Page 77 of Beneath the Dirt

Bringing one hand to her clit, Araceli begins to rub herself as she arches her back in a circular motion, grinding her bare pussy on the open bible. Her arousal clings to the thin pages and a crinkling sound echoes the gyration of her hips.

A pant leaks from Araceli’s mouth, then another as she picks up the speed she’s fucking the spread pages.

“What she’s trying to say is… fuck your bible. Isn’t that right?” I ask Araceli, who nods a yes before she huffs out a sultry gust of air. Twirling her fingers at her clit, she stops only to dip them into her warmth. Her fingers become crushed from her gliding her sex up and down the pages.

Fuck. Speaking of jealousy, I’ve never been more jealous of a bible of all fucking things.

I can’t believe how wet she’s getting. The pages are visibly soaked from her arousal.

“Yes,” Araceli pants. “Fuck. Your. Bible.” An explosive orgasm is followed by her mewls, , one that I wish I could lick up from her dripping wet pussy, but I’m still waiting for how she will deliver the news to Tori. Plus, I have eternity to worship, consume, tear apart, and repent at her pussy. As torturous as not diving in now is, I can be a good boy and wait just a little longer.

Riding the waves of her release, Araceli skims her fingers onto the torn pages, clawing at them, she shreds them into her palm as she rises. The remnants of her orgasm, fresh on the paper, lockedin her grip. She approaches the tub, with nothing but revenge oozing from her pores.

“And fuck you, too. Tori or Beth. Fuck you, for thinking I’m that much of a fucking pendeja that I wouldn’t figure out it was you that gave us those drugs at the Halloween Shop, or that you laced them yourself. Well, only the snake portion of the sheet that you explicitly told me to take.” Araceli now stands by the tub and snatches Tori’s chin with one hand, slapping it before prying her mouth open with the other, stuffing the wet bible pages in it.

Tears stream down Tori’s face and she chokes and gags on the pages.

Araceli looks over at me and holds her hand out for me to give her something. I pat my pockets, but I don’t have anything to give her that would inflict the kind of pain she’s hoping to place on her.

Her eyes scan the bathroom.

“Give me that,” she tilts her head to the floor.

The bone.

My bone.

Covered in enough dirt that the glistening sheen from Araceli’s arousal shouldn’t be visible as it is. But it’s still there and I can’t wait to see what she does with it.

ARACELI

My palm remains outstretched and ready for Harlan to place the bone in as I bore my stare into Tori Beth’s. She’s trying so damn hard to spit out the pages stuffed into her mouth.

I pout my lips. “Aww, does my dead cunt not taste yummy to you? Here, let me help you with that.” I take my other hand, guiding my fingers into the space between her parted lips, and push the paper in further.

A gagging sounds while she adjusts to the drenched paper grazing the back of her throat just as Harlan slips the bone in myhand. I can feel his excitement. It’s practically bubbling over in his cold, lifeless veins.

“This,” I mutter in anticipation as I straighten my spine. Holding onto the bone on either of its curved ends, I lift my hands, bracing myself and with all my might, I crash it down onto one knee, splitting it in half. Giving me two uneven and sharp weapons to use.

The symphony of gagging noises now replaced with an arguably more aggravating sound. Whimpering pleas. A last effort to be forgiven. But I’m not here to forgive. I’m here for revenge.

Blood for blood. An eye for an eye.

“You look scared,” I state the obvious as I make my way close to her.

Her eyes move like a pendulum just staring at me as I approach her.

“Are you scared?” I ask.

Her gaze continues its frantic assessing of the broken bones I have clutched in both palms. The rib, a sacred bone to her in her convoluted faith. A bone symbolizing creation—while it spits in the face of logic and science, or believing in any other system besides the one she was taught is superior—is now a makeshift weapon.

“You are just as guilty for his death as I am. Just like I’m about to be guilty for yours,” I threaten.

I look back and see Harlan staring. Waiting to be involved.

“This is a really nice tub. It’s so big. Big enough for three people.” The inflection in my voice, an obvious suggestion for Harlan to get his ass into the water that I’m now dipping both legs into.

“How—i—i—is—thi—?” Tori’s teeth are chattering too much for her to form a coherent sentence.

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