Arson’s Captive

by Mason , V. F.

  “I love when you love me with your mouth,” she says, her hot breath on my dick before she dips lower, running her tongue from base to tip and sucking on the head. “And I think I’ll love doing this too.”

  I fist her hair, almost pulling painfully when she takes me in her mouth as much as she can, sucking me and bringing me so much fucking pleasure I might come right here. Her hand glides up and down in tandem with her tongue, while her other hand rakes the skin of my stomach, as if leaving her own mark.

  I watch her suck me slowly, getting the hang of it, and then she takes deeper and deeper swallows, moaning around my dick, and the vibration from it drives me insane. My balls tighten, and I know any more of this and I’ll come in her mouth.

  Pulling her head away forcefully, I order, “Enough.” She lets go of me with a loud pop, her brows furrowing, and before I can stop her, she dives one more time, enclosing her mouth on me deeper than before, urging me to go on, so I tilt her head back a little, keeping her still while I move my hips up and down, fucking her mouth while she watches me with lust filling her gaze.

  One, two, three more strokes, and the need to fuck her overtakes me, and I’m fucking done playing games. “Next time, I will let you play with me for as long as you want. Would you like that? Having my dick as your personal toy to use whenever this pussy needs attention?” She moans around me, and I pull her away until she lets go of me, sitting up straight and moving restlessly on my leg, showing me how much she needs me right now.

  She nods at my words, and I flip her on her back, not in the mood to have her ride me tonight.

  “Good. Now put your hands above your head.” She does as I say, her breasts pushing up. I widen her thighs, settling between them and propping one of her legs on my hip. “I missed you, darling.” Her eyes widen at this, but then she closes them, pressing her head against the floor when I thrust inside with one swift move, shifting us a little.

  I groan when her pussy stretches around my dick, fitting it like a glove, and I slam my mouth on hers, letting her taste our combined desire while I pull back and then enter her again, slowly, so she feels our every breath, each swipe of our tongues, and the way the skin of my dick brushes against the slippery wetness of her pussy.

  She comes undone under me, snatching her mouth from mine, arching her back, and moaning with each jerk of my hips, her thighs wrapping tighter and tighter around me while she fists her hands so hard she’ll probably leave marks on her palms.

  I don’t mind.

  Shifting lower, I flick her nipple with my tongue, speeding up my pace, thrusting harder and harder, going deeper, and finding the perfect spot to keep pounding in and out, driving us both insane as sweat coats our skin.

  “Arson,” she chants over and over again. Her hands slide to my shoulders then down my back, her nails grazing my skin roughly, stinging on their way. She pulls my head to her and connects our mouths once more, biting on my lips and sucking on them as her hips push forward and she meets me stroke for stroke.

  Powerful thrust to powerful thrust.

  The fire burns around us, the flicking of the wick mingling with the slap of flesh and our combined moans, as our shadow dances on the walls. If someone asked me what’s the perfect way to die, I’d say in this position with everything that’s important to me by my side.

  But with such an angel in his arms, what devil would want to die?

  Now, I want to live to worship her forever.

  I plaster a hand on either side of her head, holding her gaze on me as I put more power into my thrusts, pushing harder and harder until her pussy clenches around me, squeezing the life out of my dick. She cries out, coming undone in my arms, her skin flush from all the emotions running through her.

  She is the most mesmerizing sight I’ve ever seen in my life, and any sex I had before her means nothing.

  I continue to thrust inside her, the tingling in the base of my spine signaling to me I’m close, but then she clamps around me, her legs wrapping tighter, and I spill inside her with a loud groan, finding my release that’s so fucking profound I wonder how we are still alive.

  I drop onto her, her breath on my neck as she places several kisses on my shoulder, and I slide my hands under her back, hugging her close and never wanting to let her go.

  If someone asks a devil what heaven looks like… he will tell them that heaven is everywhere as long as his angel is with him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Survive. Survive until you can beat them.”

  Lucian Cortez

  Arson, 13 years old

  Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway as the walls practically vibrate with the sound, and Callum orders, “Quickly, guys, put on handcuffs before they come in.” Santiago and I hide the weapons a second before Roccko shows up.

  “What the fuck happened here?” We stay silent when he checks Jonathan and curses. “Old fucker finally died. Good riddance.” We exchange looks with each other but still stay silent.

  Wasn’t he his favorite guy? They always joked around while drinking shots.

  He then shifts his attention to us and scans us from head to toe. “Follow me. There is a fire in Edward’s part of the wing.” He motions with his hand, and we do as he commands.

  Maybe I should be shocked with this, but I don’t really care as long as he gets us out of here. We might be dogs for them, but we are the most beloved dogs of his owner, so he better protect us really well.

  Then we might even throw him in a fire if he tries to restrain us.

  The thought of that prickles my skin, awakening every hair in my body, and my hands almost itch to find a lighter to recreate what happened in the whorehouse.

  But this time, all these men who hurt us would burn alive, screaming until their last breath.

  Maybe those screams will replace the ones I hear in my nightmares every single day of my life.

  Roccko speaks into the mic on his jacket. “All guards by the gate, come inside. Edward is trapped in his wing.”

