a small growl, and walks out of the cell, sliding the door closed on his way out.

  I scuffle across the floor, snatching the bundle of clothes in my hand before quickly slipping out of my underwear and removing the wings. Standing in the musky chill of the cell, I glance down at my body, noticing I’ve dropped about five pounds since being here already. I was small naturally. Well, smaller than my sister. Petite is the appropriate word to use, whereas my sister Melissa is athletic and curvy. I always envied her body. I would get picked on growing up because people would say I had the body of a twelve-year-old when I was sixteen. I never understood their reasoning because I had boobs; it was just the rest of me that was small. My hand trails up to the gold crucifix that hangs proudly from my neck and I rip it off, shoving it into my bra. Swallowing down my pain, I pick up the little white corset and tie it around myself before slipping into the tiny black skirt. Wow, no underwear. I should be surprised, but I’m not.

  The cell door opens again just as the waist of my skirt snaps around me. I tilt my head at Tripp, who walks in with high heel shoes clutched in his hands.

  “Why?” I ask, looking pointedly at the high strappy shoes.

  He throws them towards me. “Because when you get on the podium on Sunday, you need to know how the fuck to walk in those.”

  “Sunday?” I question, picking up the shoes and slipping my feet into them.

  “Stop asking so many fucking questions,” he exhales. “I can’t give you fucking answers, Millie. Just do up your shoes and let’s go.”

  I pause around the final strap that I was doing and look up to him hesitantly. “What’s going to happen to me?” I ask, fascinated.

  He pauses and I stand to my feet once the final strap is done. Taking my hand in his, the minute his fingertips slide over mine, an electrical current zaps between us. He pulls away. “A whole bunch of shit that that innocent little head of yours couldn’t even dream of.” He nudges his head towards the door. “Move.”

  My head angles. “You’ll be surprised,” I mutter before putting one foot in front of the other to make my way towards the dark corridor.

  Heavy footsteps pound against the pavement behind me. I pause just as I hit the bottom step.

  “What are you doing?” Tripp asks from behind me, his voice mere centimeters from my ears.

  I turn around to face him, my eyes scanning his nervously, pulling my lip in-between my teeth. “Can I ask you something?”

  “What?” he asks agitated with my stalling.

  “How old are you?”

  “That doesn’t concern you.”

  “Are you old?” I cock my head, fighting a grin because I know deep down that he isn’t.

  His thick body stills. “No. Hurry up.” He turns my body, shoving me forward as I continue to make my way up the concrete stairs. It has a medieval castle feel about this place which both scares and intrigues me all at once.

  “Is Tripp your real name?” I question him, taking the stairs one at a time. He grunts from behind me, and I swear I could feel the vibration of it grind under my skin. “Why me?” I ask another question, gaining me yet another grunt. I give up on the questions before we reach the door.

  ***

  The dark shadows reflecting off t
he back spotlight beam through my vision and I clutch onto the little black skirt which is clinging to my thin frail frame.

  “Millie?” a deep growl sounds from somewhere in front of me.

  I raise my hand up to cover my eyes from the bright light.

  “What do you want with me?” Chuckles echo through the air like thunder cutting through a silent, still night.

  “This is your final training night, little Millie Hart.” The thick voice pauses before a body steps through the shadows and blocks the light with his frame. Tripp. He saunters closer, and it’s not until he is toe to toe with me that I realize what he’s wearing. Nothing but loose, ripped jeans that hang leisurely off his narrow waist and his steel mask covering his face. His blond hair is how it is always kept: with the sides shaved and the middle slicked back. The first time I saw him, I noticed all the tattoos he has imprinted into his shaved scalp, the intricate twirls all leading to a big fire skull on the left side of his head. I take my eyes off his tattooed scalp and run them down his tattooed torso and finely-sculpted abs. He’s a little too much, not just his body and how he holds himself, but the air itself that he carries around. Evil would submit to his presence. His head tilts to the side as I drop my eyes to the ground. There’s nothing else to keep my eyes occupied but the white twirls that are swimming in the dark marble floor.

  “Look at me,” he demands, every nerve ending on every inch of my flesh standing to life.

  “Why?” I whisper so softly I thought I imagined saying it out loud. “It’s not like I can see you.”

  “Why does it matter whether you can see me or not?” he asks.

  I run my dead, emotionless eyes up his sculpted body, ignoring the three tattooed demon skulls that fire up his stomach and the number “000” tattooed over his pelvic bone. Bringing my eyes all the way up to his eyes, I smile.

  “So I know who to come after first.”

  TRIPP

  Her body stills as she pulls her eyes away from mine. Did she just fucking say that to me? I grin, though she can’t see the smugness on my face. Why I’m grinning, I couldn’t tell you, but the only thing that gets my dick harder than nun Millie is Millie throwing a little sass.

  “Yeah?” I whisper, bringing my face down to hers. The steel from my mask brushes over her pink pinched cheeks and I chuckle. “When you find me, baby, make sure your tits are out and you’re not wearing anything under that tight little skirt.”

  Her face stills and damn if I don’t love the red blush that spreads over those porcelain cheeks. She acts like she’s innocent, and hell, we all know she is, but there’s another side to little Millie Hart and I want to tear that side into pieces and then fuck it back together again.

  Bringing my hand to hers, I clench my fingers around her fingers tightly before pulling her body into mine and sliding my other hand to the back of her thin, long neck. Yanking her face into mine, I try to ignore the pulsing of my cock begging to be fed. Stepping one leg in between hers, I kick it out and smile again. “You ready?”

  She swallows nervously, but her shoulders remain straight. There’s a dullness laced in her eyes now and I have no one else to thank but myself and the crew for that. I prefer her empty; that way, I can fill her with nothing else but myself. That feeds the beast that lives inside me, the beast that wants her and nothing but her.

