Skeleton King (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 9)

by Charity B.

  Lifting the blankets to my shoulders, he kisses my forehead and turns on my music box. Without another word, he shuts off the light, leaving me to be lulled into a drug induced sleep.

  November 1st ~ Evening

  One thing about Fink is that he always keeps his promises. I’m left alone in my room without any company besides the meals slid through the slot in my door.

  It isn’t until the following night that my door opens again. Fink walks over to me, taking my hand without saying a word. While he appears calm, the heat of his fury floats from his skin.

  He leads me to the laboratory where Ingvar waits, his cock already tenting his pants with his arousal. “I don’t know why you continue to make choices that force me into these things, but I will not be the kind of father that doesn’t follow through.”

  I’m not sure if it will hurt to speak, so I don’t give him the satisfaction of more than a glare for my response. Ingvar walks over to me, his fat hands lifting my patchwork dress over my head. I stand there naked for what seems like ages before Fink unbuttons his lab coat and lowers the zipper on his pants.

  “Let’s see how much you’ve healed. Come here.”

  My mouth is so dry that I swallow on my way to meet him. Falling to my knees, I become nauseated by the fear rolling around in my stomach. This is going to be terribly painful. All I can hope for is that he’ll let me stop before it becomes too agonizing. His cock looks bigger now that I know I’ll have to fit it into my bloody, sore mouth.

  “Take it slow,” Fink orders.

  I stroke his erection, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. Looking up at him, I beg him with my eyes to not make me do this.

  He denies me with a nod of his head.

  With a deep breath through my nose, I slowly open my mouth. Instantly, the threading pulls, sending sharp jabs across the sides of my cheeks. I instinctively back away when Fink grabs my neck, shaking his head as he clicks his tongue.

  He presses his soft tip to my lips, and I attempt to slurp it into my mouth like gelatin. Tears fall down my face, burning the incisions as he pushes himself deeper. I cry around his erection when he pumps hard three times. My cheeks are ripping apart, and I can feel blood dripping down my jaw when he says, “That’s enough for today, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

  My entire face is on fire, and it takes all my self-control to not reach up and touch it. He pushes down his pants, dropping them to the floor before sitting in the nearest chair and resting his cane against the cabinets. He summons me with a wave of his hand.

  “Come over here and sit on Daddy.”

  I do as he says, straddling him and holding onto his shoulders for support. Without wasting time, I slide down his cock, rolling my hips, hoping an orgasm will distract me from the pain in my face. A droplet of blood falls from my jaw, splattering across his white lab coat when I rock my body faster.

  “Fuck, Sarah. That’s such a good girl.” Fink drops his head back and moans.

  The doorbell’s eerie ring reverberates in my ear as Fink gestures to Ingvar, whose erection protrudes in his pants, to answer the door.

  I move my body faster, trying to make him come so I can get this over with and go back to bed. Then I hear it. His voice. Even with shame suffocating me, I look to the doorway where he stands with Nothing next to his feet. He’s seen me in compromising positions before, but after the night of the Halloween Games, I’m horrified.

  Adding to my mortification, Fink pumps fast beneath me, pushing my hips back and forth. “Ah, John, my boy. What brings you here today?”

  Fink smacks my ass, and I can’t help thinking he’s making a show of this. Whether it’s to impress John or embarrass me, I have no idea.

  John—which I am making it a point to call him now instead of Skeleton King—isn’t wearing his skull face. It’s just him in all his gorgeous glory. His nose is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and the face paint completely distorts that.

  “I, um…” His arm bulges in his shirt as he rubs the back of his neck, attempting to divert his gaze, until he can’t anymore and it meets mine. “I was hoping to borrow some equipment…and ask your opinion on a few things.”

  More than anything, I wish I knew what he was thinking. He just stares while Fink fucks me so hard that I can’t stop the moans falling from my bloody lips. More tears drip down my face, though, this time it’s not from pain, it’s from humiliation.

