The Yuge Wall of Jina: It's Fully Loaded (The Face Palm Chronicles Book 2)

by Jaid Black

  “My life sucks,” Pence pouted. He plopped down onto one of those godforsaken metal chairs. “I finally have a wife and I’m still gonna die a virgin.”

  “Your life sucks?” Warren shrieked, sparing me the necessity of doing so. “Need I remind you that Snow, Hillary, and I are the injured parties here?!” She threw her hands up. “I was just starting to get accustomed to you and now the dumbest so called exorcist that ever lived is sending me and my friends to some rich assholes who saw us on television and decided they want us for their selves?”

  I came to a standstill and crossed my arms under my breasts. I nodded emphatically.

  “I’m sorry,” Pence said, still pouting. “Had I known this outcome was possible I would not have repealed and replaced you as my newly bride.”

  “A little late nowwwww!” Warren raged. “I can’t believe that—”

  My bestie stilled. Her eyebrows drew together. “Wait a second…” Her voice was hesitant. “Did you say you are… a virgin?”

  Pence nodded morosely. “Yup. Until death it seems.”

  Warren blinked. She looked over to Hillary and me as the three of us processed this hitherto unknown information. Could Paul Ryan be a virgin too? Gowdy? I swallowed a bit roughly as my wide eyes searched the equally stunned faces of my BFFs.

  “Are a…” Hillary wet her lips. “Are all three of you virgins?”

  “It ain’t obvious?” Pence whined. “None of us is richy patriots so we ain’t been married before!”

  I splatted down onto the medieval metal torture chair opposite Pence. I was too shocked to cover up my obvious gawking. “You don’t have sex here until you get married?”

  “Nope,” Pence said. “There ain’t many womenfolk ‘round here so they get to be choosy. They always insist upon marriage first and they always pick the richy men.”

  I forced myself to stop gaping at the six-foot virgin. I glanced at the table and stared intently at nothing instead. Pence’s admission explained a lot. Hell, it explained damn near everything. I couldn’t imagine being denied the basic human necessity of intimacy. That didn’t excuse Paul Ryan for stealing me and totally ruining my life, but it made him seem less dickish somehow.

  “How can these ‘richy’ men take us from you three if we’re married?” I finally asked. “I thought Trumpgolians were all about ‘God, guns, and country.’ I’m pretty sure God would not approve of—”

  “Coz y’all ain’t accepted the results of this here election and ended the filibuster,” Pence whined. His pouty face gave him the look of an extremely overgrown baby. “Us patriots got no legal claims over fishin’ holes we ain’t wiggled our worms in.”

  “Eww,” Hillary muttered. “That’s a disgusting analogy.”

  “So all we have to do is have sex?” Warren asked. “And then these ‘richy’ men can’t force us to annul our, uh, marriages?”

  “Yup.”

  “And then they legally have to leave us with you?”

  “Yup.” Pence sighed. “But you heard what Flake said. The richy men will be here tonight or early tomorrow.” His pout grew more severe. “We still got two days of discussing syrup before y’all’s filibuster has to end.”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at Pence’s stupidity. We women could end the filibuster this very moment if we so chose. Well, Warren could. God only knows if Paul Ryan and Gowdy would arrive here before the new threat did so that choice didn’t exactly belong to Hills and me yet.

  My besties and I shared a long look. I knew all three of us were thinking the same thing—namely that two extra days of filibustering wasn’t worth all this! For better or worse, at least we knew what kind of men our current abductors were whereas the wealthy guys were completely unknown variables. Yeah, they likely could afford to feed us the natural foods we so craved, but they’d also be more invested in maintaining the Trumpgolian status quo because they benefitted so completely—and unfairly—from it.

  “Fuck this,” I whispered to my BFFs. “If Paul Ryan gets his ass back here before it’s too late?” I blew out a steadying breath. “My filibuster is over.”

  Hillary gulped. “Same.” Her almond eyes were wide. “Gowdy might not be Einstein, but he’s not as totally stupid as I first thought. Plus, I know he’d never physically harm me.”

