Saxon’s Distortion by C.A. Rene

Saxon

This is the most boring part of my job, sitting in my car, and watching my targets play house. Most of my soon to be victims are exciting, they take me on an adventure when I’m watching them, but these two teachers? Boring old ass men. Not for the first time, I’m doubting the information my mother told me. If she were here with me, she’d say to be patient, and no matter how calm the surface of the ocean looks, underneath is filled with strong currents. So, I wait.

Time moves slowly and after twelve hours of surveillance, something finally stands out. It’s not much, but it’s something that niggles at my mind. Mr. O’Connor and Mr. Pratt are standing outside of the school, long past the end of the day, and are talking to a male student. This wouldn’t stand out as odd to anyone, but after living and breathing in the Pedophile Eradication Unit of Black Slaughter Incorporated, that’s a red flag. Damn, that sounds legit. I read all three of their body languages and notice with the slight slump of the student’s shoulders, he’s feeling defeated. The teachers stand on either side of him, both taller, and both intimidating. Mr. O’Connor bends slightly at the waist and whispers into the student’s ear. Alarm bells ring as the student gives a quick nod, then quickly heads to his vehicle, his head down the entire way. Definitely suspicious.

I follow behind the teachers to their house, they drive an old Volkswagen SUV, and they live in a corner unit town home. Downtown Toronto is not cheap, the home is worth three quarters of a million dollars at least, a little too high-end for a teacher’s salary. I park right across from their home as they turn into the driveway, and both get out of the vehicle. It’s fucking sad how unobservant most of the world’s population is. Honestly, if these guys are out here seducing students and coercing them into sexual relationships, wouldn’t they have enough sense to watch their fucking backs? It’s aggravating.

The sun begins to set, and I’ve sunken down into my seat, listening to talk radio. There’s a sound of a car engine coming up the street and I peer over the steering wheel to see the car belonging to the student from earlier, pulling into the teachers’ driveway. After hours at home visits aren’t allowed with any school board I know, so it must be something not pertaining to school. Which is a big no-no.

The kid gets out of the car, and he at least has the common sense to look around at his surroundings, he stares at my car for a beat too long, but I know he can’t see shit through my tinted windows. He rushes up the front steps and knocks on the door, looking at my car again over his shoulder. So fucking suspicious.

Forty-five minutes later and the kid comes out of the house. Outwardly to the human eye, he looks the same. But he’s not. He’s walking slower, his mouth is downcast, and his eyes are red rimmed. Either he went in the house and consented to smoking a huge J, or he’s been crying. He rubs the back of his hand along his nose as he gets into his car and my head hits the back of my seat, he’s been crying. He pulls out of the driveway, and I start up my car, time to figure out what happened in that house.

I follow the kid home and home to him is a run-down house on the outskirts of Toronto. Not a great neighbourhood. I park a few houses down and walk up to him quickly, cutting him off before he gets to his front door.

“Bro,” I call out and he stops to look at me, his brows crashing to the center. “We need to talk.”

He gives me a once over then shakes his head, “nah.”

Up close I can see he’s young, but he’s hardened. His skin is the colour of sand, naturally a light tan and his eyes are nearly black. Sad pits of black. His hair is shaved and he’s sporting some large bags under his eyes. Stress can keep sleep at bay and when I look at him, really look at him, I can sense just how anxious he is.

“Listen, I saw you at Mr. O’Connor’s house.”

“The fuck?” He straightens and his mouth curls up at the corner, “are you following me?”

“No.” I grin, “I’m following them, they tried some shady shit on my sister a few years ago.”

“Shady how?” he’s softening.

“He taught at her high school, seduced her, and then tried to corner her into a threesome with his partner.”

“Was she failing?” Anger washes through me and knowing they’re probably blackmailing him with a failing grade makes torture look more and more appealing.

“No,” I shake my head, “she didn’t require blackmail.” Yeah, I just admitted that my sister used to be a bit on the whorish side. “But she finally came to her senses when they tried to corner her.”

“I can’t fail,” he swallows down hard, “my parents already have so much going on and trying to make ends meet.”

“I get it.” I nod, “but get a tutor, or someone in your class.”

“But Mr. Pratt said…” he trails off and looks back toward his house.

“What if I let you in on a secret?” I lean into him, “Mr. Pratt and Mr. O’Connor have someone dangerous watching them, someone they wronged as well.”

“Really?” He stands up a bit straighter, “who?”

“I can’t give out names but he’s waiting for my report, unfortunately, I haven’t seen anything bad happen, so he’ll probably just leave them alone, there’s no proof.”

“They’re fucking rapists.” The kid growls, and my stomach turns sour.

“How would you know that?” I know the answer and really, I should leave here right now with the assurance they’ll be leaving him alone from this night on, but I need confirmation. Black Slaughter doesn’t make mistakes.

“They told me I had to… do shit with them to pass and I did.” He bites into his bottom lip to stop the trembling of his chin, and I give him a single nod.

“It’ll never happen again, get inside and study, okay?”

