That Sik Luv

Briony

“Rip her shirt open,” Aero’s rough voice demands from his seat.

Saint does as he’s told, grabbing the edge and ripping open my uniformed shirt. Buttons scatter, exposing my white bra, the mounds of breasts nearly slipping over the tightly bound lace. My lip quivers as I blow out a breath, awaiting the next command while I cycle through the knowledge I’ve recently come upon, trying to make sense of everything.

The church tried to end me. Not once. Twice. Aero has killed men meant to harm me, his blackmail having forced me to rely solely on him while he made it his mission to force me to witness the bishop’s sexual assault of a child, exposing the truth of the men who proclaim their holiness.

Aero may have a heart full of vengeance over his own losses, but what of mine? I don’t even know where my story begins. A past, like his, torn and twisted for someone else’s benefit. My story gives me the strength I need. For myself and no one else.

The only thing I can’t stop questioning is where Saint lies in all of this.

“Pull down that flimsy bra.”

I raise my chin, the restraints pulling tight as I offer my chest up to him. Saint’s fingers fumble, gripping the lace and peeling the cotton cups down to expose my bare breasts. The straps are snug against my shoulders, the pressure of the bra beneath my breasts squeezing them tightly. My nipples harden in the cool air of the room as two sets of eyes focus on them.

I feel cheap. Worthless. An object to be used for sexual satisfaction alone, and yet, there’s an immense power lining that. It’s everything I’ve become thirsty for. Quenching the dark parts of myself I’d never have discovered had it not been for Aero. He quite literally trained me for this moment.

Slowly, Saint’s tongue drags across his bottom lip before he closes his eyes tightly, probably mentally scolding himself for looking.

“Lift her skirt and tear those useless fucking panties.”

Saint sighs. He’s given up entirely, doing whatever he needs to ensure he meets the demands of the man in control. Aero’s entirely in his head, manipulating him.

He does as he’s told, ripping the soiled underwear near my hip, dragging it down my free leg, and tossing it to the side. It brushes past my clit, and the air sweeps against my wet center. I don’t want to enjoy this, but that disturbing sexual side of myself is resurfacing.

Unsure of where this is going next, I stare up at Saint above me, gauging him for some sort of reaction. I feel his indifference. It appears he isn’t sure who to trust either as he pushes my skirt up my abdomen, eyeing my center again like a lost desert man thirsting for a drink.

“Grab the crucifix from the wall.” Aero’s tone is dark and demanding.

Saint’s eyes widen slightly as he turns his gaze to Aero in disbelief. My pulse rages in my neck, the heavy thumping nearly drowning out my hearing.

He can’t be serious.

I peer at Aero in the corner, shooting him a glare at the dishonorable demand, but his eyes are focused on Saint, studying his hands and his actions like a hawk as he grabs the crucifix from its place on my wall.

He’s a ruthless madman. The symbolic nature of the cross means nothing to him. Just another foreign object with an unnecessary weight of useless meaning attached to it, just like organized religion.

My heart breaks in my chest as I gaze desperately into his eyes, wishing they’d focus on mine. Wishing that the man who began accepting my gentle love and embrace, the man who said what we had together was everything, the man that would rather die than live in a world without his little doll, would reappear. Tears flood my eyes at his distant presence as Saint hovers over my tied body, the crucifix in hand.

“Trail her body, using your God to touch her in all her achingly deceitful places,” Aero instructs, his tone entirely indifferent. “Cleanse her of the filth she’s ultimately succumbed to.”

Another loophole. Clever plan from an all too clever man.

“A cleansing,” Saint whispers to himself, vacant in his gaze.

He trails the black metal cross down my neck with agonizing slowness. The cold, smooth metal makes a tingly trail of goosebumps surface along the center of my chest and between my breasts, and Saint’s eyes drink me in. The cross trails down my abdomen, finding my navel, where he circles it softly. My body ignites like wildfire stemming from the base of my spine at the idea of the crude act Aero is having him commit.

“The dirty bitch loves it,” Aero comments, making my clit hum in regretful approval.

I hate that I love the filth that he spews. I hate that he owns my body with his degradation. It comes to life with his sick and twisted words. He makes me feel filthy and deranged, hating myself for embracing the pleasure that comes with his type of love.

Tears run down my face as I fight the sensations, angry at myself for a lifetime of fighting the urges that are entirely natural to me. I’m a human, run by hormones with a mind that constantly screams at me, telling me it’s wrong. It’s wrong to feel pleasure.

