Page 10 of Noire Moon
His crude words are muffled by the blood pounding relentlessly inside my ears, and the place where my thighs rub together is slick with wetness. Fuck. The longer I’m trapped here, the more turned on I’m becoming, and I’m not sure what that says about my tastes or predilections toward masked men and the prospect of being forced.
They’ve barely touched me, which is unnerving in itself. I don’t know what I was expecting once they caught me like this, but something in me expected them to be rough and demanding with feeling me up.
In fact, other than dragging what feels like a knife over my flesh and briefly holding onto the point of my chin, that is the only real contact I’ve had with either of them.
This should feel different than it does, but somewhere in my mind’s eye, it becomes opposites day, and all that does is have me imagining exactly what it would be like to choke on both their cocks.
Or to be filled by both of them at the same time.
Is that what they want… with me?
Why me?
That question immediately short-circuits my brain just long enough to be doused by what feels like a bucket of iced water.
My mind drifts back to the array of beautiful women that I know are roaming around inside this mansion, all seeking pleasures of the flesh, and I immediately concede that there is no way these two men would choose me over the likes ofthem.
Not to mention my friends who were alongside me only moments ago.
They are all glamourous and polished and can afford to purchase their tickets to attend this event year after year, dressed in head-to-toe designer labels.
So, whatever these men want with me must be an alternative option.
This surely means they’re only after one thing, and that is likely to be about as far from orgasms and pleasure as possible.
It potentially means I’m about to go missing.
Fear rises up with long, bony fingers to clutch my throat, and I begin to shake uncontrollably. Within an instant, I feel consumed by terror at the prospect that I might not make it out of this place alive.
Christ, how could I be so stupid?
“We don’t have all night.” I realize the irritation in the man’s voice means he’s already asked me a question I didn’t hear because I’ve been too busy writing my own eulogy. Now, I have no idea what to say that isn’t going to result in having my throat slit from ear to ear.
“I don’t know.” My lips are trembling. My whole body is trembling. I’m fucking pathetic, and my imagination is running vividly through scenarios, all ending with a gaping hole sliced through my stomach or windpipe at any moment.
That’s when a different voice—not the silent man behind me, no, this is a third person lurking in the sea of blackness—speaks low and smooth for the first time, and my knees nearly give out on me.
“Since you can’t answer, we’re going to make the decision for you.”
Oh, shit. My fingers go numb.
There is another man in here. Have they been here this whole time? They must have been. My ears are deafened by the sound of my own heartbeat, so it feels almost impossible to discern where his voice is coming from, but it sounds like he could be standing directly in front of me. Only a little further away than the others, as if he’s a few paces further back, watching this scene unfold.
Overseeing the slaughter of their sacrifice.
That’s when I hear his cool, indifferent voice cut through my panic.
“If we catch you, we get to do whatever we want with you. Screw your stupid little safe word.”
A single red bulb flickers on and illuminates a doorway on the far side of the small room. Dark wood set against thickly padded black walls. Roughened hands push my shoulders so hard I nearly tumble to the floor.
“So you’d better fucking run for your life.”
Chapter 4
Run.
I’m bolting along the longest hallway known to mankind. Oil paintings and portraits the size of small cars loom over me, with an endless array of wooden doors leading off the corridor on either side as I run along the plush carpet.