His eyes begin to fill as he nods and rushes up to his front door. Now, my insides are quaking with rage and thankfully I brought my face paint with me. I wasn’t planning on getting messy tonight but after that, this can’t wait.

It’s three in the morning when I begin my walk down the side of their house and into the backyard. It’s quiet here at night, no cop’s sirens, and no neighbours screaming into the night. Nice wholesome quietness. It reminds me of Whitsborough, and we all know what it’s like there. The gate creaks as I push open the wooden slats and pause as the noise reverberates into the night around me. I would much rather not have them awake inside, both men look fit, and don’t want to have to fight them at the same time.

They don’t have security cameras, but they do have a sliding patio door back here and they’re always easier to break into. Plus, I don’t want neighbours looking out and seeing a man with a skeletal face breaking into the front door of a house. That’s certainly cause for alarm.

Their backyard is pretty bare and probably due to the fact they’re new here to the neighbourhood. The deck is very small, and they don’t have curtains on the sliding door. My family has a penchant for kitchen sex, we have black-out blinds for that reason alone. I grab the handle of the door and the end of the pane of glass, lifting as I push it to the right. It takes a little jigging, but the door comes away with a little squeak. I step inside the room and close the door behind me, remaining still and listening.

I begin to move through the space quickly but paying attention to the layout and what could potentially get in the way. I find the stairs near the front of the house and slowly ascend, a few of them creak but I get to the top landing without trouble. A tap turns on and I’m frozen to the spot, looking in the direction of the noise. There’s a slight glow under a door and I know it’s a bathroom. One of them is inside.

Moving quickly, I stand outside of the door and when it opens, I shove them back in with me, closing it behind my back.

“What the fuck?” Mr. Pratt stands in front of me and begins to rub his eyes. To further disorient him, I turn on the bright vanity lights, blinding him momentarily. He’s completely nude and the sight of his rape stick pisses me off.

“Pratt,” I shove him down on the toilet. The lid and the seat are up, so his ass falls all the way in with a splash. “Oh fuck, that’s gross.” I crinkle my nose but he’s staring wide-eyed at my face. Right, the face paint.

“What are you doing in my house?” he tries to get out of the fucking toilet.

I give him a hard slap across the face and shove his ass back into the fucking toilet, “you and your boyfriend were warned, and you didn’t listen. I was sent to give you a new message.”

“What are you talking about?” He sputters.

“Whitsborough.”

With that, his eyes widen further, and he goes into a panic. He begins to scream for his partner but my fist to his mouth shuts him up real quick.

I grab some toilet paper off the roll and stuff it into his bleeding mouth, laughing when he gags from the dry intrusion.

“I know you’re both raping students and blackmailing them to do it.” I punch him again and his head flies back, hitting the tiled wall behind him. “I know you tried to pull the same shit with my sister, only she was lucky to have our aunt paying close attention.”

His eyes flash with anger and his right fist comes up, preparing to hit me. I grab it and give it a sharp twist, hearing the tell-tale snaps of bones breaking. He howls through the toilet paper jammed down his throat but even though it’s muffled, it’s still loud. It won’t be long until the other asshole comes looking for the source of commotion.

Pratt’s other hand comes up to pull the toilet paper out of his mouth and I feel a rush of anger, I’m done fucking playing. I grab that one and lay it on the laminate counter while he struggles, then my knife is through his flesh. I slam the blade down and into the laminate as he screams around the tissue. He tries to stand up but loses his footing and drops back down into the toilet with a splash.

“I bet your balls are shrivelled like a pack of raisins right now, huh?” I chuckle. “I hope you were shitting before this. A little poopy water never hurt a ball sack.” He’s moaning and crying now, “I really hate that poopy backsplash, ya know what I mean? When the log hits the toilet water, and you get that after spray?” I shudder and twist the blade a bit, watching as his blood runs over and drips to the floor. “That’s the worst feeling, but being submerged can’t be all bad? Like a scrotum bath.”

He’s mumbling around the tissue in his mouth, tears coursing down his cheeks, and blood running from his hand. He’s a fucking mess, and when he lifts his broken one, the fucking thing is turning a dark shade of purple.

“You’re a fucking mess right now.” I whistle, “there’s beauty in torture,” I lean against the counter and fiddle with the knife through his hand. “The rich red of blood, how the skin colours with a bruise, and how pain makes a person scream in melody. I take pleasure in all of it.”

He’s on the verge of passing out, his eyes rolling around in their sockets, and his wails are becoming sporadic moans. It’s fucking annoying not one of these despicable criminals want to stick around and hear my lectures. I yank out the knife from his hand and it slips off the counter, hitting the side of the toilet with a wet thunk. His eyes are closed, and his chest is moving slowly, his breaths coming in short. It’s fine, I’m content with what I inflicted on him, and anyway, I’m waiting for the bigger fish down the hall.

