by Lucian Bane
“Do it, you jackass. I’m not real anyway!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Winter’s heart beat like a rabbit as she made her way in the spiked heels back to her car. She couldn’t believe she’d done this. Gone to the graveyard dressed up like a fancy pants to see him. Oh dear Lord, he had no shirt on! All those tattoos! All that muscle! He was like Tarzan and he’d looked at her like she was Jane wanting to devour her! Winter had always dreamed of a man like him looking at her with that look in his eyes.
And he’d been aroused!
Winter couldn’t help but feel proud about that. Her heart raced thinking about it, wishing he’d have answered his door and invited her in. She wondered if he were a neat person or messy? Did he make his bed or leave it frumpled? What color sheets did he have? Did he cook? Read? He seemed like the kind of man to do all those things. Quiet and smart.
She’d been around aroused men but none of them made her feel like he did. Like she’d never be able to catch her breath again. Her tummy tickled at imagining how big he was. How far did his tattoos go? Did he have any on his privates? She’d heard of that but hadn’t seen it before. She wouldn’t mind seeing his. He was different. Strange enough to excuse his crazy talk and yet qualify him as somebody she’d want to seriously pursue in another life. She’d heard he was crazy and well, looked like maybe the rumors were. true. But something said that nut was hard as steel on the outside and soft as marshmallow on the inside. Sweet and sexy.
The Professor would be so mad if he found out she’d not gotten around to offering him his service. At first, when The Professor told her to go see him, this streak of pure joy had shot through her veins. She’d always had a crush on the crazy sexy giant working at the graveyard, and now her job required her to go see him.
But when she’d gotten there and found herself in that moment, it had all seemed like… a first date. So silly, but it did. At least now she’d get to go back. Maybe that’s why she flopped it, so she could. Or maybe she could tell The Professor he turned her down. Maybe she could accidentally meet him again when visiting her brother, like that one time. She imagined what it would be like having him for a boyfriend. She smiled at the girly notion, only to remember that life had traded out all her dreams for her worst nightmares. But she was changing that, she reminded herself. She needed to clear her head of silly fanciful ideas. But it was nice for passing the time. Not like she believed any of it would ever happen.
She pulled up at the gas station and grabbed her duffel bag from the seat. She’d need to change. No way was she messing up her outfit at her eleven o-clock appointment. She’d worn it for Reginald. She’d wanted to at least present herself to him with some quality and dignity. Not just anybody off the streets of Oregon. Not to mention she’s promised her brother she’d never let a man make her feel less than the princess she was inside. It was a promise she made based on his belief in her, not hers. There was no princess anywhere in her. Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore.
She hurried to the bathroom and locked herself in. After she changed into jeans and a black tank top, she leaned over and forced her boobs to the top of her bra, making them appear bigger and more shapely. Even at 5’5 she had to tip toe to see herself around the aged spots in the mirror, tucking the bra straps under her arms. She added more make-up and took her hair out of the sophisticated twist and gave it a brisk shake. Almost back to normal. She hated to see the other look go, it was like going from Cinderella at the ball to Cinderella the slave.
She lined her lips with a black liner, and eyed the results. She hated her lips. She’d always hate them. The Professor once said they were like a calling card.
She closed her eyes briefly and focused her mind on the daily task. Work for The Professor, bring her tips to church, and have confession. Visit her brother’s grave, hopefully see Reginald, and then return home and continue her search for the man who would help her. She was pretty sure she’d found him. The good Dr. Wolfbane Chason was the one. All she had to do was continue as she was and he’d invite her into his private club. She’d become one of the elite and he’d train her and protect her. Once that happened, she could finally be free from this pathetic existence.
Winter pulled up at the old run down gas station five minutes early. She sat in her car, and prayed her usual prayers over and over, ending it with a sign of the cross and a kiss to Sebastian.
