Razing Grace: Razing Grace Part 1 Page 3

  He laughs. “Closing your eyes isn’t going to do shit, nun.”

  Opening them slowly, I’m greeted by his muscled legs standing strong with veins pulsing up and down his thick arms and eventually landing on the hands he has around himself.

  “Like what you see, nun?” he questions, his head tilting to the side as he continues to slowly stroke himself. A light bead of clear liquid surfaces on the tip of him and I can’t help but be fascinated by it to a certain extent. Penis’ not very nice looking. In fact, I’d go as far as to say they’re ugly. But there is one thing I have noticed in the time I’ve been here: All the men I have met are built lean and big. Much like Hella and Beast, Kurr must like his soldiers beefy.

  Yanking me to my feet, he pushes me hard until my back hits the wall behind me. My eyes roll to the back of my head slightly.

  “What?” I whisper, running my tongue across my cracked lips. I bring a hand up to my head that now ached from being smacked against the wall. He stills, his other hand coming to the back of my neck before pushing me down onto my knees and into his groin. I slam my mouth shut, so he lowers himself until the black mask is a centimeter from mine. I bring my eyes up slowly over the sleek matte black steel and eventually into the fiery grey eyes that are slicing straight through me. “Play nice, nun. You won’t like us much if you don’t.”

  “What do you all want from me?” I ask, my tone kicking to a dangerous level.

  “Us?” he points to his chest. “Nothing personally, but Kurr? He has a whole lot of plans for your saving grace, so it’s better, for your sake, that you warm up with us.” He pauses before a slight chuckle leaves him. “I would say that you could have it worse, but you really couldn’t. Buckle up, sister.”

  He pulls my head back towards him again, the hard yet soft skin rubbing against my dried lips. Do I fight it? Or is he right, will that make it worse? I don’t think I could handle worse, so I slowly open my lips, allowing him to slip inside of my warm enclosure. My stomach recoils as I attempt to block out everything that’s happening. The mixture of fresh soap and salt hits the back of my throat as the head of his cock rubs over the top of my mouth.

  Wrapping my hair around his fist, he tugs on it roughly. “Teeth!” he commands, his head tilting back. I peer up at him, scanning over his chiseled chest and stomach up to where his mask ends to see the beginning of his jaw line. He has a five o’clock shadow from what I’m able to see. The tip of him dips to the back of my throat and I fight the urge to spew up everywhere. I don’t like this. His grip around my hair gets tighter until the pricking of my hair being slowly pulled from their follicles ripples through my skull. My knees burn from being submitted to them on the grainy concrete ground, and his thrusting intensifies while his breathing shallows. I bare my teeth until they grit over his swollen head and thick length and a loud hiss escapes him just as hot liquid shoots to the back of my throat, sliding down without permission. I swallow it all quickly and then start to freak out. Was I supposed to swallow that? Was it even edible? Crap.

  He pushes my face back until my butt hits the floor and my back connects with the cold brick wall. Buckling up his belt, he bends down to face me, his fingers wrapping around my chin and tilting my face up to his. “You’ll learn how to survive through what you’re about to go through, nun. You think this is bad? The 6 have nothing on what you’re about to face. You’re better to let go of all that holy bullshit inside of you now, because I’ll tell you something, baby. You walk through a church after we’re done with you, and you’ll burst into flames.” He drops my head and a sob escapes my mouth. He leaves the cell, leaving me to my empty thoughts and the whispers of the cold dead cell. Every day that slips by, I lose hope. I’m losing the fight.

  “No, Kurr,” Courtney argued, her feet walking up and down the laboratory. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore.” Kurr stepped up to Courtney’s worried face and gripped his fingers around hers roughly, pulling her little body against his.

  “You will, Courtney. You know what will happen if you defy me or our cause.”

  “You can’t, I can’t…” Courtney exhaled her breath of defeat, her shoulders falling. “You can’t hurt my boy, Kurr, you promised.”

  Kurr chuckled. “I’ll keep that promise to you, Courtney. You just make sure you play a good little lab rat and I’ll make sure no one harms your precious Beast.”

