Mesmer, page 9
“Thank you,” my mouth said without my direction. The tears burned in my eyes as I felt his cock rub against my ass. It hurt already, still raw from the massive plug, and the thick dildo was taking up too much room inside me. This won’t work.
*It will,* Greta whispered.
“Such a polite slut,” Tomik growled and then he slammed inside me, forced his dick past tense, aching muscles, and shoved me forward with the sheer power of his hips colliding with my ass. “God, yesss…”
“Tomik! Please stop… please, it hurts!” The tears fell, skating down my cheeks in warm lines as I was filled beyond the limit. Both holes stretched too far, and I could feel things inside me shifting, trying to make room for the impossible, and it ached. Hurt. Deep inside where there were things like kidneys and livers.
“You’re twisted,” Aaron said from somewhere I couldn’t see. With Tomik’s fist in my hair and his arm on my back, there was no way to turn, no way to do anything except take the next brutal thrust that sent a spike of pain through me, buzzing along each needle piercing my skin, each point stinging as my sweat found them. “And here I thought the twins liked to play rough.”
“I like the sounds Hannah makes,” he growled as he started to fuck me hard and fast. The pain built until I was hiccupping with each quiet cry, cut off when he yanked my head back, craning my neck to the point it was hard to breathe. “Your ass still feels so tight, slut. Next time I’ll use a bigger plug so I can last longer.”
“Please make it better, please! I’ll do whatever you want, just please—”
“You’ll do whatever I want anyway, Hannah,” he said on a laugh, but then pleasure bloomed, erased the pain like it had never been there. Somewhere in my muddled thoughts I did feel grateful, almost said it before my body convulsed, tightened down on the cocks buried deep and I came. Obliterated, screaming, dizzy as the world turned into electric light and pretty sparks.
Somewhere in the haze I felt Tomik’s dick swell, his damp skin pressed against mine as jets of his seed filled my ass, but I didn’t care at all. Didn’t care as he let my hair go and my head fell forward, drool leaking past my lips as I hung off the ears of the horse, inner walls twitching around the twin invasions. Delirious.
*Weak.* Greta was floating in the dark behind my eyes, leaning close, anger flashing in her eyes. *You’re not his puppet.*
But I am. I knew that, felt it bone deep, no matter what the strange figment of my imagination believed. Why did other people get Jiminy Cricket and I got the body double for the girl in The Ring? It didn’t matter. I’d do whatever Tomik demanded. Fuck a horse, moan while he stabbed me with needles, and even shoot myself in the head.
Greta the gray girl from Lalaland flopped back into her chair, eyes aimed upward, maybe at the top of my skull. Strange, strange weirdness.
The kids aren’t all right.
“That was hot,” Aaron said, and I turned my head to see him leaning against the closest wall, stroking his dick. “Ready to share now?”
Tomik grumbled, yanking his dick out of my ass so fast that I gasped, whined, clutched the ears of the horse even tighter.
“Sunday.”
Aaron laughed. “Actually going to show up to our little party?”
No, no, no, no. Panic filled me as Tomik’s touch left me, and somewhere I could hear Greta laughing.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“The twins are already over there getting shit set up, finding a few party favors.” Aaron tucked his dick away, shaking his head a little. “They’re going to be glad to hear you’re coming… and bringing a present.”
His gaze landed on me, and I knew—I fucking knew—that he was a monster. Worse than Tomik. Aaron was empty, cold, and Tomik wasn’t like that.
*Not yet.*
I whined as I clenched my eyes tight. All I wanted to do was cover my ears, but I couldn’t lift my fucking hands from the horse.
“I’ve just been having my own fun,” Tomik said, popping his boxers back in place before he grabbed my chin, and I had to look at him. I begged with my eyes, pleaded with him not to do this, not to share me with monsters. Mesmers. Mesmer monsters. He just smiled, wiped his thumb through the drool on my chin. “I’ll get her sorted.”
“Good,” Aaron replied.
