Page 11 of The Cult

“Hand against the mirror,” he said, and before I could protest, the tip of his club hit my shoulder blade. “Just keep going.”

Hesitantly, we followed his instruction and inched closer to the mirrored wall. I swallowed hard as I approached. I didn’t know for sure, but I sensed there were people on the other side, watching our every move. My heartbeat quickened, the thudding rhythm pulsating in my ears as the uneasy feeling of being scrutinized washed over me. I met the eyes of the other guys; unease was written on their faces too.

The giant metal door behind us creaked open. A stern-faced older man entered and motioned to one of the guards.

“What do you think is goin’ on?” I asked Two.

“I don’t know,” he replied, watching their reflections interact.

The guard nodded then looked back at us. “All of you. Follow me.” Like a herd of sheep, we exited the room. They could be leading us for slaughter and we wouldn’t know.

I was fucking tired of following orders and being herded around like mindless puppets. I wanted to protest, but I had no choice. I’m doing this for my family, I reminded myself. This will be over soon.

Seven: Tobias

My thoughts swirled like a storm as we formulated a plan to get into Orcus’s compound. We had to be cautious and keep our identities concealed. Exposing ourselves to The Firm while handling my personal business was the last thing we needed. I was starting to feel like a burden, a weight dragging them down. Archer and Heath would come to realize it eventually.

“Stop overthinking. We’re not gonna let you fight this battle alone,” Archer said, once again reading my mind.

“We’re a team now,” Heath added with a reassuring nod.

I hesitated, torn between my usual self-reliance and growing appreciation for my new friends. But in the end, I relinquished some control. “No one would be stupid enough to be your friend,” my adoptive father’s voice rang in my head.

Four bottles of Scotch, three assassins, and two days later, one hell of a plan was born. Heath, Archer, and I stood before our whiteboard and stared at Orcus’s name above the intricate lines that mapped his well-guarded world. For an obscure cult leader, the way he surrounded himself with muscle and ammo had made him a complicated target to crack. The plan wasn’t to off him, but to handicap him long enough to get Oliver’s family out.

The strategy we’d developed to get inside the cult wasn’t airtight, but it was the best we could do considering we only had two days. “This better work,” Heath said, wiping the board clean of our plan.

“It will,” I said. Zero had mined details about Orcus these past few days that I never knew I needed. And if anything she said about Orcus was true, he was easily impressed. “Ready to do this?” I asked, allowing Heath and Archer the opportunity to back out while hoping they wouldn’t.

“I’m always ready,” Archer answered, yanking his signature black hoodie over his head.

“It’s been a minute since I’ve been in one of these.” Heath pulled his black cassock from the box his brother, Andrew, had overnighted to us.

“And you look so fucking hot in it.” Lust flashed in Archer’s eyes. I knew I’d been a cock-blocker while being cooped up in this shitty motel room for two days, but we had very little time and dozens of things to accomplish.

I shook my head and grabbed the keys to my rental car from the counter. We didn’t want to risk being exposed, so we opted for renting the most basic car we could find on the internet. “Make it quick,” I said, surrendering to their needs with my hands up before shutting the door behind me on my way out. The sounds of moaning bodies slamming against furniture carried through the thin walls of our room.

My cock perked up, a reminder of how long it’d been since I last got laid. Now wasn’t the time. Down, boy! I closed my eyes and exhaled a shaky breath, trying desperately to keep my urges at bay. No fucking luck. I spotted a trail leading to a canyon of trees next to a small wooden shed, so I gave in and marched to find a hidden spot to jerk off.

I leaned against a tree, glancing around to make sure nobody was around before unbuckling my belt. This was a bad idea, but I was in dire need to come. It’d been a while since I’d fucked someone—I couldn’t even remember when or who the girl was— and the girth of my cock showed it. My cum-leaking dick stuck out of the waistband of my black underwear, its swollen tip as shiny as the frenum barbell piercing on the underside of the head of my shaft. After unbuttoning and unzipping my pants, I freed my cock from its confinement. My dick pulsated, bouncing off my lower abdomen, leaving a trail of sleek pre-cum. “Fuck,” I moaned when I cupped my balls. This wouldn’t last long. I spit onto my other hand before fisting the base of my hard-as-a-rock cock.

My strokes started slowly, building rhythm. I preferred to edge, sometimes lasting for hours, but with my carnal desire to blow a load paired with the lack of time, a fucking quickie would have to do. I hovered my mouth above my dick, lining my lips over the tip, and spit on the head. After mixing the saliva with my pre-cum, I slid my fist up and down while twisting the head to lubricate the metal barbell. Goosebumps blanketed my ink-covered arms. My whole body tingled, my legs shivered, and the urge of my impending release coursed through me. “Too soon,” I murmured, slowing my frantic jerking to last longer than sixty seconds.

I squeezed my balls in my lame attempt to prolong the pleasure, but in my current stage of desperation to bust a nut, the effort was wasted. Jesus fucking Christ. I was about to explode. I rubbed my cock harder and released my hold on my sack at the same time. My breath hitched; my lips hung open while I gasped for air. My vision blurred when my eyes began to roll. Almost there. I groaned, bucking my hips forward as I spilled all over the ground. Jets of white, jelly-like spunk shot feet away from me as I fist-fucked my cock. I continued stroking, milking every last drop, riding the pleasure until the very end.

Once somewhat recovered, I leaned against the tree for support, the bark biting into my back while I relished in the bliss of my quick but well-needed release. I flicked my semen-covered hand before wiping it on the tree.

Still sporting an erection, I was tempted for another round, but chatter from afar carried through the trees, so I rushed to pull my boxers up to avoid getting caught. Not that I cared. I’d been caught in a much more compromising position before and I didn’t mind being on display.

Archer and Heath were waiting outside the one-story motel room when I came out of the woods.

“Well, that was quick,” I said. There was no way they could do it—I glanced at my watch to check how long I’d been out of the room—in three minutes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Archer winked, nodding toward my pants instead of answering.

“What?”

“Might wanna take care of that before we leave.”

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