The sun is starting to rise outside as I run my blade along Pratt’s throat, the blood pulses out in thick waves, and then I sit on the edge of the bathtub. I could make this easy and go kill the other fucker while he sleeps, but like I said, there’s beauty in torture. I want to see his reaction when he finds his partner folded into the toilet like a Jack in the Box and how pretty his skin looks coated in red. I want to see his appreciation for the hard work put into my recent masterpiece.

It’s two hours later when there’s creaking of floorboards coming from down the hall. Thankfully, I don’t sleep much or else I would’ve missed the warning. He’s quiet as he makes his way down the corridor, his footsteps slow and light.

“Babe?” O’Connor calls out and I slip my gloves back on. Showtime.

I stay at my spot on the edge of the tub behind the door as it slowly swings open. I hear his quick intake of breath and then he’s rushing forward, grabbing Pratt’s face in his hands.

“Oh my God,” he whines and touches his fingers to the blood coagulated at his neck. “What happened? Oh God.”

“I happened.” He turns toward me with a scream. “My mother says I more than happened. When I was born, my big-ass head earned her a few stitches. Gross, right?”

“Who are you?” He stumbles back against the counter and his hand lands in his lover's blood pooled there. “What did you do?”

“First, I pushed him, and he ended up folded into the toilet like fucking Houdini. It’s not my fault he has no washroom manners and left the seat up. His ball sack is probably shrivelled up into his asshole by now.” I shrug.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to his mouth and the blood hits his cheek, making him gag.

“Dead human has the worst decaying scent. Like roadkill that’s been in the sun too long, only it’s not in the sun or on the road, ya know? It’s weird. I think I went easy on him, considering what you both have been up to. I should have cut his sack off and played badminton with it.” I motion like I’m holding a racket and swing.

“I’m calling the cops.” He cries out and tries to run from the washroom. He’s too slow because I’m up to my feet with his hair clenched in my fist, dragging him back before he even makes it past the threshold.

“Calling the cops?” I laugh, the sound dry and sarcastic, “only if it’s to turn yourself in, you fucking child rapist.” I growl into his ear and when he begins to struggle, it makes me laugh. “Thank God the stronger one of you two got himself stuck in a fucking toilet; you, I can handle.” I shove his head forward so he’s eye to eye with his dead boyfriend, “get a good look at where raping children gets you. I believe you were warned by my mother, why did you come back?”

“Mrs. Greene?” He gasps as he continues to struggle. His hand grabs onto my sweater and I curse, slamming his head into his dead boyfriend’s. The sound is similar to a pot roast being thrown at the wall. Don’t worry about how I know that, I experimented a lot as a kid. He moans and then begins to sob, Pratt’s head looks fucking hard, I’d cry too.

“Yes, Mrs. Greene.” I snap and haul him up, only to throw him into the tub. The back of his head hits the wall, and he slides down, leaving a trail of blood behind it. “Why the fuck did you come back?”

“We should’ve never been driven out of our home. You guys have no proof.”

“I think Ivy was proof enough, but so was the kid who came out of your house earlier, him and I had a talk.” I cross my arms over my chest. He reaches behind his head and presses his fingers to the injury.

“Ivy wanted it; she was practically begging for it.” He sneers.

My leg kicks out and my boot connects with his face, another crunch of bone sounding so satisfying. I bend down over the tub as his eyes begin to roll into his head, “only I can call my sister a whore!” I snap and slap him across his bloody face.

He moans and his head drops as he passes out. I begin to feel the tell-tale signs of exhaustion working its way through my muscles and I grab his hair to lift his head, exposing his neck to me. I stab my knife into it multiple times and let him go, his blood running down the drain. I can’t believe he had the nerve to call Ivy a whore! She’s reformed and almost married, trying to reproduce offspring with our fucked-up genes.

I scoop up some blood and begin to hum as I paint my final masterpiece on the shower tiles. My half skull image with a bleeding eye socket. I have a narcissistic need to have people recognize my work. It’s a difficult job working in pest control, and I am fucking good at it, would go as far as to say the best so far. I’m finalizing my finger painting on the wall when the bang of the patio door downstairs halts me. What the fuck? No one else lives here.

With my knife in my hand, I walk out of the bathroom slowly, and close the door behind me. I stand still, listening for any noise and when I hear nothing, proceed down the stairs. The house is eerily quiet, and I begin to wonder if I’m hearing things. When I get to the bottom floor, I find the front door still shut and locked, so I head to the kitchen. The last of the night’s darkness is being swept away with the rising sun, so when I step into the kitchen, it's alight with sunlight. It’s reflecting off the clean countertops and stainless-steel appliances, but that’s not what has my attention. It’s the writing left on the glass patio door, done in what looks to be chocolate syrup.

Amelia

I’m sitting in the parking lot of my mom’s gym once again and waiting for Saxon to get here. He messaged me earlier and said tonight was lesson number two and I agreed. I need the training so I can protect myself and Cory.

