Grimmstead Academy: Submission

by Candace Wondrak

  When I went back? Went back where? I had no idea what Victor was talking about, but I listened with bated breath, mostly because I knew he had to finish talking before we could get to the good stuff. To that long cock inside of me and pleasure sweeping over us both.

  “Go to the basement, find the mouth. Give yourself to it,” Victor whispered, lowering his head toward mine. “Only then can we ever truly be together.”

  That was a weird thing to say, especially since we were about to be together right now, but I let him speak in riddles, figuring I could ask him about it later.

  “Do you understand?” he asked, waiting for me to nod. And I did, I nodded eagerly, as if I perfectly understood the strange, cryptic things he was saying. Really, I just wanted to be pinned somewhere and lose myself in his body. That wasn’t so wrong, was it?

  Once I gave him the affirmation he needed, Victor helped me down to the floor. The carpet was a little hard, but I would take the pain with pleasure. My thighs spread of their own accord, and I watched as he positioned himself. His cock was long, veiny, a sexy sight to see. Even better to feel. When he started to push himself inside of me, my back arched and I let out a low, throaty moan.

  One of his hands found my neck, curling around it possessively. “Remember,” he murmured, every inch of his length buried inside me, “together.”

  Right. We’d come together. Something that only happened in romance novels and not real life, but you know, after seeing what I saw in this room, maybe the weird and inexplicable weren’t as far-fetched as I thought.

  Maybe this whole place was meant for the crazies. I liked to think I was normal, but after what I saw in this room, after my confession to Victor, how could I even say that? How could I look at myself in the mirror and not see the truth of what I was?

  My eyelids slammed shut as his cock filled me up. I gave in to the pleasure rising in my gut, feeling my nerves catch fire and my heart race in my chest. He pummeled me hard and fast, not a gentle lover, but more like a wild animal, an animal who knew what it wanted. And what Victor Grimmstead wanted was me.

  It sounded as if he’d been waiting for me for a long time, which was a bit confusing, but I wouldn’t linger on that right now. Right now, the only thing on my mind was how good it felt to be taken against the floor, how his long length rocked in and out of me with each thrust of his hips.

  I groaned, and I heard him say, “Wait for me.” The hand around my throat tightened, and I nearly lost it right there. Something about the dominant gesture, something about how submissive it was to let a man hold you like that…it was ridiculously hot.

  I fought the building orgasm inside for him, trying to think of cold showers or something. Did that only work for guys? Oh, well. Victor picked up his pace, almost bruising me as he pumped in and out. If I woke up tomorrow with bruises, I wouldn’t care. I’d look back on this moment and remember it fondly.

  Or maybe I’d want to repeat this little encounter. Victor was hot and cold, and in my heart of hearts I knew I didn’t care which one he was. My body, my heart, craved him in general. Like a hungry, carnal addiction I couldn’t resist.

  The hand on my neck slid off, and he leaned his cheek against mine. His breath came out hot and hard, and his words were coarse and rough, just like the pounding he gave me, “Let it come.” His go-ahead to orgasm. His approval, because he neared his peak, too.

  The thought of him filling me up, bonding with me—to use his own words—made my inner core tighten. The orgasm I’d been pushing off since his head was between my legs exploded violently, touching every nerve in my body with scorchingly hot fire.

  Everything was fire to me, you see. My mind, his touch, us, together. Fire was the be-all, end-all, and I let the flames of my body consume me whole.

  As I came, Victor groaned, his top half tensing as his thrusting slowed. He pumped himself inside me, not pulling out straight away after he was done, after his seed filled me up. His eyes were slow to open, meeting mine. Delicate sweat lined his forehead. Never had a man looked so attractive while sweating.

  He breathed out a long exhale, whispering, “Good.”

  Good? I’d hedged myself away from an orgasm for what felt like forever and all he had to say was good?

  “Remember me,” he added, his lips lowering to mine, “when you wake.” Victor’s mouth met mine, swallowing up any response I might’ve given him.

  When I woke.

  What in the heck did that mean?

