21. Induced Frenzy

21. Induced Frenzy

Skylenna

Dessin has a plan.

He doesn’t dare breathe the details out loud. Why? Because an artist doesn’t reveal their painting until it’s complete. But no words need to be spoken for me to catch on to his shift in demeanor. I don’t miss how his attention roams each room we’re in. How he studies the timing, the schedule, the body language of each sentinel changing shifts. There is a good chance he already has the inner workings of this place down to a science.

But I don’t ask him about it yet.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask Ruth as we hear the announcer through the iron doors.

She narrows her eyes as she sorts through his fast, dramatic way of talking to the crowd. Her dark eyebrows pull together in confusion. The Ringmaster takes a long pause, then shouts something to which the crowd explodes.

“Oh god.” Her eyes widen, and she looks from Dessin to me in uncertainty. “He said…he said…”

“Spit it out, little rebel.” Warrose leans against the door with a bored expression.

“Ecstasy Dance.” She stares back at him coldly.

“What’s that mean?”

It sounds sexual. And that can’t be good for my situation. I’m with Dessin. He’d cut the hands off of any man who would touch me.

“I’m listening for an explanation.”

We wait around her, watching the subtle changes in her expression as if it will tell us anything.

“Something about a gas…”

Dessin turns to me, face stoic, chin raised. And although he’d never show it, he’s concerned. “You stay by my side the entire time.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think it means?” Warrose asks, though it seems he’s already put it together.

“I think they’re going to pump a concoction of drugs into the air. Methamphetamine, synthetic cathinone, cocaine. Opioids to stimulants,” Dessin explains, still studying Ruth’s reactions.

“Why?”

“To increase dopamine and serotonin levels.”

“Dumb it down for me,” Warrose deadpans.

“To spread sexual urges and arousal.”

Ruth blinks out of her concentrated trance, soft brown eyes darting between Dessin and me. “It looks like Helga Bee is going to get another orgy story.”

“What now?” Niles steps forward.

“Look, I don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t know how strong the gas will be. But it’s a fucked up, perverted way to entertain the goddamned soldi—”

Dessin stops abruptly, realization springing in his dark-mahogany eyes.

“What?” I ask, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Who?” I struggle to follow his line of thought, but it only takes a moment to narrow down the he referenced. “Kaspias?”

“He’s going to watch whatever happens on that stage. He’ll probably…” Dessin trails off with a clenching jaw and a string of curse words.

“We can worry about that later,” Warrose interrupts. “What’s the plan for this one?”

His forehead beads with sweat, and he avoids looking at Ruth altogether. I wonder if it’s been awkward for them to be around each other after what happened at the dinner party.

“Our inhibitions will be lowered, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to resist the drugs. Either way, we have to stick together so no other prisoner gets their hands on our girls. Got it?” He’s staring at Niles and Warrose now, eyes firm with the command of an alpha.

They agree quietly. And I feel terrible at how uncomfortable this must be for them. Dessin and I are mates. If something sexual happens…it’s okay. Weird to have an audience, but it’s consensual.

“Ruth? Marilynn?” Dessin urges us to huddle closer before the doors open. “I don’t know what your sexual preferences are. I don’t know how reserved you are. Normally, I wouldn’t need to. But please know, we would never fucking touch you without consent in our right minds. I might have an alter that will emerge to resist this drug. But that’s up to Skylenna. As for both of you, I need to know if you feel safe with us.”

Ruth and Marilynn peer at each other for a second, then look to Niles, Warrose, and Dessin.

“Whatever happens, we’re in this together. Just… please don’t let another prisoner have me,” Ruth says with a quivering voice. “I consent.”

“Over my dead body,” Warrose promises.

“I…agree,” Marilynn breathes out in agitation. “Just please, don’t leave me behind.” Marilynn’s words puncture a small hole in my heart. She won’t be forgotten again. No matter what happens.

“I won’t take my eyes off you,” Niles says quietly.

And the doors open.

Cheers of drunk men, blinding red and yellow light, bursts of fire, and the giant stadium exploding with violent, lustful energy. The heated atmosphere is sticky and humid from the frantic gathering of exhausted bodies, hungry for an escape but hungrier for pleasure.

It’s harsh on the senses, looking around at the restless soldiers bouncing in their seats, the dark carnival, the insidious zoo of criminals, the mad house of torture and entertainment.

With each step, the air swells with dust, stale body odor, dried blood, and a bouquet of alcohol-infused breath. It balloons to stomach-churning levels around me.

Dessin caresses the back of my hand with his knuckle. The lightest of touches that zaps a charge through the terror that gushes out of me. I take a breath, focus on the roughness of that knuckle. Focus on something else that will distract me from the nerves curling around my stomach.