Being here again and waiting for Saxon is bringing back memories of the last ‘training session’ and even though I promised myself and my brother it would never happen again, I’m also kind of hoping it does. Does that make me bisexual? I always identified as a lesbian, but Saxon is proving that incorrect. I hear the rumble of his bike before seeing it, and my heart does a flip in my chest. He pulls into the parking lot and rides right up to my side of the car, his visored helmet looking in through my window. He has this quiet confidence about him, and it oozes out of every pore. He has no idea just how sexually attractive he is, or if he does, he doesn’t flaunt it. Another thing I’m starting to like about my childhood friend.

He drops the kickstand and turns off the bike, then lifts his helmet off his head. He turns to look at me again with a small grin on his mouth and my heart does that flipping shit again. When did Saxon become this attractive? My thighs squeeze together to stave off the growing warmth between them, this is going to end up exactly how the first session went, I’m sure of it. I get out of the car, and he swings his leg over the bike, coming to stand in front of me. His green eyes roam all over my face and without warning, he has me trapped between his body and my car.

“Hi Melly,” he says softly, his mouth an inch from mine. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” I scoff but my eyes stay fixed on his.

“No?” His fingers brush the apex of my thighs and the sensation shoots straight through the leggings and panties, making my core pulse. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I moan softly and his tongue snakes out to flick against my bottom lip.

“Good,” he pushes off my car and strides for the gym’s door, “we can’t be distracted tonight.”

I blink myself out of my lust induced fog and growl with frustration, how does he do that? I stomp up to him and shoulder him out of the way, pulling the keys out of my hoodie pocket. He snickers behind me, and I grit my teeth, my lips flattening with irritation. Maybe this is what he wants, he wants to piss me off, and therefore I’ll be more apt to kick his ass. He’s not fucking wrong.

I open the door and motion for him to go first. My heart is racing with anger, and I can feel my face reddening from embarrassment. He walks with an exaggerated swagger, like he knows he’s hot shit, and no matter what anyone thinks, he’ll remain hot shit. Before he has a chance to take off his leather jacket, I jump on his back and wrap an arm around his neck, the other going up the side of his head. A classic sleeper hold, or at least I think it is, I researched it on the internet. His loud grunt has my face breaking out into a huge smile, fucking got him, until his hand snags into my hair. He yanks on the strands and the pain has me momentarily loosening my hold, then I’m flying through the air.

My back hits the mat with a resounding thud, and the air is sucked out of my lungs in a loud whoosh. “Not bad.” He praises and the anger dissipates as pride rolls in its place.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, my only suggestion? Dig for the eyes or throat instead of a sleeper hold. You can be quickly overpowered and need to make the most impact in the short time you have.” He’s looking down at me, his face upside down.

“Okay,” I sit up with a groan. “What’s next?”

He sets his jacket on a nearby bench, the one he took my virginity against the last time, and he stands in front of me, cracking his neck. “See how I threw you over my shoulder using your weight as momentum?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what we’re doing tonight, that way, if someone does approach you from behind, you can dislodge them.” He motions for me to turn around.

My heartbeat quickens as I turn, and then it almost propels out of my chest when his warmth meets my back. He’s not even touching me and yet the moisture between my legs reacts as though he is.

“Concentrate.” He chastises me, and I grit my teeth at the arrogance of his tone.

“I am, you-” I’m cut off as an arm comes around my throat and the other around my waist. I bend forward, trying to use his weight to dislodge him but he’s so tall, his feet never leave the ground. He squeezes tighter and my throat begins to compress, breathing is becoming difficult. Panic begins to swarm my insides and my movements become frantic. When it feels like I’m on the verge of passing out, I’m released, and drop to my knees, sucking air into my lungs.

“Don’t let panic override your thoughts, the rapid breathing will make you lightheaded and you’ll feel like you can’t get enough oxygen.”

I slowly get to my feet and turn to glare at him, “you don’t have to nearly kill me to make a point.” I snarl.

“You’re lucky it’s nearly because if I was someone else,” he steps into me and brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear, “you’d be dead. Now be a good little girl,” he grabs my ass and drags me in against him, his hardening cock pressing into my stomach, “and I’ll reward you.” He punctuates it with a jut of his hips.

A good little girl? Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to? I lean back with a small smile and grunt when I lift my knee, aiming for his fucking balls. He jumps back at the last second with a laugh and shakes his head, “you’re so predictable, Melly. Now, turn around and get this move down.”

I bristle at his words, but turn around anyway, feeling him come up to my back again. “Keep your chin down toward your chest,” he murmurs into my ear, “that way I can’t get to your throat.” I do as he says and tense my body for his attack. His arms come around me again and this time I bend at the knees as I pitch forward. I grab onto the back of his shirt and push up on the balls of my feet, yanking him over my shoulder in the process. I let out a loud whoop as his back hits the mat and do a little victory dance.

It’s cut short when he gets up to his knees and hauls me down against him. “Good girl.” He praises and I lean into him, our mouths a hair’s breadth apart. “Such a good little girl.”

I should be pissed at the belittling praise but instead I’m panting, and my hand is grabbing onto the back of his head, forcing him into me. “So, reward me, asshole.” I growl just before his lips slam into mine.

