by Marni Mann
“You told me you’d do anything.”
“I know.”
“You lied.”
“I—” My voice cut off when he walked through the opening, not giving me a chance to explain myself, just disappearing down the hall.
I stood in the same place, waiting for him to return. I knew he wouldn’t. Huck wasn’t the type to give second chances or to listen to bullshit. But I was pretty sure he was fed up with me, and my ass would be on the street by morning.
I needed to change that.
Fix it.
But I couldn’t do that now, so I climbed back in bed and pulled the blanket up to my face, and I stared at the framed snake on the wall.
I wished the one on his hand had bitten me. I wished his touch hadn’t caused any pleasure at all. Because, now, I was filled with nothing but pain.
The Kid
Before
I don’t remember the prison.
I don’t remember the time I spent with you on the beach.
I don’t remember calling you Dad.
But I remember the stuffed rat. I was told you were the one who had given it to me and that you’d named it Demon. I have no memory of that part, only of how much I loved that thing. I never let it go. Most kids that age play with trucks or cars. Not me. I built a bed for it to sleep in and a table for it to eat on. I took it everywhere until, one day, I felt too grown-up to be carrying a rat with me. It then got moved to a shelf. Eventually, a drawer.
I’ll never forget that damn thing.
I have a lot of questions about your last note. Before I get into those, I want to hear about Toy.
You don’t seem like the kind of guy who’s capable of love.
Am I wrong?
Shank
Before
Demon.
Fuck, I missed that rat.
The stuffed one that I’d given to the kid was named after my own pet rat. Demon had been with me a long time. So had all his babies. But, really, they had been my babies, and that was what I had called the hundreds of offspring Demon had produced.
The babies had had their own room at the prison. They’d fed on our inmates while they were still alive or dead, whichever I decided they deserved at the time.
They’d had a perfect life and delicious food. I’d made sure of that.
But Demon hadn’t been like his children, nor had he lived in the same room as them. He’d stayed in mine, and he had been my fucking partner in crime. He’d observed all the inmates I tortured. He had seen my cock get hard and the cum spill into the pools of blood. He’d hung out with Beard and Diego. He’d watched while I fucked Toy. Just like the kid and his rat, Demon had come with me wherever I went.
We had more in common than I’d thought.
When the kid had come to live with us, I’d told Beard he needed to get the kid a pet. A live one. So, I had gotten a cage, put one of the babies inside it, and stuck it in the nursery. After only a few hours, Tyler had thrown the cage away and set the rat free on the beach. She’d said it carried diseases, and she hadn’t wanted her son around it.
What about what I wanted for our son?
That was a question I’d asked her once when we were alone.
I remembered her hand slapping me in the face and, “Don’t you ever say that again,” had spit from her mouth.
She was such a feisty cunt.
Since she wouldn’t let the kid play with a real one, I’d bought him a stuffed rat during one of my trips to the States. And, when I’d returned, I had given it to him in front of all the guards, so everyone could see his gift, and they would all notice if it went missing.
That had infuriated Tyler.
Her anger made me happy.
So did the news that the kid had taken the rat with him when he left the prison. They’d fled in such a hurry without much time to pack or grab all the essentials; therefore, I never thought the rat had made the cut.
But, back then, I didn’t know what had been taken or left behind.
I just knew that I’d lost.
The kid.
Toy.
Demon.
And everyone else in my life.
Christ, I didn’t want to think about those memories. I’d done enough of that shit during my time in this prison. Fortunately, the kid hadn’t asked about those days. He’d asked about someone I enjoyed as much as blood.
My Toy.
I’d always preferred men to women, and I’d tasted plenty of both until we got together.
But no one had ever tasted anything like Toy.
I could endlessly talk about him. I just didn’t want to talk about the end.
That part hurt way too fucking much.
It had been a while since I went back to that beginning, and my cock was already getting hard as I began to rewind things in my head.
I reached across my blankets to the pile of paper, grabbed a sheet, and started writing.
Was I the kind of guy who was capable of love?
Based on everything I’d told you, you probably assumed I wasn’t. I could understand why you would think that way, and before Toy, I hadn’t thought I was either. But, once I met him, I had feelings that I’d only ever gotten from blood, and that was fucking confusing.
It’d all begun when I was back in San Diego, during a weekend off from the prison. I’d flown home to spend some time with my father. He was short-staffed and had asked if I would help out.
So, I was in the Gaslamp Quarter, dropping off a few bags of pills to one of the bar owners, and that was when I saw Toy. He was outside the bar I was at, feeding pigeons the ashes from his cigarette. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.
But Toy was somewhat of a mess. It was a cool day, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His jeans sagged low on his crack, and there was a chain hanging out of his pocket with nothing attached to it.
What fucking guy wears a chain with no wallet?
A broke-ass one or one who doesn’t give a shit.
My Toy was both.
