The Sect

by Lane, Courtney

  “Please don’t make me do this,” I sobbed, keeping my gaze away from the part of him that offended me.

  “You are being granted a gift,” he explained with a mild offense. “Do you really wish to portray, at this moment, how persistently ungrateful you are?”

  With my bottom lip trembling, I shook my head, barely managing to say the word “no.”

  Crouching down, he pulled up my hand and guided it to surround and hold the shaft. I shuddered; the marks of disgust were evident on my face. He caught it, and his calm made way for anger. He pinched my nose harshly, reigniting a pain that was still there. I fought, keeping my lips pressed together. He pinched my nose harder, grasping the back of my head firmly. My body reacted without my permission. The moment my mouth flew open, he pushed himself inside my mouth. The tug of the sutures hindered the movement of my jaw.

  His hips rolled, repeatedly filling me and withdrawing, giving me only tiny seconds to breathe before he filled me with his erection again. The tiny droplet of warmth on the head of his cock coated the back of my throat. The urge to gag was overtaken by the urge to breathe. My eyes watered, my body shook, struggling for air. His hand at the back of my head guided the movement of my head and mouth back and forth. Twisting my hair around his fist, he brought me closer, forcing his hardness down the back of my throat.

  Gagging and struggling against my body’s involuntary actions—as he rode my mouth harder and faster—tears streamed down my cheeks.

  He groaned, his eyelids falling heavily over his hazel eyes. His hold on my nose and hair began to tug as he forced my neck to crane and my throat to open. He pushed all the way down, holding it there, and coated my throat with salty thickness. My gag reflex kicked in violently. He receded and abruptly closed my mouth, keeping my nose pinched between his fingers.

  Forced to swallow, I did so, erecting a mischievous grin to spread across his face. With his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, he simply stated, “I don’t often allow many that gift, but I’ve made an exception for you today. Don’t make me regret it. What happened in this room is only a taste of my wrath. Push me further and you will discover the full extent of my vengefulness.

  “We’ve only just begun. There are so many iniquities to explore, and that particular one will definitely be explored again. Keep worshipping me this way and you will be rewarded.” He stepped back from me and pushed his waning erection back into his pants. Zipping up, he palmed the stray strands that grazed his forehead back into place. With his shoulders strong, he left the room.

  Noah worked quickly to unbind my restraints. Without a second glance, he grabbed me by my hair and dragged me across the floor. My struggle and protests did very little to stop him as he threw me over his shoulder. I expected the dark room, but instead, he took me to my bedroom and closed the door. The clank of the mechanism indicated he locked it from the outside.

  I ran to the bathroom as I hovered over the sink. I turned on the faucet, shoving my fingers down my throat. Retching, I expelled what I was made to swallow into the sink. I thrust my hand underneath the faucet, splashing copious amounts of piping hot water on my face and mouth, scrubbing away the remnants. I scrubbed until my mouth became sore and red with irritation.

  My legs gave out and I flopped down on the floor, landing hard on my behind.

  I stared into space, my mood reflecting the tone of the room in the basement. The room I’d prefer over the one serving as a prettier version of my prison; dark, dank, bare, and gutted.

  THE PAST

  My mother’s palm was uncharacteristically clammy as she held onto my hand. My father paced the living room, holding tightly to his tumbler half-full with bourbon. We were all weary and tired as our eyes remained glued to the television, staring at an unmanned podium, awaiting the verdict we’d spent more than half the year agonizing over.

  “We…should’ve went. We would know by now if we’d have gone.” My mother brought her hands to her mouth, gnawing on her manicure.

  “I—I couldn’t go,” I said to her, my voice strained and scratchy. I was emotionally overtaxed and tired. It seemed I’d been crying nonstop as the trial dragged on. Every night I hoped justice would be served.

  “I know, baby girl.” With her eyes watering, she lovingly stroked my hair. “I would never have put you through”—she pointed to the television with disgust—“that circus.”