  Chapter Six – Bram

  I’d watched her for what felt like hours, and all the while Koda was in my head, nagging me, trying to get me to forget the knife and to find Lucien. It didn’t matter. Lucien would find me eventually, and once he did, this little game would be over.

  For now.

  What none of these idiots seemed to realize was: my games were never over. I was never satisfied. And now that I’d gotten a taste of what freedom was like—true freedom—I never wanted to be trapped again.

  Koda could take the backseat here. Koda could be the less dominant one. I could take the helm of this body and make Felice mine, do what I’d wanted to do in that library. And then, maybe after I made her scream my name, I’d make her scream it for an entirely different reason.

  Pain. I would inflict pain on her. So much pain Felice would have trouble thinking. So much agony her mind wouldn’t think straight. I would make her cry out my name, watch her blood pool around her feet. She would know nothing but misery in my presence, until she breathed her last breath.

  And when she breathed again? We’d play the bloody game on repeat.

  I sat beside her on the bed, the knife in my hands. A finger rested against its tip, and I might’ve gotten too focused on her peaceful face and pressed the knife against my finger too hard. A small tingle of pain coursed up my arm, and I pulled my finger away from the knife, dropping to stare at the dark red blood pooling from the small injury.

  My eyes darted to Felice, whose chest rose and fell with even, slow breaths. Besides her chest moving every now and then, you’d think she was dead. Her tawny skin looked a little pale, and I leaned over her, holding my bleeding finger near her throat.

  “You are pretty, aren’t you?” I whispered, studying her intently. “You know what would make you even prettier?”

  Bram—Koda’s voice rang as a warning bell inside my head, but I fought him off as I set my bleeding finger on the top center of her forehead, dragging it down until I reached the point of her small nose. A line of blood smeared where I’d touched, although, by the time I got to her nose, there wasn’t much blood left to do anything with.

  And, what would you know, I was right. Felice did look so much better with some blood on her.

  I decided to add a bit more to her face, using the knife to cut deeper in my finger and draw out more blood. Two lines, one along each cheek. A small one from her lower lip to her chin, curving down her throat and her neck.

  My dick twitched as I pulled my hand back to stare at her. Felice really did look better. I wouldn’t mind painting her entire body like this.

  A hard pound on the door alerted me to someone else’s presence, and I turned my stare towards the locked door, glowering. I knew it had to be one of two people, the two I’d left alone. Should’ve done a full sweep of the place, just to make sure I wouldn’t be interrupted when things got good.

  And they were just getting good now, with Felice marked in my blood.

  “Bram—” It was Dagen’s voice, and he sounded very much unlike himself. “—if Felice is in there with you, you must let her go.”

  “Fuck off,” I hissed, clutching the knife harder. By fucking God, I wanted to stab someone. Maybe saw off another head. Sometimes the urge to hurt was too strong…which was a bad thing for Felice, surely, because she was stuck in here with me. “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Bram,” this time it was Ian who spoke, “if you hurt her, no one in the house will forgive you. Best let her go now before things get wo
rse, I think. I could always trade you for the booze in my room. It’s good shit, you know—”

  I rolled my eyes, scoffing. Trade Felice’s unconscious body for alcohol. No fucking thank you. “If you two don’t leave,” I warned, moving the knife to Felice’s throat, “I’ll hurt her.” It was like two warring factions resided in my body. One half wanted to tear into anyone and anything I could get my hands on, while the other merely wanted Felice to wake up so I could fuck her while she wore my blood.

  I hated feeling so conflicted. Hated it above all else.

  “You know hell awaits you if you do,” Dagen warned, and I bared my teeth at no one in particular.

  Fuck them. Fuck them and their warnings. I didn’t need anyone to tell me what awaited me if I went about killing. I already knew: hell. But that’s the thing…we were each in our own personal hell here, in Grimmstead. Grimmstead was hell in that it gave you what you wanted, dangling your desires in front of you, and then yanked them out of your sight and way too far out of your reach.

  Another name for hell was Grimmstead.

