I didn’t think I would be able to sleep that night. The unfamiliar room was full of strange shapes and smells, the house creaking and settling around me. I’d avoided even going near this house for so many years, and now I was lying in it.
Lying with a sore butt, throbbing clit, and more shame than I knew what to do with.
The door was shut, so unless Jason had cameras under his blankets, there was absolutely nothing to stop me from disobeying Manson’s orders and getting off. But I didn’t. I wasn’t even sure why, only that something stopped me every time my hand got close. I lay there, squirming uncomfortably, replaying what they’d done to me over and over until it became a filthy yet delicious loop in my head. Lucas spitting Manson’s cum into my mouth, the warmth of Jason’s tongue, the stinging smack of Vincent’s hand…
I briefly closed my aching eyes to rest them. The next thing I knew, the heavy curtain over the window was framed with light, and I could hear birdsong drifting in from outside.
It was morning.
I sat up, stretching my arms and rolling out my shoulders. I’d slept better than I had in a long time, but my ass stung every time I moved, like a bad sunburn on both cheeks. Having not showered last night, I surely looked like a mess. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, surprised it still had any battery left.
There was a text from Danielle. Hey girl!!! You good? Sorry about bailing, babe, please tell me you’re not in jail or something!
She ended it with a laughing emoji. My fingers tightened around the phone until it was shaking in my hand, and I dropped it on the bed so I wouldn’t hurl it across the room. She’d known what they were up to all along and hadn’t mentioned a damn thing to me. Had they planned to leave me here? To let me take the fall for the whole thing?
I doubted they expected “taking the fall” to be quite like…that.
I shuffled out of bed and fixed it up, trying to leave the pillows and blankets exactly as I’d found them. Everything in here smelled like Jason, his scent saturated into every surface. His massive computer setup occupied more space than his bed, and he had stacks of books piled below his desk. Fundamentals of Software Architecture, Domain-Driven Design, Observability Engineering…and then stacks and stacks of manga and superhero comics.
He’d told me not to touch anything in here, but I couldn’t help my curiosity as I cracked open the closet and took a look inside. So that was where the mess was; stacks of electronics boxes, loose cables, and clothing were packed inside in a precariously balanced heap. I decided it was better to shut the door again than risk it all tumbling down.
It didn’t sound like anyone else in the house was awake yet, or if they were, they certainly weren’t making any noise. I put on my shoes and opened the bedroom door, but almost slammed it again when I found their massive gray pit bull sitting in the hallway, waiting for me.
I stared at her, she stared at me. Last night, she’d sounded like she wanted to bite my ankles off, but this morning, she gave me one long look with her big brown eyes and then her tail began to thump on the floor.
“Aw, you’re not so vicious, are you?” I said, crouching down to scratch under her chin. She was definitely a cuddler and immediately moved closer, almost knocking me on my ass. “Oh, honey, you are not a lapdog, but you are so cute.”
Glancing down the hall as I gave her belly rubs, I spotted their other dog at the top of the stairway. He regarded me suspiciously, giving me an uncertain bark before he waddled back downstairs.
Oh, well. At least one of them wanted to be my friend — probably one of the only friends I had left after last night.
Slipping into the bathroom, I took one look at myself in the mirror and groaned. I gave my face a thorough wash with warm water, working some of the tangles out of my hair with my fingers. I still looked like a gremlin who’d crawled out of the woods, but whatever.
Before I left the bathroom, I tugged up my dress to get a look at my backside in the mirror. It didn’t only feel like a bad sunburn; it looked like it too. My skin was bright red and my fingers left pale imprints when I pressed them against my cheek. Damn, that stung. It also brought back memories of exactly what it felt like to bend through that window with my mouth full and my ass getting smacked, and a shiver ran over my entire body.
I wasn’t eager to take a spanking like that again. But the other parts, the parts that had me gasping with pleasure, I would gladly experience again.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. I needed to find Manson so I could get back to my car. The pit bull — was her name Jojo? — was still waiting for me in the hall when I came out and walked along with me as I wandered toward the stairs. There were two more rooms, one of which was right next to the bathroom.
The door was wide open, the room within coldly utilitarian. There was a bed, dresser, and clothes hamper in the corner, but nothing else. Perhaps a guest bedroom? There were a few things on top of the dresser, but as tempting as it was, maybe it was better not to push my luck with the snooping.
The next room, closest to the stairway, also had the door cracked open. I could only see a sliver of an open closet through the crack, but nothing more.
I stood outside the door, listening carefully. There were no voices or footsteps — either the boys were outside, or still asleep. I glanced down at Jojo and found her looking back, licking her chops excitedly.