God, she hated this place. She opened the door and made her way to the back side of the gas station. “You’re right on time,” Mr. Johnson said, smiling his yellow toothed smile at the back door.
“Yes, sir,” she nodded, trying not to inhale his scent as she passed. She made her way to his office on the right of the building, and waited for him.
“How’s The Professor doing these days?” he asked, entering the small office and shutting the door.
“He’s just fine, Mr. Johnson.” He locked the door and Winter’s stomach knotted with a familiar sickness that she pushed down. “What would you like today?” she asked.
“I’ll take The Professor’s specialty,” he muttered, undoing his pants. “He says you’re real good at it.”
Winter forced her smile, allowing the images of her dead brother to come to her aid. As she undressed, she focused her mind on the blue ring around his mouth and the bruises all over his young body.
“I was telling John Manson that you’re a pretty, fat lady,” he bragged, pushing his pants to his ankles as Winter leaned over the arm of the one large chair.
She stifled a grunt when he slapped her butt, his hand missing his mark and catching her back. “Thank you Mr. Johnson,” she strained as he viciously worked his dirty member into her butt.
She gripped the arm of the chair tight, fighting to relax while he sloppily shoved himself inside her with nothing but those nasty grunts and his vile, dry dick she fantasized slowly cutting off.
Winter clenched her eyes shut hard, letting her brother’s screams fill her ears as the disgusting old man screwed her in the butt and pulled her head back by the hair like a mule. But wasn’t that what she was? A filthy, selfish mule?
His climax finally came after what felt like an hour. With his lewd skills, he pulled her by the hair and yanked her sideways, making her fall into the little side table, toppling it over. The large glass ashtray on top hit the floor with a loud clonk and broke right in half.
“God dammit,” he gushed, winded. “That’s my good ashtray!”
Winter got on her knees for the final deed. “Suck my cock, fat lady,” he muttered like an adolescent trying out for a dirty magazine skit.
Winter sucked him until he got hard again. Biting his pecker right off was always the hardest temptation to overcome. But she was almost done, one more disgusting orgasm and then she could leave. Once he got going, she had to fight not to retch as he rammed himself into the back of her throat. She focused on all the things that would lead her away from this. Father Burns flashed in her mind along with the money she’d give for Sebastian’s purgatory. But she pushed that away. She couldn’t think of that while sinning. She had enough blood to atone for.
Mr. Johnson finally started making the sounds that meant she was almost done. He sounded like a bellowing cow, and she forced herself to fondle his balls and moan to make it end faster. It worked and he emptied his dirty seed, forcing it down her throat. She fought not to vomit it back up. The last time she’d done that, The Professor punished her. And while she was not against being punished for her crimes, she didn’t like it when The Professor did it. It wasn’t the pain he inflicted on her, but the shame. She couldn’t stomach another ounce of it in her mind.
“You did real good, Miss Winter,” Mr. Johnson said, as she put her panties and pants back on. “But I hope The Professor knows he owes me for a new ashtray.”
“I’ll pay,” Winter hurried, not wanting him to make a formal report with The Professor.
“Yes you will,” he drawled, buckling his pants. “That there was a sixty-five-dollar ashtr
ay.”
Panic hit Winter. That was the cost of the job she’d just done. “I need that money,” she said, anger flushing her face.
“That ashtray belonged to my Daddy’s daddy,” he suddenly shouted, his shiny, puffy face stricken as he slid a hand through his greasy hair. “And he died of heart failure,” he added, like that explained the connection. “You pay or I’ll call The Professor.”
“He’s expecting this payment, Mr. Johnson. Please.”
He shook his head stubbornly, his wide black orbs never leaving hers. “You’ll have to find another way to get it.”
“How?”
A slow grin filled his face, making her nauseous. “Ole’ Berkly said he wanted to give you a try.”
Winter swallowed down fear at the mention of the giant man that reminded her of a bear. He had so much hair on his face and body. She couldn’t stomach him. “You’ll have to call The Professor then.”
