Page 58 of Babalon

“I have had enough of you!” I scorn, trying to keep my voice low enough where we aren’t overheard by any passerby’s yet still getting my point across.

“First, you sabotaged the last two years of my fucking life, then you get me sent to seg, and now you want to threaten me with telling the AB I snitched on them? Do you know what the hell could happen to me?! Do you know what that means for my life!”

“Fuck you, worthless piece of shit. Your life means nothing to me!”

“Oh, you little bitch. I’m two seconds away from being the worst person you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. This is going to go one of two ways. One, you’re going to back the hell off and get out of my damn face, for good. Which you will do after you stop struggling and walk the hell out of my cell. Between now and then, I’m going to devour you, remind you who the fuck you’re playing with. If you make any noise, I’ll stop and edge you into oblivion. Then there is option two, me throat fucking you, if you bite, I will choke you out with my cock, before stuffing every one of your holes with cum. It could be mine, but it might also be someone else’s. I won’t know until I get there.”

Leaning in, I draw the flat of my tongue along her cheek, then jeer close to her left ear, the full weight of my body now pressing her into the bed.

“Either way, when I’m done with you, you’ll be crying and begging me like the whore you are. So, choose wisely, snitch.”

I hate the fact that, as I watch her, I can see the gears turning in her head. How effortlessly I can read her. She’s truly thinkingthis over, her silent decision evident in the way her body stops resisting and she settles beneath me.

I won’t lie, she feels good under me—like she was made to be there, to fit perfectly against my own dips and edges.

She’s so damn beautiful it’s painful, and though I am furious with her, I can’t begin to explain the shit I’m feeling right now. The toxicity, the underlying frustration and hatred. Everything about this woman is wrong, and wrong for me, but my body yearns for her.

Heat floods my veins as I stare down at the snake before me, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink, pupils blown wide, and her tongue darting out to wet her plump lips. I have been dying to taste her pouts again, ever since I kissed her that first time. I swear she’s drawn my soul in and tied it to hers.

“I—I’m not going anywhere, Kace,” she whispers.

Chills roll through me as I connect her soft words with the same murmurs I heard in seg. Even locked away, my mind was focused on her—consumed with her existence.

I won’t tell her, but she owns me.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Shifting off her, I grab her ankles over her BDU’s and drag her body to the edge of Ronald’s bed until she’s sitting at the very end— eye level with my hips.

So stunning, this demon.

Reaching out, I unhook the handcuffs from her duty belt and latch one around her right wrist, its twin circling the bottom frame of my bed, suspending that arm. Maintaining eye contact with her, I retrieve the zip ties from one of the pockets on her left leg. I’ve watched her stuff them in them there in the past, never thought I’d need that bit of information. Repeating the motion, I secure the strip of plastic around her opposite wrist then the other end of it to the metal pole that connects my bed with the frame of Ronald's.

Watching her closely, she looks at both wrists, testing their security like a good girl. I want to restrain her ankles too, but if someone comes up and discovers us it will take me longer to release her. Actually, I may just do it. Another hard lesson learned, right? She came in here spouting about our little tryst the other day, where inmates can hear her, maybe she wants to get caught after all.

Thinking better of it, I wind my left hand into her dark hair, twisting the long strands around as many times as I can; forcing her head back as far as it will go.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look, crucified for me.”

Using my free hand, I unbutton my jumper until I meet the lowest fastening, then reach behind the fabric and removing my throbbing cock, precum weeping from its sensitive tip. In a controlled motion, I brush it against her lips, smearing myself along them.

“Open up nice and wide, snitch—tongue out. I don’t want to hear anything from you other than gagging.”

When the trollop opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out with those silver eyes of hers holding my own gaze, my knees almost give out.

Almost. I can’t disappoint my girl.

“Fuck,” I moan, my cock sliding over the wet expanse of her tongue.

Pushing my hips forward, I glide myself all the way to the back of her throat until her tongue curls along its underside. Right where I feel her tonsils constrict around my tip. Her back arches forward a fraction when a gag starts to take her.

Oh no, my plaything can’t take cock? Will have to fix that.

Pulling back, she gasps, drool already starting to drip from her mouth while my cock remains connected to her lips by a single strand of saliva.

“Remember, no biting. I’d rather you remember me pumping you full of my cum.”

Cupping my hand under her chin, I pry her mouth open so I can feed her my cock again. This time, she gags harder; still, I hold her steady, letting her thrash and panic. Her hands pull at her restraints, the clink of her handcuffs echoing through my cell.

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