by Forgy, M. N.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Not thinking about what the fuck I’m doing, I head into the main room and grab one of my shirts. Using my teeth, I shred it into a couple of long pieces and head back to her. Picking her arm up softly I use one piece of shirt and dab at the fresh blood before wrapping it with another piece of the shirt. It stains crimson instantly. Shaking my head, I grit my teeth. That has to hurt. But why in the fuck do I care? Why do I feel like this?
I can’t have it getting infected, Cross may not like that. That’s what I tell myself. I slide my finger across her cheek, pushing the hair from her delicate face. She’s so peaceful and innocent when she’s sleeping. I pull away, swallowing the lump in my throat. I ignore the twist in my stomach that I hurt my toy, and walk out.
* * *
The next day I stay away from Raven, needing distance. My mind is everywhere with her. I upped my game last night and I’ve felt like a piece of shit since. Trying to hang in the balance of keeping her alive but doing my job at the same time is fucking with me.
Yawning, I reach for the light and turn it off, ready to call it a night. The sound of Raven’s chain around her ankle echoes in the other room and my eyes pop open knowing she’s awake. It’s the most I’ve heard from her all day.
“Machete,” an innocent tone of voice from Raven muffles from the other side. My heart skips a beat, wanting to hear her say my name again. “Machete?” she repeats and my dick slowly swells in my jersey shorts from the naive sound in her voice. The simple word birthing my betrayal for my club.
“What?” I growl, masking my pleasure from the sound of her saying my name like a silent prayer.
“Can you leave the light on… please,” the desperation in her voice takes me aback. I swallow hard and sit up. My jaw ticking as I look in the direction of the lamp that is bolted to the wall. It’s more like a reading light than anything. It must be giving off a glow from under the door, though I didn’t peg it to be that bright.
“No,” I growl.
“Please?” she snaps but even with the rough tone, you can hear the despair in her voice. The desperation in her voice makes me inhale a mighty breath.
“What do I get?” I question, knowing making a deal with the demon Lilith herself is risky business.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you haven’t given me shit Raven, yet you want something from me?” I clarify. I already have Zeek up my ass, the least she can do is fucking tell me something. Even if it’s about herself, it would do.
“What do you want?” she asks meekly.
“What do you think?” I sneer, that’s a stupid question. I want Cross. My hands aching for revenge on the motherfucker.
She goes quiet, and I know for a fact she won’t give me Cross’s whereabouts for a measly light. He scares her, in fact, it might be the only thing that does scare her. I wonder if he is the reason why she was hiding in a motel outside Vegas.
“Tell me why you would stay in a shitty motel?” I ask curiously. I hear her sigh, shifting onto her ass in front of the door.
“Fewer people,” she replies. I can relate to that. People cause trouble, and though I like trouble… people also like to call the cops for stupid shit. They annoy me.
“Will you turn the light on now?” she asks with a more heated tone. I don’t feel satisfied enough to grant her light though. I need more.
“Not yet, tell me why you’re afraid of the dark and I’ll turn the light back on,” I offer. Curious why something as dark as herself is scared of the shadows.
Minutes pass and I lay back down. If she can’t even give me that, I can’t give her anything.
“When I was imprisoned as a kid, I was always in the dark. Only voices to be heard, and when we were allowed the warm light that only the sun had to offer… it came with pain,” she explains. Inhaling a breath, I hang my head, hearing her anguish making me feel things I don’t want to feel. “Sometimes, they would throw a black sheet over my cage and I would scream until I lost my voice,” she continues. I furrow my brows. As much as I like her screams, to hear it fade out is almost chilling.
“We all have had bad shit happen to us, get over it,” I rebuttal, thankful she can’t see the look of sympathy on my face. Her despair untangles me from my own self-worth. For the first time in a long time, I have the urge to put someone before myself.
“You asked,” she replies in almost a whisper.