Winter hurried out of his office before the man bear showed up and tried to force her to pay. The Professor didn’t care, they were allowed if she did anything that warranted it and this would no doubt warrant it.
****
“I’m done being normal for you,” Reginald said, forcing Bones into the chair on the porch. He held onto the metal arms, preventing him from getting up. “No…,” Reginald grit, planting his feet so he couldn’t get leverage. “I want to sit!”
Bones suddenly relaxed. Too suddenly, in fact. Reginald held his muscles tight, bracing for his next attack. They sat like a statue, tight lipped with air blasting through their nostrils. You done? Bones asked.
Are you?
Bones chuckled and shook his head but Reginald held his neck straight, not allowing him that privilege either. Okay Reggie, he said, sounding winded. You want to be normal? You want to use this body to be normal? Go for it. But you’ll have to make me.
“Make you.”
Yep. If you can make me, you can do it.
A sudden vision of what that would look like hit him. “I’m not rolling around on the ground with you while on a date, Bones!”
He shrugged. That’s my deal. You want it? Take it.
Reginald considered other options. They could compromise. He just needed to find that logical angle, that’s all. “What if I get one date without you screwing it up?”
In exchange for what, Bones said, seeming ready to shoot it down.
“What do you want?”
Reginald waited in the long silence, still tense. Reggie…. he muttered. I hate to break it to you but… she doesn’t want you.
Reginald paused before proceeding with caution. “What do you mean?”
I mean just what I said. She doesn’t. Want you.
At hearing him put weight on the you, Reginald snorted. “Well, she sure as hell doesn’t want you.”
Bones laughter exploded out before Reginald caught it. How about we have a little competition, Reggie?
A streak of fear rushed in on Reginald’s anger. The idea of any kind of competition with Bones seemed like a bad idea. “Explain.”
Simple. I prove to you that she doesn’t want you, she wants me. She wants me because she’s a wicked cunt and wicked cunts want wicked things, Reggie. It’s time you learn that and since you’re insisting on learning it the quick and hard way, then… have at it.
“She’s not wicked,” Reginald assured, while not quite ready to agree to the challenge. What was Bones’ real angle? What was his plan, his intention? Then he considered the possible outcomes of that. “So what if she chooses you?”
Then you leave her alone. For good.
Reginald’s sore tongue moved restlessly in his mouth with arguments. But this was huge. Talking about them doing anything with a woman was major. Usually it was an off-limit topic. He again considered his options carefully. He couldn’t force Bones, as much as he’d love to. Bones would happily see to making him look like a nut job and scare her off. “And if I win?”
Bones shrugged and offered easily, “Then you can date her. But not fuck her.”
Date her but not fuck her. What a rip off deal. But… better to start somewhere and then things would change once Bones saw he was wrong about her. “And then what?”
There won’t be a then what, because she’s not going to pick you, Reggie.
“But if she does? I want to know what the deal is then.”
How about we determine that after the competition.
“Then we determine your win after the competition too.”
Fine.
Reginald sat there with his victory, not sure what to do with it now. “When? And how?”
She’s coming this afternoon. I’ll even let you try first, Bones said.
At hearing his cocky confidence, another round of self-doubt streaked through him. He tried to think and see like Bones. What was he so sure about? Why did he think she wanted Bones and not him? When Reginald talked, she smiled, when Bones talked she cringed. Had Bones not noticed that? Too busy being an ass, maybe. Well, he wasn’t going to tell him. Let him assume she was like all the other women. She wasn’t. And Reginald was ready to bet his rights to see her because he was sure Bones wouldn’t win. Reginald would. And Bones would get a taste of how good normal could be. Although… Reginald technically never had a woman either. But women were a natural part of a man’s life. More like essential. Winning one’s affections couldn’t be rocket science.
“So what do I do?” Reginald angled his gaze left. “I still don’t get how this is supposed to work. We almost need to try at the same time and I don’t know how we’d do that without looking insane.”
