Page 8 of Noire Moon
He angles it downward so the light doesn’t reveal much except how badly my hand is trembling.
What it does showcase is a marking. A symbol now glowing a ghostly purple color under the UV.
A single crown flanked by three skulls.
My sucked-in breath is greeted by a menacing chuckle, from the direction of the only voice that has spoken thus far. Yet, the two bodies surround me on both sides. While I’ve only been able to discern two figures, from what I can tell, that certainly doesn’t mean there aren’t more men lurking in here. Assholes who silently laugh to themselves as they watch me fall apart here in the inky black void I’m trapped in like a spider’s web.
“Get the fuck off me.” I manage to find words without swallowing my tongue, and attempt to wrench my hand away from the light. A pathetic attempt to hide the evidence of my decision.
My. Foolish. Fucking. Decision.
Although it is far too late for that now. They’ve both seen the truth. I could try to keep lying to myself and say that I didn’t know, that I wasn’t paying attention, or that I made a mistake. Some tiny part of me could maybe feign innocence and pout and put on a show of pretending, but that would be complete bullshit. A certain, extremely adventurous part of my brain was fully aware of my choice when I grabbed that band upon entry.
The part of me that enjoys lurking in the darkest and most depraved of fantasies.
We’re still enclosed in pitch black, and I can’t see anything, except I can feel the heat of their bodies. Their proximity is an undeniable sensation, and the longer we stand here like this—with me as their captive—I begin to pick up on the mix of scents. The faintest hints of whiskey, spices, cedar… and something else that tugs at my memory from earlier, but I can’t quite identify.
“Pathetic little sluts don’t get to talk to us that way.” There’s humor behind the man’s crass words, but he’s laughing at me. This is the one to my left who keeps running whatever metal object he’s holding up and down my arm. I can feel him raking his gaze over me even though nothing can be seen inside this claustrophobic blackout. Or maybe they have some sort of night vision behind their masks?
A shudder goes through me at the thought, making me feel even more helpless. At their mercy.
To make matters worse, I’m vaguely aware that I’m squeezing my thighs together.
Do I want them to see the obvious power they have over my body?
“Better show some respect. Don’t you know where you are, little flower?”
I feel the one behind me shift his weight, but it’s clear now he’s in no mood for talking. His role is much moregrab her and hold her downas I get the sense he’s there to prevent me fromtrying to run back to where I came from. A giant wall of man that dwarfs my frame.
Another squeeze of my thighs comes on involuntarily, and I can feel wetness gathering in the silky material of my panties.
“I know you’re all sick freaks.” The fear is talking for me now. Making me mouth off in a way that I would never normally do. But I’m so far down this terrifying rabbit hole now I can’t stop myself. “People disappear from this place every year because of people like you.”
I can almost hear the cocky smirk beneath the mask of the one at my elbow.
“Do you want to disappear?” His voice dips lower now, taunting me as if gravel and velvet combined when his words hit my ear. “Isn’t there just a little part of you that is curious to feel what that might be like?”
Fuck this man and his way of working into my brain. In fact, fuck both of them. Because now my mind is captivated, lunging at the bait and hooking onto the idea of escaping my shitty apartment and my awful minimum wage job and the reality that I’ve always felt like I was supposed to do something better with my life.
Yet, my foolish pride flips her hair and refuses to give them the satisfaction of thinking it's because of him and his alluring invitation that I want something different for myself.
From the sound and feel of it, they’ve got egos big enough to fill an entire county. Or maybe that’s just their big dick energy filling this room. Either way, they don’t need to have their sense of self-importance given any more of a boost. Being untouchable as they already are is bad enough, never mind thinking they can take whatever they want and damn the consequences.
“Let me go.” For whatever reason, I’m still buzzing with enough adrenaline to have me ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Despite the allure of these men and the lingeringdanger inherent in being trapped in here alone with them—knowing I have a safe word that I can only fucking pray they would listen to if I needed to use it—some primal part of me still wants to flee.
Jesus, I hope my legs don’t give way on me if I do get the chance to escape.
My voice must be filled with just enough hesitation because I hear the one behind me breathe a little closer to my ear. It’s raspy and heavy through the mask all these men wear in this place. Leaning down, he hovers closer still, and the fine hairs all stand on end like I’ve been electrified.
It’s the exact move a guy would make if they were about to kiss your neck in that sensitive spot, and my body turns molten in an instant. Heat floods through my core, and I feel my nipples tighten.
But he lingers achingly close. Not making contact.
“The slut is curious.” The one who keeps talking sounds so smug I want to kick him in the ankle.
Even though the other figure remains silent, hovering behind me, his rhythmic breathing through the mask is so close to the side of my face that it’s the faint brush of the mask where it grazes the tip of my ear, making me jump.
All that does is leave my body pressing up against him more, and I can’t help but think that was his plan all along.
