by Tillie Cole
“Suck,” he instructed. Quivering, partly in fear and partly in anticipation, I tipped my head down and wrapped my mouth around his outstretched fingers. Styx’s eyes flared and his length nudged my stomach. Releasing his fingers from my mouth, I stepped backward and guided him to the large white tub, now filled with hot water.
“Let me bathe you.”
Styx’s bright eyes softened a touch and I helped him into the tub. When submerged, he lay back; his eyes were watching me… always watching me.
Spotting a natural sponge and soap on the far side of the tub, I dipped it into the hot soapy water, as I kneeled beside Styx’s head. As I ran the sponge over his dark hair, he groaned, then reached out and grabbed my wrist.
“G-get in,” he ordered, his expression expectant.
Nerves thrummed through my body and I heard Styx groan again. Before I knew it, we were face to face and he planted a kiss on my nose, his hand gripping the nape of my neck. Pulling back slightly, I frowned in confusion at this strange act.
His lips twitched.
“Th-that fuckin’ nose is g-gonna kill me,” he confessed, a hoarse timbre in his voice. “Now. Get in.”
His pain seemed to fade quickly.
Styx used his strength to pull me forward, and standing on shaky feet, I climbed over the edge of the tub, sinking down into the hot water.
I was facing Styx. Naked. In the tub. My mind struggled to believe this reality… this dream come true.
He just stared… and stared, until, reaching for the sponge once more, I continued to bathe him. His tense, veined muscles relaxed and his eyes closed. Hands ran up and down my calves until his fingers tightened and he pulled me forward, my wet body slapping flush against his. He was so big and hard against my petite slight frame, his tanned skin dark against my pale.
Without hesitation, I crushed my mouth to his, his tongue instantly plunging to duel with mine. Styx’s hands pressed to my bare back then continued on to grip my behind, his fingers feeling rough as they massaged my skin, guiding my sex to rub against his hard length.
I wanted him. Wanted to join with him so badly.
Fright took hold of me as Styx’s hard flesh sawed pleasure from my sex and frantically, I clawed at his hair until he broke away.
“F-fuck me,” he implored, desperation in his eyes. “Fuck me, b-babe. Fuck me slow. F-fuck me hard, j-just fuck me…”
Fear gripped my senses. I tried to scurry back, out of his reach; it was all too much, but Styx’s iron grip held me close.
“Wh-what’s wrong?” he asked, getting concerned.
My stomach fell and I lowered my head. “I do not know how… to please you.” I averted my eyes to avoid his gaze. “I am frightened I will fail.”
“Babe?” Crooking his fingers, Styx signaled for me to go to him. His angry gashes were bright red, yet he still looked so good to me.
I had nothing to fear. This was Styx.
Shifting to carefully straddle his thighs, I confessed, “I do not know how to join with you. That is, I do not know how without being in the required position for the Lord’s sharing.”
Styx went eerily still before lifting up his chest and cupping my face. “Let me sh-show you.” His large hands dropped into the water and he held my thighs in his hands, pulling me flush against his length. “Let m-me inside, babe. P-put me in-inside you.”
“But you are injured. You are in pain,” I protested.
“Th-that’s why you n-need to ride me. You f-fuck m-me, babe. I’m n-not so hurt that I don’t w-want your t-tight pussy milking my c-cock. You’re in con-control.”
I am in control.
“Styx,” I groaned as two of his fingers suddenly plunged into my sex.
“Drenched… wet… ready…” he whispered before withdrawing and lying back against the tub. “R-ride me, Mae.” But his hands never left my body, caressing, feeling, being connected to me.
Kneeling to my thighs, I reached down and placed Styx at my entrance, shivering slightly in trepidation. I was worried I would do something wrong. I was worried I could hurt him more. But when I looked into those large hazel eyes—the eyes that had given me comfort all my life—my worries melted away. In one quick motion, I lowered myself down and filled myself to the hilt.
Styx’s teeth gritted and his pulse throbbed in his neck. Pleasure shot through my body and I planted my palms on his torso, making sure not to touch any raw scars.
