by Addison Cain
Brick it shut, he’d said. She remembered the sounds, the human trying to claw his way out. She remembered what this room truly was.
A crypt to be buried in.
There was no way out.
God did not hear her prayers.
Her tongue tripped, and out of her mouth came the only slice of salvation she could reach. “I’m sorry for my rudeness.”
“And?”
He may have been handsome, but she remembered the monster who’d spoken to her from the throne. It was almost impossible to lean forward and press a kiss to the man’s cheek, certain he would stink like a rotting corpse.
Instead, he smelled of sandalwood and fresh blood.
Something about it made her mouth water and brought a tingle to empty tooth sockets. The prickling became a sharp pinch, two small teeth descending to burst through the gum-line and end as useless points too short to be of any use.
Chuckling, the demon drove her back until her head hit the impenetrable door and his tongue was deep in her mouth. He licked each smear of blood, toying with her stumped fangs as if she’d performed some cute act.
It was less a kiss and more a scouring, the whole time red glowing eyes staring straight into hers.
With one final tongue curled lick, he pulled away, teasing, “Hungry, are you?”
Yes? No. She wasn’t ravenous, not in the ways she remembered. But under the terror, she was hungry for something—something sweet and filling that healed the soul and fattened the flesh.
Something that made it all better.
She wanted that delicious succor as one would pine for a drug. Breaking eye contact, she looked to the stranger’s neck, whining low in her throat and completely lost in unfamiliar need.
Stretching forward, Pearl caught herself inches from setting her useless teeth to the devil’s flesh when it gave a warning tut.
He took her chin, tapping her nose as he counseled. “It is a good thing you stopped yourself this time. Never take what isn’t offered. Though I never allow your mind to cling to the memory, I promise you, it is the worst of punishments I can offer.”
Again her blood went cold. “You make it sound as if I have been here a long time.”
Rolling words full of smoke and brimstone, he asked, “What did I tell you about time? The only time of any worth in your life are the moments you spend with me.”
“How many moments have there been?”
“Not nearly enough.”
What had he done to her in the days she’d lost in this place? What would he do? “And you punish me?”
“When I feel so inclined. But I’m not eager to harm your sweet body tonight.” Turning his back and walking across the room to settle his mass on the edge of the overly large, ornate bed, he said, “This evening I have come to my pet for pleasure. If you please me, I will let you drink your fill. Disappoint my appetites, and I will bring you great pain. For I have no patience for an insolent treasure. Save yourself the torment.” He crooked a finger, calling her forward. “Come here.”
She knew nothing about pleasing men. The men who had used her, had done only that—leaving her sullied and shamed as they’d tucked their cocks away and abandoned her where she’d bled.
It was to be one pain or another.
Pearl could submit now and spare the girl who would wake tomorrow to some unforeseen horror. Or she could refuse, earn the demon’s wrath and know suffering immediately.
She was in hell.
Killing Chadwick Parker had landed her here.
One foot in front of the other, ten steps total, and she stood before her tormenter.
Darius took her wrist, brought it to his lips to gently kiss, before yanking her face first into the mattress. Tense and trembling she lay as she fell, cheek to red velvet. He stood and moved behind her, flipping the girl face up.
“It’s like the first time every time, isn’t it? My Pearl is practically a virgin. Always fresh. Always frightened.” Creeping over her body, he took her gauze-draped nipple into his mouth for a sharp suck. Once it popped free, he teased, “But I know how to make the virgin a whore.”
Eyes to the bed curtains, fingers fisted in the sleeves of the man’s robe, Pearl tried to lay still. Let him do what he may, let him take, knowing the night would end and she would forget all of it.
Tomorrow would be better.
Chapter Six
There was no tomorrow.
The first time he’d fucked her had been slow, deviously tender. It didn’t feel like the same frightening creature who’d taunted, threatened, and mocked.
He took her as one takes a lover, a cherished wife. Long kisses, sweet touches, even the sweeping entry of his engorged cock had been smooth. Long nailed fingers drifted over her body, delving into places that brought unimaginable pleasures. She could have wept knowing love like that might truly exist in the world and that she’d never know it.
This thing didn’t love her. The proof was there in his violence when he’d grown bored of soft moans and fluttering cunts.
With his semen dripping from her slit, Pearl had panted, satisfied in body from a kind of release she’d never known.
Or had known many times but could not remember.
He’d pulled out, kissed her on the mouth as if she’d behaved perfectly, then abruptly shunted his arm straight inside the place he’d just used—all of his fingers, his fist to the wrist as she bucked, screaming for him to get them out.
Ripped and bleeding, he’d just as brusquely tore them away, leaving her hole gaping, oozing a blend of her pulped flesh, his cum, and a steady flow of blood.
Her womb had been torn, her tunnel ruined, and with his teeth growing long and sinister, he met the screaming girl’s eye and watched her try to escape. He licked up the mess, swallowed bits of flesh, and savored her every cry.
Healing under those teeth and tongue, her insides knit back in place, her vaginal passage grew once again tight, and all the damage his nails had done disappeared into new flesh that was pink and engorged from vigorous attention.
