Good Sick: A Dark Psychological Romance

by Sansa Rayne

  Mason jerked and groaned as I complied, then held his hand against the back of my head. “Now start working its length deeper into your mouth.”

  My jaw started to ache from the strain of fitting his thick rod all the way in. When it probed deep, I started to choke. Each time I did, Mason withdrew so I could compose myself, but each time the reprieve grew shorter. I couldn’t tell if he was growing impatient, or just conditioning me to recover faster.

  Every time I moved my head, the transfer of motion through my body caused the plug inside me to shift, inviting fresh pain. Similarly, the forward momentum made the clamps on my nipples swing. The overall feeling was incredible: I couldn’t move a muscle without eliciting a different kind of pain; the challenge of maintaining my concentration while enduring the torment was a sweet nectar I had to keep drinking.

  Mason spoke less as I found a rhythm to my work, his words replaced by blissful groans. Finding my confidence, I worked faster, enjoying the task. I could have sworn Mason was about to climax, but when I thought his hot load was going to spray the back of my throat, he suddenly withdrew.

  Before I could react, he was on the bed, picking me up and turning me over. With my back against the bed, he spread my legs apart and planted his knees between them. With his hands, he pinned my wrists apart. I wasn’t tied up, technically, but I may as well have been.

  “Enough foreplay,” he said.

  I agreed.

  He plunged his cock into my eager opening. Lubricated by my saliva and my dripping juices, he slid in easily. I gasped as the massive shaft drove into me; I could feel it against the plug already inside. The sensation sent a spasm through me. I screamed as a joy I’d never imagined flooded my senses. Each thrust lifted me to new heights.

  Somehow, I remembered to say, “Can I come?” I panted it in a voice so sparse I could barely hear it.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Hold it.”

  I whined, then moaned as Mason accelerated his rhythmic pounding. The orgasm pent up within me begged for release, but I obeyed and held it back. Mason let go of one of my wrists and used the hand to lift the chain connecting my nipple clamps. He gave it a light tug, reigniting the pain in my breasts. I don’t know whether he thought this would help or hinder my efforts to hold back the orgasm. My cries filled his dungeon, fueled by both the pleasure and pain.

  After a few pulls, Mason let go of the chain and renewed his grip on my other wrist. He hammered me like a machine, causing me to buck and heave with ecstasy.

  “Now you can come,” he said.

  I let go, screaming so loud Mason flinched. He groaned, experiencing the same euphoria as me. My entire body felt the bliss, and when I’d poured out every last drop of elation, my mouth was open but no sound came out. I felt Mason lift off of me, and a kiss on my forehead, and then everything went dark.

  I could still see every detail. The sign that called out to me. I wrote it all down as soon as I could. I followed the clues, all of them. It was amazing what one could learn from so little information, as long as you knew how. It only took a couple of hours to narrow down the possibilities to one, and then I’d found it.

  Yes, I found you, I thought, waiting patiently in the front seat of a beat up sedan.

  When I opened my briefcase at the car dealership and pulled out stack after stack of twenties, the stocky salesman set aside the paperwork and shook my hand.

  “I’ll just say I junked it,” he said, as if I needed more reassurance. It was convincing, though: that’s what I would have done with this deathtrap too.

  From that point on I drove the rest of the way in one shot, engine rattling and coughing, but holding on. The trip was easier without the girl, though I still felt a twinge of guilt when I listened to the news. They found the body a few hours after I left it, located by the police hunting down whoever killed their colleague. I wondered what they’d think when ballistics discovered it was not me who killed the girl, but them. Would they own it, or pin it on me? Why not? It was a drop in the bucket.

  However, the law would eventually link everything together and track me here, so I couldn’t stay forever. Luckily, I just needed a few days. I could hide for that long.

  In the meantime, I’d followed all the clues and found what I came here for. My prize. I couldn’t claim it though; not yet. I was too early. I’d have to wait.