“Styx… Oh, Styx…” I murmured over and over the farther he thrust inside me. With every inch, my pleasure increased until I sat still, savoring the feeling.
“Babe! Fuck me, babe!” Styx hissed. Gripping my wrists, he eased me down, and pressed his forehead to mine.
“What do I do now?” I asked, only slightly embarrassed at my inexperience. Styx made me feel safe.
“M-move your h-hips. Move th-them up and d-down.”
Doing as he said, I began rolling my hips and the water from the bath began making small waves, threatening to spill over the side.
“Mae! F-fuck!”
Pleasure instinctively drove my actions, and with every drag of Styx’s length within me, bright sparks of pleasure burst behind my closed eyelids.
My hands stroked along his muscles, which jumped and twitched with every thrust. Styx’s hips began rising to meet mine, forcing me to cry out in pleasure, the feeling of fullness too much to take. Minute after minute went by and our movements grew more and more frenzied; the water now flowed freely over the edge of the bathtub, splashing noisily onto the floor.
“Styx, Styx, Styx… Styx!” I moaned, and my eyes popped open to fix on his, he was watching me, always watching me. His hand slipped effortlessly between my legs and his thumb started to massage me there, that place, that spot. The spot that makes me lose control of my senses.
The pleasure was almost too much as burning flames of desire ripped through my body, igniting like pure octane in my veins. My hips pounded quicker against Styx’s, stimulated by his sympathetic movements and his erotic grunts and groans. Styx’s thumb moved faster, his length seeming to expand to an unbearable fullness within me.
My chest pounded as Styx rolled his lips, but his eyes stayed firmly on me. Then, like a bolt of lightning, an indescribable feeling took hold of my whole body and I screamed out in ecstasy. Styx’s lips parted as his hips thrust hard; once, twice, then stilled. His large hazel eyes widened, his face contorted momentarily as in pain and a hot spurt of semen flooded inside me, filling my womb. I felt as though I were floating in the hot still air of a summer’s afternoon, as the heat of the water wrapped around us both. I flopped to his chest, drained but oh so perfectly content.
As I listened to the furious beating of Styx’s heart through his chest, I smiled. His strong hands stroked at my long wet hair trailing down my back as we came down gently from our mutual high.
So that was making love…
I had just made love to Styx.
I had been right all along.
We were always fated to be together. He is my everything. He is my entire world…
… Styx is my salvation.
Chapter Eighteen
Styx
Jesus H. Christ.
Mae.
All Mae.
All mine.
Me inside her tight pussy, coating her with my cum.
Fuckin’ perfection.
Her light breath blew evenly against my damp chest; she’d fallen asleep.
“Mae,” I called out quietly, rousing her from sleep. Two of my fingers ran along the tight crack of her ass and disappeared into the soaking slit of her well-fucked pussy.
Mae’s hips rolled instinctively and a whimper escaped her lips. Suddenly, her blue eyes opened wide, then hooded to half mast as she writhed on my hand.
“Styx…” she moaned, her voice clogged with sleep. Her palms stretched out and gripped the tub’s ledge for leverage, and I had to suck my lip ring into my mouth just to keep calm; she looked so damn beautiful riding my hand.
Her pink, fat nipples beaded, her heavy tits heaved, and her lips parted, hissing out breath with every stroke. Unable to cope with my cock’s neglect anymore, I withdrew my fingers and plunged the fucker right inside her.
Fuck!
Mae’s shocked eyes fixed on mine and I smirked. This time, I was taking control—stitches be damned. Gripping her hips, I spun us in the water, flipping Mae onto her back. She yelped as I rose above her, tucking my arms around her back and I felt her legs wrap around my ass. She flashed me a shy smile and I pounded her pussy relentlessly, ripping moans from her throat as her nails dug into my skin, our chests slipping back and forth.
In no time at all, she came. I followed a second behind.
We panted together as Mae stroked back the hair from my face.
“That was quite a way to awake,” she rasped out.
Smirking back, I said, “Every fuckin’ d-day from now o-on.”
“You promise?”
