Vincent was hurtling down narrow curving roads, tires skidding in the dirt, flying over bumps and dips without a care. I could have sworn the car flew over one particularly large bump, and all four tires left the ground as the engine buzzed like an overgrown honeybee. I had one hand in a death grip on the grab handle above the door and the other locked around his thigh.
But it was clear he knew what he was doing. With one glance, I saw the joy on his face, the excitement and concentration. Every turn was tight, the variations in the rutted road requiring him to constantly adjust his speed. Every dip gave me the brief sensation of flying, my stomach rising and falling with the road.
It was like being on a roller coaster. I shrieked as he sped through a tight curve, and the back end of the car slid around the turn before we launched forward again. I giggled, then laughed, unable to stop myself from smiling.
“Holy shit, this is fun!” I screamed as we flew over a bump again, sailing past a herd of cows that fled in surprise.
“Welcome to rally racing, Jess!” He raised his voice over the engine, laughing along with me. “Scared?”
“No!” My heart was racing, my limbs were tingling, high on adrenaline. “This is amazing!”
We came out of a long stretch of trees to find open fields on either side. There were more cows grazing in the distance, and on the opposite side of the road was an old barn, its dark wooden roof leaning slightly to one side. Vincent slowed and turned, pulling into the unfenced field and driving toward the barn.
Now that he’d slowed down and I could actually catch my breath, I said, “So Manson and Lucas drag race…and you do this? Rally?”
“That’s right. Rally is pretty varied as a motorsport, but the main difference is that if I compete, I’m not running directly against other competitors on the same circuit. It’s still focused on reaching a destination as fast as you can, but there’s more to it than your typical drag race. Like going off road.” He smiled, taking his sunglasses off as we neared the barn. “That’s my favorite. Remind me to show you the rally competition they hold in the Isle of Man sometime. It’ll blow your mind.”
The barn doors were wide open, allowing him enough space to drive the WRX inside. Sunlight fell in pale beams through the old boards, dust motes swirling in the light as Vincent cut the engine but let the music keep playing.
He settled back in his seat, looking at me with a smile that spoke of wicked things. “I thought you were going to piss yourself by the way you were screaming back there,” he teased, and I shoved his shoulder.
“I wasn’t scared,” I said confidently. “I’m braver than you think.”
He caught my wrist and held it, keeping me drawn close toward him. “You’ve got me there. I should have known you were brave with those nipple piercings of yours. Not even Lucas is brave enough to get that done.”
“Considering Lucas shoved a needle through his dick, I doubt he’d have a problem getting his nipples pierced,” I said. Vincent leaned toward me; his smirking mouth hovering dangerously close to mine as he held my wrist captive.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said. His thumb was rubbing slow circles on the back of my hand. “You didn’t see him when he got it pierced. He’s actually terrified of needles.”
“Did he freak out?” I laughed. “Come on, you’re messing with me.”
But he shook his head. “Nope, I’m not even exaggerating. He was a mess and I got it all on video.”
Oh. I needed that.
“You have to show me.” I leaned closer and let my exhale touch his lips. Arousal was coiled in my abdomen like a serpent in the sun. Tight, warm, ready to strike.
“Oh, I can,” he said. His fingers brushed my arm and his green eyes fixated on my lips. “For the right price.”
“Price…” I echoed. I brushed his hair back, intentionally keeping the touch of my nails as light as possible on his skin. He shivered, and it made me smile. “I feel like I already owe you such a debt…”
“Trying to play sweet with me now, are you?” He grasped my chin, giving my face a little shake. “You’ll have to try harder than that, baby. Jason is a brat too. I know how you work.”
I tweaked an eyebrow at him in surprise, irritated that he’d seen through me so easily. “Jason? A brat? Mister Straight-A’s with a nice Christian upbringing? I doubt that.”
“When he ate your pussy in the garage, did it feel like the way a good boy would eat it?” he said. The way his lips curved around those words had no business being so erotic. Thinking about Jason eating me out as the rest of them spanked me and fucked my mouth made me throb, my pussy getting far too greedy for her own good.