  “Of course, you needn’t even ask.” Fink’s hands lift me up, spreading my butt cheeks apart. “Her ass is begging to be fucked. Would you like to try?” Oh, this is definitely to impress John. He’s never shared me with anyone other than Ingvar. I wish I could disappear into dust. It’s surprising how much I’m hoping that he doesn’t agree. I don’t want the first time I’m with him to be with Fink or anyone for that matter. Whether I’m breathing or not. “Unless you’d like your privacy? I’ll allow it for my dear friend, Skeleton King.”

  My heart bounces in my chest when suddenly, my desires flip. In my mind, I desperately plead with him to accept. I’ve always dreamed of him with my dead body, touching and kissing it. To be able to be alive to feel that? The excitement is almost too much to bear.

  I’m going to die if the silence lasts much longer. I want nothing more than to see his face right now. Is he considering it? Repulsed? Aroused?

  His awkward chuckle hollows out my gut. “You’re very generous, really, but I just want to get started on some experiments.”

  Questions as to why he refused drown my thoughts. Is it because I breathe air or because I’m ugly and scarred? Fink smacks my thigh. “Get up and bend over.” On shaky legs, I stand to lean over the cabinets. As he steadies against me, Fink lines himself up, shoving back inside before telling John, “I’ll be done in a moment, feel free to look around for what you need in the meantime.”

  Keeping my eyes squeezed shut, I listen to John and Nothing’s footsteps walking around the lab. The tinkling of jars accompanies the sound of Fink’s grunts in my ear. Finally, he jerks behind me, emptying himself as he moans, “Yes, that’s my tight, little rag doll.” As he pulls out of me, he spanks my rear. “Get dressed.”

  I refuse to look at John. Kneeling down, I pick up my dress as his words freeze me solid.

  “Hi, Sarah.”

  Moving feels impossible, so I attempt to even out my breathing before I meet his gaze. His mouth is quirked halfway into a smile, revealing the dimple on his left cheek, but the way his eyes are narrowed makes him look almost angry. “H-hi.”

  “Ingvar, put Sarah in her room while I help John,” Fink orders.

  Rushing away from all three of them, I put myself in my room. A moment later, my door clicks locked, and I turn on my music box, falling back on my bed with a groan.

  It was so close to happening. I could have felt the only touch I’ve ever dreamed about. Why did he say no? It’s going to drive me insane to wonder. Not that knowing would make me any less sad.

  While it’s true, I’ve fantasized about him since the day we met, it was mostly pure and innocent in the beginning. I’ll never forget the first time I realized that I also wanted him sexually.

  “Dad, it wasn’t me! I promise! It was him,” I scream as I look at Ingvar, trying to pull myself free from his grip. “Tell him, Ingvar!”

  Ingvar grins at me in his hateful way, continuing to drag me through the living room. He did it to get me in trouble. I know it.

  “Keep lying, Sarah, and this will be much worse. Why would Ingvar break an entire shelf of beakers?”

  “Why do you think? So you’ll make him fuck me again!”

  Fink backhands me before jerking me away from Ingvar. “You won’t guilt me out of punishing you. Your actions have consequences. A lesson you still refuse to learn.”

  He shoves me to my knees, making them rub against the scratchy rug as he squeezes my shoulder. “You know the lab is off limits unless I’m in there with you. You deliberately disobeyed that rule, destroying my equipment and lying
to my face.” Why doesn’t he believe me? “I think you need to start by apologizing to Ingvar.” He nods to him. “Go ahead, my boy.”

  Ingvar stalks toward me, grinning as he takes down his overalls. “Open mouth.” Stepping out of the denim, he rubs the extra skin he has over his penis. Fink’s doesn’t look like that.

  “Kiss ass,” I say, mocking his tone.

  He brings his fist back, landing it so hard against my face that black flashes across my eyes as I fall to the floor.

  “Ingvar! Hit her that hard one more time and you will never participate in her punishment again.”

  Ingvar actually looks ashamed, his eyes shiny with tears as he nods his head. “Yes, sir.”

  Fink walks over to me, snapping his fingers. “Stand up.” As soon as I obey, he grips my chin hard. “I don’t know where this attitude of yours has been coming from, but it’s not the least bit amusing.” He releases me so hard, my head jerks to the side. “Now, get back on your knees.”