11
Tomik
“Shower,” I commanded, not wanting to look at her right now. She was a glorious fucking mess, thighs shiny, lips pouty and red from chewing on them—and I didn’t want to share her.
Still. Even after I’d checked off yet another fantasy, two, the horse and the needles. It was like I couldn’t get enough of Hannah. Every time I checked one box, five more seemed to add themselves to the end of the list. More things I wanted to do to her, to make her do, to make her take.
The soft sound of the bathroom door shutting grated my nerves, but I stopped myself before I threw it open. Having a closed door between us would be good.
Space… space is good.
She’d been breathing my air for two straight weeks, and that was probably part of the problem. Maybe I should have her clean the hotel. Join one of the other girls downstairs that kept my life as easy as possible.
Or I could just fuck her on the floor again. Her cunt would be sore after that massive dildo, and it would draw the best noises out of her. My dick twitched in my pants, as if saluting, ready with a thought. Just like Hannah was.
Growling, I yanked open the closet door and hauled out her suitcase. I’d tossed so much shit in it when I’d picked her up, random stuff. Clothes and jewelry and other things. Dropping it on the bed, I unzipped it and started digging. Shoes, socks, skirts and dresses, a bag of makeup—there. I plucked out her passport from underneath a hairbrush, tossing that onto the bed too because her hair was a wreck.
Flipping it open, I verified it was still valid, and a creeping unease wound through my veins. No excuse not to go to the brotherhood party overseas. Fuck. Three days. Two, really, because we had to fucking fly there.
Which meant tickets.
Snarling, I went to the desk and brushed the dust off my laptop, powering it up. I needed to find a collectable travel agent so I didn’t have to do this shit anymore. Someone to handle all the hopping around the globe, the house swaps for fucked-up fun in new locations. The laptop hummed as it started, and I went across the hall to snag my camera from the floor.
I’d taken some amazing shots of her after Aaron left. Blood was smeared across her breasts, her stomach. She’d taken another inch of that mammoth cock while I’d been fucking her, and I let her release the ears of the horse just so I could capture every angle. The orange of the evening light had painted her in warmth and shadow, the pastel colors on the horse perfectly faded, almost washed out, which made the red on her skin all the more vibrant.
She’d cried. Quietly. But, damn, she was pretty when she cried.
It made her look so alive, the pink in her cheeks, her nose, her blue eyes all the brighter from the shine. She was art. Perverted, twisted art.
Perverted by me.
That bothered me, I could feel it, and I tried to ignore it, but it tugged at me like a needy child. Caught on my sleeve, pulling, insistent, bothersome. Why the fuck do I give a shit that I’m perverting her?
I set the camera down by the laptop and dropped into the chair, tapping my fist on my forehead as I glared at the login screen. Hannah fucking Jones wanted to help me. The fact that she’d even said that after I’d given her a command that could have killed her made me feel… things. Things I didn’t want to feel. Things I’d shed when I’d claimed this whole mesmer thing, made it mine, and I wasn’t going to go back to that loser from before. I could do anything I wanted to now. Had more money than anyone in Bumfuck, Illinois could dream of. The world was mine for the taking, along with every collectable slut on every continent.
Hannah Jones was nothing compared to all that.
Logging in, I nodded to myself. Aaron was right. Not sharing was fucking with me worse than anything Hannah might say. This wasn’t how we did things. This wasn’t how it worked. We shared houses, we shared collectables, connections, influence. It was how the brotherhood worked, and Sunday would fix this.
Frank’s party had been a stupid attempt. I couldn’t be myself there, couldn’t do the things I wanted to with Hannah. There were limits around the public, even with the lines that were regularly crossed at Frank’s kink parties.
But there were no such lines with the brotherhood. Mesmers didn’t have lines.
I don’t have lines. Not even with Hannah.
* * *
I had no idea how much time had passed as Hannah cried in the shower, which I’d blocked out by turning on music and cranking it up. But I was almost done buying the tickets when she finally opened the bathroom door and stepped out wrapped in a towel. I shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have even glanced her way, but I did.