Every word he said was winding me up, and he smelled so good. I wanted to press my nose against him and inhale him into my lungs, run my tongue over his skin, taste the sweat and salt…
Damn it all, what was wrong with me? For the sake of my pride, I needed to put up at least a little resistance, but when he was looking at me like that…
What the hell was there to resist?
He laughed again as he laid his hand against my cheek. His humor came easily, and I liked the way he laughed — it sounded innocent and wicked all at once.
“Come on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
He got out of the car, and the distance between us felt like a cruel effort to remind me who was in charge. Damn it, most people would have taken immediate, full advantage in that situation. I was practically fucking him with my eyes, yet he was still making me wait.
I came to join him in front of the car. The barn creaked softly around us; the rustle of the breeze through the grass and sweet birdsong creating a relaxing ambience. But as soon as I settled beside him, leaning against the car’s warm hood, I spotted something partially hidden in the shadows.
A massive painting covered the barn’s inner wall. I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer, surprised to find a mural of a dark, smiling clown. The character’s eyes bulged from their head, their mouth stretched into a wide, sharp-toothed grin as it stared down at me with one icy blue eye and one bright green.
“Wow…” I stepped even closer, brushing my fingers across the rough, weather-worn boards. Up close, I could see the varying shades of paint used to create depth, shine, and shadow. It was stunningly detailed. I glanced back at Vincent. “Did you paint this?”
He nodded, coming to stand beside me. “I started it when I was seventeen. That was when I first found this old barn. It’s been abandoned for years. The family who owns the property doesn’t even live in the state, so no one bothers to poke around. I used to drive out here when I needed time to myself.”
“Why a clown?” I said. The face paint was almost identical to what he’d worn that night at the Halloween party; dark shapes around his eyes and the lips painted black.
“I’ve always been into the clown motif,” he said. “Clowns are performers, meant to entertain you. But some people find them terrifying and others find them funny. Some think they’re sexy.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I laughed, shaking my head. “Don’t lie. You’ve got a little bit of coulrophilia yourself.” At my skeptical look, he explained, “You’re aroused by clowns.”
“I think not,” I said. He slipped his arms around me from behind, his chin easily resting on top of my head. “Maybe only if those clowns happen to be you, Lucas, and Jason.”
“Oh? You admit it then: you’re into the men behind makeup.” His grip tightened, prodding that burning arousal inside me. I was starkly aware of how wet my panties had become. “A clown is just a human being with a painted face and some weird clothes. It’s about perception. Whether they’re considered funny, scary, sexy — it all comes down to who’s watching you. The audience gets to define what they see. It’s all one big performance.”
I understood that. Sometimes no matter what you did, you couldn’t change the way people perceived you.
“I didn’t know you liked to paint,” I said. I felt so small tucked under his chin like that. I wasn’t particularly short, but he was so tall and lanky that I seemed tiny in comparison anyway.
“My family is pretty artsy. One of my little sisters, Mary, is a way better painter than me. She should be in galleries, and she’s only fourteen. But we all got the itch to create things. My parents encouraged us to express ourselves. I’ve got boxes full of beaded bracelets from the twins. And the littlest, Kristina, she loves to draw.”
“Such a big family. I guess that makes it easier, living with the other guys. You’re already used to a crowded house.”
“It’s a real circus,” he said. “In both instances. But I like that. It’s a good feeling to have a bunch of people you love close by. Makes you feel safe, like you’re never alone.”
Longing split my chest. I had no idea what it felt like to be surrounded by people I didn’t need to perform for. If I was alone, at least I couldn’t be judged.
“Does your family know?” I said. “I mean, do you tell them about…”
“About being a polyamorous bisexual who believes in sexual freedom? Absolutely.” He smiled. “Makes it easier that my parents are total hippies, and kids don’t have the same hang-ups adults do. My sisters know that their big brother has a lot of love to give, and love is beautiful.”
“So you’re the romantic one,” I said. “I should have known.”
“I’ve had the most practice. Jason is a sucker for romantic shit, even though he denies it.”