  Sighing in defeat, I kneel on the floor where Ingvar meets me, hard erection in hand. I continue to glare at him as I do what I’m supposed to. He thrusts his disgusting cock into my mouth, yanking at my hair and smacking the back of my head with his palm. When his pace gets harder and faster, I can’t do anything except try to breathe.

  Finally, he pushes me away, allowing me a couple minutes to gasp for air before picking me up to toss me over the edge of the sofa. My fingernails scratch at the fabric as a scream rips through my throat when It feels like he tears open the tight ring of my butt. I hear him grunting, but all I feel is burning pain. Fink is blurry through my tears when the doorbell rings and I look up at him.

  He doesn’t give Ingvar any instructions when he leaves to answer the door. Sobbing into the couch, I gasp out my question. “Why did you do this?” Ingvar’s only response is him thrusting harder. “I’ve tried to be nice to you! Why can’t we be friends?”

  “Fuck Sarah.”

  I don’t know exactly what he means by that, but it doesn’t really matter. Lifting my head causes my heart to freeze solid in my chest, my eyes connecting with Skeleton King’s dark ones.

  He reaches up, his long fingers combing through his warm brown hair just as Ingvar squeezes my hips. The thought of John’s hands being on me instead of the ones that are, plants itself right in the front of my brain. I’m ashamed of myself for even thinking such a thing, but I bet he would be kind and gentle. I’ve never wanted someone to touch me this way before, but maybe he’d be different. There’s a honey tint to his skin, and I wonder what it would look like next to my paleness.

  His eyebrows narrow as his full lips press together, making me wonder what it must be like to kiss them. Suddenly, Ingvar’s cock doesn’t feel so bad.

  Fink says Skeleton King only likes girls who have been buried. Still, the very idea of being with him has tingles spreading through my veins, shocking me when I rock backward. Even though I of course know it’s Ingvar inside my body, with Skeleton King standing in front of me, it’s easy to pretend it’s him instead.

  The spell is broken when Fink returns with money and a piece of paper, handing both to him.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner? We’ll be done here sh—”

  “No.” His response is so quick it even leaves Fink looking surprised. “I mean, thank you, I just have a busy night.” Looking over his shoulder at me one last time, he frowns before leaving.

  I’ve hardly ever spoken to him, so I can’t imagine what could be going on in his head, but with his face so fresh in my memory, he spends the rest of my punishment with me.

  Experiments

  John Skelver

  November 15th ~ Evening

  I’d already been struggling to stop thinking of her after the Halloween Games, and in the two weeks since seeing her at Fink’s, it’s only gotten worse.

  The night she held my hand in the graveyard, I went home to eliminate the arousal she doused me in. Natasha laid there waiting for me, yet when I touched her, the chilled stiffness of her skin didn’t give me the comfort it normally did. My mind kept replaying the sensation of feeling Sarah’s heat. The rush that consumed me at her touch. I still went through with it, emptying myself in Natasha’s corpse, but the entire time it was with Sarah in mind. The images of her scarred, naked body are still very vivid as is the memory of her soft skin. Every time I was with Natasha, I came as I ran my fingers over her stitching, pretending they were Sarah’s scars.

  I even cut her face the way Sarah’s is. I sigh as I look over to Natasha, whose stuffed body stands in the corner. She’s getting used up; it’ll be time to get rid of her soon.

  I need a way to make the bodies warm. I have to believe that it will be enough. When Fink offered me Sarah, I was stunned, and part of me wanted so badly to say yes. I knew she wouldn’t have been allowed to humiliate me by turning me away, though, I could never do that to her.

  My breath is hot inside the mask as I open the jar of ethanol and pull out the small cut of skin that I removed from my most recent cadaver. It was a Jewish man this time, who I only dug up for research purposes. It goes against Jewish faith to embalm a body, and I needed a natural specimen. Heat does unpleasant things to dead flesh, so this is going to be a challenge, even with Fink and his equipment at my disposal. Fink basically told me at his house that this entire endeavor is a waste of my time and impossible, however it’s not as if I have anything to lose by trying.