  Someone on the radio replies, “On it.”

  I blink in surprise when Roccko does something unexpected.

  He gives the keys to Santiago, ordering, “The car is right by the gate. It’s open right now, because the guy brought the gunpowder supply. You need to run as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” Our jaws drop open, shocked to our core.

  The scariest motherfucker of them all decided to help us?

  “Now you,” he addresses me, “take this.” He gives me a big-ass knife and then gives Callum the gun. So we are at square one with weapons, damn it! We shouldn’t have dropped our previous ones. “And you this. I know your hands are uncuffed, so you can loosen them.”

  We drop the chains while lurking behind the wall as chaos erupts around us. “I will lead you to the main door, and then you will shoot at me.”

  “What?” Callum exclaims, clearly not ready to kill anyone by the looks of it.

  What did he expect anyway? That they’ll just let us leave?

  Roccko ignores his words. “Afterward, you will run to the gate, which will be empty. You will have a maximum of two minutes before they all catch up. It’s the only chance I could give you,” he says to Jonathan’s dead body. “After slipping the pill into this asshole’s drink, that is.”

  “Why?” I ask the question that’s probably on all our minds, and Roccko gives us a sad smile.

  “I can no longer work undercover for that shit, and they don’t want to jeopardize their chances.”

  I don’t understand what undercover means, but I know it has something to do with the law, since Madam was afraid of undercover whores.

  The heavy footsteps thumping on the floor indicate we have no more time for explanations, and he motions for us to go after him. We move speedily through the hall, where all the guards are running in different directions. The smell of smoke is strong from the fire erupting in the other wings.

  I barely restrain myself from inhaling the smell in my lungs and enjoying it t
o the fullest; somehow, it brings me peace for the first time in forever.

  I’m rudely interrupted though when Roccko barks, “Now.”

  Callum’s hands are shaking so hard he can’t pull the trigger, so with a muttered curse, Santiago stands next to him. He wraps his hands above Callum’s to steady him, and they both fire at Roccko’s chest.

  He groans loudly and then rasps, “Go, go, go.”

  The guards are already shouting, “Roccko has been shot!”

  Despite all the mistreatment and malnourishment, we run with all our might to the gate, my bare feet burning on the concrete while the harsh sunlight blinds us, since we’ve been inside the basement for so long.

  We run like thousands of dogs are chasing us, because this is our only shot at survival. We can focus on the pain and labored breathing later.

  We spot the car, and Santiago shouts, “I’ll get behind the wheel!”

  Callum shakes his head in disbelief. “None of us knows how to drive.”

  Santiago snaps his fingers, fumbling with keys. “I’ll handle it.”

  Their voices and conversation though become a blur in my ears as my gaze zeroes in on the gunpowder in the open van. There is also a stash of lighters and cigarettes, everything needed to create fire.

  There is no one with the other.

  Fire.

  Blazing fire that so carelessly destroys everything in its wake, turning people into crazy and hopeless creatures searching for an escape.

  Shouldn’t the guards die from it to fully pay for what they’ve done to us? Even if they haven’t touched us, they didn’t do anything to protect us.

  “Artem,” Callum calls and extends his hand to me. Santiago is already behind the wheel, but I pay no attention to that.

  I run my fingers over the products, almost caressing the things, imagining how it all will light up with fire.

  Through all the nightmares and all the pain, fire was the one thing that still fascinated me like nothing else in this world. One could look at it for hours and not get bored; with just its existence, it scares people.

  I wonder what it’s like to have so much power your sheer presence unsettles those around you.

  It’s like it whispers to me to blow this place to pieces, inviting me to share its all-consuming power, if just for a moment.

  “What the hell are you doing, Artem?” Callum hisses, while Santiago plays with the keys in the car, trying to start it. “Hop inside!”

  Was his voice always so fucking annoying? Ignoring it, I snatch the gunpowder and lighters, rushing right back inside the gate.

  Spotting a nearby tree, I wrap my hand around the knife handle and start to cut off the branch.

  Every fire starts with wood, right?

  “For fuck’s sake, what is he doing?” Callum shouts, and then it’s followed by Santiago's “Gracias, Dios!” when the engine of the car roars to life.

  All while cutting the branch and thinking how to spread the powder, I hear bits of their conversation.

  “You don’t even know how to drive this thing!”

  “How hard can it be? The car is on, so I just need to drive fast enough to get us out of here and that’s it. Here is the speed pedal and stop pedal. No worries, I won’t get us killed.”

  “No, you’re right; you won’t. Because Artem will fucking kill us before you!”

  Several guards dart out of the flaming house, firing bullets at us, but I continue to chop on the wood. Yeah, come closer fuckers.

  The time has come for payback for all the times you spit on my food, kicked me in the stomach, and made me beg for my next meal.

  “We need to leave now!” Callum screams at me and fires at the guards, not hitting any of them, but at least he tries. “Artem!”

  Throwing wood in their direction, I pick up the gunpowder and spread it in the line in front of us, so the guards won’t be able to bypass it.

  Flicking the lighter a few times, I finally see the flame, and for the second, I just want to hold it in my hands, but I can’t enjoy such luxury now.