I looked at him over my shoulder. “You really love him, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. I love all those bastards, obviously, but love is a little different with every person you share it with. Sometimes it’s passionate and romantic, or deep and platonic, or any combination in between. A lot of people don’t understand it, but I don’t need anyone’s understanding. I accepted that a long time ago.”
Half the time, I felt the same way. No one needed to understand me or my reasons. I didn’t have to justify myself. But the other half of the time, insecurity reared its ugly head and reminded me that when people moved too far outside what society understood, you’d swiftly find yourself rejected.
“Do you have any other hidden talents?” I said, turning to face him. He kept his arms around me, as if we’d been touching for years instead of mostly avoiding each other. That was the thing with Vincent; things felt comfortable. They felt intimate without any effort.
He smiled down at me in that wicked way of his again, before he held up one finger in a just-you-wait motion. He walked back to the car and opened the trunk, where he’d stored the mysterious box of toys he’d bought in the sex shop. I’d only got a glimpse — there was something that looked like a blue alien dick in there — but seeing him rummage through it sent a zing of excitement down my spine.
When he straightened up again, he had a coiled length of braided black rope in his hands.
“Ooh, let me guess,” I said. “You were a really enthusiastic Boy Scout?”
“Very.” He stood in front of me, slowly running the rope through his fingers. “I always had a thing for knots. I wanted to know the most, and I wanted to be the fastest at tying them. There was a game we used to play…silly kid games, you know? Some of us would be pirates and some of us would be sailors, and my favorite part was capturing as many sailors as I could and tying them up.”
He looked like a pirate. Long-haired, mischievous, dangerous. “That doesn’t sound like a game kids should play.”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. Luckily, as I’ve grown up, I haven’t lost my love for games. I still like capturing my victims and tying them up — except now, I know what to do with them once I’ve got them tied.”
I was practically bursting with need. I held out my wrists, keeping my expression cautiously skeptical, while inside, I was screaming for his touch.
“What exactly do you plan to do with me, pirate?” I said. His smile was restrained, as was the brush of his fingers over my throat.
“Be patient,” he said. “And do as I say unless you want to get hurt.” My throat bobbed against his hand as I swallowed, and he ordered, “Strip down. Take everything off.”
I thought about resisting, pushing back so I could find out what this pirate could do with his bratty victim. But I liked the way he looked at me when I teased, so as I stripped off my shirt, I said, “Please don’t hurt me, sir. I’ll do whatever you say.”
He smiled, swinging a length of rope around in a quick circle as I took off my shoes, then unbuttoned my jeans and peeled them down. When I lifted my head after tossing them aside, his carefully concocted expression was gone, leaving something that looked like amazement in its place.
“What?” I said, hating that I sounded more vulnerable now that most of my clothes were off. It was inevitable, I guess. Confidence and insecurity ran hand in hand inside me.
“It’s funny how life works,” he said, eyes roaming over me like he was trying to learn every curve. “A few years ago, I thought the closest I’d ever get to something like this was when I danced with you at prom.”
“Prom…” I hadn’t thought of that night in so long. It had been a shitty day all around, but there had been that moment outside, in the pouring rain. “Yeah. Wild how things end up.”
Wild, senseless, chaotic. I wasn’t sure if anything made sense anymore, but maybe it wasn’t supposed to.
“I’ve thought about this for a long time, Jess,” he said. His fingers traced along the edge of my bra, lightly touching the pale blue satin fabric. “What are you waiting for? I said, everything off.”
The authority in his voice was different from the other guys. It hovered on the edge of merely being playful, put with a sharp warning beneath the surface. I had a feeling he could switch from jovial to serious in a split second, so I obeyed.
The air was warm and slightly humid as I stood there naked, my clothes dumped aside in a pile. Shafts of sunlight fell over Vincent’s face as he smiled.
“You are too fucking beautiful,” he said, looping the rope around my wrist. “Do you know what I like to do with beautiful things?” He pulled me closer and caught me around my throat, maneuvering me until the back of my legs was pressed against the grill of his car. “I like to break them. I like to watch them crack into pieces as I destroy them.”
“Don’t…” My protest was soft, and he cut it off with a quick squeeze of his hand. He maintained that pressure on the sides of my throat just long enough that a light-headed rush came over me.
