Page 20 of Of Angels & Absolution

I suddenly regret asking him to punish me. His rejection is punishment enough every day, the loathing in his eyes, the revulsion when he looks at me. Even Heath’s sadistic urge to intentionally hurt me would be better.

“Let me at her,” he says, practically skipping down the aisle to grab me. He grips my hips and slams them forward into his, grinding into me when we meet. “I want to hear her beg and scream for mercy while I wreck her with my pierced cock.”

“No,” I cry, fear stabbing into my center like a knife, clenching up every muscle in my body.

“The Master hasn’t said it’s time,” Saint says, drawing me back to him, away from Heath.

My relief is short lived.

“We’ll put her on display,” Saint announces. “Show everyone what a whore she really is.”

“No,” I blurt again, tears pricking my eyes at the sting in my scalp when he winds my braid around his fist.

“Would you rather I let Heath pick your punishment?” he growls.

Drawing a shaky breath, I manage to shake my head, staring at the floor to avoid seeing the heathen’s reaction.

Saint releases me, pushing me into Angel’s arms. I cling to him, shaking with fear at the thought of how close I came to being given to Heath. If he gets his way, it’s not just my purity he’ll destroy. It’s my sanity.

Angel’s strong arms wrap around me, and he cradles my head against his chest. “Don’t worry, little mama,” he murmursinto my ear. “I’ll make sure you enjoy every second of it, just like I did the other day. You can trust me.”

With that, he scoops me up and carries me back toward the center of the room. When he reaches the walkway, he sets me on my feet and pushes me against the railing. His hand snakes down the front of my body, cupping my breast and massaging. I squirm to get away, but he pushes me flush against the railing, pinning me in place on the balcony. Only a couple people below notice, and I comfort myself with that knowledge.

“Let’s give them a show,” Heath says, dropping to his knees beside us. With one swift, sharp tug, he yanks my skirt to my feet.

“No,” I cry, then wince when a dozen pairs of eyes from below turn our way. Snickers echo through the room below as they look up at us, elbowing their friends to get their attention when they see my skinny, bare legs. Angel slides his hand slowly down my body, burying it in my panties.

“Angel,” I whisper, squirming against his hand and ducking my head. “People are watching.”

“Good,” he says, moving his hand so everyone in the lobby below can see what he’s doing if they look this way. “Let them watch me spread this greedy little pussy and make it beg for me to finger fuck it until cum streams down your thighs.”

“No,” I hiss, trying to pull his hand away without making a scene and bringing more attention to us. Then my heart freezes.

Below, Father Salvatore has just walked into the room. If I call to him, will he help me?

I open my mouth, then close it. If he stops the boys from punishing me, it won’t be over. They’ll retaliate the moment they’re done being disciplined, punish me ten times more severely. This is like HAVOC night. I have a choice, but the alternative is too awful to consider.

Father is halfway across the room before he notices us on the balcony. Our eyes meet, and he stops still, his jaw clenching. A flicker of some emotion crosses his face, and I want to disappear forever.

Angel hooks a finger inside my panties, pulling the fabric away, exposing me. Father Salvatore’s eyes widen, and I can see him gulp all the way from here.

“Angel,” I grit out, squeezing my knees closed and starting to squirm again. “Father Salvatore is watching.”

“Let him see what he can’t touch,” he growls, gripping my chin and twisting my head around until our eyes meet. “But you watch me, little mama. I want your eyes on me while your world comes undone. I want to see the moment you fall apart for me.”

Heath drags my knee aside, holding me open as he kneels beside us. Angel’s finger moves in a slow, sensual rhythm around my bud.

“Let me show you what I can do for you,” he murmurs in my ear. “You’re going to need me, my lamb. When Heath fucks you, you’ll want someone gentle who can kiss it better.”

My core throbs at the memory of him kissing it before, and he chuckles against my neck, sending shivers through my already trembling body.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he whispers. “You want me to kiss this sweet, wet cunt until you beg me to fuck it like you did last time?”

“No,” I protest, my hips trembling as they rock in traitorous rhythm, without my bidding.

“You want me to bend you over this railing and drive my fat cock to the hilt inside this tight little hole, make you scream?” he murmurs, lazily dipping his finger into my slit, coating it with my pooling arousal.

“Please,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes closed and praying I die right here. It’s not just the four of them watching this time,not just the Hellhounds. It’s other students, random strangers, seeing the helpless response of my body, its shining proof of my sin, that I want this.

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