  “Carl Mitchum has been the talk of the town for the republican candidate of presidency.” As my father spoke, explaining the media circus that made sure I was confined to my home or had to endure grand schemes to evade the press. He appeared stuck in a faraway place and had been since a tragedy took the lives of two people. “This is a huge deal.”

  I remembered what he said to me at the police station. I recalled it every night: “I’m sorry I failed you as a father, Keaton. I was supposed to protect you from monsters.”

  The crowd began to stir as the District Attorney took the podium. My head pounded in sync with the beat of my heart. My grip firmed on my mother’s hand. My breath hitched in my throat as I waited for the verdict.

  His need to delay with the minute details of the deliberation, the jury, and the timing only increased my worry. I only needed to hear one word: “Guilty.” But it wasn’t what I heard. What I heard was something I had never fathomed would happen. It was repeated after each crime he was acquitted of. Just like the crime I never reported, he wouldn’t serve justice for what he did—in any way. “Not guilty. The defendant, Gregory Mitchum was acquitted of all charges brought against him…”

  The crashing of glass against the wall startled me. My father expressed his fury by destroying his Lalique tumbler and spilling his prided Glen Garioch 1958 reserve.

  “How can this…happen?” I asked, sobbing.

  “We won’t give up,” my mother assured me, fighting with her own tears. “We’ll file a civil suit. We’ll do everything we can to make sure he gets what he deserves.”

  My father wrestled with the phone, angrily pressing a few pointed numbers against the sleek surface. He pressed his phone to his ear as he waited for someone to respond on the other end. “Hello, Richard? What the hell happened?” The longer he spoke to his golfing partner and friend, the District Attorney, Richard Parsons, the more severe his scowl became.

  After a short five-minute conversation, my father slammed down the phone. “They could only get him on the conspiracy to commit murder charge. Even with that specific charge, the evidence…was tainted. Gregory’s alibis held up strongly to the jury. They believed the confession of the brute Gregory hired. They believed he was the one who did those heinous crimes and that he alone was the culprit. They thought they could at least get him on the accessory to murder charge.” His voice broke as he looked down at the floor. “It was a failure. It’s not enough, but Richard assured me that the man who helped Gregory would pay.”

  It wasn’t enough. The fall guy was the innocent bystander. He was a man paid to take the blame for a man who should’ve been given a life sentence. The bystander saved my life when he could’ve easily taken it away. He was going to serve life in prison for crimes he didn’t commit.

  I had no faith in the balance of justice anymore. It was a joke I could barely find a reason to laugh about.

  I rubbed my aching forehead. “I—I just want to lie down.”

  “Of course, baby girl,” my mother assured me. “Is there anything I can bring you…?”

  I was halfway up the stairs before my mother could finish. I closed my door to my childhood bedroom; the place I returned to after my own home was tainted by a horrid memory.

  I became frozen in place as my phone buzzed against my desk on the opposite wall. I had no reason or desire to answer it, but somehow, it wound up in my shaky hand and the button to accept the call was pressed. I didn’t need to greet him, nor him me.

  “Keaton,” he purred over the phone. “I wanted to come to you tonight, but my father is forcing me to go to some retreat to work out w
hat he thinks are my issues for a while. It’s idiotic, isn’t it? I don’t have any issues. Wait for me, because in six months, probably less, I will come for you. We’re going to be together as I promised. No one will stand in the middle of that. I love you, angel.” He paused as muffled voices carried on in the background on his end of the line. “Oh…shit. I have to go. My father wants me to smile for the cameras. And believe me…I’m wearing a huge smile right now. I’ll come see you tonight before I’m sent away. I can’t wait. See you soon.”

  The phone dropped from my hands, landing on the floor. A sense of urgency pushed me.

  I had to get out of there.