The cruel lover concentrated his tongue near the top of her sex. What he did there arched her back in both loathing and unbearable sensation.
Restraining her with ease, he licked and sucked her swollen nub, twisting her nerves until she came, sobbing for mercy.
He stared down at the quivering mouth of her cunt, smirking at the pink fluttering lips that framed a hole empty and aching no matter how hard she’d climaxed. Shelving his chin atop her mound, Darius ran his gaze upward over her wildly heaving ribs to meet frantic eyes. “You wet the bed.”
Too far gone in her terror, all she could do was sob and wildly shake her head. She even begged him for help as if he were not the root of all her torment.
“Poor dear.” His weight came off of her thighs, Pearl curing into a ball.
It was a short reprieve, for the contented devil was eager for more flesh.
She shook like a leaf as he cooed and fussed, kissing healing bruises, whispering words of love against her skin. “Come now, my Pearl. Let me show you my love.”
It was almost impossible to speak. “This is not love.”
Groaning out a blissfully broken laugh, the man licked her tears. “In my thousands of years ruling our kind, I have never cared for a single female with such devoted attention. Not one of my own flock have I used since you became my possession—no matter how the slavering bitches beg for it. I have filled your home with treasures; drained many humans night after night so my face might please you and my blood might be sweet.” A lingering kiss was pressed to her slack mouth. “My entire existence is faithful to my delicate daywalker and the light she shares with me.”
Too much had been done in the short hours since she’d woken in the cursed room. Clinging to a pillow as if it could offer salvation, she buried her face and cried, “You promised to be gentle.”
“Is this not bliss?” Tangling his fingers through her hair, he forced her head back, drew her body to his chest, a
nd sighed. “When you weep for me, I can taste the sunshine in your tears. When I drain you almost to the point of death, I can even stand in it for a few short minutes before I begin to burn. Whoever raped your mother and left her alive after the feed has my gratitude.”
That wasn’t love, his words were not soothing, and Pearl was in misery. “I don’t have a mother.”
“I know.” Amused, he nipped at her ear. “The fact you were even conceived, given the odds, is miraculous… almost impossible. She would have died in labor as you fought your way out.”
“What?”
“I know all your secrets, Pearl. I know about the Jesuit priest at the Mission Orphanage in California. I know how he hung you by the neck from a tree for three days when you were a little girl because he found you drinking the blood of rats. I know about the exorcisms, the beatings, the rapes. You have told me everything about you. Despite your misgiving at this moment, you adore me. I’m your savior. No soul can hurt you but me, and I always put you back together.”
He was insane, absolutely crazy, and she felt the evil in him with every breath they shared. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I was obedient.”
“You enjoy pain, Pearl. You crave the things only I can do to you. How can you fully embrace pleasure otherwise?”
He had just ripped out her insides and swallowed them while she’d screamed for mercy. God might not be real, as he’d never once answered her prayers, but Pearl grasped that the devil existed. He’d found her as the priests said he would, and now he was going to eat up her soul. “I don’t want you to hurt me.”
“No?” A smile made his voice playful. “What is it that you think you want?”
Sobbing she said, “God’s forgiveness.”
“For what, being born? There is no creature more evil than this false God you think to worship over me.”
She knew her prayers and her sins. “I want to go to heaven.”
“I was turned before your Christian God came into being. This religion, like all others, was created by humans so they might rule over other humans. Your Jesus never existed. There was no virgin birth or cantering angels in the skies of Bethlehem. Every last drop of it is a lie.” Turning her body into the crook of his, he promised, “What is real is what is before you. Now, tell me you love me before I grow jealous.”
He was talking her in circles, and Pearl felt he’d done so thousands of times. Her own tongue could not break from the cycle. “I was obedient and still you hurt me. If I tell you I love you, you will hurt me again.”
“True.” The monster seemed appeased, even gratified by her statement. “My Pearl, isn’t honesty a beautiful thing?”
Before she could answer, Darius had her splayed on her belly with supernatural speed. Face pressed to the blankets, she bit back a scream, the feel of something boiling hot penetrating the cavity he’d torn apart. True, the damage had healed, but unlike the first time he’d taken her that night, she was ill prepared for such brutality.
Clawing at the bed, trying to find purchase, she pitched deeper into the mattress with his every thrust.
Struggles and pained grunts only drove him on. He wanted her to fight back.
He wanted to steal.
Going limp did not save her either.
A muscular forearm flexed around her throat, a fist once again knotted in her hair, and he bent her back until her spine screamed. Roaring like the devil he was, Darius slammed his cock into her body, snapping his hips violently against her backside.
He denied her air. Twisted as she was, there was nothing but him to hold on to. She couldn’t even see his eyes, only red velvet bed curtains that blurred as her world tripped between conscious and unconscious. Pain and true suffering.
But in there, under all the malevolence was a twinge and a lesson.
She was only allowed to be limp if he made her limp. She was only allowed to scream if he made her scream.
Pearl was a possession. She was a treasure.
One he could control physically or mentally, the point driven home when the tendrils of his dominion invaded her thoughts and tempted her to revel in the violence.
