29. My Kink Involves You In A Body Bag
Our bodies meld and flow together with the vibration of the beat. The music has seamlessly morphed from house beats to more sensual ones. There's a palpable change in the air. It's filled with a different kind of intensity now. Sweat forms between my breasts and on my lower back. I close my eyes and let the music and Zack's hands glide over me. My hips have a mind of their own as they sway from side to side, responding to the seductive melody. My hands are slow and fluid as I grip the hair near my scalp and give it a little yank. The prickle of pain reminds me of when Jax was pulling my hair and fucking me from behind as I sucked his dead brother's cock. When Zack yanks my hips to his and grinds his erection into me, my clit and nipples tingle from his advances. I slowly open my eyes and hide my smile behind my cup as I drink the intoxicating potion. It goes down much easier now, and the effects are almost instantaneous. I'm on another level, and it's so freeing.
Gracefully, yet forcefully, he turns me around so my back is to his chest. He runs his hands up my thighs, cinching the hem of my dress right below my pussy as I grind my ass into him. His hardened length is now against my ass, and cooler air brushes against my sex. He licks up the side of my neck, and I throw my head back, relishing in the feel of him. If King was here now, I feel he would've stopped this. It's hot and intimate, as if we're two seconds away from getting a room. The problem is that Zack's not Jax. My heart would crack a little at that thought if it wasn't already deadened from the liquor.
"Come with me," Zack urges as he drags me off the dance floor.
Once we make it out of the packed group, there's an immediate rush of clarity. My lungs draw in the cleaner oxygen, filling me with a new love for losing myself on the dance floor. It makes me appreciate the small things like air conditioning, or maybe that's the alcohol talking.
I don't know where we're going, but I allowZack to tow me behind him as he weaves through the thinning crowd. I slam back the dredges of my drink and deposit the empty cup on a table as I'm pulled along. I'm riding on a cloud as my muscles hum from exhilaration. With my eyes closed, he leads me to our destination. It makes this seem more like a dream with the buzz of alcohol in my veins. The music becomes muffled, and the atmosphere is colder. His soft lips brush mine before pressing harder, running his tongue along the seam and begging for entry. He turns us and walks me backward as he devours my mouth. I'm thinking I should be hitting a bed soon, so I try to break our kiss and turn to look around. Before I can move one iota, his fingers dig into my face, preventing me.
"Nu-uh, baby, this is a surprise. Keep your eyes closed," he whispers over my lips, and I do as he says, even though a warning niggles at the edge of my mind.
There's a clang of metal, hinges grinding together, then a few male voices.
‘Hey!'
‘What's this?'
There's a gruff mumbling before a final voice asks, "Did you bring us a treat?"
Zack smiles against my mouth, and my skin crawls.
Us?My heart races, threatening to break free of my chest. Run, you idiot! Open your damn eyes and run! But I don't listen. I'm almost thankful my eyes are closed. I'm taken back to high school in the boy's bathroom. The fear of the unknown has my muscles stiffening and curiosity running wild. I finally take the leap, whip my head around out of Zack's grasp, and take in my surroundings.
The room is dim, and the rusted metal walls are mostly bare. Men are standing around, and it looks like we've interrupted some sort of illegal operation. Small baggies line a scuffed table top along with piles of white powder. I tear my eyes from the display before me to check out the rest of the room, and my eyes land on Finn. He must've been the one that grunted because his mouth set in a frown. I don't recognize the others whose expressions range from excited to downright wicked. This is definitely not what I was expecting. Time to leave, you stupid bitch. Finally paying attention to my intuition, I lunge for the door.
"Uh uh, You're not getting away that easily," Zack states, grabbing hold of my wrist and pulling me back into his chest with a hard thud.
The wind is almost knocked from me, and I flail in his hold. "Let go of me," I screech.
"I love it when they fight." Zack holds me tightly against his chest, leering down at me.