“Why in the hell did you go back to Cross? You guys were set free, yet you went back?” I ask, needing to know why she would do that to herself. It’s like the moth that ran back to the spider because it wasn’t fully eaten the first time.
“What do I get if I tell you?” My head snaps up and a smirk kicks up along my face.
Most people would do anything to please me, wanting to get on my good side. Not Raven, she wants to be my equal. I like that.
“How about I’ll feed you in the morning?” I counteroffer.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she mumbles through the door. My brows furrow.
“Try me.”
“The same reason you’re in a 1% club. Being accepted by people who are the same as you is better than pretending you’re something you’re not… so you don’t feel lonely,” she explains.
My brotherhood is exactly that. They took me in and all my illicit ways, made me feel home as every one of them has their issues.
“Cross offered me a cure to my pain, and I graciously accepted,” she continues. “Good initiative, bad judgment you know?” My spine goes stiff hearing her say those exact words. My father used to say them to me. He was in the military and was an abusive motherfucker. I was an accident, not meant to be born and he fucking hated me for it. The phrase refers to when a problem needs to be solved, but the outcome is more problematic. I’m a fucking problem. “You would have done the same,” she whispers as if she knows everything about me.
“Some would say the same about you. Good initiative, bad judgment,” I state. She is the problem that needs to solve all of our problems, but she might be the biggest mistake for me.
“Ditto,” she mouths.
Anger pulses in my neck, she doesn’t know me. My fucking record tells her nothing about the man that I really am. She doesn’t know the hell I went through and for her to suggest otherwise pisses me off.
“You don’t fucking know me, Raven. Remember that,” I seethe. Hating that she’s trying to compare us. I don’t like this shit. I was ordered here to torture her, not keep her company. I can’t be around a female that I can relate to, that I might have sympathy for and I hit both fucking checkmarks for Raven. Maybe I have gone too soft on her, and now she thinks she knows how this is going to play out for her.
Raven doesn’t reply, just the sound of the chain skidding across the floor to be heard.
I need to hear her pain, draw the line of my affection for her and why I’m down here in the first place. Heading into her cell, I keep the lights off as I open the door. She’s on the floor, her arm in the air to block the light of the lamp in my room. Her black hair is in her eyes as she looks up at me with innocence. My shirt looks epic on her, those pebbled nipples poking into the fabric.
“You think you know me?” I ask, stepping further into the room, the whole room smelling of her. It’s colder in here than where I’m staying.
She stands, tucking a hair behind her ear before slowly walking to me. Her bravery not going unnoticed. Nobody just bluntly walks up to me with such confidence. Her feet pitter-patter along the floor as she makes her way to me, one eyebrow raised in a challenge as she smirks.
Stopping inches from me, she stares up at me with confidence.
“Yes, I know you,” she whispers and I snarl in reply. Reaching out and grabbing her by the nape of her neck I pull her nearly flushed with my chest. Her body sways into mine, and the way her eyes light up from my touch doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You think you know me so well, do you think I’ll turn the light on fo
r you then?” I ask, curious what kind of man she thinks I am.
She looks over my shoulder looking at the light before her eyes tear into mine.
“Yes, but not before I give you something in return.”
I smile wolfishly. I don’t like that she thinks I will do it, but at least she knows I definitely won’t do it unless I get something in return.
“What is it that I want?” I entertain her.
“You mean besides Cross?” She tilts her head to the side, her tone of voice starting to grate on my nerves.
“You want control of me,” she mutters, and my eyes flare. I do want to control her. I want to own her. I want her and it fucking hurts to admit that. My club is my life and if they heard my internal thought I could have my colors inked off my back and kicked from the club only to be lost to the world. A traitor for life.
Then again, I can’t help but want to be in control of this dark creature. Is infatuation worth losing it all?
“Ask me to leave the light on, pet,” I lower my head at her, demanding her obedience. I hunger for it, fucking thirst for the need of this woman to want me. To understand what I’ve given her; life.
