Page 36 of Wrong Turn

“No, you won’t,” I say, eyes shifting to the doorway. “But you’ll learn to be.”

Cyrus follows my line of sight, shocked to see Summer standing ominously over him. He didn’t even hear her come in, too distracted by me, and the promise of an orgasm. “What are you doing? What is this!? Amber! Get your fucking ass back in here!”

“No more fucking noise,” snarls Summer, straddling Cyrus. He bucks beneath her, trying to throw her off, but she forces his compliance by grabbing him by the balls. He stills immediately. “Open up or I’ll twist,” she says, lethal seriousness dripping off every word.

“I’d obey, Cy. I’ve seen this move before, it won’t end well for you. Even if I like that monster between your legs.” His eyes flicker to me, pleading for help. He won’t get any. Resolve passes over his face as his mouth opens. “That’s my good fucking boy, Cy,” I coo. He whimpers as Summer slips the ball gag into his mouth, “Behave, and I’ll let you decide who makes you cum after the meteor shower,” I say, backing away from the window as Summer finishes latching the gag in place behind Cyrus’s head.

I move back to the fire pit, plunking my ass down in my chair. Breathing deep, and slowly exhaling, calmness washes over me. Without Cyrus screaming his head off, I can hear the frogs in the distance. An owl flaps across the night sky, swooping, and disappearing into the trees.

Summer sits down next to me, “Thanks.”

“Figured you’d want to enjoy the shower in silence.”

“You get me,” she says.

“Better than anyone, bestie. Happy birthday,” I reply, as the first streak of light splits the sky.

EPILOGUE

AMBER

SIX WEEKS LATER.

Iwalk toward the bedroom that once kept a friend of mine tied up until her last breath. While the decorations have changed, the gurgling of Fallon’s struggling breaths can still be heard if you listen closely.

Between the investigators breathing down our necks, and Summer and I uprooting our lives to move here, I’ve barely had a moment to relax.

Once we notified authorities that our friends didn’t return from a late afternoon hike, all hell broke loose. The trails were closed down, Savannah’s body recovered, but Bridget and Fallon are still considered missing.

No one understands why we torture ourselves with living here, they say we need to move on, find peace. We keep our somber masks in place, preaching of hope to find our friends one day. Steadfast that we’ll never stop searching until we can lay them to rest, so that they too may find the peace they deserve.In actuality, I’ve found inner peace, so has Summer. It lies in the man bound to the bed in Fallon’s place.

Lukas…Cyrus, whatever you want to call him, is still alive, proving to be the best pet so far. He’s adapted well, and dare I say…he likes being ours? He might deny it or try to convince himself differently, yet his poorly planned escapes prove otherwise. He likes the punishment, just as much as the pleasure. Such a pain slut, he is. I’ve never seen him cum harder than the time Summer punished his ass with an alien strap-on. It was thick, blue, and ribbed. I couldn’t tell if his tears were from pain or euphoric bliss, either way, he squealed like a pig when he came. That was a sound Summer revelled in, making him scream. Loud noises are okay when they are on her terms. We found his stash of home videos, realizing he liked to watch. It’s why I click on the camera mounted in the corner of the room, hitting record as Summer shows Cyrus who he belongs to.

I lean on the doorframe, watching my best friend hold a pillow over Cy's face. The muffled moans coming from him are just as delicious as the cup of coffee I’m holding in my hands. “You just gonna stand there and watch?” Summer puffs, rocking her hips.

I set my coffee down on the table, next to the Sasquatch figurine, and cross the room. Coming up beside Cy, I remove the pillow from his beautiful face. He heaves in a deep breath, a smile splitting his fat lip when he sees me gazing down at him. Ohh, this pet thinks we are going to go easy on him.

I toss the pillow to the side before plugging his nose, and covering his mouth with my palm. Cyrus’s grey eyes look up to meet my green ones, nothing but fear shining within them.

“You better make her cum before you pass out,” I taunt. The muscles in his neck strain as he attempts to breathe, but fails.

Summer lets out a small laugh, “He better make us both cum before you kill him.”

There’s no telling what’s running through her mind, but I, of course, entertain it. “What?”

“Get up there and ride his face,” Summer demands.Okay, bitch.“Smother him with your pussy instead.” Summer leans over, grabbing the knife off of the bedside table. “Let's make things a little more interesting. What do you say,Lukas?”His fake name rolls off her taunting tongue, and his steel eyes narrow to slits. He pulls at his restraints, using his tethers as leverage to drive into Summer from below. The rope burns into his skin, but he doesn’t stop. The clapping sound of her bouncing in his lap ricochets off the walls, and I start to ache.

Wow, he really fucking hates it when we call him Lukas.

Summer places the tip of the blade against his abdomen, and he halts all movement. Her red coiled curls are cast around her flushed face as she pants. “As I was saying, let’s bargain with more than your life. Each minute you go without making us cum, I get to cut a letter of our initials into your stomach.” Cyrus nods, a little too eagerly, and I finally let him breathe fully. I’m sure he got a shallow breath or two in while I watched his cock plunge into my sister from another mister.

Sometimes I worry about Summer, the deranged and off-the-wall things she comes up with send me for a loop half the time. But I know I also worry about her more than I care about anyone else. I’ve also been known to render her speechless a time or two, which is a feat in itself. Summer always has some quick quip at the ready to send me into a laughing fit.

Summer starts riding Cyrus again, making the first slice into his skin to make the letter ‘A’. Once I see the first trickle of blood, my panties hit the floor with enough speed to blow a hole in the hardwood.

“Get over here and sit on my face, little psycho,” Cyrus growls, watching me as Summer bounces on him. The wetslapping sound is obscene, working my desire higher, as I clench my thighs. “Red, she’s not listening,” he directs at Summer.

“She will,” Summer pants, sweat shining on her tanned skin. She drags the knife along Cyrus’s abdomen again, carving another letter. “Don’t you want to participate? I know how you like blood play.”

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