I nodded slowly and meaningfully.
Small hands ghosted down my chest, carefully tracing my stitches. “How are you feeling?”
Sore, pissed at Nazi scum, but so fuckin’ good. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her lips. “G-good.”
Pulling out my still-hard cock from inside my woman, I kneeled and rolled my stiff back straight, wincing at the burn of tight stitches now about to leave even more scars all over my body… including the permanent motherfucker of a swastika on my chest.
“Out. Water’s c-cold.”
As I glanced down at Mae, I literally stopped breathing. I had her now. No one was taking her away from me.
As I held out my hand, her scowl looked harsh on her usually soft face. I raised an eyebrow in question.
Ignoring me, Mae stood up and got out of the tub without my help. My jaw clenched. I wasn’t some weak pussy, but as she shuffled closer and gripped my arm, she insisted, “Let me take care of you. This is my job… as your old lady.” I closed my eyes, savoring what she’d just said, my old lady. My old man was fuckin’ right; I did only need three things in life: my Harley, my Fender… and the love of an old lady—Mae; only Mae.
Smiling, Mae wrapped me in a towel, then herself and we walked—stupidly fuckin’ slow—toward the bed.
We stopped at my chair and she guided me to a sitting position. “I must change the bed linen. It is soiled with your blood.” She cupped my cheeks, stroking around the fresh slash mark. “Then we will sleep. You must get your rest.”
“With you n-next to me, r-right?”
Breaking out in a huge grin, Mae replied. “Yes, with me next to you.”
Mae pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and I sat back in my chair to watch her as she found freshly laundered black sheets.
Picking up my Fender, I lay it across my waist and set to strum, catching a happy smirk spreading on Mae’s lips, only pausing briefly as she heard the strings begin to vibrate. As The National’s “Gospel” flowed from my lips, I thanked Hades that I’d returned tonight, to my club, to my brothers… to my old lady.
Weren’t sure for a while that I was gonna get out. Took out seven Nazi skulls with my Uzis before being tackled to the floor by the last two. Tied to a chair, cut, beat, bled—the fuckers forgot about my blade. Ironically, my favorite German blade, the blade I always kept hidden in my cut. Slit the throat of one skinhead, plunged five inches of steel into the heart of the other, but only after I’d had my fun. Found my way back, a pair of blue wolf eyes calling me home.
“Darlin’, can you tie my string? Killers are callin’ on me…” As I finished the last chord, I looked up to see Mae perched on her knees before me, listening to me play.
“Bed?” she asked with bright eyes and put my fender gently to one side. She took my hand to help me lie flat on my mattress. Nervously, Mae lay down beside me so I pulled away my towel, telling her with a flick of my chin to do the same.
We were face to face on our pillows, and I reached out to take her hand. “Wh-why’d you r-run from the c-cult?”
Every muscle in her body seemed to tense and tears instantly filled her eyes.
I didn’t speak, just waited, waited for her to open up.
After several minutes, she whispered, “They killed my sister. I could not stay. She told me to run, I did as she asked.”
My lip curled in anger and my stomach tensed in disgust. Mae tried to cover her naked body with her free arm, as if cold. Kicking up the quilt, I covered her up. She smiled appreciatively as she shifted closer.
Her head lay next to mine on my pillow and then her shittin’ nose twitched. Her nerves were getting the better of her, but she needed to start fuckin’ talking.
“We…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I gripped her tighter. “We were full blood sisters. That did not happen often in commune. Parents have the children, then you are raised by a collective. I never got to know my parents. My mother died of a disease and my father left, he was sent on a mission by Prophet David and never returned.
“I have another sister, Magdalene, but she had a different mother. She is painfully quiet, nothing like Bella and me. Maddie is so frightened by men, by everything really. But Bella was my best friend. We were always so close.”
As she lifted her eyes, she smiled. “She was beautiful, Styx. You should have seen her. So stunning. So perfect. So unbelievably kind. But that was Bella’s downfall, her allurement and exquisiteness; it was the thing to ruin her life.” I held her gaze as I tried to picture someone more stunning than Mae. I couldn’t, but she sure believed it to be true.