Damp golden waves, her nose still red, eyes focused somewhere around the floor as her fingers clutched at the towel where it met over her chest. There were thin red streaks all over the white cloth from all those needles I’d threaded through her pretty skin.
Swallowing, I tore my gaze away and focused on the computer. But I’d only got halfway through typing in her passport information when I saw her fidgeting out of the corner of my eye, weight shifting from foot to foot.
“What?” I snapped, and she flinched. Dammit. That bothered me too, tugged at me incessantly, and it set my teeth on edge. “Speak!”
Her lips parted at the command, tongue working, and then she choked out, “Tomik.”
My name. My goddamn fucking name in her voice. It was like nails on a chalkboard and angels singing all at once. Paradise and Hell in a single breath from her throat. “Don’t say my name anymore,” I growled, shoved the command inside her, pushed it harder than anything else I’d done, and she rocked on her heels, stumbling back a half-step.
“Please stop,” she whispered, eyes lifting to me like she actually expected me to just let her go. Apologize. Become that pathetic loser that had felt thrilled by just rounding second base with her in the back of a truck.
“No. Sit down and be quiet.” The words were barely out of my mouth when she started to sit on the floor, right in my peripheral vision. “On the bed,” I snapped, and her body shuddered, stopping mid-crouch to straighten up and move to the bed behind me. She was a zombie-robot-girl again, and I hated that too. Hated the way that tugged at me, but I needed it right now. I needed to get the fucking tickets booked or it wouldn’t be Aaron who showed up next time; it would be the twins, and they were so much harder to predict.
Shit shit fuckityfuck.
I had to book the flight for tomorrow night, which meant I only had one more day with her here, but showing up jetlagged to hell wasn’t going to make Sunday any fun. We’d both need Saturday to recover, even if I made her sleep on the plane… which was my plan. It worked best. Sleeping collectables were harder to notice. I knew that from experience, even if joining the mile-high club was always delicious.
When I was finished saving the info in my phone, I connected the camera and started to scroll through the photos. Uploading them to my private drive online where I could guarantee I never lost a single shot. Thousands of photos, an infinite reel of depravity and sex and violence. It was addictive looking at the old ones where I saw girls strung up in ropes, pinned between my mesmer brothers, coated in come and filth, and then I stopped as I came to one of a girl chained spread eagle to a metal lattice. Her back was bloody, striped with whip marks, and although her hair was a shade darker than Hannah’s… it could have been Hannah. Could be Hannah.
I pictured her like that, strung up, vulnerable, could even feel the whip in my hands. She’d scream, she’d moan, orgasm as the whip split her skin if I commanded it. Pretty Hannah wrecked by my hand. I could erase the person she used to be, and then maybe, maybe she wouldn’t be able to remind me of the loser I’d been when she had actually known me.
Eventually, I turned around and found Hannah was slumped to the side. Still technically sitting but passed out on the pillows next to her. I got up and approached silently to stand over her. She didn’t even twitch. Out cold, but she looked fucking perfect. Somehow still innocent after everything I’d done to her. Pure underneath that white towel. Like the angel she used to pretend to be in almost every D&D campaign.
An image flashed in my mind. Hannah, wearing fluffy white wings, strung up and bloodied by a whip. Once she was bleeding the blood would probably flick onto the wings, slowly ruining them. Ruining her.
That could be the answer. The key.
Hannah wanted to save the Tomik she’d known, but if I destroyed the old Hannah first… then there’d be no helping me. No weak, pathetic attempts to change me back.
Turning away from her, I headed to the shower. All my thoughts tick, tick, ticking away as I imagined where I could put together her special photoshoot. After the mesmer brotherhood party. After I shared her with them, reminded myself of what this was. They’d help me do that, even if they didn’t fully grasp it.
Seeing her pistoned at either end by the twins would be good; maybe Sergei would bring that fucked-up metal claw thing, leave some scratches on her as a prelude to the whip.
So many photos to take, so much to make Hannah do.