The instant her cracked psyche gave in, flashing fangs tore through his wrist and the spurting wound was pressed to her slack mouth.
Absolution arrived. She swallowed.
As he fucked her, she drank.
Gurgling around a mouthful, Pearl felt herself dragged to a higher state of being. High on his power, she could feel everything: each shredding thrust of a veined cock moving through skin not quite lubricated enough to facilitate smooth passage. She could feel the microscopic tears healing even as they split open anew. Overwrought nerves throbbed from both pleasure and pain, for he had found a place inside her body where, textured skin ached for punishment.
Under her knees, the bedsheets were slimy with blood, with bits of her that had escaped his feast, and with the very fluid he had accused her of spilling earlier.
She had indeed wet the bed, but it was not with piss.
Twisted by the glory of such perfect pain, what was dry became drenched. It ran down her thighs, clung like droplets of rain to the hair on his tight balls.
He abused her, left her aching and bone broken, and drew her greedy cunt through the worst sort of debasement and bliss.
Belly sloshing with his blood, she moved past fear straight into the red fires of the hell he’d designed for her. She came with such power it fractured her crumbling mind into pieces no amount of sweet words or broken promises would ever put back together.
You worship only me. He whispered the words into her mind. I am your God.
Darius slid from her twitching insides, cock hard as rock and pulsating as its master rolled his drooling conquest to her back. Thighs straddling her head, glorying in the smears of his blood over her chin, lips, and cheeks, he commanded, “Open your mouth. You are to swallow this too.”
She didn’t understand, and from his feral grin, it was obvious he took great pleasure in her innocence. Though could it be called innocence? Night after night did he not use his treasure, do unspeakable things to her, and work his evil over her body? After he was done, did he not strip away her thoughts and leave her a shell to wake again in this cold room, startled and scared.
A blank slate he could paint with blood.
A stupid girl he could pin down, where he might relish the pleasure of watching the shock on her face as he forced his cock past her lips and down her throat, choking her and denying her air.
Tongue pressed flat, her blunt teeth scraping the sides of his shaft, he ruthlessly fucked her mouth. When she began to bite, something changed, a look in the fiery red eyes, and Pearl swore that meat down her throat kicked.
The devil roared, pressing forward with such strength he tore out bits of her hair.
Salty tang burned like bile, coating her tongue, stinging her throat, and dripping from the corners of her swollen lips. Mashing his pelvis to her skull, Darius ushered more of that poison down his pulsating shaft and straight into her belly.
He held her that way after the last drop was spilled, watching her suffocate as if the view were magnificent.
Frantic for air, she begged with wide, wet eyes.
He smiled, yet did not move. “Speak of your God again, Pearl. Name him.”
Scratching at his thigh, working her throat around his softening tool, she garbled, desperate to form the sounds of his name in a bid for freedom.
A satisfied cock popped from her lips, bloody vomit and tears following.
Much of what he had given her was spilled, cum and blood pooling on the bed. As she heaved, he patted her head, as if a good dog has performed well.
Arms came around her. Cuddled to her back despite the mess, he pressed his lips to her ear. “There is no reason to be afraid of the demands I make on your body. I would never truly harm you past the point your body might regenerate.”
She was sobbing, coughing between gasps. “And tomorrow I will have forgotten, and y
ou will do this again.”
“Hush, child.” Darius kissed the back of her head, sliding his fingers over her ribs, across a sick belly, and lower still, until he cupped her bruised sex. “You’ve pleased me. As a reward, I swear to be the sweet lover you wish for tomorrow. I’ll fool you into smiles and laughter. When I fuck you, I won’t draw blood. You have my word.”
His word meant nothing to her. “And you have mine that I will hate you tomorrow as much as I hate you today.”
He smiled, and let his finger penetrate where she was slippery with his cum. There they played no matter her sulking or lingering discomfort. “You love me, kara sevde, of that I have no doubt.”
Chapter Seven
There were so many pages, unfamiliar entry after entry—all of them in her choppy handwriting. Yet, each lacked a date, filling up the tome that sat upon the room’s solitary desk with a vague story of her time in this stone room.
I did not sleep last night, and when Darius came to me again, he smiled as if he knew I’d waited for his return. Bone tired, I was poor company, but he was kind to me. He even offered an explanation. My sentence in this room, he claimed, is twice the lifetime of the man I killed.
Chadwick Parker had not been a young man, and I worry I might be trapped here for near a century.
How many times had Pearl read this first entry? It was impossible to know, but the page was growing worn and the book was filled with hundreds if not thousands of similarly pinned memories.
Darius held my hand when I grew sad at this news, claimed he hated to see my anguish. That is why he enforces his gift. My memory each night is wiped away so I might be spared from a monotonous eternity in prison. One day he’ll hold my hand as I am set free. One day, I’ll be allowed to meet others like me. I’ll never be alone again.
Flipping through the journal, Pearl looked for something she couldn’t pin. Over and over this Darius character was mentioned, but so far, she’d seen no sign of anyone in the cramped cell. Which was well and good. Yet something about the book was disturbing, obvious in its wrongness, but with no explanation.
