Page 50 of Daddy's Sinner

My heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. Anger rips through my body, and I don’t even realize what I’m doing until I yank the steering wheel, crashing us into a tree.

The world turns to chaos as the old truck swerves and rolls with a groan of protesting metal. I feel the jarring impact as we come to an abrupt stop, my body thrown against my seatbelt as our momentum abruptly halts. Pain explodes in my temple as my skull collides with the window.

The cool night air cuts through the cracked windshield and billows into the cab of the truck, stinging my eyes, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is the disoriented look on Gabriel’s face as he grunts in pain.

“Stupid bitch,” he mutters.

I take advantage of his momentary confusion. Ignoring the pain radiating from my throbbing temple, I fumble with the seatbelt and free myself. My heart pounds against my chest, rivaling the rhythm of the broken windshield wipers. I have to get out. Escape is the only option now. I need to get back to Matheo somehow.

But as my hand touches the door to escape, the sound of a gun cocking freezes me in my tracks. I turn back slowly to see Gabriel, blood trickling down his forehead, aiming his revolver directly at me. His eyes are now clear and cold as ice. His smirk is gone, replaced by a sinister scowl that makes my stomach churn.

“Where do you think you’re going, Sol?” Gabriel grunts, pain seeping into his voice. He clutches his head. “Do you want me to break that bad? You should have seen the work on Zia. Maybe I should tell you how I crucified her, whipped her, took her in every way I could, then had the seedlings spread their sin, and only then did I grant her penance.” His words are as cold as his gaze. I don’t want to believe him, but the malevolence in his eyes leaves no room for doubt.

I swallow hard and my throat suddenly dries. The pain in my temple now seems insignificant compared to the horror that unfurls in my mind. His voice, dripping with sadistic pleasure as he recounts his atrocities, echoes in my head. I could barely comprehend how wrong I was about him. He might not smell like evil, but he’s the evilest of them all. One thing I know for certain is that Gabriel will break me just like my dad broke my mother.

“Don’t kill him,” is all I can say. “I won’t fight you, but don’t kill him,” I plead, but it falls on deaf ears. Gabriel’s lips curl into a devilish grin, his white teeth covered in crimson.

“It’s done. He should be dead by now. I wasn’t alone in the plan to overthrow the old man. You see, we want to spread the word; the Prophet wanted us to stay put in this shithole. But I want expansion forour church, for the truth.” His words wash over me like a tidal wave, revealing a bitter truth that is impossible to swallow. My skin feels clammy, and every part of my body is shaking. The realization that I am dealing with the devil himself looms like an undeniable specter in front of me. I feel bile rise up my throat.

“But you don’t have to worry. You won’t be shared. No, not like Victor shared. You’re my whore, and my cum is the only one that will be in your mouth, your cunt, or any other part of you,” he continues, licking the blood off lips that shine in the dim light. “I’m gonna fuck that priest right out of your head, whip you back into obedience, and you will bear my seed. We will spread the word and continue God’s work.”

The pain in my temple intensifies, throbbing with a deep ache. The truck begins to smoke. I watch as Gabriel unlatches his seatbelt and climbs out. "We're close to home. Get out. We’re walking right after I punish you for this stunt,” he says. Before yanking open the door and pulling me by my hair, dragging me out of the truck. He’s bleeding from his side and head. Besides my temple, I’m not sure what injuries I have. My sides hurt when I breathe, but I don’t have a chance to look at myself as I’m brought to my knees.

Gabriel shoves his thick cock into my mouth. He’s neither soft nor gentle. His cock rips through my dry lips into the realm of debasing subjugation, scraping against the choked sobs locked deep within my throat. His free hand grips my hair, pulling it back and exposing my quivering face to the cold night.

“Look at me,” he demands. “This is your punishment, understand?”

I fight back tears, the humiliation and pain washing over me in a devastating torrent. But Gabriel doesn’t care; his pleasure is all that matters. His grip tightens as his thrusts grow harsher, my lips bleeding as he continues to fuck my mouth. Snot, tears, and saliva muddletogether, streaming down my cheeks and dripping onto the forest floor. His low grunts fill the air, echoing off the trees.

“Yes, baby. Just like that,” he moans. I close my eyes, trying to chase away the memory of the times I wanted his cock in my mouth. I find it hard to reconcile the two, but as my throat burns and I struggle for breath, I meet his gaze and all I see is evil. A smile tugs at his lips as he slowly pulls out his cock.

