NightWhere (25 page)

Mark’s hand unconsciously gripped himself as he watched Rae fuck. He rubbed himself, enjoying her obvious, unbridled excitement. He moaned slightly when she opened her own mouth, approaching orgasm thanks to using the man beneath her.

“You are naked and masturbating in a smelly basement peep show booth to a video of your wife fucking a man that she’s just carved her name into with a knife,” Mark whispered at one point to himself. He recognized the absurdity of it all, but that didn’t make him take his hand off his cock.

Watching her hips slowly move up and down on another man’s crotch made him breathe faster. He fixated on the muscles of her ass as they shifted, and watched her skin move across her shoulder blades and the small nubs of her backbone. She leaned over the man and let her hair fall forward, sometimes brushing the guy’s face as she bent in to kiss him and rub her own chest to his.

When she pulled back up and rode him vertically, the camera moved around to capture the lust of her facial expressions. Her mouth hung open in a continuous O of carnal excitement, and her chest was smeared red with her lover’s blood.

Mark stroked himself as she stroked her lover, rocking on him to guide his cock deeper. The sound of his wife’s moaning from the tiny TV speakers—punctuated by the deeper grunts and groans of the man on the table beneath her as she ground herself hard against him—brought Mark quickly to his own point of losing control.

But then, as Mark felt his own muscles tensing, as he forgot the place where he was and the reason he was here, as the pleasure wave grew, the camera pulled back and he could see that Rae and her chained lover were surrounded by people wearing dark robes…and all of them held knives as well. And then all of them dropped those robes and leaned in to stab at the man on the table. In minutes the scene was a bloodbath, with two dozen naked people smeared in blood all leaning close as Rae continued to increase her motions, fucking the man on the table as he bled to death. The man clearly screamed out in pain at his wounds, but Rae didn’t slow her forced use of him. If anything, her sexual rhythm grew faster.

Then the ringleader, Kharon, picked up the discarded knife that Rae had used to carve her name into the man’s chest and handed it back to Rae.

Mark heard what Kharon said clearly. And the man beneath her did too, as he suddenly began to twist and roll, trying to get away from Rae.

“Kill him.”

But the man didn’t, couldn’t, throw her off of him. His arms and legs remained chained, and she pinned his protesting midsection down to the table with her hips and ass. She held the knife out in front of her and stared at it.

“No,” the man beneath her said. His voice was faint, but Mark could hear him say it over and over again as he shook his head from side to side. “No, I was only joking. I didn’t mean it.”

Rae held the knife out in front of her, unmoving.

In front of her, Kharon said something, but Mark couldn’t hear what it was. The camera shifted slowly around until Rae’s face was fully in frame. And Mark could see her decision solidify. He could see it in the sudden steel of her eyes and the lines that crinkled briefly in her forehead. And the mean smile that suddenly overtook her lips.

The camera pulled back again just in time for Mark to see her move the knife lower, holding its blade to the man’s neck.

Mark’s erection suddenly went away, and his face craned closer to the small TV screen, as he watched what enfolded next. He had a horrible feeling about where this was going.

And he was right.

The blood welled up around her blade, but Rae still moved her body on top of the man, slowly grinding her ass up and down on him as she pressed the knife to his throat. She leaned down and her body hid the knife for a moment.

Mark could tell she was kissing the man, and when she straightened her body again, the man’s face had quieted. He no longer looked afraid and wasn’t saying no.

And that’s when Rae brought the knife down really hard against the soft skin of her lover’s neck.

The man’s mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. She’d severed his vocal cords.

And then she lifted the knife and brought it down again.

And again.

Mark could see the crack of her ass clenching and moving, the faint creases of cellulite across her ass growing pronounced and then smoothing; he knew those motions and muscles from years with his wife—and years watching his wife.

Mark realized that as Rae was killing this man…she was cumming. Hard.

“You have got to be shitting me,” he breathed, as he watched her grind and stab, grind and stab.

And then the camera shifted, and Kharon reached down to the table and grabbed the man’s head by its hair, lifting it into the air, as Rae still moved in her own final throes on top of the body.

“NightWhere,” Kharon yelled, as he held the head high. “Descend.”

And a moment later, all of the people in the room leaned in to touch Rae and the man she had brutally murdered. Mark’s wife was covered by two dozen arms and faces and heads and backs as they surrounded and massaged her and the dead man…

Her eyes turned to stare at the camera with a dull sheen of distance; she could be drugged or in ecstasy, Mark couldn’t tell.

And then a voice came from the dark behind him. Mark turned away from the TV screen for a second to locate the source. There was a hole in the black-painted wall of the booth, and he could see the liquid glint of an eye and hear the steady rasp of heavy breathing.

“She is happy now,” a voice said from the hole in the wall. “This is your last chance—leave now and both of you will be happy.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mark insisted.

He looked away from the glistening eye, to see his wife, his beautiful Rae, bending down to lick the blood off the chest of the man she’d killed, before she kissed his motionless lips.

She looked up again towards the camera, with her eyes half rolled back in sensual pleasure. With one hand, she massaged blood into her own naked breasts.

Mark turned away from both the screen and the eye behind him, suddenly feeling sick. He stared at neutral ground, the peep show booth door.

But nothing in a porn shop was neutral.

The door opened, and Dan stood there. His face showed no expression, but he asked one question.

“Do you still want to go back to NightWhere?”

From the corner of his eye, Mark saw the image of his wife covered in both blood and the bone-white hands of the bystanders near her.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

The man nodded. Something pricked Mark’s naked thigh.