I stood inside the bar, watching him, until he ran out of ash. Then, he stomped out the cig and started walking. Something, I wasn’t sure what, made me follow him, and I stayed a few feet behind as he headed down the sidewalk. I was hunting him, like I had done before I built my playground, and it was the biggest turn-on.
It didn’t seem like he had anywhere to be or a destination in mind. He never stopped to catch his breath, never checked out a menu from one of the restaurants, never spoke to anyone he passed.
He just walked.
And I followed.
I had no fucking idea what I would say to him whenever we ended up speaking. I just knew I couldn’t leave without hearing his voice.
The chance happened sooner than I’d thought.
On the other side of the crosswalk was a bench. As soon as Toy made it across, he stopped behind it, leaning against the backside of the metal armrest. I paused at the entrance of the sidewalk, my feet balancing on the curb.
Only his profile showed, his eyes focused on the ground, as he said, “I must have something you want because I shoulda lost you by now.”
“You interest me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Maybe it’s the chain. Or the ass crack I’ve been staring at for the last ten blocks. Or the scratches on your back.” They were red and deep, and I could tell they’d come from a human. “I want to leave my own set of marks on you.”
He finally turned around, and we made eye contact. “What kind of marks?”
Jesus, he’s fucking hot.
His looks wouldn’t scream at someone who was searching for perfection. Toy’s face was far from that. The scars on his cheeks told me he’d been in several fights. His nose had been broken and never properly healed. But what made him so goddamn sexy were his eyes and the lightness in his expression. Toy looked at me as though he already trusted me, enough so that he’d first spoken to me without even turning around.
No one did that.
&nbs
p; At least not someone who valued their life.
Nothing about me was trusting or carefree. I thrived on control, and so did the men I worked with. I needed to spend some time with someone like him. Someone light. Someone who didn’t need anything from me.
“I want to take two metal hooks and pierce them through your flesh, right over the top of your shoulder blades,” I said. “Then, I want to clamp you to a set of wires and raise you into the air. While blood is dripping from the holes in your back, forming a pool on the floor, I want your dick to be in my mouth. I want your cum on my tongue. I want to swish that shit between my teeth like it’s fucking mouthwash, and then I want to spit it into my hand and wipe it onto my face. I don’t care if it stinks, if it peels, if it irritates my skin; I’m not washing you off. Before I let you get dressed, I want to mark you by biting Ss all over your body.”
I expected him to take a swing at me. I didn’t even know if he liked cock or if he was only into pussy.
But he didn’t raise his fist at all. What he did next made me want to bend him over the bench and shove my cock in his ass, bareback.
He said, “I’m ready. Let’s make it happen.”
He then started walking again. Only this time, I led.
That was my boy.
He didn’t need to think; he just knew.
And it made my dick even harder for him.
For a while, I would only see Toy when I came back to San Diego on my days off. That lasted about a year, and then the prison started getting busier, and I wasn’t able to fly to the States as often as I had before. In the time between our visits, I found myself wondering what the hell he was up to, where he was sleeping, who he was fucking. I was getting angrier, more violent than I already was. My father, the shrink, told me it was my mind’s way of missing Toy.
My father was probably right.
I just knew I didn’t like having those feelings.
So, I explained to Toy what I did when I was out of town—a topic I’d avoided until now—and I offered him a job.
He took it immediately, and he became one of our sweepers, meaning he cleaned out the cells after the prisoners were executed, he prepared food when the guards were too busy, he tossed the limbs into The Pit once they were severed off. He did all the bitch work, and he never complained.
When he wasn’t working, he was in my bed, constantly trying to please me.
And I found myself with the strongest desire to nurture him.
Toy had been on his own since he was sixteen. He’d learned to fend for himself, to survive on practically nothing. It was time someone spoiled him, and that person was going to be me.
Things were smooth for a while, but they didn’t stay that way.
Toy had a rough time handling what went on at the prison. He drank a lot and took a shit-ton of pills. They made him feel carefree again. They made him forget. They made all the death tolerable.
The cocktail almost killed him.
More than once.
But there were times when the combination of the liquor and pills made him so carefree that I took things extra far, like the night he told me his teeth got in the way of sucking my cock. If Toy wanted his teeth out, I’d make it happen.
And I did.
I took a hammer and knocked out the two front ones. Jesus, he gummed my dick like nothing I’d ever felt.
It wasn’t enough for him.
He wanted to feel my flesh between his tongue. The only way to make that happen was to saw it in the middle, stopping halfway down. He said it was for him, so he could please me in a way he couldn’t before. But the torture I put him through, the blood that drained from his mouth, was all for me. I covered myself in it. Coated it over my cock. Then, I came right in the pool of it.
It made me so fucking happy, and I hadn’t even killed him.
I’d ripped out plenty of tongues in that prison. I’d just never split any of them, so I didn’t know how long it would take to heal. Within a few weeks, he was able to test it out. Now, both sides could move. They could wrap; they could rub against my shaft.
Nothing had ever felt better.
I loved it.
And I loved him.
Fuck, I still do.
Huck
“Sir,” Lawan said as I held the phone up to my ear.