I’d be fine after this weekend, and then I’d finally rip out the little Hannah claws she’d buried deep when we were kids.
Then… then I’d be free.
12
Hannah
“Miss?” the waiter asked, leaning down to look at me, and I opened my mouth to answer him, but Tomik spoke first.
“She’ll have the turkey sandwich with… rosemary fries.” Tomik smiled as he looked up at me, looking perfectly charming, perfectly normal. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yes,” I whispered, and the waiter nodded and walked away. Left me staring at Tomik and wondering why in the hell I wasn’t screaming, grabbing at every person who walked by the table and begging for help. I’d raised my hand to get the woman’s attention at the table beside us, but I’d dropped it as soon as she’d glanced at me. All the words I’d wanted to say, the terrible things he’d done to me… they just stuck in my throat. Made my tongue cramp, and he’d just laughed softly as he’d looked over the menu.
I couldn’t do anything. Surrounded by people and still helpless. Lost.
I plucked at a torn cuticle on my thumb, hands buried in my lap, on the soft white dress with the pretty blue flowers. It was one of mine, but the gray tights weren’t. I didn’t know where they’d come from, I just knew there was a large hole cut out between my thighs. No underwear, again, and I kept my knees tight together to try and hide my shame from the café full of people.
“This is nice, don’t you think?” Tomik asked, glancing out over the sun-drenched park that began across the street. The air was still a little cool, but the sun was bright enough to warm my skin. “Answer.”
“Yes, T—” Tomik. His name choked off, made my throat clench tight.
*Can’t say that anymore,* Greta said, lounging on one of those poolside chairs with an old-fashioned silvery reflector aimed at her gray face. There was no sunlight wherever Greta was, which made it look ridiculous, and I shook my head to get rid of the stupid image.
I’m the ridiculous one, talking to the voice in my head. Or listening to it.
I shifted in the seat and immediately flinched, inner muscles twitching around the dull ache in pussy and ass. Tomik chuckled again.
“Still sore?” He was grinning when I looked up at him, refusing to answer. With a flick of his fingers, he popped the sunglasses up into his wild hair. “We’re going to have so much fun with you.”
“I doubt it,” I mumbled, but he’d heard it, and it only made him laugh again. Quietly, almost under his breath.
“Oh, we will. I’ve got a whole list of ideas for you, and I’m sure my friends do too.”
Clenching my fists tight in my lap, I leaned forward. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can, and because I think it will finally be the thing that fixes this.”
“Fixes what?” I snapped, my anger growing as he chuckled and dropped the sunglasses down over his eyes again. Hiding.
“All the shit between us. You thinking you can help me, me thinking you’re anything other than… what you are.” He shrugged, smirking as he leaned back from the table. Looking too damned handsome. Like some kind of dangerous biker who had picked me up in my pretty sundress and convinced me to have lunch with him. To the other customers that’s probably what this looked like. Tomik was wearing a dark shirt with some band’s logo on it, stretched tight across his muscular chest. Those dark blue tattoos snaked up his arms, meeting the actual snake that inched up his neck. His short, sandy hair with the shaved furrows. Capped off by the dark jeans, and those massive boots with their silver skulls. He stood out here, didn’t belong with all the people dressed nicely and enjoying the late-summer weather before fall stole all the beautiful days away.
He was Tomik, my Tomik, and yet he wasn’t. Didn’t look like the boy I’d known, act like the boy I’d loved, even if he was.
“And what do you think I am?” I asked, a momentary flash of bravery, buoyed by the minimal commands he’d given me to behave.
“A complication.”
“Because you loved me too?” I whispered, voice almost breaking, but he just huffed. Turned away to look out at the park again. Forcing myself to keep talking, I spoke a little louder. “I meant what I said… I can help you. You don’t have to be like this.”
Tomik ripped the sunglasses off, leaned forward and snarled, “And what if this is exactly who I want to be, Hannah? What if this is exactly who I was always meant to be, who I always wanted to be?”