  It took me hours to scour Franklin Park in search of Jeffrey. The other inhabitants gawked at me, sensing I was fresh meat. I did the best I could, packing light with whatever I could fit in an old backpack and dressed down in a pair of jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt with my hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. I was ready to abandon my life and hide in plain view. The love I had for my parents wouldn’t allow me to leave the city. Being here, while not being with them, would’ve slightly satisfied my need to be around them. I could deal with the distance as long as I could observe them from afar.

  I finally found Jeff, scavenging the garbage cans in the park for something he could use…or eat. “Jeff?”

  Surprised, he glanced around the park looking for me. He never truly smiled and when he saw me, his frown was so extreme I thought for sure he’d scold me. “Ah, hell no.” He shoved the invisible space between us. “Go on back home.”

  I pushed the strap of my backpack farther up on my shoulders. “Jeff, please. I can’t go home. I won’t get in your way. I promise. I’m fast and…I’ve been told I have a soft touch. I can help. I just want to help. I won’t get in your way. Honest.” I choked up, sending my gaze to the ground as large tears welled up in my eyes. “Please let me stay.”

  Standing up straight, he chewed pensively on the toothpick dangling from his lips. “I heard a couple of the white collars talking a while back. When I didn’t see you around here for a bit, I thought two plus two equaled four. Was he your guy?”

  I nodded.

  “And the guy who got off is the one who did him in, huh? Is he coming for you?”

  Through the clouds of my tears, I peered back at him. “He will never stop.”

  He looked around in moderate paranoia. Satisfied that no one was paying attention to us, he nodded at me. “Go on and cut that crying out before someone sees you.” He toyed with his toothpick, his eyes softening. “Well”—looking around the park, his frown turned less extreme—“it’s lunch time and the greedy guts in the park have taken the prime pickings. You said you had good hands, huh? Let’s see. I’m going to teach you how to pickpocket.”

  SITTING ON the fainting couch, I hugged my knees to my chest and stared out of the window I had discovered was nailed shut. There wasn’t a clock or a calendar to be found in the room. I happened upon The Rebirth Doctrine in a nightstand drawer and read it as the days’ sunsets came and went.

  It was as I suspected. Everything sacred was related to sex in some shape or form. The key scripture The Doctrine was derived from contained passages from Song of Songs. One verse was highlighted, the verse where Solomon professes to be a shepherd when he is, in fact, a king.

  Later passages detailed the beliefs of the members of Rebirth: The human body was for pleasure. Pleasure served as a vessel for good. The sharing and inflicting of pleasure upon others exalted a worshipper’s status. The more they engaged in carnal pleasure, the better their blessings and roles inside the house. There was talk of the church/theater on the property, a vessel for their purpose.

  I had ideas as to what occurred there, but they all seemed unfathomable. It was made very clear in what I read that Reven and his selected “right hands” were exempted from any and all principles contained in The Doctrine. He was for all intents and purposes above the laws he created.

  Day by day, I wished it were all just a twisted nightmare I’d someday wake up from.

  I counted the sunsets—seven—that poured through my window. Food was brought to my room by the silent chef I had encountered my first day here. It was a delectable smorgasbord, somehow neatly confined to a plate. While the food was appetizing, I lacked the appetite to eat much of it.

  I caved on the third sunset, only because I had to. It was a little difficult to eat with two of my back teeth missing. The sutures had long since dissolved, but I found myself having to adjust the way I ate. When I did eat, I made sure to leave more than I took in when the cook returned to retrieve the plate.

  Jayme came to see me once, but after giving her the silent treatment and blocking out her chatter about how venerable Reven was, she eventually left.

  I was going out of mind. Aching for fresh air and true human interaction from someone real. Someone outside of Reven’s influence.

  As I dug my nails into the bedpost, I continuously flipped through channels with the other hand. I sang to the rhythm of the chaotic voices—and sometimes moans—emitting from the television. The door opened and I immediately stopped singing my nonsensical song about what I saw on the flat-screen.

  Never moving from my stomach down position, I looked over my shoulder, catching the sight of Noah. I blinked, thinking he was just an apparition due in part to the slippery grip I had on my mind.