“I hope you have news for me.” I closed the spreadsheet I had been working on and pulled up the live feeds from downstairs.
Lawan’s backup was sitting at the front desk, which told me Lawan was with Arin, like I’d asked. There were two men in the lounge and at least ten girls in the museum. Things were running just fine with her gone.
“Arin’s out of the shower, sir. She’s in her room now.”
“Where are you?” I clicked on the icon that brought up the footage of Arin’s room and watched her stand by the doorway, wearing only a towel, looking at the clothing Lawan had set on the bed.
“Headed to the desk, sir.”
“I want you to make sure she eats.”
Arin still hadn’t put anything but broth in her body. That wasn’t enough to get her stronger or to get any weight on her. She needed something solid to do that.
“I’ll bring her some bread in a little bit.”
Arin’s towel dropped to the floor.
“Lawan, give her at least an hour,” I said, my hand grabbing my cock, trying to get it to calm down.
“No problem, sir.”
I disconnected the call and blew up the feed, so Arin took up my entire screen.
Fuck.
She had tits that would rest perfectly in the palms of my hands and an ass that didn’t have that much extra to squeeze. But her lack of fat wasn’t what made my teeth grind. What did that were the bruises that covered her flesh. They went across her stomach and around to her kidneys, and there were several more on her ass. Bite marks spanned the tops of her tits.
Those bastards had beaten the hell out of her.
Arin moved over to the bed and slipped her arms through the tank top. She didn’t bother with the bra or the panties. She didn’t even put on the shorts. Instead, she dropped all three items on top of the nightstand and then walked over to the wall where the picture of the snake was hanging.
Most of the chicks around here were scared of my snakes. They didn’t appreciate the slickness of snakeskin. The softness of their tongues. Their slithering sounds.
Yet snakes reminded me so much of women. They both had delicate, silky bodies, and they shared the same behavior right before they ate. They even rattled when they were stroked.
Women just couldn’t see past their fear of snakes. They would make a face when they glanced in their direction. They were too afraid to look them in the eyes. They backed up before they got too close.
Not Arin.
She at least didn’t act that way as she stared at the picture. And it appeared she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. She almost seemed…
Fuck no.
She can’t be—
Touching herself?
Jesus.
She was.
Her hand had lifted from her side and landed on her tit. I heard myself hiss as she circled around her nipple, squeezing it between two fingers, tugging on it like she needed it to hurt. Her other hand stayed low on her body and looked like it was moving toward her cunt. From this angle, I couldn’t get a good view of her, so I pulled up the second camera’s feed and zoomed in.
She was rubbing two fingers up and down her clit.
She’d been abused, her body was hurting, she was in a stranger’s fucking house, and she was masturbating.
There was no stopping my dick from getting hard now.
She took her hand off her nipple and pushed it against the wall to steady herself. Her fingers spread across the paint at the same time her legs widened.
Having a woman touch herself while she looked at my snake was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen, especially with someone as beautiful as Arin.
If she was going t
o come, I’d be right behind her.
I unbuttoned my jeans, pulled at the zipper, and dived in. Lifting the elastic waist of my boxer briefs off the middle of my shaft, I pushed all the fabric down to my thighs, spit on my hand, and gave myself a few strokes.
It felt good.
It felt even better as I watched her head lean back, her lips open, and her eyes close. I wished I could hear her sounds. I imagined they were similar to the whimpers from when I had carried her up the stairs. But, now, I bet they were longer, deeper, drawn out until they went straight into the next moan.
I wanted those noises vibrating over my cock.
She turned her face toward the camera, her chin resting on top of her shoulder just briefly before she bit herself. She was like one of my snakes right before it attacked its prey. She bared her teeth, she launched, and she held the skin and didn’t let go.
I was going to come, so I squeezed my crown to stop it.
By the way her elbow bounced, I could tell she wasn’t being gentle. She was pounding that goddamn cunt with speed and power.
I liked knowing she enjoyed both because it was exactly what I would give her if my cock were inside her. Except in there right now was her finger, another on her clit, and the image of that was so fucking hot.
I stroked my dick even harder and felt my balls start to tighten.
When she stopped biting, I could tell in her expression how close she was. I wanted her nails digging into my back with the same intensity as she was pushing against the wall. I wanted blood. I wanted fangs, and I wanted them to hurt.
Fuck, that pussy would feel so good.
Her body began to quiver.
So did mine.
Her hand moved even faster.
And so did mine.
I twisted around the tip of my cock, getting ready for the cum to drain, and after a few more thrusts into my wet palm, I shot my load. Waves of pleasure continued to pass through me as I slowed. Just as I caught my breath, Arin’s hand left the spot between her legs. She took one final glance at the snake and went over to the bed, sliding underneath the blanket and covering herself with it.
On the way out of the bathroom after washing my hands, I came to the door that led to my apartment. There was no reason to go through it. I still had so much work to do, I had nothing to say to Arin, and within the hour, Lawan would be bringing her food.