  Little pitter patter of muddy boots sounded through the empty halls outside the lab and Courtney tensed. The door swung open and a little blond boy with a sun-kissed tan and dark stormy grey eyes stepped toward her with his arms up. Courtney dropped to her knees and scooped the sweet child into her embrace, inhaling his innocent smell in the crook of his neck. “I love you. Mommy will always protect you. You and your brother.”

  My eyes peel open to another day where I’m greeted with the unfamiliar surroundings of a chilled cell. The walls inside of my brain are closing in and my skin burns from being soiled for what feels like too long. The cell door shrieks open loudly, pulling me out of my thoughts as I nibble on my lip nervously. Rocking softly in the darkest corner of this enclosure, I realize what I’m doing: I’m trying to survive. I’m now battling with myself to keep sane. I’ve been touched in ways one should only ever be touched by their husband, or at least, by someone who you equally want, too. Am I already a lost cause? Could what they have in plan for me really be something that horrible? On any other week I would doubt that, but after what I’ve already been put through, I’m in no position to call anyone’s bluff. Heavy military boots come into sight, scuffed and dirty, well-worn. Tripp drops a warm bucket of soapy water onto the floor in front of my face. My shoulders wince at the sharp bang of the bucket connecting with the ground.

  “Get up.” A slightly familiar yet chillingly cold voice follows that makes my eyes twitch and my heart rate pick up to a terrifying pace. Out of all the masked men I’ve seen, this is the one who terrifies me to my core. “I won’t repeat myself, pet. Get the fuck up.”

  With heavy movements, my body obeys his command. Dropping to his knees in front of me, my eyes remain trained on the floor in submission. My long blonde hair is now dirty and knotted, hanging over my shoulders and falling messy over my face, and I can still taste black mask in my mouth while still feeling red mask’s fingers penetrating inside of me.

  I place my hand into the warm soapy water, the temperature bringing me temporary comfort. My hands tingle with glee as I wrap my fingers tightly around the thick sponge I find floating inside the soapy mess. Squeezing out the excess, I slowly lift the sponge out of the water and begin rubbing it in circles over my arm. My eyes close and my head tilts back slightly as I bring the sponge toward my neck and squeeze some of the heavenly water down until it trickles over my collar bone and over my bare breast, leaving a chill in its place over my nipple. A moan of appreciation slips from my tongue while I’m lost in the refreshing comfort from the water dripping down my nakedness. A low growl booms through the room and I pause my washing to notice the same boots still in my vision. He hasn’t moved; he’s still kneeling in front of me.

  “Look at me.” His voice isn’t bad. It’s evil, dark, filthy, and it penetrated my very existence. I continue to stare at his boots until I slip my eyes up further, until they rest at his knees which are covered in worn denim jeans. “Look. At. Me … pet,” he repeats, his tone deadly.

  I succumb, raising my eyes past the black shirt he’s wearing which is rolled to his elbows, showcasing the ink he’s sporting on both of his lean arms. Veins ripple under his tanned flawless skin. I need to see who it is beneath the mask. My eyes continue to travel up his tattooed neck until I stop at the rim of his steel mask. The right side of it is artistically designed to look as though part of his cheek and mouth had been ripped off.

  Exhaling, I dip the sponge back into the water, attempting to use the silky calmness of the soapy liquid to distract me. I place the sponge on my thigh and begin rubbing it in circular motions just as our eyes conn
ect, his stormy grey eyes meeting my turquoise ones, where a tornado meets the Atlantic Ocean and where Heaven meets Hell. My head tilts as I ignore the fluttering that’s happening deep in my gut, but at the same time, my skin crawls with fear. His eyes narrow on me, looking right through me as if he’s conjuring something to pop out of my body. “Don’t ever moan like that again.” He grips my knees, spreading them open wide. The sudden stretch is uncomfortable, but I submit nevertheless. Running his eyes down my naked chest, I attempt to slam my knees closed again, not liking how little control I have. His eyes snap back up to mine and narrow in warning, so I relax slightly, not wanting to push him. His head tilts while his eyes seep over my core and butterflies erupt inside of me, as a loud throb starts an aching rhythm. My eyes dart from left to right, confusion taking up most of the space in my head again.

