Broken Page 5

  “Baby, tell daddy why you here,” Justice changed his tone to soothe her.

  Her head lifted—she pressed her lips back against her teeth to force a wretched smiled.

  “I got nothing. Nobody left in my life. I want to be part of a family who gives a fuck about each other. Everybody knows the Savages are family.” Her voice lost the adversarial edge. She almost sounded sweet.

  Justice’s legs loosened as he looped the belt around his waist. The tip was still hot from impact, but it was no longer needed. He knew the tactic for breaking a person. She’d responded quicker than some, but she had responded.

  Savoring the sweet moment of creating that separation between what a human wants to do, and actually does is intoxicating. The skill required the understanding of two things—knowing how to keep your target alive long enough to gain their compliance and knowing that it wasn’t the fear of pain that broke someone—it was the hope of the pain stopping.

  “You want me to be your daddy, little girl?”

  “Only if you don’t mind fucking your daughter.”

  “Honey, you’re someone’s daughter but you ain’t mine. You belong to anyone?”

  “I’ve got no one. Everyone is dead. I need you to care for me—I’ll do anything.”

  “Anything? You got any idea what the Savages will do to you?”

  “I don’t give a shit. Take my body, I only want my soul.” She spread her thighs as an offering. Justice stopped the battle to contain his erection.

  “Who sent you? A piece of ass like you doesn’t just show up at the clubhouse every day. You got no needle tracks, burned fingertips from smoking crack, scars or tattoos—you gotta be a narc.” He pulled the hair back to show his solid-looking granite features. He looked like he was carved from stone, and he knew it.

  “I’m just alone, that’s all,” she sighed. He watched her micro-expressions—the ones she couldn’t control. They signaled the truth.

  Justice’s furnace was always set on high-boil, except at this moment. He struggled to block the thoughts of the Middle East and the thousands of interrogations he’d managed. They almost always involved violence or death. The hanging nude technique was always one of his favorites. His decadent sexual desires conflicted with the grotesque images of tortured terrorist that flashed through his mind.

  His groin pulsed, not at the memory of inflicting harm, but for fucking her. He stepped into the soft glow and the guttural moan that bellowed deep in his esophagus signaled he was closer to her.

  She must’ve noticed his movement. Her body flinched although there was no threat—yes, she’d been broken.

  Chapter 9

  Justice towered before her.

  The soft radiance highlighted his size and features. A naturally dominant presence, he rarely had to announce his command—it was powerfully sensed. His façade of always composed concealed his demons. He didn’t speak while he glared into her face. He only concentrated on why she’d been sent into the Savage Nation’s clubhouse, and how she would feel wrapped around his cock.

  “Well?” she said with a hint of challenge.

  Justice’s right hand rocketed from his side to strike her mouth with a smack. “You’ve not learned a damn thing have you? I run this family, and you will never, ever challenge me. Not in public or in private.”

  She spit the speckles of gummy fluid that seeped from her top lip and onto her teeth. “I’m sorry daddy, but I am part of the family is what you’re saying?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “We jump in and we jump out—some survive neither.”

  “Bring it, daddy.”

  Forefinger and thumb sandpapered his chin. His gut told him to toss her, but his dick had almost drained enough blood from his brain for making rational decisions. He plunged his palm over her right breast and squeezed her nipple until it turned deep purple. She moaned as her teeth seethed cold air against the pain. His mouth followed as his tongue alternated between pierced nipples. He pressed hard against them with bites and sucking. He drew blood from the left one—she screamed out for him to stop.

  “That’s what I thought. You ain’t gonna survive this, baby girl.”

  Panting partly from the agony of being strung up so long and the fatigue of endless hours that led up to this encounter, she’d become sensitive to touch—especially blood-drawing bites.

  “Keep me for yourself then.”

  “Tempting, but you’ve done nothing to deserve that privilege,” he said as his meaty fingers jostled her pussy’s wet lips.