“Remember the first time we walked into the tavern of the Nightamous Horde?” Dessin asks in that low baritone, somehow knowing I needed to hear his deep, rugged voice.

“I do. Thinking about the time I had to straddle you?”

“Yes.” Desire forms like thick webs over his voice. It’s smooth like butter melting on top of a juicy steak.

“Me, too.”

The Ringmaster pivots on his platform, looking down at the herd of human cattle he is welcoming to the stage. I flinch at the paint on his long face. Red lips that make his smile appear wide and unnatural. Black smudges around his eyes. White, like baby powder, covering his skin and ending under his chin.

The rest of the sea of faces come into view, the soldiers hollering, also decorated as…

“Clowns,” Niles gasps behind me. “I hate clowns!”

“Don’t look at them,” Dessin commands.

I avert my eyes and blow out a breath. They’re everywhere—crazy, colorful, disturbing faces that are anxious for the show to begin.

“This is so fucked up,” Warrose growls.

We’re shoved onto the platform, holding onto each other as the mob of inmates grows anxious, pushing, knocking elbows, and whispering in Old Alkadonian.

The Ringmaster makes a final statement, throwing his arms in the air as a veil of smoke floats from the ceiling, draping over the stage like a blanket of haze.

“He told them to secure their masks and enjoy the Ecstasy Dance!” Ruth shouts over the screams.

My eyes flash back to the clown faces. It’s not paint. Not makeup. They’re wearing masks!

“Skylenna!” Dessin yells, reaching for me through the sudden chaos of hysterical bodies moving through us like a channel of water.

Warrose and Niles attempt to hold on to Ruth and Marilynn, but the current is too strong. The screams of men and women fighting to find the person they want to stay close to overpowers our voices. And I’m stunned into silence, emotion cluttering my throat, dread biting into my lungs. We can’t be separated! What if I’m assaulted? What if the drug is so powerful I let it happen?

“Dessin!” I shriek, pummeling my way through sweaty bodies.

But my voice is drowned out. It’s a theater of panic. A display of crying women. Some are happy about it, searching for a partner or multiple inmates to couple with. Some already have a crazed look in their eyes.

And the fog is falling, almost here, almost encapsulating us in its thick curtain of drugs.

“Oh, god! Dessin!” Helplessness ricochets over my limbs.

I hold my breath against the initial contact, resist the urge to suck in the cloudy mist that sprinkles over my skin. Prisoners have already begun to inhale, letting their heads lull back, eyes rolling, pupils dilating. I pinch my nose, bustling through another group of people. The more my muscles work, my limbs move, the more I need oxygen.

It happens after a moment of heart-hammering silence. I take a deep breath in. It tastes of burning plastic, bitter and salty on my tongue. The world of fire, flashing lights, and frantic bodies…softens. A sweet, sugary atmosphere takes its place.

Why was I so upset? It’s so nice here, so thrilling, so…

My thighs pinch together as I watch two women kiss, deeply, passionately, like no one else exists around them. A couple on my right gives each other oral.

The rapid movement of uniforms being tossed to the side licks my skin with its immodest presence. My heart beats at the pace of a jack rabbit. A hungry sensation buzzes in my lower belly, like crawling bugs, like warm honey drizzling between my legs.

I need to be touched.

Spinning in circles, I search the multitude, rubbing my hands across my prickling skin, breathing like I’ve just hiked up the side of a mountain.

My eyes lock with a man pumping himself into his fist. And, although my flesh is humming, my clit throbbing, something feels wrong. Like taking a bite of a dessert that isn’t sweet, it’s bitter and sour. I take a step away, unsure of how to avoid this confrontation. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

He says something in words that don’t make sense. A language I can’t decipher.

Another step back.

Wrong.

He leaps for me, arms circling around my waist, ensnaring me against his hairy chest. I yelp at the contact, at the way my body responds yet rejects the arousal. His half-salute erection bumps against my thigh, searching for a hole. Pubic hair scratches and pokes, causing my molars to smash together at the uninviting texture.

Not what I want. Not welcome. Not what I need. Not who I need.

The prisoner leans over my face, puckering his thin lips, but is ripped from our embrace like a tree being uprooted by a storm. His body jerks back headfirst, flying into a group of strangers groping on the floor.

“What did I wake up to, darling?” The voice with the accent that curls my toes, lined with silk and liquid gold. Soft yet graceful. Even through the thick haze, I recognize the alter almost instantly.

“Greystone,” I breathe with a weak whine. His name alone corrodes like melting metal through my core.