She looks down, debating on whether or not she should.
“P-Please leave the light on, Machete,” she stammers, her tough act fading quickly. Tossing the hair from her eyes, she looks back up at me. Those dark devil eyes shining with desire.
“Nooo,” I reprove her, my finger sliding along the dip of her collarbone. “Say, ‘please leave the light on, Master.’”
Her eyes widen with my request, her tongue sliding along her bottom lip in thought. I’ve never wanted to hear the word so bad in my life. I need to hear it though, for her to understand her life is in my hands. Without me, she is at the mercy of my club. I am her fucking master as far as I’m concerned.
“No,” she clips, and my stomach knots. It’s the biggest insult yet.
“No?” I tilt my head to the side, hoping I heard her wrong.
“You heard me. No,” she cocks her chin upward. Not only does she not fear me, she doesn’t respect me. I am not in control here, she is not mine and that unhinges me.
Why in the fuck am I holding back with her discipline when she doesn’t even care that I’m putting my ass on the line for her? Zeek is already questioning why I haven’t left a mark on her. It’s time she realizes just how kind I’ve been.
“Is it not I that is in control of your pain, your food, your water?” I ask, anger laced in every word. Her eyes lighten up as if I just made sense for the very first time. “Your safety is in my control, Raven. Everything you do is because I allow it. The more you please me, the more I give.”
Walking out of the room I head to the wall of pain and grab a crop off it. Sliding my hand along the rubber flap at the end, I take a deep breath and try to calm the animal inside of me. As much as I want to hurt her, make her see what I’ve been holding back. I want to care for her in return. Maybe the two go hand in hand?
Heading back inside her room, I flick the light on and find Raven standing where I left her.
“Bend over!” I demand, slapping the crop in my hand. My head rising and eyes smoldering as I look down at my challenge. I’ve never hit or spanked a woman before. It both excites me and terrifies me. Will she like it? Hate it? What if she cries? What if she gives me Cross, what will I do with her after that? A little piece of me hopes she never tells me where Cross is, then I can keep her down here just for myself. Forever.
“What for?” she sasses, pulling her shirt further down to hide her pink panties.
“Because I said to,” I growl through clenched teeth.
Stepping over to her I grab her by the shirt and jerk her around. Pressing on her lower back I bend her over the bed. My shirt rides up her back, displaying cute fucking panties halfway up her ass crack. Grabbing them I jerk them down her hips in one quick move. She mews, and my cock begins to pulse in my jeans. I don’t notice a pad or tampon string so she must be off her period. The light in the other room shines just right and I notice a scar on her lower back in the shape of in X, and I frown. It’s not something from a bicycle accident or a scratch. Someone put it there. It’s red and angry looking as if whoever marked her didn’t care for it afterward. I grit my teeth at the mis-care of her well-being.
I run my finger over it, and she tenses beneath my touch.
“Someone do this to you?” I question, and she looks over her shoulder silently. My eyes trail from the scar down to her soft butt cheeks on full display. She has the perfect ass. Round and thick. You can tell she works out, keeps it tight as fuck. I have to grit my teeth to restrain myself not to skim them along the supple rounding of her backside.
I have no self-control, I can’t resist. I have to at least touch her, to feel her skin. I reach down against better judgment and grab her left ass cheek. Just as I imagined. Soft, silky, and firm. My dick is jealous; it’s pressing into my zipper painfully, wanting to rub against her just as much. Pushing herself up with her hands, her mouth parts with pleasure with a perfect fucking moan. She’s not scared of my touch, in fact, she seeks it. It reminds me of why I’m in here in the first place. To show her pain, that I am not one to break to her but the other way around. I’m in fucking control!
“You may very well be the queen of hell, Raven, the fucking demon Lilith to be exact, but while you’re in my den, I’m the fucking Devil. I’m the fucking Master. Understand?” Flicking the crop against her supple butt cheeks a moan escapes her mouth and my jaw drops in reaction. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but for her to like it was surely not it. Her moxy is my lure.