  Warren nodded. “I won’t end my filibuster until and unless you two get that chance as well,” she said under her breath, “but we end it the second those two walk through the front door.”

  My heart began to race as I gnawed at my bottom lip. The irony that I’d hopefully soon be demanding sex from a man who’d been trying to get that very thing from me for over two months would have been surreal bordering on amusing were the situation not so serious.

  I closed my eyes and willed Paul Ryan to hurry the hell up. Beads of perspiration broke out on my forehead as I worriedly asked myself the obvious question. To put a fine point on it, what if the wrong men arrived first?

  “Paul Ryan and Gowdy will get here in time,” Hillary reassured me. Just as it was with Warren, Hills and I were so close that she could all but read my thoughts. I watched her take a visible, wide-eyed gulp. “I hope.”

  Chapter 9: He Said

  Gowdy and I arrived home to a scene of near pandemonium. Our newly brides were worked up and speaking a mile a minute, making it virtually impossible to decipher anything they were saying. Unfortunately, Pence was equally hysterical. I looked to Gowdy and then back to the group—four people who had managed to lose their damn minds in the short time we’d been gone. I frowned.

  “Everybody be quiet!” I growled. “I can’t make out what any of y’all are saying when you’re talking at the same time!”

  “I thought it was just me,” Gowdy said. “I’m glad you’re just as confused, Paul Ryan.”

  I briefly closed my eyes and prayed for patience. When the talking came to a halt, I opened my eyes and looked intently at Pence. “What the hell happened?” I barked. I set down the bags of groceries I’d retrieved from the commissary without breaking eye contact. “Well?”

  “Flake McCorker was here,” Pence said. “He came to warn us about a conversation he done overheard.”

  I slowly sank onto the closest folding chair as Pence brought Gowdy and me up to speed. Between the information Gowdy had given me during the walk back home and the report Pence was unloading on me now, fury was too calm of a word to describe the hot-blooded rage consuming me.

  “Angus allowed this?” I asked with deliberate calm.

  “Yup. He surely did if Flake is to be believed.”

  There was no reason for Flake to lie. Besides, the guy had a sterling reputation for honesty.

  “Well that ain’t no damn fair!” Gowdy shouted. “We still got two days of talking ‘bout syrup left to us and they want to take our commie libtard brides tonight or tomorrow morning? This ain’t fair and I refuse to give up my hot commie libtard!”

  Hillary frowned. “Socialist democrat,” she bit out. “I am a socialist democrat!”

  “Whatever! I ain’t giving you up to no richy!”

  “Good!”

  Gowdy nodded. Then his eyes widened. “Umm… huh?”

  “I said good,” Hillary repeated. Her hands flew to her hips. “The filibuster just ended.”

  I wasn’t certain whose eyes were wider—Gowdy’s, Pence’s, or mine. My dick got immediately hard as I looked at my newly bride.

  “I’m moving into Paul Ryan’s room,” my hot as hell wife informed the group. “Warren, you move into Pence’s. Gowdy, you move from the couch and into the room Warren and I once shared with Hillary.”

  “Will Hillary still be in it?” Gowdy asked.

  My wife’s expression mirrored my thoughts. “Yes, you idi—”. She stopped herself from calling him the obvious. Her nostrils flared. “She just told you the filibuster is over!”

  “But what ‘bout all the syrup talk?”

  “We don’t want to discuss syrup for two days!” Snow yelled. “Do
you want to discuss syrup until the rich men take us away or do you want to get fucked so the rich men can’t take us away?”

  I swallowed roughly. I knew what the hell I wanted.

  Gowdy’s eyes were so wide they looked ready to bulge out of their sockets. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  My wife shared a sigh with Hillary. “Let’s go!” Snow ordered. “Everybody go to their rooms and get naked!”

  I stood up, fully erect. Who’d have thought Angus’ further subterfuge would have worked to my bigly advantage?

  “Come on,” Hillary said, tugging at Gowdy’s arm. “We don’t have time for this!”

  Snow walked quickly towards me, her gorgeous tits jiggling with every move. “Paul Ryan… let’s go!”