  It was Fink who originally gave me the idea to taxidermize non-embalmed bodies so they’d last longer. I’ll admit they don’t look as pretty after they’re skinned and reshaped over the molding. Regardless, they stay with me forever, which is more than I can say for any other woman. Every month or so, I get a new girl, and even though the embalmed ones are a lot less work, I don’t have the same connection with them as I do the women I’m able to recreate with my own hands.

  Lately, however, my focus has shifted past preservation to realism. If I can figure out a way to keep a corpse warm and preserved, it will be the closest I’ll ever get to knowing what it feels like to be with a living woman.

  It’s a form of self-torment because even if Sarah wanted me, I don’t know if I could physically do it. The idea terrifies me to my core. I don’t know exactly when that fear started, but I do know the exact moment my life began heading toward this path.

  Tears fall down my face in pain and frustration. I really liked Layla… a lot. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. What makes me so different? What is it about me that repels people? Specifically girls? I don’t think I’m ugly, so I don’t believe it’s my looks. It’s got to be deeper than that. I toss another rock in the lake with a groan.

  She laughed at me. She mocked me in front of everyone, saying I was gross and pathetic. I had spent hours writing her that poem. I thought that if she could read in beautiful words what I felt about her, she would go to the freshman formal with me. I don’t have any friends to talk to, and it sucks that I can’t even go home and tell my mom. She always punishes me for the smallest mention of anything remotely sex related and that definitely includes girls. It’s times like this when I feel guilty that part of me wishes my dad would have stayed. It would have been nice to have a guy to talk to.

  I wipe the tears from my wet cheeks. Skipping another stone, it hits something on the second jump and falls flat into the river. My head tilts as I stand to my feet, curious. Reaching down, I grab a large stick to try to move whatever it is closer to me. When I realize I’m looking at human hair, my gaze travels down, forcing me to process that I’m seeing a body. My stomach freefalls, taking all the moisture in my mouth along for the ride. I use the stick to drag it up on the bank and then again to roll her over. Her face is pretty messed up, but her naked breasts are the first real ones I’ve ever seen. I look down between her open legs, and what’s there gives me an instant hard-on. A real pussy.

  Looking around to make sure I’m alone, I touch it. I suck in a sharp breath. She can’t tell me I’
m gross or pathetic. She can’t reject me or make me feel perverted.

  She can’t hurt me at all. In fact, she can do the exact opposite…

  While of course there were many other choices and factors that led to me becoming Skeleton King, the day I lost my virginity to a corpse changed my views on living women. I realized that they had never been an option for me. While I’ve never understood what makes me so different, so…wrong, the day on that river bank, I learned that I didn’t need a breathing body, just a body. I could finally feel some version of affection without risking pain or cruelty. For either of us.

  Placing the piece of flesh on a heat rock, I jump at the unexpected ring of the doorbell. After running up the stairs, I open the front door to the surprise of Sarah Stein hurrying down my walkway.

  “Sarah?”

  She stops mid step, her shoulders falling with her head before she slowly turns. “H-hi…um, I know you’re working on some experiments, but I didn’t know what type, so I just brought you some stuff that might help.”

  I look down, seeing a basket full of things like alkaline and arsenic. A smile tugs on my lips. That’s really sweet.

  “Thank you.” I open the door farther and step to the side. “Would you like to come in for a drink? I promise I won’t tell Fink.”

  She smiles then looks over her shoulder. “Um, yeah…sure.”

  Picking up the basket, I hold out my hand to invite her in. She follows me to my kitchen where I set her gift down on the counter before turning to the cupboard, removing two martini glasses. I’m not deluded enough to deny that I’m trying to impress her when I pull out the powdered dry ice to make the fanciest drink I know. After adding the ice to the glasses, I set to mixing brandy, grape juice, and vodka in a shaker.

  She points to my hands. “Does that have alcohol? I’m not allowed liquor.”

  I grin without stopping what I’m doing because I can hear the interest in her question. I pour the mixture then add some grenadine. “It does…” Her eyebrows furrow as she watches me take out a bowl of strawberries for garnish. “I hope I’ve made it clear that I won’t rat you out to Fink. Besides, how old are you, anyway? Aren’t you a little curious?”