We’re a frantic mix of tongue and teeth as we try to force ourselves closer. He tastes fucking heavenly, and I can’t seem to get enough. He yanks on my hair, forcing my head to the side, and opening me up to an angle leaving my mouth completely at his mercy. His other hand pushes up underneath my sweater, and I grin at the noise escaping his mouth when he discovers I’m not wearing a bra.

He grabs me by the chin and pulls me away from his mouth, “tell me you usually wear a fucking bra when you leave the house, and this is just to drive me crazy.”

“Maybe I just hate bras.” I smirk.

“Maybe you want to entice the wrong person with these plump swaying tits and get yourself killed.” His words both ignite a fire and fill me with apprehension, but I don’t have time to react as his hand comes up and grabs my throat. “Maybe, I need to leave a few marks on your skin, just so people know you belong to someone.”

“I don’t belong to you,” I snarl, and he laughs.

“I said to someone, not to me. If that were the case, I’d carve my fucking name into your forehead.” Then my sweater is up and over my head, hitting the floor. His hands wrap around the fullness of my breasts and his mouth surrounds a nipple, pulling a strangled cry from my mouth.

He pushes me down onto my back and I grab the back of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. My hand skims down over his chest and across his stomach, his muscles bunching in response. I hit the waistband of his track pants and pull them down, revealing his black boxer-briefs. He has a trail of dark hair from his belly button that extends down into his underwear I didn’t notice the first time, making my mouth water. I want to taste him.

“I want you in my mouth,” I whisper and palm his cock. He moans, slipping his thumb between my lips.

“That’s very straight of you.” He grins, and I roll my eyes.

He gets up on his knees and pushes down his underwear, not at all shy about what he’s packing. Not that he has to be and to be honest, I already knew it. I was sore for two days after he took my virginity. But the thing that shocks me speechless is the bar pierced through the top. He has his fucking dick pierced and the sight of it is making me crave it all the more.

I sit up and wrap my hand around him, moaning when his girth prevents my fingers from touching. Holy shit, I can’t believe this fit inside me. Before Saxon, I toyed around with vibrators, but never wanted a silicone dick inside of me, and I’m shocked at how visceral I’m feeling about the real thing. I dip forward and run my tongue along his wide head, flicking the tip against the bar. His groan comes from deep within and a wave of pride washes over me. I love that I can make him do that.

He jerks against my tongue and then I wrap my lips around his head. He curses under his breath and pumps his hips forward, forcing me to take a bit more. Once the tip hits the back of my throat, I gag and he moans again, pushing in even further. When he pulls out, I take a deep breath and he’s right back in, even further. I relax my jaw and my throat, swallowing around him. He tastes like soap and salt, a weird mixture but not a bad one. He pulls out completely and thumbs the saliva on my bottom lip.

“This mouth is so fucking hot,” he murmurs and then his fingers are pushing inside, hitting the back of my throat, and making me retch. “Fuck yes. How do you want it tonight? Do you want to ride me? Missionary? Same as last time?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head and moan as he pinches my nipple hard.

“Lie back,” his eyes soften, “we’ll take it easy tonight and do the fun stuff next time.”

My heart soars when he says next time and then it drops as guilt consumes me. Cory. She said she was jealous but accepted I wanted Saxon and even though I don’t need her permission, I feel bad. Saxon yanks down my leggings and his face settles between my thighs, embarrassment flooding me when he takes a deep breath. I squeeze my legs shut around his head, and he bites the inside of my thigh.

“Open up.” I let my knees fall open and he nestles back down, “good girl,” he breathes just before he spreads me open with his fingers and sucks me into his mouth. His tongue is hot as it rubs against my clit, and I gasp when he pushes it inside me. He’s being so thorough as he sucks and licks me from the back all the way to the front. “You taste so good.” He groans as he sucks my clit between his teeth and bites down.

I begin to tighten and my clit pulses, I can feel myself about to let go. “No, you don’t.” He backs away and crawls up my body, “I want you coming around my dick.” Then he’s lining himself up to my entrance and pushing inside. This time there’s a slight pinch but mostly, it feels amazing. I can feel him as he stretches me and that bar in the tip scrapes along a certain spot, causing my legs to shake in anticipation. This orgasm is going to be fucking epic.

“Look at me,” he grips my chin, “this isn’t some fucking chick with a strap-on, it’s the real fucking deal.” He growls and slams into me. I cry out from the force and whimper when he pulls out, only to do it again. “I want your cream all over this cock, do you hear me?”

I don’t know if it’s his voice, the deep tenor filled with authority, or if it’s the absence of pain making this more intense, but I fucking fly over the edge. I suck in a breath as stars explode behind my eyelids and when I’m about to exhale, Saxon’s hand is rough around my throat. He cuts off my air supply and the inability to draw in breath only lengthens my release. I’m shaking as the bar inside of me continues to hit that spot and I’m taken on a second wave just as he allows me to breathe.