“Shut up.” Again, he said it like it was a joke, but the joke carried sinister weight. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen, baby. I’m going to break you, and you’re going to cry and beg me to stop even though you love it. Then, a couple days from now, Jason is going to have his turn with you and do the same damn thing. We’ll break you again, and again, and again. As many times as necessary.”
My heart was hammering as he eased me back, pushing me until I was lying against the hood of the car. My toes barely touched the ground and the hood was still slightly warm. He roped my other wrist and then pulled them taut, securing the rope to the bars inside his car. His every movement was so careful and practiced, you’d think he tied people to the hood of his car all the time.
Maybe he did.
Soon, both my arms were bound and spread. I was lying flat enough that it wasn’t too much of a strain on my shoulders, but I certainly couldn’t move much.
“You make a sexy hood ornament,” he said, arms folded as he stood over me. “It would be fun to drive you around Wickeston like this. I could stuff your ass with a vibrating toy and have you dripping the entire time.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said, torn between being aroused by the idea and horrified as I tugged at the rope. It didn’t move, not one bit.
“Nah. I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. If people see some poor woman tied to the hood of a car, they’ll get concerned. Can’t expect the general public to know a little brat like you enjoys being treated like you’re nothing more than a toy. Besides, my ride runs hot.” He patted the hood affectionately. “I’d hate for your ass to get burned.”
He reached out, his fingers between my legs. I held my breath, so tense as I waited for him to make contact. There was a slight squeak — the sound of his fingers swiping across the hood. He didn’t touch me at all, but lifted his hand so I could see the shine on his fingertips. “You see, filthy girl? That’s all you. Already dripping on the hood you’ve been tied to.” He brought his finger to my mouth, tapping lightly against my lower lip. “Open up.”
I pressed my lips tightly together, shaking my head.
“Well, Jess,” he said, his tone mockingly disappointed. “If you’re going to insist on keeping your mouth closed, I may as well give you a good reason.”
He disappeared from my side as he went back to the trunk. After a brief moment, he returned carrying a tall white candle. It was slim and looked like the type of thing my mom loved to put around the house at Christmas.
“What’s that for?” I said.
His answer was to nudge the base of the candle against my clit, rubbing the wax over me for several moments before he pressed it inside. I bit my tongue, striving to keep myself silent as he pumped the candle in and out.
When he used his opposite hand to rub my clit, I broke almost immediately. I gasped, my mouth opening, and his hand snapped out to catch my jaw, fingers hooked into my mouth. I couldn’t close without biting him, which I gladly would have done.
It was like he read my mind because he leaned close to my face and hissed, “If you bite me, I’ll bite you back.” The viciousness in his tone sent a clear warning, so different from his usual joking attitude. He slipped the candle out of me, setting it between my teeth before he withdrew his finger from my mouth. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, holding the candle in place as he lit it.
“Better not let it drop,” he said. I had my teeth clenched into it, but if I dared to open my mouth, I’d drop the burning candle on my bare chest. I could taste myself on the wax, and I groaned, wriggling in protest. “Since your mouth is occupied, tap your hand three times on the hood if you need to call red. But I don’t think you’ll be stopping me.”
My eyes widened as I realized the candle was already beginning to drip, wax streaking down the side as another bead quickly formed at the tip. Vincent ran his hands up my inner thighs, igniting a ticklish shiver. But that shiver betrayed me. The bead of wax trembled and fell, landing right between my breasts.
It wasn’t the first time I’d had wax dripped on me, but it was no less shocking. The split second of pain, the whisper of a burn that quickly faded…I wanted to cry out, desperately, but I somehow managed to keep my teeth clenched.
Another drip fell as I shook. I squealed around the candle, exercising every bit of self-control I had not to squirm again.
“What an unfortunate predicament you’ve gotten yourself into,” Vincent said as he sunk two fingers into my pussy, drawing out another desperate moan. “Whether you struggle or not, it’s still going to drip. How fun. Oh, but…” He held up his finger, reaching for something in his back pocket. What he held up was a red-tipped wand that I assumed to be some kind of tool. “I have something that’ll make it even more fun.”