  “Then turn ’em loose on me—I got nothing to lose.” She rocked her round bottom against the finger fucking he’d intensified.

  Justice pulled his fingers from her pussy as he felt it become spongy and engorged with blood. He shoved them into her mouth and she clamped down with lips pressed tight. Blood continued to draw from her left nipple—it excited him. His dick surged against the zipper of his tight denims. His tongue flicked across the red liquid trail and jabbed it into her mouth. She sucked and bit at anything he put between her lips.

  “Baby girl, you’re driving me wild.”

  “Release me, I want in.”

  “Not until I’m done with you.”

  Justice’s breathing rose deep and fell heavy in his chest. Warriors, who’ve lived on an adrenaline edge, work themselves into a zone. Sex fell in that zone. A slight sheen of sweat covered his body and the open hand he snapped around her reedy throat slipped before he secured it with a tighter grip. She gasped. He only shook her head by the neck.

  His right hand released the metal pin. Her arms fell limp. They would be numb from the hanging, Justice knew. He supported her torso with the firm hold around her throat—her throbbing pussy straddled the wooden sawhorse.

  “Fuck me, daddy,” she demanded. Her wet blue eyes glinted over her shoulder. She whipped her head around to throw the hair out of her face. He saw her grin.

  “Don’t worry, I’m going to.”

  Justice drove her upper body against the sawhorse. Being bent over exposed how perfectly shaped her ass was. Marks from her earlier beating still glowed red, with new hints of purple.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded.

  He pressed close to her ass. His unleashed solid dick bridged the space of more than ample inches. More fingers pushed inside of her—both quickly covered in her wetness. He spread her voluptuous cheeks apart with one hand and slipped one and then the other finger into her ass.

  She clenched her rectum as she lurched forward into the wooden barrier. “Fuck, go slow. I’ve never done anal,” she pleaded.

  “You’re about to do a lot of shit you ain’t ever done. No such animal as going slow.” Justice filled her asshole with the full length and girth of his two fingers. For a man six feet and six inches tall, his entire body was in proportion—double extra large.

  Her body bucked against the sawhorse, but there was no escaping the intrusion in her ass. Justice laughed at her plight. He continued to move both fingers back and forth until her resistance evolved into insistence. She relaxed as the muscles in her rectum became elastic and accepted the fingering without complaint.

  “Oh, daddy, yes,” she groaned in what sounded like ecstasy. Justice knew he’d now broken her twice.

  “They won’t be so willing to prepare you,” he warned.

  His left hand mashed her lower back to press her abdomen into the barrier, while his right hand grabbed a full measure of dick. The head of his cock aimed at the newly violated anus. He jabbed his cock into her still saturated pussy to lube it up. He mixed his own spit with her vagina’s moisture and then pressed the spongy head against the tiny hole.

  “I’m a big girl.”

  What a glutton for punishment.

  “You will be after I’ve used you.”

  Justice’s mind seethed with a powerful penchant for causing pain. He inserted himself into her ass—tight. She bucked forward but the sawhorse stopped an escape. He felt the battle between his steady pressure and her muscl
es guarding entry. He released his shaft to grip both hips. Her back broke out into a glistening perspiration. Abigail’s hips swished side to side in a battle about to be lost.

  “Let me suck you instead,” she gasped.

  Justice ignored her. She wanted to become a part of his family, then she’d have to earn her position. There was only one position for women in the club—to service the brothers.

  He pressed with a steady push until her ass opened against his pressure. Her gasp sounded like she’d sucked all the air out of the room. He hesitated once the ridge behind the swollen head of his throbbing dick felt her rectum close tight against it. He released her hips to allow them to buck wild as the confluence of pain and pleasure became sorted in her mind. She was primal in behaviors and easy to read. It wouldn’t be long until he’d broken her a third time.

  “Oh, daddy. A little more please,” she asked hesitantly, but the low throttle in her tone signaled she’d turned the corner against resistance.

