Ghosts of Halloween: Chapter 32

My heart hammers, my neck tingling with pain, but it all pales in comparison to the deep black hole spreading its tentacles inside me. And I don’t even have to think about it. I know there’s only one answer for me.

“Do what you want. I won’t ask you to stop.”

Jack’s hand grips my jaw hard, and Silas growls, while Caden comes over, his heavy boots thudding with measured steps. In a moment, all of them surround me, Silas holding me tight, Jack and Caden looming above me. Where Jack looks dark and hungry, Caden seems excited, an open grin stretching his lips.

“Even if what I want is to make you feel good?” he asks. “Even if what I want is to get you off so much, you’ll black out, and then fuck your limp body? Even then?”

I shudder, my throat closing up as I stare at him, tears gathering in my eyes.

After everything I did to him, he still wants to give me pleasure. He’s so good, I can’t take it. But I made my choice, and I won’t back out. With a painful twist in my gut, I give up control.

“Yes,” I rasp, a tear rolling down my cheek. “Yes to everything. You can do with me what you want. I’ll take it all.”

Jack curses darkly, but Silas already rolls me off him and down to the floor. I lie belly down, and he tugs my arms back, raising them until my shoulders flare with pain, the prosthetic still holding tight. Caden’s boot lands on my nape, pressing my head to the floor like I’m an animal to be tamed.

Jack crouches in front of me, and I desperately look up to see him, my nerves jumping now that it’s happening. I can’t move my head, and I only glimpse his chin. It seems to me, he’s grinning.

“That’s the most beautiful thing you said tonight, princess,” he says while Silas hikes my dress roughly up, baring my ass. I tense, my muscles working without my conscious thought, and fuck me, but I think I’m aroused.

And yet, I dread it with every cell. Jack probably wants to fuck me to oblivion. Caden… wants to do what he said, and my cunt clenches at the thought. But Silas is the wild card. He won’t fuck me, so what…

Smack.

I squeak pathetically when his harsh hand connects with my buttock. Pain slithers across my sensitive skin there, and before I can brace myself, he hits the same spot again. And again.

I’ve never been spanked before, and the word doesn’t do it justice. Silas hits so hard, it feels like being flogged, and I writhe on the floor, my nape still under Caden’s boot.

Fuck, it hurts.

He switches to my other cheek and smacks me again, so hard my teeth click together, and I give up. I tried to hold my sobs in, but I can’t any longer. I let go, crying and whimpering, a total, pathetic mess twitching on the floor at their feet, and…

And the tears, the pain, the humiliation converge, filling my chest with cold, sharp sparks that for one beautiful, relieved moment, wipe out the oozing, black guilt.

Silas hits me again. I cry out, sobbing, and the pain travels up my spine, spreading through me, wiping away everything. For a moment, I’m clean.

And then, long fingers massage my inflamed, hurting skin, working the sting deeper into me, and the clean feeling slithers out of my grasp, the guilt flushing back into my chest and gut.

“How was that, angel?” Silas asks, his voice cool yet tinged with an electric edge. “Feeling better? You want more?”

My chest heaves as I try to calm my ragged breathing enough to answer. He strokes my skin, and for a moment, his touch slows, gliding over me with something tender or curious… My breath hitches in my throat, and I swallow roughly.

“You’re not supposed to make me feel better.”

His hand freezes on my skin, and then he delivers another slap, so hard, I yelp from the impact, fresh tears squeezed out from my eyes.

“That’s not for you to decide, little brat. Now behave, or I’ll make you come.”

I moan, my hurting buttocks on fire as he goes back to stroking them roughly. My brain is slow now, overwhelmed by everything I feel, so it takes me a moment to understand him.

“You… You’ve got it backwards,” I say, breathing hard as Caden takes his boot off my nape and sits down by my side, burying his hand in my hair, fingers splayed wide over the back of my head. He presses the heel of his palm into my nape, keeping me in place, and I shiver from how good it feels. Then he grabs my wrists with his other hand, keeping me in position while Silas has both hands free.

I am tamed. Completely at their mercy.

“Do I?” Silas says, smacking me again, not as hard this time.

Still, I yelp. My skin is so tender, even the lightest touch makes me jerk.

“Do you really want to come, angel? Or would you rather not? Should I make it hurt so bad, you’ll get lost in it?”

I exhale in a rush, my stomach sinking. Truth is, I want both. But I only deserve the pain. And so I give in and obey so he doesn’t make good on his threat.

“I don’t know if I feel better,” I answer truthfully after a pause, giving him what he wants.

“Less suicidal, then?” he asks, both hands stroking up my buttocks while Caden’s fingers dig deliciously into my scalp.

I mull it over. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Silas makes a thoughtful noise, pats my bottom roughly, making me gasp, and shifts to the side.