Then he brought it down and tapped it against my thigh.
It shocked me, electricity bursting through every nerve ending. My entire body tensed, and I thrashed against the ropes. There was no escape from him bringing it down again, tapping it against my other leg with the same effect. I screamed, teeth still clenched, more wax dripping onto my chest in tiny, wicked bites of heat.
Vincent laughed, giving the wand a little spin in his hand. “Aww, does that hurt? Was that a I’m-having-so-much-fun scream or I’m-in-agony scream? I couldn’t really tell, let’s hear it again.” Another tap, another shock, another scream. I couldn’t manage to hold it back. “Well, what do you know! It sounds like both, Jess.” He brought the wand higher, hovering right over one of my hard nipples. “It sounds like you’re enjoying the pain. How fortunate for you.”
He lowered the wand. I tried to shake my head, but it only caused a few more drops of wax to fall. He grinned right before he tapped it down, and my back arched as I screamed at the shock.
But he was far from done with me, and moved the wand between my legs. I was whimpering even before it touched me, anticipating the pain, building it up in my head until it was a monster hovering over me. Vincent paused with the wand so painfully close, watching my face.
“I love seeing you work yourself up,” he said. He clicked the button on the wand, igniting a spark of electricity at the tip that was accompanied by a crackle. The sound alone made me jump, and more wax dotted my skin.
How had Jason survived him all these years? Maybe they balanced each other somehow, sadist versus sadist, feeding off the bliss of torturing one other.
Better yet, how could four sadists live in one house and not completely destroy each other with their sick games? How could I survive them, when my mind and body were betraying me at every turn, making me ache for their cruelty? All my fake struggles didn’t change reality — I wanted this, I longed for it.
“Sshh, sshh, Jess.” He kept the wand terrifyingly close to my clit as he leaned forward, bracing himself on the hood with one hand beside me. “You deserve this, you know. For being a bad girl. Bad girls need to be punished, don’t they?” He nodded as he said it, and I managed a tiny nod in return. My tongue kept forming the word “please,” over and over, but it didn’t come out right with my mouth full. “I’m going to count to three and then I’m going to do it. Ready?” I shook my head, and he laughed. “I think you are. As ready as you’ll ever be. One…”
I almost tapped. Almost. But I was curious. I wanted to push myself. Wanted more. My legs were shaking, and I whimpered as two more drops of wax fell onto me.
“Two.”
My entire body clenched. I didn’t know whether to look away or watch him do it.
“Three.”
He tapped the wand against my clit. I screamed, dissolving into sobs as I struggled to hold the candle in place. A cocktail of adrenaline and dopamine rushed through me in response to the pain — the perfect high.
“Good girl.” He leaned over to kiss my forehead, and I absolutely melted. I wanted him inside me; I wanted his body on mine.
Why did the pain make me feel so alive? It was the same kind of thrill I’d felt strapped into the passenger seat as he sped down the road, skirting the edge of danger. My hips bucked up eagerly, thoughtlessly. They were met with the wand again.
Vincent gave my face a little slap as I whined through the sting. “Such a slut, moving your hips around like that. You just want to get fucked, don’t you?” He pouted at me mockingly as I tried my best to keep still. No wiggling, no struggling, no frantically grinding my hips in search of any stimulation for my swollen, stinging clit.
He straightened up as he regarded me, twirling the wand in his hand. “Tell you what. I’ll fuck you. I’ll even take the candle out of your mouth. But I’m still going to use the wand the whole time.” He ran the wand up my leg, but he didn’t press the button. I shivered under its metallic touch, expecting a shock at any second. “So, are you going to keep yourself quiet, or are you going to be screaming your lungs out the entire time?”
I shook my head. Slowly, regretfully. But I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. I was too overwhelmed, too on edge. I needed to scream, and inevitably, I’d fail and disobey if he ordered me to be quiet.
“No? At least you’re honest.” Nevertheless, he grasped the candle and eased it from my teeth.
“I won’t…won’t be able to…to keep quiet,” I managed to get out. My skin felt so hot, and I was vibrating with energy. “I can’t do it, Vincent, please…”
“Please? Please what?”
