Page 30 of Neon Pestilence
A soft moan escapes my lips, the noise sounding louder than I meant. The crowd groans in response, and I begin to wonder how they heard me.
I wish I could see their eyes as they drink me in, watching as The Doctor plays with me. I feel more beautiful than I think I ever have, at the complete mercy of the masked man behind me.
His fingers push into me, breaching my core and taking the wind out of my lungs in the same breath. My chest heaves as he works me from the inside, finding that sweet little spot that feels so fucking good.
My moans become fevered. My mind becomes mush, like I’m floating in space. Hands grip my shoulder, pulling me up straight. He turns me and grabs my hips, lifting me so I’m sitting on something.
I wait for what feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only seconds before his touch returns. The rough leather has been replaced with corded fabric; it feels like rope but is softer.
I lean back on my elbows as he wraps it around my thighs, pinning my calves to them, creating a V shape. Minutes pass in silence as pressure blooms in my legs.
It feels like a hand holding you down when you’re ready to spring to your feet. Not hard, not heavy, but rather… Clinical. Like he’s done this a thousand times before. My pussy throbs.
“Please,” I whisper to him, to the audience, I’m not sure. “More.”
I hear a deep chuckle and smile.
“Our little deathbringer wants more. Should we give it to her?” The crowd cheers, their energy seeping into this moment like a ritual.
And I know it is.
The Hallow Rite ismyritual.
Mycure.
And I plan on soaking up this moment like a goddess would.
Chapter 29
The Doctor
She’s lying on the DJ’s podium, spread out on top of the mixing boards like a musical sacrifice. My mouth waters, and I lick my lips in response.
Her thighs are kept in a perfect V-shape by the ropes I brought, and I have her open to the cool night air. Her pussy glistens under the neon lights flashing above us, and a tiny little puddle forms under her perfectly plump ass.
She’s perfect. A cure created especially for me. Here, as my sacrifice to the festival, to the Gods, to my elder.
She’s here to save me, and she doesn’t even know it. But yet, she smiles. Smiles at me as I undo my belt, dropping my suit pants to the floor.
Her breath hitches when she hears the metal clank against the stage. She knows that sound. Such a dirty little angel.
Grabbing her hips, I pull her closer to the edge. A yelp escapes her lips, echoing to the crowd via the microphone I have set up next to her head.
They’ll listen to her sing for me. And they’ll understand. The deathbringer is mine. Indy is mine. I’ll show them, too.
A special treat for the last night of the festival.
An offering to the Gods who like to watch.
I smirk, breaching her in one hard thrust. My dick slides in like she was made for me. Made to take me.
Every thrust is an offering, a promise.
I tear my mask from my face. My master’s chains no longer hold me. They will no longer infect my mind.
Because my cure is right here, thriving under my touch.
And as she clenches around me, reaching her climax, I reach out. My fingers grip the soft fabric around her eyes, and I pull.