  This patriot didn’t need to be told twice. I’d been waiting for this moment since I’d discovered masturbation eons ago—I just never expected it would happen with a beauty like Snow. As I took a step toward my newly bride, a loud thud sounded in the room. I blinked.

  “I don’t fucking believe this!” Warren snapped. “Somebody put him in our room, damn it!”

  I glanced at the ground where Pence’s body lay. Apparently he had more in common with his wife than anyone could have guessed.

  “Am I stupid,” Gowdy asked, “or did Pence just faint?”

  “Yes and yes!” Snow snapped. “We don’t have time for delays!”

  “Don’t call him stupid!” Hillary shot back. “Only I can call him that!”

  “Thank you, baby,” Gowdy said. “You have prevaricated me into a position of happiness.”

  Hillary sighed. She briefly shook her head before looking to Snow.

  “Gowdy and Paul Ryan,” my newly bride ground out, “please pick up Pence, throw him into his bed, and Warren will take care of him from there. Hurry up!”

  I was so stunned that I briefly hesitated—an action which caused Snow to huff. Her emerald gaze narrowed menacingly. “Mooooooove!”

  Gowdy and I snapped back to the here and now. We did as we’d been ordered to do, neither of us giving a second thought to the fact husbands were supposed to tell wives what to do instead of the other way around. As we picked Pence up and carried him into his bedroom, I decided I didn’t care about how things were supposed to be because I’d take my bride any way I could get her.

  Warren closed the door behind us, leaving Gowdy and me alone with our wives. Hillary marched over to the women’s bedroom, opened its door, and turned to look at Gowdy. “Let’s go,” she said. “Unless you’d rather talk about syrup?”

  Gowdy was, for once, speechless. He walked to the frame of the bedroom door and stood there. Hillary sighed. She pulled Gowdy into what was now their bedroom and slammed the door shut behind them.

  My blue gaze flicked toward Snow. Without a word she walked into my bedroom. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and quickly followed on her heels. Once inside, I shut the door behind me and stared down at the sexiest woman alive.

  Chapter 10: She Said

  Unlike the six-foot three-inch mass of muscle standing in front of me, I wasn’t a virgin. I’d only been with a couple of guys, but similar to other thirty-one-year-old females from NSA I’d had a few boyfriends over the years. Nobody special—nobody I would have considered spending forever with—but boyfriends regardless.

  I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel as Paul Ryan gazed down at me through heavy-lidded eyes, but my arousal was growing. A part of me felt guilty for experiencing it (the man had kidnapped me after all!), but the larger part of me—the piece that had gotten to know him over the last couple of months—felt no guilt or shame in the slightest.

  As I tugged at the baby doll shirt I wore and pulled it off over my head, I heard Paul Ryan suck in his breath. Knowing my naked breasts were likely the first ones he’d ever seen live and in person added to the rush of arousal warming my insides. By the time I slipped out of my terrycloth shorts and stood completely naked before him, his breathing had grown heavy. I watched his gaze roam the length of my body and back again before he pulled off his shirt and discarded it to the floor.

  I took a steadying breath. I’d never seen a male body so strong and muscled as his. Men in NSA worked out, of course, but none of them possessed the jacked up musculature of a man who earned his way in life by keeping his body in a perpetual state of readiness to use brute force at a moment’s notice. By the time his pants hit the ground and he stepped out of them, I was as visibly aroused as he was. My breathing grew labored as I drank in the sight of what could possibly be the world’s most impressive male body in the history of ever.

  His erection was long and thick—definitely bigger than any I’d seen. I found myself gaping as I stared at it. I might not have been a virgin, but I would undoubtedly feel like one when he entered me.

  “I want to take my time,” he informed me in a raspy voice, “but I know I can’t. Not now anyway.”

  I swallowed and nodded. Coming to my senses, I crawled onto the bed. I could hear his intake of breath as I did so, letting me know he’d seen the part of me he’d wanted to be inside of since the night he captured me. I turned and fell on my back, then spread my legs wide open. He stared at my pussy for a suspended moment, his breathing growing heavier. As if recalling the fact that time was not on our side, he took a deep breath and came toward me. The bed momentarily dipped under his weight.