  Why me?

  What is he doing to me?

  “He make you come?” he asks profoundly. I don’t answer. I’m too busy watching how he watches me. “Answer me!”

  “Wh—who?” I stutter through a tight undertone.

  “Joker. Or, day one. He make you come?” he repeats, his hands slowly traveling up my inner thighs until they’re resting at the apex.

  My breathing shallows. Why would he ask this question?

  “Yes,” I lie, because if I told him no, he might tell Joker, and then what? Then I’ll have to endure him again? No. I’ll risk a small lie.

  He chuckles devilishly, his light yet rough finger tips swaying over my folds. “Try that again, pet, and this time don’t lie to me.” His thumb finds my swollen nub as he presses on it. “Did he …” He circles his thumb once, eyes coming up to meet mine. His grey stormy eyes have now been replaced with dark, demonic smoke. I’m a bad girl if I want this man, but I’m a good girl. I’ve never done wrong in my life, but the way he has his hands on me and his eyes glued to mine make a small part of myself want to do very bad things. Things that I know will make me feel good. My internal fight kicks in as his shoulders come under my knees and his face drops between my thighs, lips skimming over my flesh, traveling up towards my lady part. My eyes snap open at the sudden contact and my heart rate pounds through me. “Make you …” he goes on, his tongue slithering over my skin, paving the way to my core. “Come?” he finally finishes before his warm mouth covers my clit.

  His tongue darts out of his mouth slowly as he flicks the tip of it over my clit. A loud muffled scream rips out of me before I can stop it and it wasn’t a lady-like scream; it was downright embarrassing, but the deep roar that quivers over my heat turns off all thoughts. This feels good. He swirls my clit with his tongue, and my eyes shut out, blocking out everything in view. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as my mind attempts to fight off the very thing my body wants. One finger presses inside of me as he continues to lick, suck, and ravish me. It’s all too much. A build begins to climb deep inside, my hips lifting to meet his mouth involuntarily and a growl vibrating against my clit. His licking pauses as his finger continues to stroke inside of my walls. Every time his finger rubs, it hits a soft cushion that sends bolts of pleasure flashing through my veins.

  “Look at me, pet.”

  I want to scream in frustration as sweat beads on my forehead. I want this. I need to have more. No, you don’t. Tears descend from my eyes as the climb my body is experiencing deepens. A sharp pinch clamps my inner thigh and I yelp out in surprise, yet his strokes continue.

  “Did you bite me?” I ask breathlessly, my eyes rolling to the back of my head and my hips rising to meet his fingers desperately. I need his mouth back down there, and I need it now.

  “This is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you come my day,” his stroking continues. “I’m going to make you come until you’re within an inch of your life, and then, when you’re begging me to stop, that you can’t possibly take any more, I’ll have you gushing down my throat once more. I’ll rub my cock all over your wet slit until you fucking beg me to fuck you filthy, pet. And I will. I will fuck you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t know what fucking life you’re living. I’ll fuck the damn holy out of you and make you fucking scream to the angels as you enjoy it.” Pausing, he brings his mouth back down to my clit, blowing softly over my now swollen and pleading nub until I buck off the ground shamelessly. “I’ll fucking ruin you, pet. I’ll fuck every single inch of your flawless skin and corrupt it.” His mouth drops to my clit and I scream out again at finally feeling what I’ve wanted, what I’ve craved. Chains shatter behind my shut lids as my limbs jolt and my entire body convulses from the euphoric rapture which has exploded throughout me.

  He stands to his feet as I lay there with my back to the cold concrete floor. He points to the bucket as I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling and the waves of the aftershock of whatever just happened come through me. “That… is what it’s like to come, pet. Don’t fucking lie to me again.” He walks back out of the barred cell and I bring my legs up to my chest, clutching them protectively around myself. What just happened? What’s happening? What’s going on? Why am I slowly losing myself to these people? I’m weak.

  I’ve sinned. I’m bad. I’ve let the darkness penetrate my existence and I’ve relished in it.