  I looked back at Felice, studying how the blood had already dried on her tan flesh. I leaned down over her, whispering, “You want to know my secret, Felice?” I moved the knife away from her throat, dragging it along her jawline, the metal dancing across her tender flesh. “I don’t care what happens to me. You see, nothing in this place is real, so why even bother? Why try to be good when goodness doesn’t exist?”

  She breathed evenly, unaware of the knife so close to her carotid artery. Felice appeared to be in a deep sleep, like a bloodied Sleeping Beauty, too good for this world. And maybe she was, too good for this place. Not like me, not like the rest of us. We were all twisted in our own ways, some of us worse than others.

  Even Lucien, who acted like he was better than everyone else simply because of his legacy, was no better. He caved in to the darkness too; he just hid it better.

  “I envy you,” I whispered, leaning my head down as I swiped at her hair, pushing aside the few stray tendrils that were on her face. “You know nothing of this place, and yet here you are. So naive, so trusting. You walked into a den of lions with nothing but your wits, and even those are unimpressive.”

  Felice breathed out, and as I watched her, I could’ve sworn I saw her cheeks redden beneath the painted blood lines. Her heart rate appeared to be increasing, and I wondered if she was only unconscious, or if this place had her locked in her own head, a prisoner that couldn’t escape.

  I wanted to cut that dress off her and see her in her entirety, view her body as it was meant to be viewed: naked and free. Maybe paint more blood lines on her; the wound on my finger still bled, but not much. I would take more pain gladly if it meant I got to play with her body as my canvas.

  “Why do you call out to me?” I whispered, moving the knife aside as I leaned my nose against hers. “Why do you make me feel so…confused?” Wanting to kill her, wanting to fuck her, wanting to do all of that and more—it wasn’t normal for me. Usually it was just kill, kill, kill.

  Making her mine…I never thought I’d ever care enough to make a woman mine. They were uninteresting, weak, not something I could ever truly respect. I wanted to hurt them, just like I wanted to hurt everyone else.

  Maybe it’s your conscience finally growing, Koda muttered into my head, and I let out an annoyed groan.

  My conscience. Fuck that. I’d show them all that, while I might be conflicted about Felice, I would also not hesitate to hurt her, because that was me. I didn’t care about anyone else but me.

  “I was going to wait until you woke up,” I told her, my fingers tightening around the knife. “I was going to make you scream my name in so many different ways, but to prove a point, I have to kill you.” I ended my little speech by bringing my lips down to hers, tasting her one last time.

  Felice didn’t kiss back, because she was not in her body. Her mouth was unresponsive, immobile, and yet her lips seemed to meld perfectly against mine. I could easily imagine those lips on other parts of my body, and my dick throbbed in my pants as a result.

  As I kissed her, the hand holding onto the knife raised. I was seconds from stabbing her, from ending her here and now and proving to everyone else I didn’t need to listen to their cautionary words, but right then the door was kicked in.

  I didn’t even have time to react; a manly growl caused me to tear my lips off hers the very second strong hands coiled around my shoulders and pulled me off her. I was thrown to the wall with such force I dropped the knife; the metal clanged as it hit the floor. My spine also hurt, but that wasn’t all the punishment I’d get for doing what I almost did.

  The man whose giant chest heaved with raging, angry breaths was also one that was a bit bloody. Again, from me. My eyes flicked up the moment a hand met with my neck, squeezing and lifting my feet off the ground as no one other than Lucien asserted his dominance.

  He didn’t stay dead for nearly long enough.

  It’s good he’s here, Koda muttered. At least he’ll be able to stop you from hurting her.

  I couldn’t breathe, but the man in the suit didn’t care. His hazel eyes narrowed, fury in their irises, and underneath his well-trimmed beard, he wore a deep frown. Lucien looked ready to kill, which wasn’t a first. He was always quick to anger and punishment when you did things he didn’t approve of.

  And that apparently included trying to kill Felice.

  “Bram,” Lucien spat, fingers digging into my neck harder. “You aren’t welcome here.”

