Page 45 of Deviant

He takes aim and pulls the trigger.

Her body slumps. She lands beside the second lady, her face falling into the armpit of the man, with that toy still buried to the hilt. It’s as undignified an ending as I could ever imagine.

For a moment I just stand there, blinking, as though my mind can’t register the scene before me. And then it clicks, that she’s dead. That he killed her, even though she was doing what he wanted.

I want to scream. I want to launch myself at Magnus because she was being obedient, why the fuck did he kill her?

I’m on my feet before anyone can register the movement, but Magnus is there, and he grabs my face, stopping my attack beforeit even begins. His fingers dig into my cheeks, and I can feel all the blood and grime beneath his grip.

“Your turn,” he says so quietly. “Unless you want more people to die for you?”

I can’t think. I can’t formulate words. It’s like something inside me shuts down and I become some sort of robot.

All my sense of reason, all the parts of me that would fight this, seem to curl up, fold up, disappear as though I’ve locked them away for safe-keeping in some nice little treasure box.

I shut my eyes, but I’m falling to my knees, reaching over the body of a dead girl, reaching between her thighs and grabbing the awful thing that’s buried inside her.

As I pull it out, I can feel the resistance, the way her muscles are still gripping it so tightly and it gives off an awful squelching sound as it finally comes free.

It’s covered in her juices, in smears of her blood, too. Nothing about this can be sanitary, but then I guess that’s the least of my problems right now, isn’t it?

But the feel of it it’s not rubber, it’s not plastic like I first thought. It feels like skin, like leather. I stare back at Magnus and his lips turn into a curl.

“It’s his cock,” he states. “Ronin’s. I cut it off, tanned it, turned it into something useful.”

I gasp, half choking on that knowledge and revulsion slithers through me. Who the fuck even thinks of doing such a thing as that?

“Of course it wasn’t quite big enough to cover it, I had to stretch the skin to make it fit he entire circumference.”

I shut my eyes, trying not to dwell on how horrific those words are, trying not to imagine how the hell one stretches skin out.

“He almost fucked us by running to you.” Magnus states. “So now you’re going to fuck him in return, metaphorically speaking.”

I shake my head slightly, disgust once more threatening to manifest as more puke. But Magnus raises that gun and points it, making it clear what the consequences are for my refusal.

God, I hate him. No, hate doesn’t go nearly far enough to define what I feel. I let out a shudder, I move it between my own legs, trying to pretend that what I’m feeling is not his flesh, that it’s not Ronin’s actual taxidermied fucking dick.

Magnus holds his hand up to stop me. “Dip it in her blood.”

“What?”

“You heard,” he says.

I blink back, staring at him in total disbelief.

“Coat the thing in her blood,” he barks. “You caused her death with your disobedience, it’s only fair you’re punished for it.”

My hands shake, I bite my lip so hard to keep in the reply I so desperately want to make. But there’s still half a dozen other slaves in the room. One wrong move, one stupid comment could get them all killed.

“Do you want more, is that it? You want all these people dead? There’s a hundred more where they came from,” he states. “You want me to kill every fucking whore in this place? Is that what your pride is worth?”

I whimper, my shoulders slump and I hate that he’s right. That I am prideful, that he may have pulled the trigger, but I didn’t have to fight him on this. It wasn’t like he was asking all that much, and it isn’t like he hasn’t already degraded me enough times for it to actually matter anymore.

I shuffle over, holding my breath as if that might make any of this better. With my right hand I dip the toy in the blood still trickling from her mutilated face.

“Coat it.” Magnus repeats more forcefully.

And I do. I swirl it, like it’s a damned popsicle and then I shift back, trying to put as much distance between me and the dead bodies as I possibly can.

---