Page 7 of Bathed in Blood

My teeth dig into my bottom lip, failing to bite back a whimper as Jax thrusts into my ass, the deep ripping burrowing into my stomach like sandpaper. I’m so dry, he has to force it in. The spit he used to work his cock in the first time has long since dried, and I doubt even he’s getting much enjoyment out of it at this point. It’s a small consolation knowing he’s going to be raw tomorrow, too.

That is, until Christian stirs. The drugs they’d given him are wearing off earlier than I’ve seen them before. I glare at the table below, having lost count of its grooves as his moss-colored eyes flutter open, the disorientation quickly blinked out as anothercry is forced from me. Another thing taken I didn’t willingly give. Making me weak in front of a victim is new. It feels like shit; the indignation it brings is quickly stomped out as Jax leans against my back, sinking his teeth into my shoulder.

I scream.

I can give them my screams.

Not my tears.

Christian strains against his restraints. I imagine by now that he’s painfully aware of how badly I fucked him over. Maybe he’ll get some sense of justice watching this. The gag in his mouth muffles words I can’t focus on right now. Blood is already pooling, gathering in the indents Jax’s teeth left behind, my dry, tight hole ripping with every thrust. Humiliation hits me for the first time in years.

I’m the Blood Princess.

I inflict.

Nobody is usually around to watch karma take its ounce of flesh.

Anton glares from the couch, all of us ignoring the thrashing of Christian—

The victim.

I won’t meet his eyes. I can’t share in my shame, or the Sullivan brothers will get something they don’t deserve.

My tears.

Vince never stays when Jax takes me. I’ve never understood why. He’s not jealous like Anton. He’s his own breed of cruel, just without the audience.

“Fucking little bitch, stupid fucking cunt. Doesn’t deserve my cock.”

I try to force my eyes to settle again on the grooves underneath him, fighting the urge to look directly at the man strapped to the table the upper part of my body is sagging over. Instead, they find a dark birthmark on his stomach, just above his blackboxers. I almost smile; it looks like a cumulonimbus cloud, the type that comes before heavy rain. I love rain almost as much as clouds. I started school to become a meteorologist not too long before everything changed.

I know the moment some kind of unique damage has been done when suddenly my asshole gives, and the dry forced thrusts become slick. My knees finally buckle, gut wrenching pain barreling up my spine, the kind that makes my teeth score my lip hard enough to puncture the already damaged flesh.

“…fucking your bloody asshole, you fucking…”

Cumulonimbus clouds can reach heights of up to sixty thousand feet, making them the tallest of all cloud types.

The man jerks on his loosening restraints in my peripheral, and I wait to see if anyone will notice. They don’t.

“…make you shit on my cock…”

Cumulonimbus clouds are associated with extreme weather, heavy downpours, hails storms, and even tornadoes.

The man is cursing, but I can barely hear him now. The pain consumes everything as my soul is once again ripped from my body, taken, abused, and then shoved back into a place it no longer belongs.

Individual cumulonimbus clouds will usually dissipate within an hour once the rain starts, making for powerful but short-lived storms.

Nothing at all like a summer breeze.

When my eyes open again, it’s to Vince’s body pressing against mine, taking the weight of me as he undoes my restraints. The man has stilled as I’m lifted into Vince’s arms, and my eyes findJax. He gives me a nod before tugging his shirt off, using it to wipe off his blood and, to my horror, shit slicked dick. All the while, Anton bitches at him like a spoiled child who was just told to relinquish their favorite toy.

I let myself melt into Vince for a moment. It’s these…the times where I need him that he wants the most. Vince is just as terrible as his brothers, but in a quiet way, the way that feeds off me being so thoroughly damaged, I need to be nursed back to health byhim. My head lolls back as I’m carried from the basement, my eyes accidentally meeting a pair of deep green ones. What I see there is far from the fear I’m used to. It’s rage, a promise… a fucking vow. I shudder, using the last of my strength to bury my face in Vince’s shoulder.

The water stings as I’m lowered into it, the warm bath filled with expensive oils easing the worst of my aches as Vince runs a smokey gray loofa over my bruising flesh. His thick brows furrow as he passes the bite mark, his long, dark hair falling into his face.

Vince doesn’t like it when they bite me. That’s his thing.

He bites hard, over and over until my flesh looks like one of the neglected potholed back roads of my city.

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