Mark looked down and saw a hand withdraw through the hole between the peep show booths. The eye he’d seen before had been replaced briefly by a hand with a needle…

Mark wondered what the hand had injected him with, but suddenly he also felt increasingly slow…lethargic. The air suddenly swam with colorful spots, as the dark grew strangely darker. He knew it was nothing good.

Mark realized he couldn’t move.

And then his legs gave out beneath him, and Mark collapsed naked on the cold tile of the dirty porno booth.

Only then did two men suddenly swoop in to the narrow space to wrap him in a blanket. Part of him still was conscious of what was going on, but Mark couldn’t stop them as he was rolled back and forth on the floor into the blanket. Then the world disappeared when his face was covered by a black silk gag.

His body was lifted off the cold floor and Mark was escorted silently from the club, leaving all of his clothes, wallet and car keys behind.

His captors didn’t expect that he’d be coming back.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Waking up

Mark woke with something holding his arm down. He tried to move it, but…nothing happened. So he tried the other arm. And had similar luck.

His legs, also, refused to move from their place on his bed.

A bed that felt strangely cold.

Mark’s eyes blinked, but those seemed to be the only muscles currently working. He’d just have to work with what he had. He focused on the shadows, moving his eyes around the room, taking in every detail.

The ceiling was red as blood. Mark’s eyes traveled all along it, following the swirls and cascades. It ran darker and lighter in places, but it didn’t fade away. And the more he looked at it, the more it seemed as if the color wasn’t simply painted and static; it seemed to…move. To flow. The color bled down the walls and into the shadows near the floor. Mark’s head slowly tilted to one side, and he realized his neck muscles were working, as well as his eyes.

That’s when he saw that there was more than simply red on the walls. In the distance, there were people. People hung from hooks on chains. People who were naked and bloody.

Mark wondered if he looked like that. He wasn’t quite sure
what
was holding him, or why he couldn’t move. Was he chained and bleeding to death? He panicked for a moment. What if they’d cut his limbs off entirely, and drugged him so that he couldn’t feel the pain. He struggled to turn his head all the way to one side, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his arm and hand were intact. Then he realized what the cold white struts were that his wrist was chained to.

Bone.

He looked down across his chest and saw that his midsection was restrained by huge curved struts of ivory as well. He looked as if he was being held prisoner inside a giant’s rib cage. He was trapped in a cage of bones. But how had he gotten here? And where was
here
? The last thing he remembered was standing naked and aroused, watching the video of Rae, literally fucking a man to death and then…

“You just couldn’t stay away from us, huh?” a voice said from behind him. “You wouldn’t join us, not really, but you couldn’t stay away. Quite the conundrum, really.”

Mark struggled to turn his head to see the source of the voice, and out of the corner of his vision on the left, he finally saw the pale flesh of someone standing nearby.

“Who are you?” Mark asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Well, yes…I would.”

A figure moved into view. Pale flesh covered by faint, downy hair. Two legs and a flaccid cock, right in Mark’s field of vision. The skin of the man’s cock glinted with silver—it was pierced in multiple places, as was the belly button above it.

Mark struggled to move his head back upwards, and saw the chest and neck and chin of the man. Or woman.

Yes, the stranger had a cock, but…he/she also had the ultimate fair-skinned, pale, sensual-looking body, with a pair of gorgeous, perfect breasts, full and prominent. Mark was instantly aroused as he stared. Each nipple was erect and piercings connected them with a thin chain. His/her lips were full and sensual, if almost colorless, below a thin, patrician nose and eyes so startlingly blue, they were captivating.

He wanted to stare into them without speaking for hours.

And then he remembered…despite the gorgeous tits, there was a cock dangling below. She/he was a hermaphrodite.

What the fuck?

Mark struggled to open his mouth and make his vocal cords work. When they did, they croaked a faint, ragged question.

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Damia. I’m the guy you don’t want to know,” the man/woman said. “I’m the girl you don’t want to know too. Because…I like sex, but even more, I like…blood. Lots of it.”

“What do you want with me?” Mark asked.

The creature laughed. “Sex and blood, for starters!”

“Kharon said I could see my wife if I came here.”

Damia put one hand on the rib bones enclosing Mark’s chest and swung her leg up over the table. He/she straddled Mark, leaning forward on the bones until her breasts pushed through the gaps. Mark felt the cold of metal studs against his thigh, as Damia leaned down to stare hard into his eyes. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and opened her mouth to kiss him.

He tasted metal as her tongue forced its way inside his lips, and as he stared into her eyes, her face suddenly grew fuzzy. As her edges blurred and she faded away, he began to see other things.

He saw:

…The blood spurt of a headless neck, as the openmouthed face of a bearded man lay below it, on a stone floor. His arms still twitched in death throes as Damia’s grinning face came into view to lick the gory stump of the man’s neck as if it were a sensual delicacy…

…The entrails of a woman hung from a hook being gently lifted by four hands from the long slash in her abdomen and draped around another woman’s shoulders. The guts glistened wetly and the woman who wore them as a bloody boa stroked them gently, as if she were stroking the fur of a pet. The woman had beautiful breasts and a long cock. Damia…

…The wide eyes of a dark-haired man whose head was locked down to a table with a steel band. A sensual hand with long nails held the sides of the man’s head as her thighs clenched and pressed her groin against his face, but when she drew back, Mark saw that, again, it wasn’t a
she
. The man beneath her spit pearly white froth from his mouth, but Damia’s beautiful, cruel face laughed, and she picked up a small dagger. She stroked his forehead with her free hand for a moment, before she took the blade and cut just above his chin and just below his nose. His lips slid down his neck to the table as a torrent of blood suddenly ran across his ears and pooled in the hollow of his neck. He screamed, and his teeth looked more red than white. Then her thighs covered the man’s lipless mouth again…