  In the meantime, I’d watch my prize. Make sure I knew where to find it when I was ready.

  Just a few more days.

  She moaned softly when she woke, but didn’t say anything. She stared off into space, existing for a time as merely the feelings in her body. Eventually, the thoughts emerged.

  “It’s still inside.”

  Laughing, I reached back there and gave it a light tap. “It is.”

  “All right.” She rubbed her head against my chest, moving to a fresh spot still cool from the basement air. “Mason. I told you my story. That’s all there is to know about me. It’s your turn.”

  I sighed. She was right. My mind raced through the calculations of what I could say and not jeopardize the case.

  Fuck it.

  “All right. What do you think you know about me?” I asked.

  She thought about it for a second, then her memory kicked in: “You used to be a cop.”

  “That’s right.” I lifted her body off of mine and set her down on the bed next to me. I turned over, onto my side, so I could face her. “Only for a few years though. Ten years ago I…”

  Crossing this bridge was like drinking my first Irish Car Bomb: Don’t think about it, just commit. Do it.

  “I made a mistake. It seemed like the right decision at the time, but it wasn’t.”

  “Tell me, Mason,” she said.

  I’d never told anyone about that night in any detail. The moment felt surreal, and even a relief, but I couldn’t let it affect me. I tried to tell myself I was telling her the story to further an objective, not unburden my soul. Abigail Lamb was the key, and if I needed to keep her, I had to give her more. Not all, but more.

  “I was in my first year, working a beat in my own neighborhood. I had a partner, Chip Pekarsky. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was a hardass. No-nonsense, by-the-book. A good person to train under.”

  “Okay.”

  “We were about to get coffee at our favorite convenience store when a man ran out. He saw us, and got our attention. He pointed at the store, said a man and a girl were robbing it. Both armed. Pekarsky peeked in through the window. The suspects were watching the cashier and shoving bills from the register into their pockets. Neither was watching the door, so he busted his way in, gun drawn. I followed him in, and then…”

  Tears ran down Abigail’s cheek. She probably thought the worst. We had guns, I was a rookie. Maybe my life would have been better if somebody had gotten shot that night, but nobody did.

  “Then, there she was. Kaya. My little sister.”

  “The girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a really pretty name.”

  I smiled. “I used to tease her by calling her Kayak. You know, because she made me yak.”

  She punched my arm. “So mean.”

  “That’s siblings, Abbi.”

  She leaned in with sad eyes and kissed my cheek. “Go on, Mason. What happened next?”

  Shit. Here we go. No turning back now.

  “Pekarsky yelled at them to freeze, and they were so terrified they dropped their guns right away. Then she saw me and knew she was in trouble. She looked like she wanted to die right there.”

  “She didn’t get shot? Isn’t that good?”

  “Maybe that would have been worse. Maybe not.”

  Abigail squeezed my shoulder hard. “I don’t get it. Why?”

  “Because…” I shook my head, still wrestling with the events of that night.

  “Okay, so it was me and Pekarsky, the cashier, Kaya and Lyle, the guy she was with. Heroin dealer. Piece of shit. I was glad we were finally going to bust him. Get
him away from Kaya. But before Pekarsky calls it in, he pulls me aside. He knows who she is. He asks me, do I want to fudge things, make it seem like she wasn’t in on the robbery? The cashier knows us, he would have gone along with it. Nobody would have believed Lyle. It was up to me.”

  Abigail shifted around, wincing as the plug inside her jostled. “Wait, I thought Pekarsky was by-the-books?” she asked.

  “Exactly. So I have this panic that he’s testing me. That if I say yes, it’ll go on my jacket and I’ll be screwed. But maybe he just felt bad for me. See, a few years prior we lost our parents to a drunk driver. It’s what led me to join the force, actually. But since I was an adult, Kaya became my responsibility. I was supposed to watch out for her, but I failed. I tried to convince her to stay away from Lyle, but the more I pushed, the more she fought me. She wasn’t over losing Mom and Dad. I understood, but there she was, committing a robbery. I was mad at her, and was afraid that if I lost my job, it would be even harder to help her.”