  So I drop it, and instantly flames flash around us, spreading through the gun powder and onto the grass, leading right to the house.

  Burning wilder when it reaches the chopped branch, the wood bringing intensity with it.

  The guards stop abruptly. I run to the other side and repeat what I did, trapping them behind all these lines so they won’t be able to escape.

  The fire reaches the guards now, and even though some of them manage to bypass it, I see two of them go up in flames.

  And all I can do is stand still, excitement fueling my veins while I watch it all, mesmerized with the beauty their agony represents to me while fire swallows them whole, not caring about their pleas and suffering.

  Instead, it adds to their misery.

  They scream, swaying from side to side, trying to extinguish the flames, but fail while stepping into a bigger fire.

  Loud shouts, curses, screams, and cries.

  So many cries one might get addicted to it.

  That’s what hell must feel like to the devil.

  My mouth curves in a smile, and I’m about to open my arms wide to enjoy it all when Callum grabs my arm, snapping me out of my haze, and orders as he drags me to the gate, “We are leaving. Fucking come on!” All the way to the vehicle, I keep staring at the fire, barely moving, so Callum pulls harder at my arm and huffs all the way.

  We climb inside and Santiago presses on the speed pedal, the car moving so fast the breeze from the open windows slaps me on the cheeks while all I can do is watch the fire of my creation and how people continue to die, their faces wearing the mask of fear and anguish.

  I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight in my entire life.

  Santiago cheers. “This is freedom.”

  Yes, he is right.

  The ability to bring such misery and play with fire while it helps you accomplish despicable deeds…

  It’s freedom.

  And I’ll do anything to experience this thrill that gives me new meaning in life again.

  Callista

  The minute I step inside the spacious lobby in one of the most prestigious restaurants in the city, the soft classical music rings in my ears as the people gather in the middle. The men bow to women before offering them their hands, and they accept, starting to dance in time with the music, each of their moves so graceful one might glue their stare to them.

  The diamond chandelier, crystals swaying with the breeze created by the AC humming softly in the room, glistens with different shades of light, drawing attention to its beauty. It brightens up the entire space, showcasing marble floors and golden walls with red curtains and several huge windows with moonlight streaming in, giving the space an even more mysterious look.

  Waiters and waitresses run around the room with heavy trays offering drinks and food, all while people chat with one another, some laughing, some frowning, while an oddly exciting energy of anticipation floats in the air.

  The little girl in me is thrilled at the prospect of attending a real ball, yet the woman is wary of all the unfamiliar settings.

  The butler waiting for me at the door bows, asking, “Invitation please.” But then he notices Arson behind me and grins, although fear flashes in his eyes. “Mr. Scott, what a nice surprise. Please come in.” He motions to the room, and I smooth the skirt of my silky strapless green dress that hugs my body perfectly, showcasing all my curves.

  After all, aren't we here to lure the victim into a trap?

  Thankfully, the skirt around my knees is loose enough for me to move freely.

  “Do not leave me under any circumstances,” Arson says for the hundredth time, and I roll my eyes, winking at him.

  “For a man who says he doesn’t repeat himself, you sure like to repeat that phrase a lot.”

  His eyes narrow and he opens his mouth, probably to remind me how he doesn’t like this plan anyway and wants to lock me inside some safe castle once he is done with his reven
ge, even though he calls it payback—but what’s the difference?

  After we spent hours making love in every way possible, my body still shivers from the memories alone. Arson finally told me everything, and my heart broke into tiny pieces all over again, especially when he shared with me his years of captivity.

  No child or human should be subjected to such cruelty, and it explained, if not justified, his actions. And I don't think it's my place to point out to him how to deal with the demons inside him.

  Part of loving him is accepting his darkness that will never go away, because it kept him sane during the most difficult times of his life. Men like him don’t ever turn their back on someone or something that saved them, and arguing it is impossible.

  As long as he doesn’t kill innocent people, I can live with this. For most people, the crimes he commits are hideous regardless of his past, and they can’t imagine loving a monster like him.

  But then I’m not normal, am I?

  The story about the boy who used to be his friend but then killed all the whores and turned his back on Arson still doesn’t add up for me, but whenever I ask for clarification, he doesn’t want to discuss it.

  Why does he think he had anything to do with it anyway? He has no proof besides some gut feeling that Caspian is responsible for it.

  I sigh inwardly at the name, the memories of another Caspian who used to be my friend, yet he failed on his promise, pops in my head and I wonder if he managed to escape on that day. Or maybe Pastor just killed them all and never shared this tidbit of information with anyone?

  Or the boy who always protected me as a child ended up being so cruel he gave up on me all together and lives a carefree life somewhere?

  A fleeting thought nags on my mind, reaching for something but not quite grabbing it, and a headache starts to form, demanding I figure out something that’s right under my nose.

  Arson cups my cheek, lifting my chin up so his concerned silver pools come into view. “Are you all right?”

  I smile and press my cheek to his palm, reassuring him. “Yep. So where is this man you need to introduce me to?” Instantly, anger replaces the concern; his body tenses, and he takes a deep breath, probably so he won’t drag me outside far away from here.