Chapter 5

Luna

“No!” My throat stung, the word clawing its way from the deepest part of me as my back arched, pulling me from my slumber clear up into a seated position on my bed. I panted heavily as my eyes darted around wildly. Clutching my chest, willing my heart not to pound itself out of my ribcage, I struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Disjointed images, half-remembered dreams of torture, pain, and intense arousal floated through my mind as I tried to remember where I was. What was happening to me???

Three days.

Well, three night s in a row now, I had awoken just like this, gasping, confused, and tangled in sheets. It was almost like any other nightmare I’d ever had, and yet these were different. Yes, I awoke sweating, panting, and terrified, but unlike the bad dreams I’d had before, I also awoke soaking wet between my thighs and aching for a touch I didn’t recognize.

I fell back against the pillows with a soft thud, my legs pressing against each other, attempting to soothe the ache that lingered there, almost against my will. As my thighs moved back and forth, adding pressure to my clit beneath my panties, the dream began to come back to me in pieces.

Dark, noir-like vignettes flashed behind my eyelids, tendrils of distant dreams that both scared me and made my pussy gush with need. Hands, binding me with ropes so I couldn’t escape. The feeling of being helpless and scared. And somehow, the arousal was stronger than the fear, even when the pain began.

Nails digging into the tender flesh of my inner thighs to the point of drawing blood. Whips and other things striking all over my body, leaving welts and imprints in their wake. Pincers, blades, needles; I could not recall all the instruments that had tortured me.

But then… Lips moving down my ribcage, headed towards where I needed to be kissed and licked most. Fingers spreading me apart, touching and rubbing and thrusting with expert precision.

I could feel it. I swore I could feel those lips and fingers moving down over my body, even now. My hands moved down my torso in their wake, unable to refrain from giving myself the touch I needed so desperately. My fingertips danced along the skin of my inner thighs.

I hissed, light stinging sensations exploding beneath my touch as I neared the crease of my inner thighs.

Why did that hurt?

It hadn’t been real.

It was just a dream. Right??

Before I could give the concern another thought, my clit thrummed with need, as though it had been flicked and caressed by air alone. All thoughts left my mind other than the desire to cum, to succumb to the dark desires that played in my dreams, turning them into gothic-themed, sadistic fantasies that I never knew I wanted. I still wasn’t sure.

Where were my panties??

My fingers moved over my pussy, fingers dipping between my folds and finding my clit aching and swollen and more sensitive than it had ever been. The lightest touch of my fingers had me arching and gasping, pleasure exploding just behind the tiny tortured button.

I couldn’t take my time. I couldn’t take it slow. Not when visions of nails scraping over my skin, of my arms and legs tied to each corner of the bed, as some sadistic fantasy lover of my nightmares played behind my eyes like my own personal porn video.

My fingers flicked and circled over my clit, faster and faster. My hips shifted, lifted, and searched for something to fill me, to stretch me, to claim me.

My other hand moved over my breasts, tweaking at my stiff nipples, but it wasn’t enough. I circled and flicked, playing with the light pink tips as I always did. But it only left me frustrated.

“ Twist.”

A sinister voice called to me, in my mind. Without question, everything within me told me to obey. I found myself nodding to my phantom lover, grasping the tip in my fingers and turning. Tighter and tighter, I twisted, the pain igniting like fire in dry tinder while my other hand played my clit like a well-known instrument of pleasure. And pleasure there was.

“Harder.” The voice of my imaginary torturer guided me. Something about that voice made my heart tighten with fear, just as it made my core throb with desire.

Desire won. Twisting just another quarter turn, lights exploded behind my eyes, my orgasm cresting so quickly I could not even breathe or prepare myself. It was as if something else was forcing it, enhancing it beyond anything I’d achieved with self-pleasure before. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as every inch of my body convulsed. A scream of fear and ecstasy tore from my lips, scraping and slashing its way through my vocal cords and throat with a violence that matched that of my touch.

Moments later — or perhaps hours, I could not tell — I weakly tugged the covers back up over my naked form. Sweat dried on my skin, making me feel unclean, but I was too spent to care. There was something decidedly naughty about it, anyway. Curling up on my side, I tried to let sleep claim me once more, to bring me more gently into wakefulness a little later in the morning.

Sleep was a fickle beast, however. Instead of calm slumber, I found myself thinking back to the fantasies I’d had over the last few days, the dreams that had awoken me from sleep into a mixture of terrified arousal with images I had never even considered before, let alone fantasized about, playing in my head on a loop that would not quit.

Being tied up on my stomach, ankles and wrists bound while someone forced my head down onto a long, thick cock. Being forced to take it deep in my throat, cutting off my air until I began to black out, before being allowed another breath. Over and over until I was sobbing, begging for a reprieve.