  Abigail reached for my hand. “You turned her in.”

  The way she said it — without accusation or judgment — pretty much killed me.

  “I hoped… she might be scared straight. She was a juvenile; we’d call in a favor with the judge, get the charges reduced. The record would have been sealed. That’s what I thought as Pekarsky loaded her into his cruiser. I watched as he drove her away. She glared at me through the window, screaming. I told myself it would work out. That she’d get treatment. Addiction therapy. Rehab.”

  Abigail trembled beside me. Normally when I played through that night I ended up breaking stuff; this was the first time I’d ever made it to the end this calmly. That’s the nice part about talking to a real person, instead of the ghosts of the past.

  “What then, Mason? What happened to her?”

  Moment of truth. There’s the cliff. Better stop in time.

  “She didn’t want to be released into my custody, so she spent the night in jail. The next day she was taken to a temporary shelter, which she ran away from. And then she disappeared. The last time I saw her was when Pekarsky drove off with her screaming in the backseat.”

  “My god, Mason. I’m so sorry.” Her tears kept coming now. Maybe she was thinking of all the brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers who were left behind by those who “ascended.” Was it all hitting her now? If she didn’t have a family of her own, it probably was. It’s tough living with the uncertainty, the guilt. Maybe the girls at Good Souls didn’t think they were leaving anybody behind. I can’t imagine Kaya feeling that way, wherever she is now.

  “I searched for her, of course. I worked my ass off to make detective. My new partner even helped me with the case, but the trail went cold. I was told to stop wasting department time on the case, so I turned in my badge.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

  I stroked her hair, smoothing the soft locks. “So that’s why I understand you better than most, Abigail. I know what it’s like to have one mistake weigh you down forever. To have made a decision in a bad place, and regret it later.”

  Abigail kissed my lips again, and I let her. I needed it.

  And I needed her for the case. But did I still need the case? Maybe for the first time I started to think I might not. Kaya was gone. Even if I got what I needed from Abigail, the odds it would bring Kaya back were pretty fucking bad.

  As soon as Abigail broke away from our kiss, I slid out from under her and turned her over. “You ready?” I said, gripping the base of the toy in her ass.

  “Yeah, all right.”

  I worked it out slowly, enjoying her sweet moans as its departure elicited fresh pain. She sounded so damn sexy enduring punishment; I could hear the enjoyment as prominently as the hurt. She was my kind of sick, and I couldn’t let that go. I couldn’t risk losing her for the sake of the case. It just didn’t make sense anymore.

  Tossing the used plug in a bucket in the corner of the dungeon, I gave Abigail another kiss. “I have to make a quick call. Stay here, okay?”

  “Sure,” she said, spreading her limbs out on the bed, giving me a nice view of it all. My cock hardened and rose, ready for another round, and I could have stayed, but Frank was waiting up for the call.

  I gave her backside a quick slap, making her yelp and moan. “Back in a minute.”

  Shutting the dungeon door behind me, I jogged upstairs, taking two steps at once, and grabbed my phone.

  Frank picked up on the first ring. “Mason?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” I should have waited before calling. I should have thought of a diplomatic way to break the bad news. “Sorry, Frank, you’re not gonna like this.”

  “What? Did you lose Lamb? Tell me you didn’t.”

  Fuck, this is going to suck. “No, Frank, it’s not like that. I had to open up to her, tell her about Kaya. I didn’t tell her about him, though.”

  “Yeah, so what’s the problem?”

  “I can’t do it, Frank.”

  “Is that right? You don’t want to find him anymore? Or her? Is that it?”

  I kept my voice low. “Fuck you, Frank.”

  “Seriously, Mason. I’m confused. A few days ago you were all about the mission.”

  “I know.”

  “And now it sounds like you’d rather screw that poor cult girl than bring an evil motherfucker to justice.”