  Justice wiped the sweat from his face and lifted the black t-shirt between his pelvis and her ass. Grimacing at the sight of himself disappearing into her virgin asshole, his excitement was heightened while he stroked his shaft until it slid the entire length into her.

  Her back muscles tightened, and he saw her triceps strain as she squeezed the legs of the wooden barrier. “Fuck, daddy. How much more?” Sweat now covered her body despite the cold temperatures. A puddle was formed at the steel toes of his motorcycle boots.

  “That’s almost all of it, baby girl. You want more?”

  He bit the seam of his t-shirt after it had fallen back down between them. He didn’t want anything obstructing his view. He’d had plenty of anal sex, but most were with the random house mouse collections or the mamas who’d become property of the club. The opportunity to take someone’s ass for the first time exhilarated him. He’d been under tremendous pressure last week, so this offering wasn’t going unappreciated.

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “I guess it is.”

  “You won’t break me. Fuck me.”

  Yeah, a real glutton for punishment. Wait till I turn the others loose on her.

  Justice clamped his teeth against the tattered Savage Souls t-shirt as beads of moisture soaked his clothing. He shivered at the sensation of the trickle 0f sweat that snaked its way down his back. His mind drifted between the present and the past as his hips locked into a steady rhythm of slamming into the fleshy mounds of her perfect ass.

  She’d become inanimate. His eyes rocked back. Moans of pleasure turned angry and sinister. Justice knew his allotment of the seven deadly sins was wrath.

  He’d delighted in it, in the wrath he caused America’s enemies. The violence against others while working with the CIA’s Special Activities Division’s SOG was addictive. It became useful as an unclaimed asset behind enemy lines. Justice adjusted his concept of survival with the knowledge that his government’s policy would disavow knowledge of his existence if compromised. The reality of his existence as a government operative honed his skills for survival and his thirst for killing.

  Skirmishes continued daily as his mind battled over what he’d once done for his country versus what he’d done for his own desires. Justice not only mistrusted others, but an intense feeling of guilt had driven him to contemplate suicide on many occasions. He understood it was the ultimate expression of self-hatred, but he really didn’t give a shit.

  Guilt and life-taking skills fueled by wrath also translated into causing others deviant discomforts. Abigail had become his latest victim of decadence.

  “You’re hurting me.” She sniveled.

  Reality snapped him back. He found his right hand gripped around her throat and he’d pulled so hard that her slim back had been arched like a drawn back bow without the arrow. She coughed. Spittle sprayed from between her lips. The mirror in front of her showed panic had replaced her pleasure. He leaned up off of her body to see the bright red handprints covering her ass and hips.

  His cock ached because of the fierce ass banging he’d subjected her too. He eased the pace. He could be a monster at times, thanks to the hell his father had subjected him to. He’d grown up as one of seven brothers in a deeply religious household, but physical and psychological torture were part of their upbringing.

  He thought he’d adjusted to living a double life—but maybe he hadn’t.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, now you fucking give a shit to ask?” she was angry.

  “I asked more for me than you. You okay?”

  She sucked back snot and tears—her upper body quivered, “Yeah, I guess so. This mean I’m in?”

  “Come, baby. Suck me.” He took his time and watched as his cock backed out of her small, tight ass. He was puzzled as to how she took all of him inside her anus, but he wouldn’t complain—it felt incredible. She struggled to stand up from the sawhorse. He turned her to face him—her jawline quivered, as blue eyes had become muddied orbs through the tears.

  “You going to kill me?”

  “Why’d you ask that?”

  “It’s what you said just before I passed out.”

  His right thumb and forefinger nudged beneath her chin to lift her face—he watched her expression. Courage was obscured beneath fear, but not buried too far from the surface. This stranger had the gumption to come looking for a family, and this is what he offered her? A slight shred of guilty pinned itself to his soul.

  “I’m sorry, baby girl. I won’t hurt you—much.” He snickered then leaned over to kiss her.