“Come here, Jack. Give me a hand.”

When Jack sits down by his side, I think Silas communicates something to him, but I don’t know what. He doesn’t speak, but a moment later, Jack pushes two fingers in my mouth, so deep I gag, and takes them out just as fast.

And then he’s behind me together with Silas, and…

“Fuck,” I moan, when he penetrates my ass with both fingers, wet with my spit. It burns, and I writhe helplessly, held down by Caden’s taming grip.

“Deep, to the knuckles.” Silas sounds breathless as he instructs Jack, and I whine, the sting unpleasant, yes, but also obscenely good. I’m still a bit slick from when Caden fucked me earlier, but probably not enough. If they decide to fuck my ass, it will hurt.

Good.

Jack pushes deep with a grunt, opening my body to him, and when his fingers are lodged deep, Silas smacks me again.

I cry out when a potent jolt goes through me, the impact jerking Jack’s fingers inside me, and the pain flares outward and up my lower back, followed by a hot, restless feeling. When it passes, and tremors run through my limbs, Jack pulls his fingers out, spreads me wide open, and spits. Then he shoves back in, and I bite the inside of my cheek enough to bleed, holding back my whimpers.

Silas hits me again. Another jarring impact spreads through my pelvis and lower back, and he does it again… and again… while Jack fucks me with his fingers. Even though I bite down so hard I’m afraid I’ll tear a piece of my cheek clean off, I can’t hold back my needy whimpers anymore.

God, but it hurts. It hurts so fucking good. I get lost in it, raising my hips on instinct, offering my cunt to them like a bitch in heat, begging with my body language for more.

There’s a moment of silence, after which Jack pulls his fingers out of me with a wet sound. My asshole undulates with the aftershocks of penetration, my muscles clenching and unclenching as if not ready to let go.

“Bring it here.” Silas’s voice vibrates with something dark, and I twitch while his fingers draw gentle patterns in my hurting flesh. I’m exposed, humiliated, completely at their mercy, stinging prickles exploding under his touch. But suddenly, as if someone flicked a switch, I can breathe. Where before, the dark, oozing guilt clung to my ribs and pressed at my lungs, there is nothing.

I’m light inside, free, and I wish he’d give me more.

I’m terrified it will come back if they stop.

“Silas,” I say, urging him, because this, now, is too little.

“You wanted this knife so badly, didn’t you, angel?” he says, hands sliding off me when Jack returns, breathing hard, and kneels at my side.

“Wh-what knife?”

“This knife.” Jack shoves it in front of my face, but before I can do anything about it, even begin to struggle so I can get it, he whisks it away. “The handle is thick and hard, princess. And since you want it so much, you’ll get it.”

I open my mouth, utterly confused, but then something cold and hard presses to my rim, and I know.

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper.

I want to tell them no. I want to protest, run away, hide in a corner and… and what? There’s nothing for me outside this room. My world is so fucking small, and the only chance at redemption is right here, on this floor that’s wet with my tears under my cheek. I’m already broken beyond repair. Whatever they do won’t make me worse.

“Fuck,” Jack hisses when I hold my breath, trembling with anticipation and dread. “How do I…”

“I’ll fucking do it.”

My heart stutters when I hear Silas’s voice. It’s so hoarse, so utterly low and intense that if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was aroused.

But I don’t have time to think about it. Another gob of spit lands in my crack, and then, the pressure grows. I breathe out and try to push to make it easier, and finally, the cold, hard handle of the knife slides in.

“Fuck, man. You’re crazy,” Jack says with awe, and I shiver, whimpering, the cold invasion sending pinpricks of hot weakness deep into me. I do my best to relax, letting out a low moan, and the handle slides deeper.

Drops of hot liquid fall on my ass as the handle sinks fully in. But I can’t dwell on that, because the knife pulls out, and then back in, and I quiver with something that is not quite want, and yet not pain, either.

Warm hands settle on my waist, thumbs stroking my skin, and Jack murmurs softly, “That’s beautiful, princess. You’re taking this so well. Such a nice body, so open, taking what we give it.”

So welcome before, now his gentle voice hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut and hide my face, because Jack’s words make the guilt, the overwhelming blame, flare inside me. Suddenly, I wish the knife plunged into me, blade first.

I need pain. Not Jack’s sweet words. Not his tenderness.

Silas snorts coldly, and the knife’s handle shoves into me hard. I cry out, muscles spasming in futile resistance, and I swallow fresh tears at the unpleasant sting inside me. But as the pain jerks up my spine, my chest unclenches, and I shudder with relief.

“She’s not as weak as everyone thinks she is, Jack. She can handle it. Call her a slut,” he says, his mocking voice sending cold sparks into my ribcage. “She needs it, so tell her what you felt that night. Tell her everything.”