“Beautiful women were treated worst of all by the brothers. Prophet David and his chief elder, Gabriel, would say the devil had a hand in their looks. That they were designed, no, created, to tempt men. They had to be treated differently from plain females—watched… broken in like a horse. They were seen as cursed.”
Mae shifted uncomfortably and a tear fell down her cheek, so I moved over and kissed it. Her breath hitched before she exhaled slowly through her lips.
“Bella and I, we were classed as such ‘Cursed’ women; my goodness, we were referred to as the ‘Cursed’. My friend Lilah and my sister Maddie were with us too, all four in our own private quarters in the commune. We were kept separate for the high elders’ personal attentions—their special trainings. Brother Gabriel had Bella. Brother Jacob had me. Brother Noah had Lilah. The most sexually cruel brother, Moses, had Maddie—Magdalene. Moses said she harbored demons because she did not speak often, did not leave her room. But she was just quiet, reserved, barely spoke or revealed her true feelings to me.” Her eyes crinkled in pain. “The things he would make her do…” Mae trailed off and her throat caught on a cry.
“Shh, babe.” I tried to soothe her. But fuck, how could I respond to this fucked-up tale?
“Gabriel grew more obsessed with Bella as she matured, even after he married another sister, then another. He joined with Bella every night, slept beside her every night. She ate with him, he made her bathe with him. He became crazed with his possession of her. But she hated him, Styx. She hated him with every fiber of her being.”
Mae drew in a deep breath and continued. “When I was thirteen, Prophet David declared me to be the prophesized seventh wife. The wife who will signal the return of Christ, the End of Days. When I turned twenty-three, I would wed the prophet. I had no idea why I had been chosen. I had never even spoken to the prophet. He was always kept away from his people. We only saw him at ceremonies, sharings, and prayers. But he would get the elders to video the young sisters of the commune… to see which ones he wanted to… bond with. Perhaps he saw me on one of those…” She pressed a kiss to my chest as though it gave her strength. I gripped her hair in my hand and my teeth gritted to the point of pain. Videoed? Shit! Oh, and I fuckin’ knew why she’d been chosen to be his wife. Hell, it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.
“The day I ran was to be my wedding day. The day you found me,” she explained.
It all made sense
now. “The w-white d-dress—” I pushed out, unable to finish my sentence. I was losing control of my speech, too coiled up with the growing rage inside me.
She nodded. “Weeks prior to my wedding, Bella just disappeared. No one would tell us Cursed where she went, but Gabriel was always absent from our sector after that day. He was obviously with her. Then…” She sniffed back her sadness. “Then on my wedding day, Lilah found her. Bella was in a dark dirty cell; beaten, starving… dying. I stayed with her until she passed. Then I ran.” Suddenly, sobs wracked her body and, gripping the back of her neck, I pulled her to my chest. “I left them, Styx! I left Maddie and Lilah.”
“F-fuck Mae,” I said as I tried to work my throat free.
Abruptly rearing back, her face swollen and red, she said, “They will be searching for me. They will never stop. They believe I am the vessel who will save their mortal souls.” Glancing down at her tattoo on her wrist, I ran my thumb across the scripture, then looked once more to Mae.
“The End of Days is upon us. My marriage is the act that must happen to transport my people—The Order—into paradise.”
And there went that robotic shit spouting from her mouth again. Glazed eyes and all.
“Y-y-you…” I paused, breathed deep, calmed myself, and tried again. “Y-you ain’t l-leaving m-me. Th-they come f-for you, th-they g-gotta go through me… th-through the Hangmen.”
Her tight face softened. “Styx… I never want to leave you, but—”
“Gonna pr-protect y-you,” I assured, cutting her off.
“I know you will,” she asserted and tucked herself into my side.
A fuckin’ sinking feeling dropped in my gut. I could always feel when something weren’t right. I’d had the feeling since Mae turned up; it was even stronger now.
“What about you?” Mae whispered, her fingers stroking down my tensed bicep.
“Wh-what?”