Wax being poured over my body, the burning liquid solidifying on my nipples, stomach and thighs in chaotic patterns in a dark room lit only by soft flickering lights. It didn’t matter how much I screamed and thrashed, the pain of the molten wax never relented.

A knife blade being run over the tender skin of my inner thigh, leaving just the faintest trail of sliced skin, not even enough to bleed. The fear claimed me faster than any ever had. With one flick, I’d receive either ecstasy or death — and I had no idea which.

All these thoughts jumbled in my mind, confusing me.

I flopped onto my back again with a loud huff of frustration. Sleep would not come, and I knew it. Resigning myself to drink twice as much caffeine to get through the day, I headed off to the shower. Might as well be clean if I couldn’t be well rested.

Showered and caffeinated, I decided that what I needed was to get out. Perhaps if I was away from these four walls and saw some different scenery, my dreams wouldn’t plague me so badly at night. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, quickly finding Joshua’s number.

I had tried over the last few days to push away the thoughts of Joshua’s potential betrayal. Just the thought of it being true made my stomach curdle with rage and my heart clench with aching sadness and despair. Instead, I worked to convince myself that all that mumbo jumbo with Mr. Broussard was nothing more than an act.

Come on, Luna. Think clearly for once. Reason over emotion.

If I wanted to feel more secure in my relationship, then I needed to put in more effort. And I hadn’t seen Josh in nearly three days. He’d been so busy with work, but if I were being truly honest with myself, I’d also been avoiding him.

I should call him. I reached for my phone, quickly pulling up his contact and pressing the button. It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

“You’ve reached Josh. You know what to do, so why don’t you just go ahead and do it?”?

The sound of the beep rang loudly in my ear, making me pull my cell away with a wince. I clicked the end button, not knowing what to leave in a message. That was strange. He wasn’t usually at work at this hour. Perhaps he didn’t wake up with his alarm.

I slipped out the front door of my condo, deciding to be a good girlfriend instead of focusing on the negative. The morning light cast the entire street in a pretty golden glow as I drove towards Joshua’s place. I decided to try one more time before I knocked on his door like a crazy stalker girl.

“Hello?” His sleepy voice called from the other end of the phone.

“Hi, baby!” I greeted him cheerfully. Just hearing his voice put my heart at ease, just a little. I turned the corner towards his home. He may be awake now, but surely a good morning kiss before work would be welcome.

“Luna… hey…” He sounded surprised to hear from me, but that was probably just his sleep deprivation. Whenever he had a big project at work, he always got weird and cranky. Deadlines and long hours would do that to a person.

“Hey, sweetheart. I thought that today it might be nice to go grab breakfast together before you head off to work. We could go to that little place we went to a few months ago — Raise a Toast? You remember. It was—”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Lune, but listen, I’m already at work this morning. I’ve got these deadlines to hit. You know how it is, baby.”?

I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It had been too long since I had seen him, and yet…?

Wait—

As I pulled up to the curb outside of his home, I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

“You said you’re already at work?” I repeated his statement, eyeing his red mustang in the driveway. It was a cool car, but needed some work. That had never stopped him from acting like some hotshot race car driver.

“Yeah, I have an early morning meeting. Listen, I just got to my office, so I need to let you go.”?

“Well, maybe we can do lunch. I was thinking of going down to the Vieux Carré this afternoon and checking out—”

“Looney Bear, I said I need to go. Okay? I’m at work. You understand, right?”?

“Um, yeah. Of course,” I muttered, watching as the light in his bedroom turned on. Before I could say another word, the line clicked off.

He had hung up.

He had said he was at work.

His car was here.

He was here.

He lied.

Josh lied.

The air turned thick in my lungs, each breath hurting more than the last as realization took hold. Had I been right? If he was lying about this, then what else had he lied about? What reason did I have to believe he wasn’t cheating on me??

My tires squealed as I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, tearing off in any direction that would take me away from here.

With shaky hands, I grabbed my phone, finding Kayla’s number and quickly calling the one person I could depend on for some clarity. After one ring, it went straight to voicemail.

That was strange. Kay never was one to ignore my calls. Not at this hour, at least.

I drove around, having no real plan or destination, but suddenly the buildings turned to a more vintage feel as I made my way to the Vieux Carré, the French Quarter. I found a parking garage, nearly empty at this hour. Shopping was the last thing I wanted to do, but being alone in my house felt even worse, so I began walking along the streets, trying to stop my mind from wandering to the possibilities I was not ready to truly face.

Ahead of me, I saw the sign for le Désir Mystique. A flash of burgundy coattails caught my attention as a tall, slender figure slipped into the alleyway between that building and the next.

Mr. Broussard.

I had no reason to trust him. No reason to be here.

And yet, here I was. Something about him made me curious. And nervous.

But perhaps some company was better than no company.