Page 16 of Fury

Fill, give, take, soar.

Her eyes widened. Fear.

The spring and press of metal.

My brain blanked.

My body went numb.

Blood spattered on Serena’s bare skin. My blood. Red on her breasts, her stomach.

My flesh caught on fire.

I howled.

Laughter.

A bloody object was held in the air and tossed on my bare chest. My eyes struggled to focus on it. My finger. He chopped off my middle finger.

No, no don’t look.She pleaded with me through the storm and rode and rode.

A large nipper tool was held in the air then dove on the other side of me. Grips tightened on my other arm, my wrist, my fingers.

Spring. Press. Crack. Crunch.

My vision blurred, everything whitened. Another nudge on my chest. I blinked. Another finger. My eyes went to my right hand. My middle finger was missing, the ugly wound bled and bled. More blood pooled on my chest and splattered over her hands pressing down on me.

A claw in my hair, rum breath in my face. “Your club said fuck you to us.” My bloodied, cut off finger dangled in front of me. “Now we’ve taken that away so you’ll never forget. Respect, for the Smoking Guns. Respect!” Med roared, dropping my finger on my chest.

His crowd roared back, “Respect!”

My two bloody fingers stared at me from my chest. I shuddered, trembled. So cold, so cold.

She rode me. Her eyes glazed, her lips parted, my blood smattered all over her pale skin.

Stay with me, Kid. Stay with me.

“Cauterize that shit! Don’t want him to bleed out on us now. I still got more fun planned here.”

Searing hot metal burned at my raw flesh. I choked on the stench, twisted at the flare of pain, my back arching off the table.

“Bitch, get off him. Suck on that cock now. I want it up, way the fuck up.”

“Wake his cock the fuck up!” came a shout. Hooting and more clapping filled my ears.

Through the blur, the heat released me, and I let out a groan. A different kind of heat enveloped my cock, taking it in, demanding from it. I raised my head a fraction. Through my blurred vision, Serena’s head bobbed between my legs. Her slim hand at my base rubbed, another at my balls stroked. My head sank back. Binding and pulling on my hands. Men wrapped up my bleeding wounds where my middle fingers once were.

My fingers.

The pain hammered through me fresh and boiled in my arms, my shoulders. She pulled at me. A whirlpool of nausea and dizziness and madness spun me loose. My head dropped to the side, and the tape was ripped off my mouth. My insides heaved, and I threw up.

“I need creativity. A flare, here.” Med spun around, facing his audience. “Anyone?”

“Anything I want?” another voice piped up.

“What do you got?” asked Med.

My strained, cloudy vision found Serena’s flushed face, her wide eyes the most supernatural blue green I had ever seen. I clung to them. They were my lush jungle, my flowing river, flowing me out of this fume-filled hell and into her blue green Garden of Eden.

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