  Paul Ryan settled himself between my thighs and used one of his hands to guide his cock toward my slit. If this was his first time, the act would be over and done with quickly. I knew I should be glad about that fact, but I wasn’t. Regardless, I didn’t want any unknown “richy” coming after me.

  His sea-blue gaze clashed with my green one. “I’m not sorry you’re mine, but I’m sorry I stole you,” he said, surprising me. “You deserve better than me.”

  My eyes widened. His words were oddly humbling—and uncomfortably endearing.

  Paul Ryan thrust inside me. He groaned with pleasure as he seated himself to the hilt; I groaned with pain at the invasion. He was about to start moving when I pressed my hand against his chest.

  “Give me a second to adjust to your size,” I whispered, breathless. “Just a few seconds.”

  “I’m trying.” His jaw clenched. “It ain’t so easy.”

  Luckily, I was aroused enough to acclimate quickly. I took a couple deep breaths. “Okay,” I murmured. “I’m ready.”

  He wasted no time consummating our relationship. Paul Ryan plunged in and out of me, his thrusts deep and territorial. “Mine,” he gritted out, over and over again. “My pussy.”

  His words were as arousing as his thrusts. I knew they shouldn’t have been—I heralded from a people who believed in mutual affirmation over possessiveness—yet his words heightened my pleasure all the same. I moaned as he fucked me, my fingernails digging into his steely buttocks.

  “Snow,” Paul Ryan panted, riding me harder. His teeth gritted as he plunged into me hard and fast, over and over, again and again. “I’m coming.”

  I wanted to come before he stopped, but the sound of people knocking on the door reminded me time was of the essence. My nostrils flared. To hell with whatever rich bitch had come to take me away. “Give me your cum,” I all but commanded Paul Ryan. “I want it now.”

  My demand had an instant effect on him, letting me know possessive words aroused him too. I was glad I wasn’t alone on that one.

  Every muscle in his body tensed. Paul Ryan fucked me once, twice, three times more, and then, groaning, came deep inside me. His entire body convulsed as he filled me with cum. I rubbed his back and ass while he finished.

  There should have been time for talking, but we both knew there wasn’t. “You better answer the door,” I said quietly. “Truth be told I’ll be scared until those men know it’s too late.”

  Paul Ryan pulled out of me, but didn’t leave the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows and stared into my face. “Nobody is taking you from me,” he said, h
is expression serious. “I will challenge him to a patriot’s fight to the death if it comes to that.”

  My eyes rounded. They did things like that here?

  I was given no time to ask the question aloud. Paul Ryan got off the bed and put his camouflage pants back on. He didn’t bother with a shirt so only his dog tags decorated his chest. “I’ll be right back,” he told me. “I promise you.”

  Chapter 11: He Said

  Had Gowdy not confided in me prior to their arrival, I never would have believed Angus to be the conspiring type. That nefarious old man’s day was coming sooner rather than later.

  “You have my sympathy,” Angus twanged as he patted his hair into place. “Y’all went through a lot to get your newly brides, but you know how things work here. Mr. Ryan has earned his station in life so he gets first pickins.”

  I glared at the man in question—my namesake’s actual namesake. Paul Davis Ryan IV was the mirror image of his grandpappy. Apparently Snow was right. I had been named after a piece of shit.

  “I don’t see no calluses on your hands,” I said to the man who thought to take Snow from me. “Nor do I recall anyone in your family being born in the caves. How exactly did you earn your station in life?”

  Paul Davis Ryan IV sputtered at that. “I’ve worked in the family business all of my life! Not that my station is any concern of yours.”

  “I see.” I glanced at Gowdy and Pence before returning my attention to the man who would be leaving here empty-handed whether he liked it or not. “So your big accomplishment was exiting the right vagina?”

  His face reddened. “How dare you?” he seethed. “Angus!”

  “Yes, sir?” Angus asked.

  “I have nothing further to say to this… this… primitive! Collect my fiancée and I’ll be on my way.”

  I smiled without humor. “Afraid not, pretty boy.”

  Angus gasped. “Paul Ryan Whitey! I’ve never heard such insolence!”