This plan to make Jax jealous is quickly unraveling, spinning out of my control. I'm not sure why I thought he would be a decent guy, but I was extremely wrong. Every tiny hair on my body stands on end, and goosebumps prickle my skin. I feel the eerie sensation of their unwanted eyes roaming over my body. They're like hyenas assessing their prey. I crane my neck to face Zack head-on. His mouth is formed into a wolfish grin, so I gaze up into his eyes. I note that they are very pretty, brown with flecks of gold. I lift my chin so my next words will be clear.
"Your eyes are beautiful. By the end of this night, they'll be mine."
I catch the flash of confusion cross his face before he grabs the back of my dress and yanks it over my head. My hair lands in haphazard strands around my face. I don't make any motion to cover myself. Instead, I allow my hands to dangle at my sides and go still.
I'm not here.
I'm in the morgue.
I'm lying in a bed sandwiched between Johnny and Dr. King. Jax sensually glides a finger up my arm, making me crave more. I do the same to Johnny, tracing the dark lines of his tattoo.
Then Zack pushes the curtain of my hair from my face, breaking me from my delusion. He roughly pinches my chin, forcing me to be present. "You seem like you're well versed in my kink, based on the scar that's still fresh between your tits." He lets go to trace a finger over the sensitive flesh, trailing white hot pain in his finger's wake. "You'd do well to liven up, or this may be your final ride."
His words are a whisper. I'm unsure if the pack of salivating hyenas behind me heard him, but their presence has suddenly become suffocating. I just want to run and let go of this adrenaline that's nearly unbearable as it mounts in my veins. But he doesn't know my secret. He doesn't know this gnarled raised flesh wasn't voluntary. It was meant to be payback for the heart I broke. Little does Zack know that the kink I'm well versed in doesn't turn out great for him.
A soft snick rings in my ears before cold metal presses against my throat. "Undress me," he orders with a nod down to his pants before meeting my eyes again.
"With all these people watching?" I'm not sure why I'm stalling. Surely he doesn't give a flying fuck about my comfort.
"No need to be nervous," he explains, using the tip of the knife to push the few stubborn strands from my face. "They've seen it all before." As if that statement alone should be reassuring.
I clumsily bring my hands to the button of his black denim jeans. His oversized white holy shirt gets in the way of seeing anything when I push it down. He continues to run the sharp edge over my exposed chest and arms as a reminder to be good and do as he says. Now for his underwear. When I slip my hand beneath the waist and push them down, his length springs free between us. I suck in a sharp breath as my gaze takes him in, and the men in the room give a hardy chuckle with a few back slaps. This must be part of the party trick.
"You like what you see?" He pushes his hips out farther, allowing me to see the scars more clearly.
His cock is lined with half-inch reddened flesh that's puffed up like keloids. The thing is, it doesn't stop there. The marks flow in a swirl design down one of his thighs. While I'm following the pattern, he lifts his shirt over his head with one hand, the knife only leaving me for a second. The intricate scarred design swirls up his abdomen and chest.
"I did it myself," he says, waving his hand over the ribbed artwork.
When he's done showing off, he wraps his hand in my hair, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. His iris's take up most of the real estate… the darkness is even more fitting. Perhaps I'll make them into a matching pair of earrings. I attempt glancing at the guys shuffling behind us, but the tip of the blade diggs into the soft tissue of my throat as a warning.
"You're going to make this a good show, got it? We like it when our prey fights. If you don't fight me, then I'll nick this beautiful skin of yours until you do. If you go cold on me, then I'll end you, and you'll be as dead as you look. Do I make myself clear?"
As dead as I look?He clearly doesn't know my life if he thought that would be a burn. I give him a slight nod, mindful of the blade, letting him know I understand.
"Good." He grins before he spins me around and pushes. The concrete floor meets my nose like a fist, and pain rings through my face, head, and neck. I moan in agony as my pulse pounds against my temple.
"Ahhh, that's more like it," he praises before gripping my hips and lifting my ass in the air to meet his crotch. A door bangs somewhere, and snickers reverberate from the guys. "I guess Finn didn't like the show."
He presses his hardened length between my ass cheeks. The only thing separating us is the thin lace of my underwear. My scalp prickles with pain when he pulls my head back, causing my eyes to water.