  I started to see stars, unable to get a full breath in. My lungs felt as though they were about to burst from the lack of air. I didn’t bother trying to claw at his hand or even kick him in the groin. I’d stabbed him earlier, and this was the end result.

  Lucien just couldn’t stay dead, although I supposed that would be true for all of us in this place.

  Hell, I couldn’t even sputter out a fuck you. I could do nothing but choke as Lucien scowled at me with a sneer for the ages.

  Ian and Dagen hurried in the room, the door hanging off one hinge, the other two broken due to Lucien’s strength. He was a large man all around, muscles on muscles. I wasn’t nearly as ripped as him, and I also wasn’t as strong. Even my uncanny, almost supernatural musculature couldn’t fight against his.

  He was a Grimmstead. He held power over all of us, even when he chose not to exercise it. Right now, he exercised it a great fucking deal.

  “What the fuck did you do, Bram?” Ian asked, tossing a blue-eyed stare my way. Dagen stood close to him, his attention on Felice and the blood on her face and neck.

  Lucien let out a growl before throwing me against a different wall. I was so out of it, it took me a few moments to catch my breath. As Lucien moved closer, towering over me, reminding me without a word that I had nowhere else to go, I said, “I painted a pretty picture. Isn’t she just delectable?”

  Expression twisting into a scowl, Lucien picked me up again, this time by the back of my neck, like a petulant child. “Until Koda makes his return, you will not see daylight.” A growled threat, one I knew he meant as a promise.

  The man said nothing else, dragging me out of Felice’s room and into the hall. I didn’t bother trying to fight him, trying to make a stand; it was beyond pointless. This was how it always went, although, I’d admit, my hunt earlier had been a lot more satisfying than my previous ones.

  Down the stairs we went, turning left and heading down the hall. Past his office, past the room he always locked because it was his, to the basement. My favorite place amongst all this cold stone. Lucien kicked open the basement door, tossing me down the stairs. I tumbled—could’ve broken my neck, but he didn’t care. Right now the only thing Lucien cared about was punishing me for what I nearly did to Felice.

  I couldn’t even get myself back on my feet; Lucien grabbed me by the foot and started to literally drag me down the dark hall. The man was on a mission, and that mission was to make me regret ever laying a hand on h
er. The joke was on him, though, because if he wanted me to feel guilty, I never would.

  It wasn’t like I carved her skin. I was very nice to her, if I said so myself.

  No, Lucien wanted Koda, because Koda was the meek one. Koda was the half who listened when others spoke. I was the one who disregarded everything and everyone if it would serve me by doing it.

  Down the hall, to a place where no one dared tread. Near the large crack on the floor, the black pit that opened into the maw of darkness itself. Chains sat on the wall, chains meant for me. Lucien dropped my foot, only to snap the hard metal against my ankles. One ankle after the other, and then he had me by the throat, lifting me up. My wrists were next. When he was done, he took a step back and admired his handiwork. I was certain I was already bruising thanks to his rough treatment.

  To which I’d say: bring it on. Give me all the roughness. Give me everything.

  The chains were thick, the manacles strong. Even stronger than me. There would be no escaping this, no getting out of this. I was officially at Lucien’s mercy, of which he had none. The only way I’d be let free was if Koda took the reins.

  And that sure as shit wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I was a stubborn beast, if anything.

  “Enjoy your time down here,” Lucien spoke, his hazel eyes flashing a bit too bright in the darkness around us. No windows, since we were in the cellar. Nothing but the cold stone to my back and the eerie breeze that seemed to come from the crack in the ground. “This will be your home until Koda returns.”

  I tugged at my chains once, just to test their strength, and I found they were just as strong as I remembered them being. There would be no escaping this punishment. “What if Koda never comes back?”

  “Then you’ll remain down here forever,” he said, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone. “You’ll find time itself seems to crawl down here. It’s only gotten worse lately.” He glanced at the split in the ground. “Ever since Felice…” Saying her name must’ve snapped him out of it, for he stopped talking, glowered at me, and then stormed away.