Page 5 of Spark of Madness

I lurch as bile rises in my throat, bending sharply with a dry heave and catching myself with my hands on my thighs. I swallow it down, panting heavily through my sudden nausea. When I lift my head, I see Hyatt move in my direction. He sees that I’m unclaimed, that Theo has left me, and now I’m on my own.

I rise and take a step back as he picks up his pace.

Another step, then another, committing the sin of retreat with each pad of my foot against earth.

A sin with my right foot, a sin with my left…

And when I realize I no longer care if anyone sees me retreating, knowing my fate is sealed no matter what I choose, I turn on my heels, and run into the forest.

I stood as a servant, and now, I run as a sinner.

chapter two

Arlo

THEIMPULSE DRIVESmy hunger, the same as it does for everyone else. But it’s the anticipation of our nights of purging that’s the most thrilling for me—sometimes even more thrilling than the nights themselves.

The Impulse is painful for some—the suppression of a man’s natural, God-given urges for sex and violence. I suppose I’ve always been a little twisted finding pleasure in that pain. The denial is intoxicating for me. Skirting the edge of release for as long as I can amplifies the relief once I finally let go. And there is no better way to skirt the edge than with a little voyeurism.

I take a sip of ale from my mug, then tilt my head back to rest against the tree trunk at my back. I feel one with my primitive nature, sunk down low against the earth, sitting on soil with one knee lifted to rest my arm against. If I were to press my palm to the ground, I imagine I might feel the vibration of pleasure from Mother Earth as we submit to our primordial needs—as our women fulfill their purpose by serving our masculine urges.

I have every intention to participate in tonight’s festivities, but not until I’m ready. As a member of the Control, I’m used to standing back and watching. It’s actually a rather fitting role for me to be one of the authority of Ember Glen. I have a level of patience unrivaled in our village. That patience is what allows me the ultimate release after extensive time spent in persistent, delicious anticipation.

There’s always a mad rush at the beginning of a night of purging, such as now. The hounds have been released, so to speak, and the men of Ember Glen chase their prey like rabid dogs, quickly seeking and selecting a servant to unleash upon.

Watching this is my favorite part.

Taking another long sip from my mug, I cast my glance around the glowing firelight at the center of the camp…watching, waiting. I reach down with one hand to undo the two buttons of my waistcoat which I wear over a gray button-up. The leather gloves I often wear are placed on top of the coiled rope resting on the ground beside me. My sleeves are rolled up to my elbows, and the gradually cooling air breezes across my forearms.

I watch the flames dance against the dark shadows of the campsite and the black trunks of trees looming beyond. It’s rustic, a good setting for primal release, though I enjoy my clean, elegant living at the Homestead with the other members of the Control. Yet being out here in this part of our village, with the servants and men of our community, it makes the impulse to purge that much stronger.

This night is feral.

A scream near the campfire draws my attention, and when I glance over, I see Hyatt Price playfully threaten to push Ivy Jane into the fire before pulling her away. Her fright sends out a pulse through the village, an electric shock which triggers desire to use and abuse.

I slowly inhale, dragging in an aching breath of anticipation as I let my desire simmer deep inside. Several servants are unclaimed; I could take any one of them now and satisfy the throbbing ache of my thickening cock, but still, I bide my time.

I scan the circle from where I’m seated, my gaze settling to watch one pair and then the next, observing the men of Ember Glen as they use their creativity to purge with servants. I spot Ellary Hill stark naked, on her hands and knees in the dirt, getting fucked from behind. My gaze travels her naked form appreciatively—I think I’d enjoy sinking inside her, but I don’t think she’ll be the one I take to satisfy me first tonight.

Nearby, I see Cambria Miller, still fully clothed, hugging a tree. Her wrists are bound with a rope on the opposite side of the trunk. She screams with pure delight as Killian Cole—a fellow member of the Control—spreads her legs and drags the tip of a blade down the back of her thigh, a thin stream of blood slowly tracking down her bare leg.

My pulse quickens as I watch the blood flow, the subtle violence of the act and the slow drip of blood along her medium brown skin builds anticipation that rushes through my veins with an insistentwhoosh. I adjust my cock with one hand as I shift against the ground, then take a long drink of ale as I continue to watch.

“No!” The shout of protest immediately catches my attention, my head snapping toward the sound.

Servants don’t say no—on this night or any other—and it won’t be tolerated. I see Delle Carter dart from the campfire, running toward the forest, her hair whipping wildly behind her as she sprints away. I scramble to my feet, prepared to run after her, but another villager and two members of the Control are already chasing her—two more than necessary to bring a servant under control.

And then I see one more, Theo Hughes, take off at a sprint to chase the group into the dark forest.

That’s interesting.

He’s a member of the Control, too, and surely, he sees enough men are after her already. In his wake, he leaves a girl on her knees…the same girl he chooses nearly every time we purge.

Mercy Madness.

I’m perplexed by her.

She’s attractive, though her appeal has declined over the last year or so—at least that’s what I hear from my brothers. By all rights, she should be in high demand. Supple flesh, round curves, skin like porcelain begging to be reddened with a smack of a hand or the flow of blood. Pink lips that dip to a perfect, permanent pout, sinful, sultry bedroom eyes, and soft waves of long, white-blonde hair.

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