"You better make a good show of this," he whispers against my ear. "If anyone else leaves, I'll draw this out, and you'll be begging me to kill you."
He lets go of my hair, and this time, my chin clips the concrete before my hands can catch me. My back molars crack, and my front teeth bite into my tongue, filling my mouth with copper. There's a chunk of something floating around in the blood. I think I bit off the tip of my tongue.
"Now, to get this out of the way," he says before the rip of fabric fills the air. The burn of my underwear, being roughly torn from my body, stings. My body, the no-good traitor, mistakes this for rough sex play instead of dangerous torture. So when cool air brushes against my now bare sex, the little bit of arousal that was there before has increased tenfold. I don't think he wanted that, but he didn't choose an ordinary girl either. I'll die here before he gets what he wants from me. I peer over my shoulder at him and spit, the tip of my tongue bounces off his chest. The spray of my blood that accompanies it, coats him with a beautiful pattern.
"Ooooo, you gotta spitfire on your hands," one of the guys laughs.
Zack pushes my face back down. My cheek skids against the concrete when he slams into me. I don't say anything. Not one peep as he thrusts his hips. Even when the ribs on his cock drag through my sex, I stifle the moan that threatens to come up. I'm not giving in. I refuse. He doesn't seem to like that because fire blazes across my back. No matter that I've already been carved open before, I'm unprepared for this excruciating torture. I hold out for the first few cuts until I can't anymore. He's not going to stop until he wins over his crowd… so I break. I scream as he continues his carving. I swat at his arm, holding my head in place, trying to get him off me, but it's no use.
"That's right, baby, fight me." He laughs at my struggle and pumps his ribbed cock into me faster.
He continues to cut into my back, and my voice goes hoarse from my cries. The cuts aren't deep enough. They're all shallow for a show, only meant to look worse and feel worse than what they really are. His thrusts slow, as he drags the blade from my back to my thighs. A new, fresh area, free of his wrath, is doused in scorching hot pain. Don't move! Stop crying! I order myself. It seems that regardless of the path I choose, it's like Brandon all over again. I'm going cold from the harsh treatment, detaching. It's the only way I can survive this.
That's not what Zack wanted because he moves the sharp point to my asshole. "Maybe if I flay you open and shove my hand inside, I can make you scream. Control you like a puppet."
"Please, stop," I whisper and plead, "End this."
Somehow, through the roaring agony and anger in my brain, I'm able to hear as another door opens and closes. Is it another guy leaving? Am I going to pay with more blood?
"Jackie boy! Maybe you can get this lump of flesh," Zack smacks my ass for show, "to play with us again." There's a humor to his voice that dies off. "What are you doing with that?"
He abruptly pulls out of me. I don't move a muscle and stare distantly at the blurry black shoes that have taken up my vision. Then warm liquid sprays me and screams that are no longer my own fill the room. The sound comes from behind me, making my body hum with renewed adrenaline. Careful of my new cuts, I roll over to my ass. Thankfully, he didn't start hacking there.
A crack of bone adds to the sweet symphony of cries. The owner of those blurry, black shoes places one against Zack's chest, forcing him to the ground. When he has the long pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters around Zack's second arm, he wastes no time, hacking away at it. There's another crunch of bone before he steps back to assess his work. Zack lays on his back with red nubs where his arms used to be. Blood pulses from where his arms used to be. I don't pay any mind to the man standing over him looking like a dark angel. Nope. Before Zack's body is completely dried out, I act fast, leaping from my position on the floor and onto his chest.
His eyes are mine!
"Fight me, baby, and make it good," I hiss through gritted teeth as I grab his thrashing head with both hands.
There's a chorus of whoops and hell yeah's from the men who were standing around watching me get fileted like a fish. I should be angry with them. Any average person would be. But I've never been normal. Their cheers drive me to push my thumbs into Zack's orbital bed. He kicks his legs, bucking like a bronco beneath me, but I have his head locked in a death grip. I'll be the last thing he sees. Ever.