I wiggled on the hood. “Please fuck me. Please. I’ll try to be quiet. I really will try.”
“You’ll try.” He held the candle over me, moving it slowly, keeping it tipped so drips of wax spattered across my thighs. I bit my lip, but I couldn’t hold back the whimpers. “Noisy little thing, aren’t you? Never could shut the fuck up. Next time, I’ll get one of the boys to keep your mouth occupied. But lucky for you,I like the way you scream.”
He pulled open his belt, unbuttoning his jeans to set his cock free. He spat in his hand and stroked it along his shaft, before nudging his swollen head against me. I tried to press onto him, desperate to feel him, but he shook his head at me and tapped the wand against my clit again — and again — both shocks tearing ragged screams out of me. As I screamed, his cock jerked, and he grabbed one of my legs and pushed it up, spreading me open for him.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured, looking down at me as I panted for breath.
With a soft groan, he thrust inside me. He didn’t start out slow, he didn’t take his time. He fucked me hard and fast, pounding into me with a brutality that was a punishment all on its own.
“Filthy little slut,” he hissed and then tapped the wand on my side. “Shit, you clench so tight every time I shock you. It feels so fucking good.” He shuddered along with me as he shocked me again, humming with pleasure as if my screams were music to his ears. “Scream all you want. No one can hear you out here.”
Why had I ever thought that Vincent would be the nice one out of the four? He was relishing every cry, his eyes wide with excitement, groaning with pleasure every time I tensed from the shocking pain. God, and he felt so good. The angle of his cock pounding into me hit that sweet spot that had my toes curling.
I was going to come and the pain was only edging me closer. The more I squealed and uselessly struggled, the more pleasure I felt. I was stunningly aware of every kiss of the breeze over my skin, the goosebumps on my chest, the biting crackle of electricity, the aching depth of Vincent fucking me. Those physical sensations were the only thing left in my mind. Nothing else mattered in that moment.
“Do you want to come?” He hovered the wand over my clit again. “It’s going to cost you.”
“Please!” I strained against the ropes, wide-eyed, as the wand came close. “Please, Vincent, no, no, no, no.”
“I know you already owe us such a debt,” he said, mocking my earlier words. “But I’m sure you don’t mind paying up when it feels so good.”
“Oh, God…fuck…please…” I knew the price was pain, and the pleasure I’d get in return would be so worth it, but the anticipation of it might kill me.
“Fear turns you on,” he said. “I can feel the way you squeeze around me when you beg. It’s going to happen, Jess.”
“God, Vincent, please don’t. I can’t…I-I can’t—”
He waited until my gasping fell silent. His expression had sobered, and his words were sincere as he said, “Remember your safeword, baby. Don’t forget where you are.”
I nodded. I was getting lost in the fantasy, but that didn’t mean my grasp on reality had left me. I was still grounded, still aware of where my boundaries lay.
“I remember,” I said. “I’m okay.”
Electricity crackled, sparking through my clit and tingling through my nerves. He laughed at my screaming, and that laugh was my breaking point. I squeezed around his cock as I came, desperately crying his name. My head went limp against the hood as I stared at the old beams high above me, utterly dazed. Vincent moaned, fucking me with a new urgency that made his hips jerk erratically.
“Fuck, Jess,” he growled. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this? How badly I’ve wanted to make you scream?” He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. “Have you fantasized about it? Tell the truth, right fucking now. Tell me if you’ve thought about this happening.”
“Yes!” My voice sounded so broken, thick with pleasure, mindless with pain. “I’ve thought about it…I’ve fantasized…about you…about all of you…”
“Naughty girl, aren’t you?” he snarled. His cock was swelling, twitching as he came closer to his orgasm. “You’re not supposed to do that, are you, baby? You’re not supposed to think about how the dirty freaks get your cunt wet. But you can’t help it, can you?”
Mind and body bent to his will as I shook my head. I couldn’t help thinking about them, wanting them, longing for things I wasn’t supposed to want.
He pressed in deep, baring his teeth with a guttural curse as he came inside me.
