Page 55 of Deviant

Magnus grabs my breasts with his free hand, pinching them, rolling the nipples as I jerk.

“Did you suck on these? Did you feast on them, huh?”

Saul shakes his head, but I can’t tell if it’s in answer to his question, or simply him trying to deny that any of this is happening.

And my shame multiples as that memory comes back, as that awful, pathetic drunken evening stirs. I don’t even know how I got so drunk, how I ended up at his in the first place. It wasn’t like me to behave like that, it wasn’t like me to be so stupid or so reckless.

“Did you fuck this pretty mouth? Did you shove your cock down her throat?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead he pulls out, forcing me up, and before I have a moment to even catch my breath, he forces my jaw open and rams his cock in. My tongue is still swollen and there isn’t enough room, but he clearly doesn’t give a fuck.

No, this is about proving his dominance, proving he’s got one up on Saul, and degrading me all at the same time.

I can taste myself.

I can taste my blood, and his precum, and all of it.

I start gagging and he groans, slamming harder so that his dick slides down past my tonsils.

“Such a good girl.” Magnus compliments, holding my face, brushing his hand over where my hair once was.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks, all I can do is take ragged breathes through my nose but each one is filled with his smell, his musk, his odour.

He starts fucking me harder, moving my head back and forward so fast I keep smashing into his pelvis.

And as he comes, he groans out as if this was the best damn blowjob of his life.

His come spurts down my throat, it hits my stomach, and I swear I’m going to wretch, but he holds me there, forcing me to deal with it, forcing me to swallow down the bile and, only when he’s certain I won’t puke, does he let me go.

I stumble back, almost falling right into Saul, and it’s a miracle that my legs manage to keep me from doing so.

But he did this, the man in front of me. He gave me up, he told them where I was. The betrayal feels so much worse than I could have imagined.

Saul drops his gaze, shaking his head. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what?” I scream as I scramble to my feet. He did this. He’s responsible.

He looks up, stares right at me as if I’m a ghost and not a real person at all. “I want my silver,” he suddenly says. “I want my silver.”

He repeats it like a mantra. Like it’s supposed to mean something. Perhaps he has gone crazy, perhaps all this captivity has made him mad.

That same cold laugh rings out again.

A flash of something catches the limited light and I see as Magnus tosses some coins right at the bound man’s head.

“Here you go.” Magnus states, as though Saul can use it to buy his way out of this. “All thirty pieces.”

He’s pitiful, a snivelling, pathetic excuse for a person as he jerks in the chair. His hands flapping wildly like he’s forgotten his arms are tied down.

But any ounce of sympathy I had for him, any ounce of concern is gone.

He did this, he did this to us both.

“Kill him.” Magnus whispers the words into my ear, acting every inch like the psychotic devil on my shoulder.

I gulp. I stare wide-eyed at the man who helped destroy me.

“Kill him.” Magnus urges. “He’s the reason you’re here. He’s the reason you’ve been beaten, whipped, raped. All of it is because of him.”

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