His lofty stance is leaner in a way, confident, carnal. Those charcoal eyes, pupils expanding to saucers, are a blow to my lungs. They harden my nipples, scorch my flesh, melt me to a pathetic puddle on the floor.

“I don’t understand.” He adjusts his hard cock in his pants, fighting the greedy need to stroke himself.

“You don’t need to,” I explain with trembling hands. “Do you trust me?”

Greystone looks out at the crowd, at the mounds of naked inmates, the clowns veering from the stands in an eerie quiet they usually don’t display.

His weighty gaze slides back to me. “Yes.”

Greystone closes the distance, strong hands cradling my head, full lips crashing over my mouth with heat, vigor, and deafening pleasure.

My core lights up in a show of fireworks. His hot tongue dips into my mouth, slipping over mine. He sucks on my bottom lip, moaning into my lungs like he’s trying to reign in his irrepressible arousal.

“I usually take my time, sweetheart,” Greystone explains past my lips.

I nod. “This time will be a little different.”

“Yes, it will.” He rips off my uniform, holding the weight of my breasts in his palms. “Will you forgive me for fucking you like an animal?”

I whimper in response.

“Good girl,” he exhales in a rush, pulling his veiny cock from his pants, fully engorged and standing straight up. With a quick bend of his knees, he lifts me to wrap my legs around his waist. “I have no wall to push you against, so I’ll have to settle for a human, won’t I?”

No logic. No moral high ground. My pussy clenches around air over and over again. My legs twitch around his hips from my spasming core. Desire hangs low in my belly, twisting tighter and tighter, screaming for a release. I itch for his calloused hands to touch me, for him to suck on my skin, my tongue, my lips.

Greystone turns my head to a woman behind me, standing tall on one leg and the other draped over the shoulder of a muscular back. The inmate on his knees squeezes her thigh as he laps between her legs.

“There,” Greystone whispers. He walks us toward her until the bare skin on my back is flush against hers. It’s electric. Steaming. Gratification boiling under my surface.

The woman throws her head back, lulling on my shoulder. Eyes closed, mouth open, high-pitched whining as the man devours her clit. Flames spike through my core, and my arousal is dripping down my inner thigh.

“Oh my god,” I moan.

“Stay still, sweetheart. I don’t want to come yet.” His eyes shudder as he lines up the tip of his length with my hot, wet center. “Filthy girl, you’d let me stick it inside you against the back of a woman getting her pussy eaten?”

“Oh, yes.” Static lines the edges of my vision.

“Would you like me to ease it in?”

I shake my head.

“That wasn’t an answer. Do I need to start calling you names in order for you to be good for me?”

Names? Do I want that? Every fiber in my body squeals yes. A rogue wave of wanton energy makes me nod my head. Words. Can’t form words.

“Are you a slut?” he asks with clouding eyes. An inch. He pushes it in an inch.

“Y-yes.”

“You are a slut, Skylenna.” He sucks on my nipple, hard, aggressive, unlike his usual style. “You’ll let me fuck you however I want, won’t you? Filthy, little girl.”

“P-please.”

With one powerful thrust, his full size slams inside me. I howl against the overwhelming pressure, trying to adjust as fast as possible. The woman behind me turns her head and kisses my neck. It only adds bliss to this experience, loosening my walls, slickening his entryway until I’m undulating against him.

“Fuck, I’ve never wanted to come so fast, my good, little slut.”

His voice spears through me, sending a flood of wetness to my center again. The symphony of soaking, slapping sounds only adds to our ecstasy dance.

“If I come on your pink, exposed cunt, will it drip down to the ass of the woman who is—kissing your neck?” He almost can’t get the words out.

My inner walls spasm at the notion, sending an unexpected climax rolling through me like a demonic possession. I scream his name, latching onto him as I ride the waves.

“That’s my good girl.” And he’s coming now, pulling out just in time to shoot a long white rope over my exposed clit. He’s right. It drips down like a mess of drool, ending on the woman at my back.

To our surprise, he’s rock-hard again. So quickly. Like the last orgasm never happened. This drug sends a new blast of horny energy.

We continue fucking as if this night of euphoria will never end.

~

Warrose

My lip is sliced andbloody from fighting someone off of Ruth.

On our corner of the stage, the prisoners are ravenous, violent, desperate to get their hands on her. I end up shielding her body with my own.

And that was my first mistake.

“Warrose!” she screams, face pressed against the stage floor as three other prisoners pummel their fists down on my back like an angry pack of primates.

I flex every muscle across my shoulder blades, bracing as their punches undoubtedly leave bruises. They eventually grow tired, scurry off, and find mates of their own.