Dragon and Christopher, Bones said.
“What about them?”
We’ll let them compete for her. Online.
“How do we get a winner?”
Let’s meet her there first, find out what she’s on there for, and then figure that out.
To hear Bones thinking logically gave Reginald hope. “Okay,” he said, liking that. He was relieved he didn’t have to physically perform too. As much as he wanted to see Winter in person, he was so nervous that he would do things wrong that he could vomit. “I like this much better. We get to know her and then a plan will present itself. Good job Bonesy.”
You happy now, Reggie?
The affection in Bones’ tone made him feel guilty about all that had happened. “Sorry about… the coffee.”
Bones smiled a little. I might have liked it.
Reginald shook his head, not getting him. “Because you’re weird.”
And you’re brave.
He agreed there. “Maybe I know you’d never really hurt me.”
Bones chuckled a little. Maybe you need to not be so brave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Reginald had given up on her coming to the graveyard. Dusk had settled and he made his way back to the lone shack at the edge of the cemetery. The crunch of gravel under tires reached his ears and he turned, his heart hammering. He waited for the loud squeak of brake that would tell him if it was her or not.
It was.
He made his way toward her brother’s grave, stopping several tombstones over and hiding by the large geranium bushes. Maybe she didn’t want to see him, she just wanted to do her thing at the grave, whatever it was. Probably why she waited so late, so she didn’t run into him.
She shut the car off and he finally glimpsed her silhouette slowly moving its way closer. He leaned his head a little when she stopped at her brother’s grave, studying the glow of her face in the dusk’s faint light. He kept his gaze discreet as it moved over her clothes in hungry curiosity. Usually Bones was nowhere around when he observed her. He needed to keep his usual activities cloaked. He always kept track of her details and stored them in his mental picture book. Then, at night, he flipped slowly and studiously through the pages, fantasizing how he’d remove each. It always left him dying to have her. He’d allowed himself the obsession since he’d sworn to never act on any of it, but now… God, now he was being allowe
d, and all those fantasies were coming back to bite him in his cock. It was difficult to stifle them so that Bones wouldn’t know.
Tonight, her shoulders and arms were exposed, and upper back. It made him want to go to her and see what that looked like up close.
She kept her face aimed down for many seconds. If she looked around for him, he’d go see her.
He waited, silently willing her to look even as he hoped she didn’t. He liked watching her. There was something intimate about it. He loved being able to drive his gaze into her without worrying about how hot, hard, and hungry it was. He often wondered if she felt it. It was so powerful, he was sure she had to. If she knew what burned inside when he watched her, she’d run away. Sometimes he fantasized about things she would never do. Or maybe she would.
He stopped a bolt of excitement just before it hit his cock at realizing… he’d get the chance to find that out. What she’d let him do to her. What she’d do to him. By now, his fantasies were like artwork, deeply grooved into the walls of his mind. A scary obsession that he coveted as much as he hid it.
His breath froze as she lifted her face and glanced toward his residence. His cue. Go. Go to her. But he waited a few more seconds, needing to be sure and maybe waiting for Bones to give him permission. He’d not said a word yet, and that would have to be permission enough.
She finally turned to stare at the grave again. When she wiped her eyes, Reginald stepped out from behind the bushes and made his way quietly to her.
“Hello,” he said, when she seemed to not hear him approach.
She gave a scream, making him freeze in his tracks several yards away still. “Mercy,” she gasped, putting her hand on her chest. Dark material covered her breasts and went down to her waist.
“Sorry,” he said, not moving from where he was.
“I almost didn’t come,” she said lightly, turning her face away and wiping it more as Reginald made his way closer, his body craving a closer proximity.
“I’m glad you did,” Reginald managed, coming to stop a couple feet before her. That’s when he saw it and his stomach tensed. Even in the dark, the moonlight picked up the bruises on her face. “What happened to you?” he blurted.