“It’s not snooping if you open the door,” I whispered and pointed to the crack. “Wanna go in, girl?”
To my surprise, she nudged her nose against the door and trotted inside without any hesitation, hopping up on the bed. With one glance, I knew this room had to be Manson’s. I recognized the bull’s skull hanging on the wall above the bed, painted black with an intricate gold design. Everything was meticulously clean — from the shelves beside the closet covered in vinyl records, to the desk in the corner that held a laptop and an oil diffuser. It was switched on, filling the room with a citrusy floral scent.
So much for not snooping.
A record player sat on a table below the shelves, and I squinted my eyes to read the record sitting on it. Bauhaus. I’d never heard of them, but it was probably because the album had come out in 1980.
“Didn’t you get enough of going through our shit last night?”
I whirled around, clutching my hand to my heart before it could leap out of my chest. Manson leaned against the door frame, arms folded as he watched me. Oh God, why did he have to look like that? All broody and irritated, regarding me through narrowed eyes as he tried to figure out what I was up to. He was wearing a shirt this morning, but the black fabric clinging to his frame didn’t make it any easier not to stare.
“I, um…the dog, she…I was trying to get her…” I waved my hand vaguely in the direction of Jojo, who thumped her tail happily as she lay curled up on Manson’s bed.
“Right,” Manson said. “It was Jojo. I guess you two have decided to get along?”
“I’m just glad she didn’t eat me,” I said. I was suddenly far too aware of the fabric of my dress brushing against my well-spanked backside. It made my skin prickle.
“Her bark is way worse than her bite,” he said, jerking his head toward the hall in an indication that I should follow him. “I don’t think Jojo is capable of biting anybody. Haribo is the one you have to watch out for.”
Following him down the stairs, past the kitchen on my right and the living room to my left, we reached the front porch. The day was warm and humid, but it felt like someone dropped a rock into my stomach as Manson hopped off the porch and trudged across the yard toward the garage.
“Um, I need to go get my stuff…” I said as Manson walked inside, his shoes crunching on glass. God, it looked even worse in daylight. The dents, the broken glass, the ruined paint…I must have looked sick because when he turned around to answer me, he looked alarmed for a moment.
“Are you good?” he said, and I nodded, motioning at the destruction around us.
“It’s just…it looks really…shocking. In daylight.”
He grimaced as he nodded. “Yeah. It’s bad. Which is why you don’t need your stuff yet.” He grabbed a push broom from the corner, holding it out toward me. “You’re going to get to work cleaning up all this glass. Then I’ll take you to pick up your car.”
Grasping the broom’s smooth plastic handle, I sighed. At least it wasn’t another spanking. I got to work, carefully sweeping glass from around the cars and underneath them. Manson watched me for a while, his intent gaze flustering me. It was easier once he finally stepped away, taking the stairs to the upper level. The garage was spacious, and the area at the back seemed to be where they did most of their work. There were all kinds of machines I didn’t know the purpose of, toolboxes, stacks of tires, and a grease pit that an old car was parked atop of. Lucas was in the pit, his forehead creased with concentration as he worked.
He hadn’t even looked at me.
Manson was on the phone upstairs, pacing as he spoke. I only caught snippets of the conversation, enough to put together that he was talking to his auto insurance company. I put my head down and swept a little faster.
By the time I was done, I was sweating through my clothes and my head was pounding with the need for a coffee. Lucas was still ignoring me, but once Manson was off the phone, he came downstairs to check my work.
“Not bad,” he said, inspecting the area around the cars. “You got underneath too?”
I nodded, wiping the sweat off my forehead. He watched me do it, his lips parted as if he had something more to say but had completely forgotten. I glanced behind him and caught Lucas’s eye for a split second before he turned his back to me again.
“All right,” Manson said. “Go get your stuff, I’ll drive you to your car.”
The Bronco was particularly bouncy as Manson drove down the road, the massive tires rumbling over every dip and pothole. He had the radio turned up and the AC blasting, but kept the window rolled down so he could hang his arm out in the breeze.
I couldn’t bear to sit there the whole time in silence. The longer I sat, the more I thought about all the perverted things he could do to me now that we were alone and my thighs squeezed together. The long soak I was planning to take in the tub once I got home was going to have to involve my vibrator too.
Surely his “no touching” rule didn’t apply today. I’d been a good girl for him.
I closed my eyes, mentally scolding myself. He didn’t get to tell me what to do. None of them did.
I glanced over at him out of the corner of my eye. He was different than he’d been in high school. He was far more confident now, his measured speech and careful movements showing an obsessive control over how he presented himself.