“Twice, huh?” he chuckles and grabs a hold of my hips, angling me upwards. Then he’s picking up the pace and I’m becoming a whining mess as he slams into me, over and over. I’m starting to think I could go a third time just as he slams it home, his cock jerking inside of me and filling me with his cum. “Fuck, you feel so good, so fucking tight.” He moans through his release.

I think I’m beginning to become a little obsessed with Saxon and his magic dick.

There’s a loud crashing sound coming from the back of the gym and Saxon jumps up lightning fast, pulling his pants up with him.

“What was that?” I grab my leggings and haul them on, then pick up my hoodie.

“Did you lock the door behind us?” He looks over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” I think I did.

He grabs a large knife out of his jacket, and I stare at it wide-eyed. Why is Saxon carrying around a hunting knife? There’s another crash and then the alarm goes off for the emergency exit in the back. Saxon runs off and I find the men’s locker room door swinging open and shut. I step inside and flip the switch, tensing for an attack. But I’m alone. I look around the room and when my eyes meet the mirror, I realize at some point, we weren’t alone. There’s a message written into the glass with black ink.

Cordelia

The both of them come into the library, sharing similar grins, and Saxon is holding a tray with three coffees.

“Good morning, Librarian.” He winks at me and hands me a cup. “Black, like my soul.”

I snort and take the cup, “thank you.” I like that he texted me this morning and asked how I take my coffee, it felt intimate. It’s the first time I’ve let myself get close to a man and I’m not sure what it is about him, but I know he’s trustworthy. “How was the session last night?”

Amelia’s cheeks burn a bright red and she looks away as Saxon and I stare at her.

“She learned how to throw me over her shoulder,” he starts, “then she sucked my dick, and I fucked her hard.”

My mouth drops open just as Amelia screams his name and slaps his arm.

“Facts.” He winks at me and grins. I can’t help it, I begin to laugh, and it’s a genuine one working its way from the depths of my stomach. The sound is loud and atrocious, but I can’t hold it in, then they both join in when I let out a loud snort.

I’m jealous about sharing her with someone else, I can admit it. But, if it’s going to happen, I would rather it be him. I can trust him and that’s not something I do easily. I’ll get over their connection as soon as I find my place in this dynamic.

“That’s not all that happened,” Amelia mutters and I look between them, what more could there be? “Someone else was inside the gym with us.”

“What?” I choke on my coffee. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, those golden curls swaying around her shoulders.

“I’m being followed.” Saxon says matter of fact.

“Could it be the same person connected to the attacks?” I ask.

“I’ve thought of that, and just don’t know.” Saxon shrugs and sips his coffee. “They’re just watching for now and being creepy as fuck.” He looks from me to Amelia, “the person left us a message last night and I don’t like what it implied. So, I need you two to buddy up when I can’t be here.”

“Okay,” I nod, “what did the message say?”

“Basically, they want to fuck me next.” Amelia mutters and I gasp.

“They watched you?”

They both nod and even though I hate that it happened, I can see the appeal. I kind of want to watch them, too. I don’t know if Saxon can read minds, but he’s looking at me like just maybe he can with a knowing smirk on his face.

“From now on, no unnecessary outings, and you two stay together.” He turns to Amelia, “stay here until closing each night, and Cordelia, you make sure she gets inside the dorm.”

“Got it.” I nod.

“Did Emmett say anything about suspects?” Amelia asks Saxon and he shakes his head. “Damn.”

“They’re slippery.” He nods, then he turns to me. “I think the three of us should talk and since no one wants to come to the rapey library, maybe now’s a good time.”

“Saxon.” Amelia chastises, and I get the feeling this is a regular occurring thing.

“What did you want to talk about?” I take a sip of my coffee.

“Your traumatic past and what is happening with the three of us.”

I choke on my coffee and stare at Amelia in accusation. How could she take everything I told her and run to her friend with it?

“I didn’t say anything,” she shakes her head as Saxon clears his throat.

“Amelia didn’t need to tell me anything for me to see there’s trauma.” He says and leans forward, “you’re closed off around me, and I saw how you reacted to the men at the police station. On top of that, you have a victim’s mind and therefore knew to protect the rape victim instead of telling her story.”

“Good for you, you’re so observant.” I can’t help the sneer coating my tone.

He sits back in his chair and looks at me from the corner of his eye, “you don’t need to protect yourself from me. The last thing I want to do is cause you more pain. But I would like to get a better understanding of what you went through, so I know your boundaries.”

“For what?” I snicker, “I’m never fucking you; I don’t touch men.”

“You don’t have to fuck me,” he points to Amelia, “but she wants to, and we’ll continue to do so. You also want each other,” he swings his finger between me and Amelia, “so, in a weird roundabout way, we’re going to be connected.” He grins at me, “I don’t think I have to fuck you to be friends?”

Amelia looks earnest, she wants this. She wants him, she wants me, and she wants us.

I take a deep breath and exhale audibly, “I would like to be friends.” I nod, “I grew up in a cult that had a penchant for raping and impregnating young girls.” His coffee cup crinkles, and I see the whitening of his knuckles, “my parents were hippies who were lacking brain cells from all the LSD they took. They joined a cult and handed over their daughter.”