  “Am I in?”

  Again he ignored her, but his good will was running thin with her incessant questioning about joining something he’d sacrificed so much to build. He slid his fingers from her chin and onto the back of her neck. Fingers rustled below the still damp mop of tangled black hair. He guided her onto both knees.

  He held her back as they both watched his cock become engorged. It became so erect, so fast—it bounced up and down between them. She glanced up his torso until locking contact with his eyes. He ran his fingers through the front of her hair and gathered clumps of the short bob until it made a fistful. Her mouth opened at his tug, and she swallowed the entire length of his manhood.

  Sucking cock seemed to be more up her alley. Her head moved smoothly as different strokes and tension caused him to quiver before her. She might’ve been on her knees before the king, but he was the one calling out her praises.

  His right hand maintained its grip in her hair, while his left hand snaked down toward her breasts. He felt the dried flakes of blood that his bites had drawn earlier. Pierced nipples drove him mad as he pinched and rolled them between his thick fingers. She responded to his rough touch. Her cheeks hollowed around his generous-sized dick. Lips pursed but never released their lock against his shaft.

  His tall body craned over until fingers found their way into her vagina. She was saturated. He tugged and pressed against the shaved pussy. Her labia became swollen with a pre-orgasmic rush. His dick pounded as the intensity of her blowjob increased in concert with his massaging of her clit.

  He exploded into her mouth and fought to maintain balance as he felt her flood of juices pour onto the floor. He released her hair and pushed against her shoulders to stand up. She refused to stop sucking his dick, and his body responded by convulsing in spasms while his speech became incoherent.

  One by one, his senses returned. The room’s frigid condition returned to prick his heat-flushed skin. His hearing resumed, picking up the roar of his favorite hard rock music blaring in the background. He hesitated before bending back over to pull up his jeans. She collapsed onto the floor. He noticed her hint of a faint smile between bouts of labored breathing.

  “I don’t even know your name, baby girl.”

  Her lips twisted to showcase a contorted contemplation. “Abigail Black,” she whispered.

  Chapter 10

  Her scraped knuckles drug across tender, cum-filled lips. She bat
ted her blue eyes and forced a smile. His moan and kind smile sickened her, as did knowing she’d just pleasured him, but a sense of satisfaction filled her, knowing she’d just infiltrated the motherfuckers who killed her son Jack.

  She scanned the room, trying to see past the shadows. Her ears strained to distinguish between the bass guitar-laden heavy-metal music and murmurs of laughter. Abigail’s vision was restricted to the small sphere of yellowish light cast upon the wooden sawhorse, but she thought there were breaks within the shadows—others watching them.

  Abigail flinched and rolled to her side to relieve a searing ache that radiated in her bottom. Justice’s dick hung before her drained of its semen, but still imposing.

  That was in my ass?

  Though she’d never admit it to Justice, or any of her targets, she was there for one thing. It wasn’t to have sex with the Savage Souls—it was to fuck them—fuck them over.

  “Am I in?”

  Justice avoided eye contact. “Not yet, Abi.”

  She cringed at his use of her name in a familiar way, and noticed his expression morph from satisfied to sinister. He nodded beyond her.

  Abigail writhed. The plan had been a good one, she’d thought. The best strategy for infiltrating the Nation—which she now doubted. She scrambled away from Justice until her upper body disappeared into the shadows. Palms and heels slipped on the slick tile coated with her sweat and pussy’s wetness. Primal fear seized her—Justice swept down with one giant effort like an eagle on prey, and slapped a paw around her ankle.

  Others appeared at the jagged edges of the light. She screamed in agony as he suspended her body by one hand before she plopped against the unfinished wooden barrier and the cold tile.

  “No, please. This ain’t why I’m here.” Her hands waved back and forth across her nakedness to conceal her bruised breasts.

  “You want to be a part of our family. This is the adoption, baby sister,” an anonymous voice sneered.