But said pleasure outweighs my mind as my body primes itself for more. The sensations become uncontrolled and insatiable as I lie tied down at their mercy. The need to feed my urges, never more present, because I’ve become immune to the voices that once screamed impurity.

That sick love is the kind I now inevitably crave.

Saint brushes the end of the six-inch, rounded cross against my clit and my hips lift off the bed, my body pulling against my restraints as a strangled moan leaves my throat.

“There she is,” Aero hums from afar. “My mad little minx. Coming to life again, are we?”

I peer into the dark corner at him, and demonic eyes find mine. His hand is gripping and releasing the gun methodically, as if to calm himself.

He’s calming himself.

Calming himself from the jealous rage burning within him.

Even the slightest sight of something so confirming helps me to relax into this, knowing I haven’t lost him to the darkness entirely.

Saint continues working the end of the cool metal against my slit, gazing into my eyes, gauging my reaction as his breathing changes.

I shouldn’t be turned on. This shouldn’t have my lower abdomen tightening and my mouth watering for more. I shouldn’t be enjoying something so horrifically vile and demeaning. But I am.

“Nice gentle circles, just like that,” Aero instructs as Saint’s eyes connect with mine. “Gets her willing to part those whorish thighs, opening that sweet, sloppy cunt every time.”

I throw my head back as the metal rolls over my clit again, the torture, tease, and inability to touch myself at his dirty words, sending me spiraling as my man looks on from afar. Tightly bound ecstasy builds beneath my flesh and begs for release.

Saint leans forward and licks a stray tear that’s unknowingly rolled down my cheek. His forehead rests against me before his lips brush against mine, almost more for his own pleasure, while his wrist rotates expertly, pleasing me with the tip of the cross.

Aero stands abruptly, his arm straightened, pointing the gun at Saint’s back. “Don’t you fucking kiss her!”

My stomach tightens and my pussy clenches at the sudden jealous outburst, filling me with dirty desire while simultaneously fearing for my life. Two sides of the very same coin. Two emotions, arousal and fear, so deeply intertwined into my sexual being like the thorny vines of my bloomed rose.

Saint stalls at the outburst before continuing to roll the crucifix slowly over my bundle of nerves again. I feel the feathering of his breath over my lips, and the sensation warms me.

Licking my lips, my hips roll forward of their own accord, somehow seeking that brief flash of pleasure I desperately crave.

“You want him to fuck you with it, baby?” Aero asks from his position against the wall, his head tipped back as he watches us through his lashes. “You need that dirty little cunt filled with something, don’t you? Where’s the shame, huh?”

Aero’s dark jeans showcase the massive bulge from his erection straining against the fabric at the show before him, even if the idea displeases him. Saint swells against my thigh, reluctantly enjoying this, too, and I’m wet and eager as hell from the entire twisted interaction.

“Do it,” he demands through gritted teeth. “Slide it into her wet little pussy.”

Saint rests the tip of the crucifix against my aching hole, slowly pushing it in as my hips open wide and my gaze locks on Aero. Another blissful tear falls down my face and I groan deeply, feeling myself tighten around the symbol of faith. He narrows his eyes to slits, shaking his head at me once.

A warning not to enjoy this? An order not to break? I can’t be sure.

But sensations are building out of my control. The feeling of being tied up so disturbingly brutal while gentle caresses flick against my swollen clit builds that sinful ache for this penetration. It doesn’t help that both men are painfully hard and ready to burst alongside me.

“Does it feel okay?” Saint whispers, still hovering above me, his eyes glossed over with a disturbing look of lust.

His sentiments send me whirling again, unable to process his true intentions.

I lick my lips, attempting to clear my head. “Yeah. Yeah, it feels…” I swallow, careful of my words, knowing Aero is listening closely. “It doesn’t hurt,” I reply breathlessly.

“Good girl, Briony,” Aero interrupts from afar, cocking his gun. “Take your punishments like the slut you are.” He runs his thumb across his bottom lip with his other hand as he watches me take the cross. “Now pull her hair,” he instructs.

Saint grips my hair from under me and pulls gently, tipping my head back. But it’s not good enough for him.

“Harder!” Aero screams, and we both flinch. “Pull her fucking hair and make it hurt!”

He tightens his hold, yanking it roughly, causing me to cry out and my bare breasts to bounce between us as my back arches. Heat throbs between my thighs at the ruthlessness. Saint muffles his groan by biting his bottom lip, pressing his hips into me, his hungry cock rubbing roughly against my thigh beneath his slacks.