  “Yeah, that’s about it.” My patience for Frank was fraying, but I could put myself in his shoes, so I forced myself to stay cool.

  “Mason, this is going to work. The photos in The Lookout were perfect. Literally any day, this is going to work, and you’ll have the shot you’ve been waiting to take for ten goddamn years.”

  Keep it together. “I can’t do it, man. I just can’t. Call it off.”

  “No. I’m saying, no, Mason. I’ve misused department resources, I’ve called in a dozen favors, I’ve lied to people I care about — all for you, and for this.”

  I could have screamed into the phone, if not for Abigail in bed downstairs. Frank wasn’t fucking listening. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t plan on this happening.”

  “Don’t apologize. Everything I’ve done was my call, because I believe in the case. I’m begging you Mason, hold on a little longer. We’re so close to the end.”

  He was taking this better than I thought, appealing to my reason, and deep-seated hope. It almost worked.

  “Frank, I appreciate all you’ve done. I do. But the cost of continuing is just too high. I’m calling it off. Maybe we can try again with Elspeth.”

  “The Connors girl? No, it won’t work. He’ll never go for it. It has to be Lamb.”

  I took a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry. Not Abigail. From now on, I’m keeping her far away from this.”

  “Away from what?”

  I spun around; Abigail had emerged, clothed, from the basement.

  “What were you talking about?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

  “I… It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

  “That’s not how it sounds, Mason.” She put on her shoes quickly, and grabbed her purse.

  I should have rushed her, taken her back to the dungeon and locked her down until I knew this was all over, but Frank would have told me if there was any danger.

  Wouldn’t he?

  What if the mission was more important to him than Abigail was to me? Could I take that chance?

  Who’s always kept his word, stayed true to the mission? Who’s been right at every turn?

  Frank.

  Who’s acted rashly, and put himself before the mission? Who made the mistake that started this whole thing?

  Me.

  “Please, Abigail. Don’t leave,” I said. I wanted to hold her in my arms and talk until she believed me, but my feet stayed rooted to the floor. If I forced her to stay, I could lose her forever. “I’ll explain everything, I swear. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  “Yeah, sure. Be blessed, Mason,” she snarled. She shook her he
ad as tears fell, then slammed the door behind her.

  I hailed the first cab I could and gave him an address five blocks from my apartment. I didn’t want to go home, in case Mason tried to find me there, but I had to get away.

  Night had fallen since I arrived at his place, and the once bright day felt like something pulled into a swamp and spat back out. It all appeared different, as though the world knew what had happened to me. In truth, nobody around knew anything about it; they had their own crises to worry about, of which I knew nothing either.

  How could people live like that? At least at Good Souls we could try to help each other. We knew which of the other girls were struggling with their beliefs, or homesickness, or loneliness. The old farmhouse had thin walls and we all gossiped, even though it was a sin. The men talked shit about each other all the time. There were few secrets, aside from Brady’s. He kept no council but his own.

  Ignoring the lingering throb in my ass and the unstoppable shaking of my hands, I fished my cell phone out of my purse and found Elspeth’s number.

  “Hello?” she said, surprise in her tone.

  “Elspeth. It’s me. It’s Abigail. Are you free? I want to apologize to you. Can I come over?”

  “Umm…”

  “I don’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just, I don’t think it’s smart for me to go home right now.” From the rearview mirror of the cab the driver’s eyes stared back.

  “Oh wow. You’re serious.”

  “I am. I know this is sudden. If this is not a good time, I understand. I mean it, Elspeth.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I’m at my new place unpacking. If you want to apologize, you can come help me. Where are you now?”

  I looked out the window, but we were moving too fast for me to catch a street sign. “In a cab.”

  “Put on the speakerphone,” she said.

  I did, and Elspeth gave the driver her address. “Take her there, all right?”

  “You got it, ma’am,” he said at the phone, relieved. When I hung up he added, “You’ve got a good friend, miss.”