  He carried a tray of food and placed it on top of my bed. After seeing the tray of the same type of food I’d been served for days, I turned my gaze back to the screen.

  As he walked by the mantle, he turned off the television. Striding toward the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room, he turned around to face me and I could see the glint of his white teeth in my peripheral vision. “You peg me as self-indulgent, princess. Am I wrong?”

  I dropped the remote on the bed, watching him as he sat down in the chair. Every move the man made was filled with confidence, a tinge of wickedness, and an overwhelming amount of sensual prowess. It was a swagger I had never encountered in person, and it continued to provoke sensations inside of me that I couldn’t suppress.

  He crossed his ankle over his knee, staring at me. I pretended he didn’t exist by returning my gaze to the black screen of the television until I heard the rattling of paper, calling my attention back to him.

  With a skewed smirk, he unwrapped a piece of chocolate and shoved it in his mouth. Groaning, he closed his eyes and rubbed his stomach. He slid his hands into the pockets of his pants as he slouched back in the chair. The motion made the broad muscles in his shoulders and chest press against the material of his white button-down. He was well shaven and smelled like the crisp clean scent that he always wore.

  My tongue moistened my bottom lip, remembering the intoxicating taste of chocolate and wanting it badly. My reaction made his deviant smile deepen.

  Adjusting in the seat, he reached behind him, dug in his back pocket, and held out a piece of wrapped chocolate.

  My heart thumped in my throat, straining my ability to swallow. I knew taking it would mean something I wasn’t ready to convey. I searched his eyes, wondering if he was an individual whose pocket I could pick. I studied him in an attempt to determine if I could. Instead, all I received was disappointment. Submitting to him in the moment wouldn’t garner his loyalty; it would garner something I didn’t want.

  “I watched you with him.” He tossed his leg down and stood with fluid and few movements. He trudged toward the bed at a heart-stopping, slow pace.

  I quickly bolted off the bed to stand on the other side.

  It didn’t deter him as he rounded the bed, continuing to walk toward me as my steps moved backward. “You didn’t suck his cock like someone doing it for the first time. You did it like someone who’s had more than their share of cum parties in their mouth.” Keeping me locked in his gaze, he held out the piece of chocolate I silently declined earlier. “I also noticed something else. The disgust on your face. Not because it was forced on you, but somethin
g else. Some other reason. The look on your face was the look I usually see on the people who I leave bleeding and trembling, begging me to stop hurting them. I think I know the secret to breaking you, and it isn’t with pain.” He eyed the sudden trembling of my hands, his face drew full of self-satisfaction. “I’m sure you want to keep that a secret, don’t you?” He quirked a brow, his smile tempering. “Don’t you want that, princess?”

  I looked from the chocolate he extended to me, back to him, and shook my head. My footsteps receded until my back met the bordering wall. The realization of being alone with a man who could easily overpower me and knew the secret to breaking me sent the panic coursing through my veins, choking me with its debilitating effects.

  In slow motion, he shrugged, unwrapped the piece, and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed purposefully; his eyes trained on me, studying me.

  He rushed forward with such haste that I jumped. He locked me against the wall, his simper making me shake just a tad bit more. “You think you’re revolted by the idea of sex, but the problem is, you’ve met too many selfish assholes. How different would it be if you’d met a man who made your body do things you didn’t know were possible? It’s not too late for you to experience that, princess. You know how I know that?

  “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me when we first met. Your thighs clenched together the moment I introduced myself. You had drool dripping from the corner of your mouth when I smiled at you. How easy would it be, me, the man you pretend you don’t want, to make your body respond to me?”

  Lunging forward, I pushed my chest against his but barely moved him. My purpose was to find something and it was quickly preempted. He was faster than I thought humanly possible. His hands wrapped around my wrists before I could withdraw, keeping them locked inside his back pockets. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you should’ve begged first.” His grip strengthened as he began to chomp his teeth while grinning at me. His lips slowly parted and showed me the key I was looking for, lodged underneath his tongue.