By the time I’m done, Saxon looks murderous, and Amelia looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Me? I feel numb and the retelling of my life story sounds almost clinical. I’ve survived it, it was a long time ago, and one day, I’ll find my closure. It’s why I’m here in Toronto after all, but they can never know that.

“Has there been anyone in here the last few days?” Saxon looks around the empty library and my heart squeezes.

“No.” I exhale, “not a soul. I don’t blame them, but all this knowledge is just going to waste.” I wave my hand gesturing to the aisles of books.

“I’m not too mad about it,” Amelia grins, “I’ve been studying in peace.”

I roll my eyes at her response and take another sip of my coffee.

“So, lock the doors and let’s get acquainted.” Saxon smirks at Amelia and me.

“Pardon?” He can’t mean what I think he means.

“Let’s have fun.” He has a twinkle in his eye, and I stare at Amelia in shock as she runs to do as he’s asked.

“I told you,” I say quietly, “I’m not fucking you.”

“And I heard you,” he leans forward, “so, hear me, we’re in this together, let’s make her happy, together.”

Instead of panic or disgust, a twinge of excitement begins, and I can’t hold back the smile beginning to take over my mouth.

“Together.” I repeat as Amelia comes back.

“Like a team,” he grins, and I can’t help but give him one back. “Amelia, take your clothes off.”

“What?” She stammers and looks between us.

“For someone with a high GPA, she really is a little slow, huh?” Saxon winks at me and I chuckle.

“Take your clothes off.” I reiterate to her, and her eyes widen.

She pulls her hoodie over her head and shakes her head, “this is how it’s going to be? You’re both going to gang up on me?”

Saxon stands and as he walks by me, he brushes his fingertips against the nape of my neck. Again, no disgust, just a wash of tingles down my spine.

“You talk too much,” he snarls and hauls her into him, his hand wrapping around her jaw. “Get the fucking clothes off.”

He’s rough with her but I can see her eyes darkening from here, she loves it, and I like watching it. Saxon looks at me over his shoulder and winks again.

“Take your clothes off, too.” When I raise my brow, he flashes me a stunning smile, “have you ever seen a puppet show, Cordelia?” I nod slowly and his smile widens, “let me work your strings.”

I like where his mind is going and even though it’s been many, many years since I’ve stripped in front of a man, I stand to do just that. No shame, no apprehension, just agonizing need coursing through me. I want him to manipulate us, just like a puppeteer. I undo the buttons on my dress and let it drop down to pool around my feet. Amelia’s moan of appreciation makes me chuckle.

I spend time on my lingerie, and when I do decide to wear underwear, it’s always matching pieces, and always extremely sexy. Today, I’m wearing a black lace bralette that hides nothing and a matching thong, and even though my body is riddled with scars, I maintain my physique. I’m proud of what I have at my age, especially after everything I’ve been through.

Amelia stands there, completely naked, and I take my time looking her over. She’s the definition of perfection. Her skin is like terracotta in the Tuscan sun, warm and tantalizing. Her breasts sit high on her chest, heavy and heaving, and her nipples are a dark shade of brown, making my mouth water. I want to wrap my lips around them. My eyes trail downward and over her stomach, taut and defined, then I clench a fist restraining myself from diving at her pussy and that delectable, cropped strip of hair.

“Cordelia,” she whines and flexes her firm thighs, “stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re gorgeous,” I step toward her.

“So, are you,” she whispers, her eyes roving over me as well.

“But she’s not naked yet like I asked,” Saxon moves behind Amelia and brushes her curls off her shoulder, “should we punish her?” His grin is ominous as it lands against Amelia’s throat, “what should we do to teach her a lesson, Melly?”

“I don’t know,” she moans as his tongue strokes along her jugular, her head tipping back.

“I have an idea.” He’s grinning again and I’m growing damp, “I think Cordelia likes to watch. What do you think?”

“Yes.” She breathes and her hooded brown eyes find mine. “I think so, too.”

I am not actually sure I like to watch, it’s not something I’ve ever done, willingly anyway. When Bruce would succumb to his rage, he liked to rape a few girls in front of me, that’s the extent of my watching. But the way Saxon says it, makes it sound scandalous and intriguing, it’s certainly making me want to watch them together.

His hand comes around her waist and his finger dips into her belly button, making her back arch. I get a quick peek of her pussy before he pulls her back into him, then his hand trails down over her stomach, landing on top of her pussy.

“Do you want to see it, Cordelia?” He taunts as his first finger disappears between her thighs, “fuck, she’s soaked.”

A moan escapes my lips before I can hold it back and I curl my lips between my teeth, biting down hard.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “you want to see her wet pussy? What about how it looks as I finger her?” Another finger disappears between her thighs and Amelia gasps. “I’ll let you look, but you can’t touch her… or yourself. Not until I tell you, you can. Now, take your fucking clothes off, Cordelia. Or you won’t get to touch at all.”