The impulsive need to hear it again, I arch my arm back and slap her ass firmly. The crop bites against her skin in a blink of an eye, the sound of it slapping against her skin nearly making my eyes roll in my head. She hisses through cherry colored lips and I swear to God I’m about to blow my fucking load in my pants when she mews for more.
Red stripes paint across her backside and it’s fucking beautiful.
Mixing pleasure and pain is my vice and I cannot control myself.
“Say my name,” I whisper into the darkness, my words surprising me. I was here for pain, not pleasure. She looks over her shoulder, her eyes hazy with lust. She likes the pain, she wants me to give it to her, and goddamn it if I don’t want to give it to her.
Not one to displease, I whip her twice in a row and her head tosses back with a loud moan ripping through her small body. Goose bumps rise along her lower back, and I stretch my arms out on either side of my body and growl like a beast. God I fucking love this! The adrenaline racing through my veins like crack.
“Machete!” she whimpers, ecstasy thick in her voice. She arches her back, and all I can think about is busting my load all over those cute as fuck back dimples. A bead of cum drips from the tip of my dick making my briefs stick to my cock uncomfortably. My balls pulse to thrust two fingers deep into her hot cunt as I slap this crop firmly against that fine ass. She really is like Lilith, corrupting me and taking over my thoughts. Making me want her instead of despising her.
“Say it!” I grit, my hand gripping the crop hard.
She cries as if she’s about to come without me even touching her, her body tensing, and her little toes curling into the floor. I really don’t have any control over her. Her coming was not my intention, her feeling pleasure when I don’t want her to feel it pissing me off.
“Did I say you could come?” I demand, my fingers choking the crop. Her cheeks flush, and her fingers scratch into the mattress. Her body sways toward me, her pursuit for the crop more dominant than my disappointment with her.
Her head slowly crooks back, she’s panting and her forehead is sweaty. Her eyes shining with chivalrous. Having enough of this fucking game, I lift the crop as far back as it can go and strike it against her back. The sound of the smack delayed before she screams out with pain, and though it’s music to my ears to finally hear the terror in her voice. I seek more, need
to hear more. Louder!
“I’m in control Raven!” I roar, slamming the crop against her back again and again. The crop vibrating in the palm of my hand bliss. My bicep flexing with each swipe of the crop. “Your comfort is in my control!” I slap her. “Scream for me, pet!” I beg through clenched teeth. Needing to hear she wants me in her cries.
She screams so loudly my hand halts mid-air. I notice for the first time the dark purple marks marring her perfect skin where the blood has risen under the skin. My chest suddenly constricts in a sickly manner looking at what I’ve done. I lost control. I hurt my pet. This woman is in my head no matter what I do. I didn’t mean to go this fucking far.
This raw feeling pressing into the center of my chest is new. Hearing her distress makes my skin crawl rather than prickle with passion. Why?
She looks over her shoulder, her body rising and falling as she pants. Her skin slick with sweat, and heartbeat so loud I can hear it drumming from where I stand.
She nearly moans as her arms give out and she falls onto the bed. “You’re the master,” she whispers out of breath. She’s fully mine, no matter what. That’s when I realize I have to get the fuck out of here or I’m going to fuck her into this shitty bed. I’m going to betray my brotherhood, and never look back.
Blinking slowly, I back up. My hand white-knuckling the crop. The slight redness against her ass is a masterpiece, but the hard purple marks from the crop on her back makes me want to run to her side and cradle her. I rub my forehead, confused by the sudden urge of affection.
“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself in dismay. I’m fucking confused, and conflicted with these fucking feelings for this dark bitch. Turning away, I flip the light off, and quickly shut the door. Breathing heavy, I try to understand why I feel like a goddamn sissy. It’s like hearing her pleasure made the animal in me run to its cage.