“Fuck her with your symbol of faith,” Aero demands, the anger rising in his once monotone and steady voice. “Take her filth from her like the vile little sinner she is, then smear her face with it.”

Saint listens to his words, allowing them to penetrate his mind. His eyes harden, and the once soft and sympathetic gaze shifts into something much more defiant. Something much darker. Something with a purpose.

“Punish her for enjoying this when she shouldn’t.”

Loophole.

Saint stares down at my exposed flesh, eyes dilated and wild as he pushes the rounded end of the crucifix deeper into my slick center, my pussy craving something thicker to fill me as it tightens and contracts around the bulbous tip of the foreign object. My lips part and a husky moan escapes me when his fingers run from where the end of the cross disappears up to my swollen clit, smearing my arousal.

Don’t come. Please, don’t come. I grit my molars, warding off the pleasure.

“This wanton whore, just pleading for more with her moans.” He scoffs. “She’s enjoying this.” Aero warns, his head tipped back against the wall with a dangerous look in his gaze, his lips tight with fury. “Don’t let her gain any satisfaction from it. This is taking.”

Saint’s jaw clenches.

“Lewd and lascivious. She’s been offering herself up for the elders. Persuading their sexual desires with her tight little body, making them succumb to their demons,” Aero continues. “Punish her. Punish her for taking their purity like the little deviless she is.”

He’s feeding Saint the same mind-fucks that were fed to him, utilizing redemption as a form of justifying the sexual abuse.

Anger rises in Saint’s neck, the redness spreading to his cheeks as his crystal blue eyes glare in disbelief, almost hypnotized by the masked man in the corner. He reaches his shaking hand up and grips my breast, his fingers gliding along my nipple and pulling the sensitive flesh until it stretches out painfully before he releases it. I gasp loudly as the other aches for that same torture almost immediately.

“She’s been defying the institution. Working her way into the crevices to solidify her place among you, only to tear you down from the inside.”

Saint’s neck holds nothing but tension as he slaps my breast at Aero’s command. I cry out, making the sound echo throughout the room. His brows lower and he breathes hard through his nostrils before madness takes him and he grips my breast in his palm. Leaning down, he takes me into his mouth.

Aero watches with a rabid expression. Fiery anger beneath the surface of a man trained to be cool and collected. He wants nothing more than to murder this man before him. I can just barely see the shadow of chaotic rage beneath his expression.

Saint tears into my soft flesh with his teeth before his tongue lashes at my nipple, teasing me with the pain.

“Your father was lying to the public to protect you. He was lying about me. My purpose has always been to bring the dark to light. To finally erase that eternal stain of condemnation. Your beloved stain.”

Saint’s ears perk up at the words and his face glazes over like a man charmed in a trance. Beloved stain.

“Fuck the whore out of her. Show her she can’t win. Take her pleasure and destroy her by smearing her with the Lord. Force the Holy Spirit into her being with your body,” Aero mutters methodically, speaking directly to the mind of a man trained in redemption.

Anger permeates the kindness Saint once held as he absorbs the words of a man broken by the sins the men in power commit. His eyes rim with redness as he sits upright abruptly, glaring at me with pure disgust. He slides the cross out of me, smearing my arousal across my mouth before tossing it onto my chest. Unbuckling his pants, he pulls the zipper quickly and lowers the waistband, releasing himself.

I silently gasp at the stark difference before me. Never have I seen anything like it. It’s large in both size and length, similar to Aero, but it’s cloaked in extra skin. Whereas Aero’s is bare and bulbous with his jewelry adorning it like a crowned king, Saint is clearly uncircumcised like the rest of the men of our faith.

Aero hits the gun against his own temple, resting it on his forehead, his face tight and pained in an attempt to calm his raging mind, before pointing it at the back of Saint’s head. He watches Saint with a fiery gaze, determined to end him with a quick pull of the trigger, taking matters into his own hands.

His eyes find mine beneath Saint, and I silently plead with him. I beg him to do the one thing he has spent a lifetime rejecting.

I beg him to have faith.

Before I can even get my mind wrapped around what’s happening, I look down, seeing Saint stroking his engorged dick, bracing himself with one arm before he enters me.

The soft, bare skin of the head of Saint’s cock pushes through my opening before the fullness reaches me. He slides in deep and stills, mouth ajar; panting through his madness. Saint lies his weight down above me, pulsating inside of my wet center. My mouth drops open in shock as he pulls back a few inches, then thrusts his hips, pushing his hard shaft deeper.