“So…when did you start doing the whole mechanic thing?” I said when I couldn’t bear to stay quiet any longer. He sat up a little straighter, as if he’d been deep in thought and I’d snapped him out of it.
“The mechanic thing.” He chuckled. “We’re an auto tuning shop, first and foremost. We build cars for competition, speed, and power; we can bolt on parts, swap an engine, fabricate custom pieces, and advise clients on how to get the best performance out of their vehicle. Once we get a bigger space, and the funds, hopefully we’ll be adding a Dynamometer to the shop too.”
I had no idea what that was, so I smiled and nodded.
He continued, “But uh…it wasn’t exactly a childhood dream. I guess I fell into it naturally, though. When I got this beast…” He patted the wheel affectionately. “It was my way out. Freedom. I could get in a vehicle that was entirely my own and drive away from that fucking house. But as I’m sure you remember, the beast was a piece of shit back then.”
I giggled, memories coming back to me. “Oh, trust me, I remember. Like that time you were trying to fix it in the school parking lot in the pouring rain?”
“Yeah, that shit happened way too often. But since I didn’t have the money to pay someone to fix it, I had to figure it out myself. So I learned.”
“And you kept it running all this time?” He nodded, and I shook my head in surprise. “That’s really impressive.”
His lips twitched into a smile he tried to hide behind his hand. “Honestly, we never would have been able to start the shop without the money my mom left me. I had no idea she even had anything left, but I guess she managed to keep it hidden from my dad even when she was…” He trailed off. “Anyway, we opened the shop once we moved into the house so we haven’t been here very long. Our first builds were our own cars, so the more we raced and were able to show off what we could do, the more clients we found. We’re only just getting started.” He nodded to himself, his speed slowing as we neared Ellis Road and the bridge. “Once we get out of Wickeston, we’re going to keep getting bigger and better.”
He said it determinedly, as if he were commanding the universe to give him what he wanted instead of merely hoping for it.
Luckily my car was still there, sitting right where I’d left it on the side of the road. I doubted it would get towed sitting overnight, but after the night I had, I wasn’t going to assume the best of anything.
Manson pulled into the dirt beside it and parked. “Well, Jess, I can’t say it’s been fun, but it’s been…something.”
We looked at each other. He readjusted himself in his seat multiple times, as if he couldn’t figure out a comfortable position, before he said, “I guess this could be the last time we see each other, so…have a great life and stay the hell out of my garage.”
The last time. Oh, I did not like how that sounded. Not one bit.
“Yeah.” I nodded, my hand hovering on the door handle. “Okay, um…bye.”
God, I could gag from how awkward I felt. That was a terrible goodbye, that was…Shit, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t let it matter.
I hurriedly hopped out of the Bronco, digging for my keys in my bag and unlocking my car, trying all the while not to look back at him. The weather had grown disgustingly muggy, and getting into the car felt like crawling inside a hot tin can. I turned on the engine, frowning as it sputtered. I turned the AC on full blast and leaned my head back as I waited for the cool air to fill the cabin.
But as I sat there, my eyes wandered. Manson hadn’t left yet. In fact, he was staring at me, his hand slightly raised as if to get my attention.
I rolled down my window.
“What’s wrong with your car?” he said. He sounded as if the answer had already exasperated him and he hadn’t even heard it yet.
“Nothing,” I said. It was a little louder than usual, but that was normal. Maybe. It had sounded like this for months, so whatever it was probably wasn’t serious.
He sighed so hard I could hear it even over the noise. “Your engine is fucked up.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not, it’s totally —”
The check engine light popped on. The rattling under the hood increased in volume, with a persistent knocking sound that only grew worse as I let the car idle. It sounded like someone was banging a hammer repeatedly against a steel pipe.
Manson was watching me with his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Okay, that’s not good,” I said as the RPMs began to randomly fluctuate without my foot touching the gas. The knocking sound became alarmingly loud. “All right, let’s —”
There was a loud bang and the engine abruptly shut off. All the lights on my dash popped on and I was left staring in shock as I tried to figure out what had happened. I opened my door, the fumes of burned oil making me cough as Manson shoved open his door and got out.
“God, I do not need this today.” I groaned, staring at the stream of smoke trickling from beneath my hood. Without a word, Manson popped the hood and lifted it, taking a look around before he suddenly dropped to his knees and looked underneath the car.
When he got to his feet, he was shaking his head as if the underside of the car had personally insulted him. He held up a ragged chunk of something covered in oil, looking at me as if I should have known what it was.
I didn’t.
“Is that…bad?” I said.
His mouth twitched. “This is part of your engine block, Jess. Trust me, it’s bad.”