“Play with my blood, Sol. Cover my cock with my blood,” he demands with a smile. He’s clawing desperately, trying to bring me back to him using blood play, like we would back in the day when I was his. But that time is long gone. This will never be enough. My hand goes to his injury, and I play with the blood before jamming my finger into the wound, making him howl in pain. I push deeper, and the barrel of his gun hits my jaw with a sickening force that sends starbursts exploding through my vision and knocks me back onto the grimy forest floor. He stands over me, panting heavily with wild rage in his eyes. He was never one to bear pain well.

“You insolent bitch,” he growls as he leans over and fists my hair, shoving his cock right back into my mouth. If I’m forced to suck his cock, he’ll be forced to feel pain. We both will. I swear that all I do is turn him on, because as my fingers dig into his injury, he fucks my mouth more viciously than before, ignoring the blood streaming down his side. The pain in my jaw intensifies with each thrust. His fingers bruise my scalp, his cock bruises my throat, and I’m drowning. I’m choked by slivers of air scraping past the blockage in my throat and by the tears that have no way to escape.

Finally, he wrenches my fingers out from his wound and drowns me in his cum, before releasing his grip on my hair. I collapse onto the forest floor, shuddering, gasping for air as pain and humiliation wash over me. Rivulets of his cum mix with my tears and saliva, staining my cheeks and pooling on the ground beneath me. Through watering eyes, I watch him stumble backwards, clutching his side.

“Walk,” he motions to the wooded path that will lead us into the compound, to his heaven and my hell.

Sinner

Iwake up to a world of pain. My head throbs with every beat of my heart, and my body feels like it’s been dragged through a mile of broken glass. The heat of the fire makes me sweat as it rampages through Victor’s property. I hear the sound of tires on the gravel driveway, the crunching echoing through my foggy consciousness. It’s a sound that rips me back to reality and forces me to assess my surroundings. Marisol is gone; that much is clear, and that asshole will rape her and kill her just like he did with Zia. That won’t happen to my little demon. Nobody but me is allowed to break her. Because while I would break her, I would still hold the pieces to put her back together.

I push myself to my feet, wincing as every movement sends shards of agony stabbing through my head. I stumble toward the sound of voices and chuckle as I see two men walk out of a pickup truck. Too bad he only sent two. He must have confused me for some weakling, dismissed my devil because of the mask I wore. That was his mistake, and not ending me when he had the chance will prove fatal to him. I wait for them to separate. Using my switchblade, I kill them one by one. Afterward, I pick up their gun and whatever else is useful, which isn’t much—just some keys, a couple of rounds, and cigarettes. I don’t smoke often, but fuck, do I need it. Pulling out a cigarette, I light it, inhaling deeply as the nicotine courses through my veins. It isn’t exactly a painkiller, but it’s an excellent distractor. The smoke billows into the pre-dawn air as I sift through the men’s pockets again, confirming I haven’t missed anything of use.

The air is iridescent with the haze of dawn and the ravages of the now extinguishing fire. It’s time to find Marisol.

I climb into the truck, put it into reverse, and promptly floor it, gravel spitting out behind me like shards of glass—the same shards that feel lodged in my skull. But right now, my pain is secondary; Marisol needs me.

The old truck groans and bounces along the path, wheels crunching over rocks and divots. My eyes remain glued to the rearview mirror, watching as Victor’s property grows smaller and smaller until it’s nothing but a dot in the vast landscape. The fire has subsided, but the stench of burnt wood still lingers in my nostrils.

My mind begins to replay my plan, which is shit at this point. All I have in mind is destruction. I’ll be sending everyone to meet their fucking God, starting with their false prophet. I already sent one to hell, don’t mind sending the second. I drive as fast as I can to get to them when I see a crashed truck at the side of the road. Abruptly, I pull up beside it, checking for traces of her. But I find none—all I see are tracks that lead up the path to the church. I opt to leave the truck here and go on foot. It’s better if they don’t see me coming. I place the gun in my waistband and then head toward the tracks they left.

As I walk, the damp earth beneath me crunches with every step. It doesn’t take long for the compound to come into view, but I stay hidden in the shadows as I navigate the area. Finding Marisol is easier than expected because there she is, crucified, naked, her face covered in a white lace veil as the new prophet preaches.

“After her penance, she will be granted the chance to continue her path. To redeem herself as a vessel, a portal for my holy seed,” Gabriel declares.

I stifle a growl, my grip tightening around the gun’s cold metal. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this sort of spectacle—religious zealots and their twisted rituals. But seeing Marisol up there, her flesh vulnerable against the chill wind, every instinct in me screams to run out and shoot down every one of them. But that wouldn’t do her any good. I need to be alive to be able to rescue her. The followers continue to cast rocks at Marisol at Gabriel’s command, only stopping when he begins to preach.

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