  Nodding her head, she whips her hand up to my arm. “Wait!”

  I pause, looking down at her tiny hand before looking into her eyes. “What?”

  “What’s going to happen to me?” Her voice doesn’t hold fear; it holds curiosity.

  I pause. “Isn’t it obvious?” I answer. “You’re going to the highest bidder.”

  MILLIE

  His back turns as he walks away towards the dark shadows which he came from. He jumps off the stage with a thump, and I look to the left, for the first time noticing the silver pole stabbed into the stage. I raise my hand up to shade my eyes because I can’t see a damn thing, and the song Dark Times by The Weeknd begins playing through the speakers followed by a round of dark chuckles that ricochet around the deathly atmosphere.

  “It’s playtime, nun. Dance.”

  I’ve begun to learn who owns that domineering voice. “What?” I glance to the side before looking back to where the voices are coming from.

  “Don’t make me ask you twice, pet,” he begins, his voice coming closer. I look down to the edge of the stage to find his trademark shiny mask glowing like a beacon of extreme evil. “I’d fuck with you so bad that you’ll be more than begging me to lodge my dick deep inside your pussy. Now, dance,” he repeats.

  Aside from the fact that what he said was crass and inappropriate, I’m upset that once again my body has decided to take its own path. I’m forced to drop to my knees and play slave to these men, all for a reason I don’t even know.

  My shoulders slouch as I clutch onto the cold steel pole. Looking out at the dark empty nothingness, my jaw tenses from nerves and the song hits replay. I halt just as the music cuts and the spotlight shuts down suddenly. My breathing kicks up a notch. Searching around the dark room desperately, a cold chill trickles down my spine. There’s a hauntingly erotic feel whisking through the air. Before I can study it or dance in it, something soft brushes over my bare arm and goosebumps shimmy all over my skin.

  I whip around to where it came from. “What’re you doing?”

  A hand grips around my wrist, pulling my body into a set of bare, rock-hard abs and chest muscles.

  “You’re going to wanna put more effort into this show, darlin’.”

  I swallow. “Tripp?”

  His chest shakes from his laughter. “Nah, babe.” He grips around the back of my neck, jarring any movement. Before I can ask who he is, soft lips brush against mine. I slam my lips closed and his grasp on my neck intensifies. “Open,” he growls against my mouth. “Now.”

  My lips slowly part. His tongue slips into my mouth roughly as he slips a little pill down the back of my throat. I swallow whatever it was. “What was that?”

  The spotlight turns on suddenly and I find myself in the middle of all six men, all wearing different styles of pants or jeans and all with their trademark masks.

  My heart rate pounds against my stiff chest as I back up slowly, only to collide with Blue Mask, or Viking. His hair is tied in a bun to the back of his head, his colossal-sized shoulders square.

  I spin around and my head whips to all of the men watching me closely, waiting for my next move. Just as I’m about to make a run for it, my flesh spikes to unhealthy levels, my nipples press against the rough lace of my bra, and a deep throbbing begins between my thighs. Oh no. I look over the hard marbled floor, trying to gather my thoughts, but they all end in a scrambled sex-induced mess. My thighs clench together as a foreign need to be touched overwhelms me immensely. I’m screwed.

  “Wha-what did you give me?” I ask, my hand rubbing against my forehead as a bead of sweat drips from my temple and slides between my breasts.

  Tripp steps towards me, his hand coming out to find mine, and he pulls my body into his forcefully. “A little help with your stage fright.” His fingertips trail down my arm as his cold mask comes to my ear. “Now… dance, pet.”

  They all disappear off the stage. A tingling sensation begins to hum over me as every tight nerve ending in my body loosens. My eyes become lazy and my body begins to sway from left to right. When the song replays, my eyes shut and I sway my hips side to side, imagining something is in between my legs. The feeling is freeing, euphoric, yet so wrong, but I can’t do anything about it. I have completely let go of the reins I held onto throughout my life. A big part of me just doesn’t care anymore and a major part of me knows I am going to die. There’s no way I can come back from this alive, and even if I did, who says I would want to live another day? My faith anchored me, and without it, I would float to the surface, but once I reach that surface, who’s to say that I’d want to swim? I might want to drown.

  My body lo
ses itself in the flow of the rhythm, swaying my head to the beat as a light sheen of sweat glistens over my body. I run my hands down my inner thighs slowly as the buzz I’m experiencing kicks into overdrive. I roll my eyes back, tilt my head, and a light moan slips from my mouth all while my body continues to move to the seductive tunes of the song. Walking towards the end of the makeshift stage, I jump down the same way I saw Tripp drop down. In the dark shadows, I can see the outline of all of them sitting on seats, all spread out easily. I go to the first one I see, not caring who it is, not caring about much of anything, not even survival. I straddle his hips and drop low onto his crotch, circling my hips into him slowly to the beat. Hooking my hands around the back of his neck, I swing my hair and arch my back so my body presses into his, my nipples dancing across his bare chest. Reaching down to the ties on my corset, I whip them off slowly until the air I had been struggling to suck in darts down my airways. His hands slide up my thighs and it’s then when the spotlight beams brighter that I see the outline of his mask. Tripp.

  In my careless thoughts, I drop my head down to his ear, inhaling his sweet musky man scent. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t get me wet without drugging me?”

  The grip around my thighs tightens, and in one swift movement he picks me up and drops me onto the stage. My back hits the cold marble again and a deep giggle escapes me as my back arches. Something needs to be touched. I need to be touched.

  I hear someone curse in the background. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tripp. She’s fucking responsive on this shit, man.”

  “What’d you give her?” Tripp asks, unfazed and scanning my body, inch by inch.

  “X, man. Never seen a chick light up like this, though.”