“I’m here,” I exhale into her ear, my lips grazing her curly hair. She smells so…angelic. Like honey and vanilla. Like an afternoon in a library drinking rose chamomile tea.

Blood and heat rush to my groin.

“Warrose…” And she doesn’t sound so scared anymore. Her voice has lost its edge, tilting in a curious angle.

I know I shouldn’t…the drugs permeate my brain like a fast-acting poison. Resist, Warrose. She’s beautiful, yes. Gorgeous. Small enough to spin her entire body on my dick. Fuck, yes. No! Control. Discipline. This isn’t how I want her. In fact, I don’t want her at all. She has a bad attitude, is rude, arrogant, and has a sharp tongue. I want to make her choke on my…

I bury my nose in her hair, inhaling deeply, like an animal in mating season. Those fucking pheromones nearly blind me.

And to my horror, Ruth moans lightly, followed by a small gasp. Like that small noise embarrassed her beyond repair.

“Don’t do that. Please don’t fucking do that.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s rougher than gravel. Darker than midnight in hell.

“I’m sorry. We can fight this, right? We must.”

I nod, though I’m still breathing in her scent like it’s the only drug I’m on. My mouth parts against the edge of her ear, and I can’t control myself. I can’t stop the hot breath that whooshes out of me. Can’t fight the way the wet inside of my lip catches on her skin.

That is my second mistake.

Her back arches abruptly as if I’ve pushed the right button. As if I’ve pulled the right string. She delicately grinds against my throbbing length, and it’s gentle, slow. She’s trying to go unnoticed.

It ignites the base of my spine. I hold my breath. Go completely still.

Ruth rocks her narrow hips back once more, and that does it. My lower body jerks forward, pinning the center of her ass with my hard cock.

“You have—an erection,” she observes under her breath.

“I’m aware.”

“Well, get rid of it.”

I blow out a laugh. “It doesn’t exactly want to leave. And you’re not helping by arching for me.”

Neither of us move an inch.

“I don’t want to be here either, okay?” I snap. This is the worst-case scenario. She doesn’t want this. I’m a monster for holding her down with my aching erection. She’ll never forgive me if it goes any further than this. She’ll never be able to go near me again.

“You don’t?” Offended. She sounds offended. “Not even when I do this?”

Ruth takes my hand in a smooth, calculated motion, and…fuck, she places it around her throat. My fingers react without my command, curling around her skin with added pressure.

This will be how I end. Death by exploding erection. Death by blue balls.

“Ruth,” I warn, growling against her hair.

“Yes?” Her tone is taunting, dripping with seduction.

“I can’t do this to you. Not like this.”

“Like what?”

Reminding us where we are, someone falls in front of us, being fucked in missionary.

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

But the smoke around us is irresistible, rearranging my values, my morals, my inhibitions. The man I know is losing to this beast that wants her. Needs her. Is desperate to choke her while I fuck her.

“Then don’t have all of me. Just, I need” Ruth wiggles her ass underneath me “release. Please, don’t make me beg.”

Beg.

That word.

It fucks with my head.

It undoes my last feeble string of restraint.

“You want me to give you release, my little rebel?”

“Yes.”

I tighten my grip on her throat.

“Should I take what I want?”

Her nod is hesitant. Enough to tell me exactly what I should do.

“Arch for me.” My command is almost degrading. An abrupt order. A baritone husk in her ear. “Yes, like that.”

She’s limber, flexible, tight as a rod. The pleasure of seeing her ass in the air stabs right through my balls. I rock my pelvis against her, growing harder at the little sigh she makes.

“How much have you done with a man, Ruth?”

“Enough.”

“Be specific.”

It’s hard to ignore the display of nakedness in the stadium. The clown faces. The screams. The moans. It’s a concert of madness.

“Penetration. Lasted like a minute.” She sounds insecure.

I smirk to myself.

“Do I have your permission to do something you’ve never done before?” I ask, gripping her hips like I’m claiming her, bringing her in as close as I can get. My hips rotate, jerking against her to relieve the swelling in my groin. The dry grinding is both erotic and driving us both further into madness.

“Depends,” she gasps.

“I want your ass, Ruth. I won’t penetrate you. I won’t take your lips. I won’t take your cunt.”

She inhales sharply, turning back to look at me with crazed, dark eyes and a gaping mouth. “You want my—why? How?”

I run a finger between her tight cheeks, adding pressure through her thin uniform until she gulps, maintaining fierce eye contact with me.

Nothing in the world would make me happier than to bury myself inside her, lift one leg over my shoulder, kiss her leg, her foot, her toes. I’d make her eyes roll back; I’d keep one finger in her ass the whole time.

