Page 5 of Property of Necro
Pressing my lips together, I relax. Through my nose, I breathe slowly.
I will not freak out.
It doesn’t matter if I hate blindfolds or if I’m terrified of the dark.
I have survived. I willsurvive.
The tip of the cool blade presses into the shallow dip at my throat.
Goosebumps break across my flesh as I suppress the urge to gasp.
Down it travels, leisurely cutting through my shirt, careful not to nick the skin. Reaching my bra, someone lifts the sliver of fabric connecting the center. One slice and my breasts bounce free. The cool air bites my nipples, and they pucker as the men continue their descent down my body, making quick work of my jeans and panties until I’m left exposed to them, every inch of my body on display—a feast for the hungry.
Someone slides my Crocs off.
Chilled air caresses my bare toes. On instinct, they flex, now freed from their confines.
Nobody speaks.
Boot heels crossing the wooden floor vibrate through the altar into my back.
There’s a plasticclicklike a latch being opened.
Someone’s breath is heavy, like they’re… turned on.
Metalclinks, and a man grunts.
Warm skin brushes against my arm, and I sense them hovering over me. There’s a gentle poke on the side of my nipple.
I stiffen, and that same hand I’ve come to know rests on my shoulder in support—Rot.
What are they doing?
The same poke touches my other nipple and is gone a second later.
Relaxing my fingers, I focus on the softness of the fabric beneath me—silk. It’s cool to the touch. The quietsounds of the men fade out as I force myself to remain calm. Dark wouldn’t put me in danger. This is a ritual. It must be. That’s all. A ceremony to welcome me. Why else would I be here?
This isn’t the closet I lived in as a child.
I’m not being punished.
If I were, I’d be held down.
They’d restrain me.
This was a choice.
Quiet.
Still.
Endure.
Repeats like a songbird in my head, as a cold vice squeezes around my nipple.
I exhale through my nose.
Quiet.