I like that he’s not taking it easy on me, even after learning about my past, and I respect him all the more that he’s treating me no different. So, I obey and slip my thong down my legs, kicking it off. Then I reach behind my back and release my bra, his eyes devouring me. I don’t feel uncomfortable, in fact, I feel sexy and wanted.

“Fuck,” Amelia hisses as she takes in my body, “Fuck, Cory.”

“Soon.” Saxon whispers, then guides her to my desk. “Hop up and spread those thighs for Cory.” She does as she’s told and when her legs part, my hand finds the table beside me. I need something to lean on or I’m going to drop to my knees. “Pretty pussy, huh?” Saxon snickers at my reaction. “She’s so fucking tight, too.”

His fingers spread her pussy lips apart and I can see how wet she is, it’s nearly dripping onto my desk. He flicks her hardened clit and Amelia nearly jerks off my desk as she whimpers.

“She’s so ready for me,” Saxon leans in and kisses her cheek, “do you see that, Cordelia?” I nod but his head is in her hair, “answer me.” He demands.

“Yes.” A single word comes out strangled and pained.

He looks over at me with a smile, taking pleasure from my obvious pain. Then he’s sinking two fingers inside of her and his knuckles slowly disappear, until he’s all the way inside.

“So tight,” he murmurs as he begins to pump in and out of her. I can hear her juices as her pussy clenches. His thumb lands on her clit and her head tips back, her hands landing on the desk behind her. He begins rubbing slow circles and her hips buck against him. “Tell her she’s not allowed to come, Cordelia.”

My mouth opens, and a moan escapes instead. I clear my throat and try again, “do not come, Amelia.” I sound wanton and breathless.

“I can’t…” she heaves on the desk, “I can’t help it.”

Then she’s clenching around Saxon’s thrusting fingers, her come dripping off his hand, and her chest heaving as she finds her bliss.

“Bad girl.” Saxon tsks. “Now you need to be punished.” He pulls his fingers out and Amelia whimpers with the loss, but she isn’t paying attention to what he’s saying. “Come here, Cordelia.” He beckons me and I rush forward, eager to be near her. He grabs my wrist and guides my hand between her legs, “she was a bad girl, but doesn’t she feel so good?” I nod as my fingers glide through her wetness.

Saxon pulls my hand away and places a wooden ruler in its palm. I stare down at it and then up to his sinister smile. I grip it in my fist and continue to stare at it. What am I supposed to do with this?

“Off.” He orders Amelia and she gingerly steps down from the desk, her lustful eyes on mine. He turns her around and forces her to bend over my desk, now it all becomes clear. “Spank her, Cordelia.” I hesitate, not liking the idea of inflicting pain. “If you do, I’ll let you taste her and I promise, after this, she’ll be so fucking juicy.”

His words put me in some kind of trance, and I tunnel through a single thought, tasting her. I run the flat side of the ruler along her ass cheek, and she wiggles a bit, her plump ass rippling with the motion. I want to see it reddened. I slap the ruler against her flesh and her breath comes out of her in a loud exhale. Saxon’s hand runs down over her stinging flesh, and she whimpers with the touch.

“How many should we give her, Cordelia?” He continues to rub the pink line.

“Three.” Immediately comes from my mouth as I slap the wooden stick against my palm. “We should give her three.” This isn’t just punishment for today, but for all the times she’s been naughty.

“Sounds good to me.” We give each other matching smirks. His hand moves and I slap the ruler down onto her ass cheeks again, making her cry out. “Let’s see how wet she is, this naughty girl.” He pushes her thighs apart and spreads her open, her pussy lips glistening with her arousal. “Look at that.” He breathes and I can’t fucking look away. “One more, Cordelia.” His finger brushes against her clit. “Right here.”

I don’t hesitate as I slap the flattened side of the ruler against her clit. She screams out but it’s not a scream of pain, she’s on the verge of coming again and this time I want to taste her while she does. I let the ruler crash at my feet and then drop to my knees, coming face to face with her reddened pussy.

“Go on,” Saxon urges, “taste her and tell me exactly what it’s like.”

I dive into her folds, my tongue seeking her entrance, and plowing inside. She cries out again, and I begin to thrust my tongue in and out. Saxon’s hand is under my chin, and he rubs her clit, I like him there. While his thumb rubs her clit, his fingers run along under my chin, collecting my spit and Amelia’s juices. I feel her tighten and then she’s screaming my name and Saxon’s name as she comes around my tongue. She tastes amazing and I lap it up completely. Finally, I pull away and look up at Saxon, watching as he pops his wet fingers in his mouth. He sucks them audibly and moans.

“So good.” He nods, and I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. “What do you think, Cordelia?” He bends so we’re face to face, “how good does she taste?”

“Come find out.” I whisper and drag him into me. I drag my tongue along his lips, and he opens his mouth with a chuckle. My mouth and chin are saturated with her release, so he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and runs his tongue along my chin.

“So good.” He nods.