But I’m not all beast. I’m a man who holds more power. More strength. I won’t ruin something that could be romantic for her…

“Do it,” she pants.

I give her one last buck of my hips, rubbing my hot erection between her legs. The ecstasy in there grows thicker, a tangible fog in my lungs, blurring my vision, brightening colors. The animal in me can’t be contained any longer. With both hands on her hips, I jerk her ass toward my face, pulling that skimpy uniform to the side.

The humid air kisses her bare, glistening flesh. And like an uncivilized creature, I lean into her pink cunt, breathing in through my nose and taking in her heady, sweet musk. It sends a furious pulse of desire straight to my cock.

“Goddamnit, I want to taste you.” I shudder, hands pulling her cheeks apart as I gaze at her nudity. She’s fucking beautiful everywhere.

“Oh, please,” she pants against the floor. “Please, taste me.”

I shake my head. “Not until you ask me when you’re sober.”

“Please, Warrose!”

I reach around to snatch her chin, tilting her face to look back at me. Those gorgeous brown eyes are fevered, hungry, venomous.

“I want you to make a mess on my face when we’re far away from here. You understand?”

That rational sliver of her conscience seems to understand me. She nods.

“Good. Now tell me how this feels.” I lick my thumb, then probe the tight ring of her ass hole, pulsing against it gently.

Ruth clenches, gasping shyly.

My dick aches, and I can’t wait any longer. I wish I could take this slow, Ruth. I really do.

She yelps asI yank her backward, spreading her cheeks wide and running my tongue over her puckered hole. She’s mad with nervous energy, writhing against my mouth, arching like she’s about to break her spine in half.

That’s it. She’s done for.

The beast inside me snaps the head of the man with self-control. I devour her ass, lapping, sucking, eating her wildly. And to my utter, profound pleasure, she grinds against my mouth, moaning loud enough to send an echo through the stadium.

I fist my cock, now painfully hard in my pants, stroking myself at her eagerness to feel my tongue probing that tense ring.

“Oh…oh my…”

“Is your cunt wet for me, baby girl?” I kiss her ass cheek, eliciting goose bumps to rise on her thighs.

She looks back at me, eyes hooded and bloodshot. “Say that again.”

I raise my eyebrows in question.

“Call me that again.”

The urge to ejaculate is paralyzing. “Baby girl.”

“Ah, yes.” She turns back, reaching between our legs until she’s gripping my aching cock.

“Fuck,” I growl, jolting into her hand.

“I want you to…”

“What?” I ask, unable to think clearly with her hand wrapped around me.

“I want you to—make love to me.”

God is testing me. I’m going to fail. Please, don’t let me fail.

“No,” I grunt as her hand squeezes. “You want to come. And I’m going to make that happen in front of all these perverted soldiers.”

I tangle my hand in her curly hair and tug sharply, angling her face to look up at the stadium.

“You see those clowns, baby girl? They’re going to watch your face while I make you come, okay?”

She whimpers, doing her best to nod against my strict hold on her.

I clamp my hands on her inner thighs, squeezing the soft skin and guiding her back to my tongue. I lap at her relentlessly, tempted by the devil himself to run a finger between her dripping folds. But I promised. I shouldn’t. She’s probably so warm inside that wet center, so sinfully delicious.

I growl into her ass, feeling the claws of insanity pull me under, hold me down, threaten to rip my conscience apart.

“Promise me this won’t end when we leave here,” she gasps, clamping down every muscle.

“Is that what you want?” I lick her hole, lovingly this time, sending a shiver up her delicate spine.

“It’s what I want.”

I hesitate, massaging my fingers against her scalp. My brows wrinkle together as I frown. Is that really what she wants? Or is the ecstasy controlling her speech? Giving her impulsive thoughts?

“Okay,” I breathe. “I promise.” On my end, at least.

Keeping my tongue against her, I push the tip of my index finger inside, pulsating as I lick. Her surprised moans fill the stadium, louder, breathier, an aphrodisiac. She gyrates her hips against me, drawing out a guttural groan from deep in my chest.

Fuck, I’m not going to last.

“Do you see them looking at you, Ruth?” It comes out in a rough whisper.

“Yes,” she moans.

“Show them the inside of your mouth for me.”

She clenches around my finger. “Oh my god, I’m going to…”

“Yes, baby girl? Tell me what you want so you can come.”

“I want my pussy to hug the thickness of your cock,” she gasps, her breath getting stuck in her throat, and then she jolts, crying out to the stadium. Her orgasm practically vibrates against my finger, chasing the chill from my bones.

And I almost miss it.

Almost don’t look up to check.

Kaspias removes his clown mask and stares down at her.