My pussy clamps around his girth and a deep, pained moan leaves my throat as pleasure from the friction of Saint’s cock massages my walls. I bite down on the corner of my lip to stay silent.

“Ah, Christ,” Saint whimpers.

With his free hand, he grips under my knee, lifting my untied leg up and onto his shoulder as he drives in deeper until his heavy balls lie flush against my ass. My eyelids grow heavy and my eyes threaten to roll back in my head when the sparks at the base of my spine ignite at the long, steady strokes deep within me.

Aero senses my pleasure. He knows my faces. Feels everything that I’m feeling, because we are of the same matter. His jealousy is taking a back seat as he instructs Saint, owning the interaction, controlling the scenario.

“That’s it. Fuck the whore out of her,” he repeats.

His eyes narrow into dangerous slits as he rips the mask from his face, tossing it to the floor. His black hair falls sloppily onto his forehead, losing his anonymity entirely.

Worry grips me at his need to see this, even as my dirty fire continues to burn deep. Saint pulls back before rocking his hips to meet mine rhythmically, pushing his long, slick cock deep. His lower abdomen, lined with the angry veins flooding his firm cock with blood, rubs against my wet clit, causing little bolts of pleasure to sweep through me every time we connect.

“It feels…ah, shit, it feels so good,” Saint groans, his voice cracking as he tries to talk.

He steadily finds his rhythm, his grunts filling the room as he becomes lost in our wet bodies slapping together while Aero remains locked in place, determination flooding his maddening expression.

“Don’t you fucking come,” he mouths to me, my eyes still trained on him.

I’m spinning, the pounding in my head drowning out the surrounding sound. Saint may be deep inside me, but he can never reach the depths of Aero. Aero has slipped into my soul. The makeup of who I am. He’s become part of my being, my heart, my life…my love.

“Oh, shit,” Saint groans again, pulling my attention back to him.

I peer down at where we connect as his dick stirs his brother’s cum within my swollen pussy, my mess of arousal coating his entire groin.

Fuck. That. Right there. That spot he’s hitting.

“I’m close,” he rushes, slamming into me.

A newfound terror hits me and my eyes shift to the vacant corner. Dark and empty, it lies. My masked man, gone entirely.

Madness, along with a lifetime of religiously motivated sacrifices, controls Saint now. A side I’ve never seen of him. A purpose he feels needs fulfilling. A purpose that may have been part of his plan all along.

He can’t finish. I can’t let him finish.

My pills. My birth control. I haven’t been taking it.

I pull against my restraints, tugging desperately to free myself while Saint continues to fuck me harder and harder, nearing his end. Closing my eyes, I nearly accept my fate; nearly fall to another man set to ruin me. Until I feel the sharpened edge of a tiny blade licking my fingertips.

My eyes spring open, but the man I’d assumed would save me is doing no such thing. He’s cursing to himself at the window, peering down at something or someone outside, typing quickly on a cellphone now in his hand.

But I don’t need him to save me.

He’s trained me to save myself.

With careful fingers, I grip the scalpel blade from the bedpost where he planted it. Twisting my wrist painfully, I slice the string of the rosary as Saint remains lost in the satisfaction of his unknowing demise. With my free hand, I hold the blade up to his neck before he can finish. He pauses in place, planted firmly within me as his lips part, and he sucks in a terrified breath.

“Briony,” he says breathlessly before looking down at the place we’re connected. “No.” He shakes his head, pulling out of me. His stiff, wet cock bobs between us as he sits back on his heels, burying his face in his hands. “No. What have I done to myself?”

To myself?

Panic floods his wilted form as Aero’s deep voice from the corner purrs, “You sinned.”

Aero steps away from the window, a satisfied grin sliding across his face at Saint’s disconcerting tone. Saint’s kind blue eyes now hold an unfamiliar weight to them as he studies me in silent anger. Seconds later, there’s a loud commotion coming from downstairs before the door behind us bursts open. Saint is torn from me and thrown to the floor, his pants still pulled down to his thighs. I’m staring with shock and awe, my legs crossed the best they can be as I pull my skirt back down with my free hand and adjust my bra back over my breasts to cover myself.

But the man who saved me isn’t the one I’d assumed it would be. The man who is currently pummeling Saint’s face into the wooden floor of my room is the last one I was expecting to see.

Baret.