  TRIPP

  “Day 3”

  My knee jiggles under the heavy wooden table. To the left, I catch Joker watching me carefully. “Why are you jittery?” His eyes narrow in a way that’s suspicious and I instantly begin to imagine what it would be like if I tore them from their sockets.

  “I’m not.” My jaw clenches as my face tilts to the side and I drag my eyes over his body, causing him to shuffle in his seat. Pulling out a cigarette from his hoodie pocket, he places it into his mouth while keeping his eyes on me. The flame flicks from his zippo as I watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke.

  “Angel has her today. What’s your take on her, man? You’ve said nothing about her while everyone else is raving about her.” He flicks the ash from his cigarette and I absently watch as it slowly free falls through the air before landing on the concrete floor.

  “Have I ever raved about any girl that has walked through these doors?” I reply, my tone bored. “She’s just another case we have to work, J. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.”

  The door that leads down to the dungeon opens and closes from the other side of the room as Soulless walks through towards the kitchen, taking his mask off his face and placing it on top of the table. We’re from different walks of life. Joker, who wears the red ghost mask, is agent 306. He was born here, like me, but just in a different rank. Soulless, who wears the black mask, is agent 166. A recruit. He was blacklisted at age twelve after Kurr read his medical report after his parents checked him into a psych ward. He’s not all there in the head, but he’s a fucking great asset to have. White mask is Angel. His agent number is 246, and he has family history with The Army. Blue mask is Viking, or just King. He’s agent 222. And then there’s Royal who wears the gold mask. He’s agent 211. Again, in for family. This is who we are, all of us, but the majority of our time is spent outside of these walls. It’s why we wear the masks. Kurr knew a long time ago that this was how he wanted to play it. But the names we go by are the only names we’re allowed to know of each other. It’s kind of like a nine-to-five job except for Joker, who lives here. We all have our own cabins that sit at the back of the main house for when we are around just to keep all the shit we need.

  “She fucking purrs,” Soulless chuckles, running his fingers through his dark hair.

  “Purrs?” Joker teases, leaning back in his chair. “Man, no. You ain’t hitting it right. She fucking roared for me.”

  My eyes shot back to Joker as I stifle back a growl.

  Pushing my chair back, I stand to all my six foot five inches. “Where’s Angel?”

  Their smiles pause as they both bring their eyes up to mine. Joker sucks on his cancer stick and Soulless smirks at me.

  “He’s warming up. He has some fucking games planned fo
r that girl.”

  Amateurs, they’re all fucking amateurs. Joker is the youngest out of us all. Kurr had us strategically picked to be young and fit. We all have a strict workout and food intake schedule as well. King is the oldest at thirty-six. I walk to the metal door and slide it open before walking out to find Kurr.

  MILLIE

  The cell door opens with a jolt and I scoot towards the concrete wall, pulling my knees up to my chest while the little hairs on my arms come to life. It’s day three. Who was day three?

  A shadow crosses the room covered in a white cloak and my hand flies up to my mouth to stifle my sob. He places something onto the old stained mattress that lays in the corner and then turns to face me, his expression remaining stoic, covered by the rim of his white hood, but the glow from his white mask blinding. His mask is all white, except for a single red tear drop which sits under his eye.

  He points to the pile of clothes he just placed on the mattress. “Get dressed.” His voice is dominating, yet it isn’t rough like Tripp’s. It isn’t playful like Joker, either. It somehow falls in the middle.

  I push up to my feet, clutching the blanket in my hand, and walk towards the mattress. His chest rises and falls under the thick cotton of his white cloak-like-jersey as his body stands quiet, waiting, watching like a predator studying his prey. I avert my eyes down to the bed and collect the fish net stockings, tight black underwear—which, I’m guessing, go over the top of the stockings—and a little black lace bra. When I think I have everything that I’ll be needing, a white bundle catches my eye that is sitting under the bra. Skimming my fingertips over the prickling silk of feathers, my eyes close softly.

  “Wings?” I ask, gently picking them up and slipping my arms through the loops.

  His silence is deafening and uncomfortable, so I decide to quickly get changed. After being naked for almost twenty-four hours, I’ll welcome anything that passes as clothing. Even if they don’t.