The Sect (10 page)

The corner of his mouth twisted up into a deviant smile. “It exalts me when you supplicate.” With a simple gesture—a short nod—I knew I had inadvertently satisfied him.
 

From over my shoulder, I glimpsed at Noah. He reached up toward the ceiling, wrapping the free-hanging chain around his hand. He pulled down, causing my body to fall into a heap on the ground. My ankles remained tethered to the chains drilled into the floor, forcing my body to fall down with my knees spread.

“I’m making an exception for your behavior,” Reven cooed, “open your mouth and show me that you deserve absolution.” He pinched my chin harshly between his thumb and index. “If you bite me again,” he warned, “you won’t have a single tooth left to chew with when Noah is done with you.”

My hands shook, rattling the chains still attached to the D-ring of my cuffs. The idea of giving him oral sex left me feeling repugnant. The idea of anything of a sexual nature at all disgusted me. “I—I don’t know how to do this,” I stammered, pretending to be painfully shy. My admission was an outright lie. I had hoped that if I appealed to the role of an inexperienced virgin, my punishment would end; the punishing act of being forced to perform a sexual act on a man I’d grown to hate.

Hope was the disease of the devil. Agreeing to one act to appease him probably wouldn’t have been enough. I only wanted something to bring me closer to freedom; a freedom that would allow me to escape and return to the place I abandoned.

“I will teach you. Beyond your pain and your need to fight me, you will learn what it takes to be a productive inhabitant of The House of Rebirth. You will learn everything you need to know in due time.” Reven ran the back of his hand down the side of my face, specifically the side that was the most swollen. Sliding down his zipper, he unhooked the fastener to his slacks. Reaching down, he pulled out his fully erect cock.
 

“Please don’t make me do this,” I sobbed, keeping my gaze away from the part of him that offended me.

“You are being granted a gift,” he explained with a mild offense. “Do you really wish to portray, at this moment, how persistently ungrateful you are?”

With my bottom lip trembling, I shook my head, barely managing to say the word “no.”

Crouching down, he pulled up my hand and guided it to surround and hold the shaft. I shuddered; the marks of disgust were evident on my face. He caught it, and his calm made way for anger. He pinched my nose harshly, reigniting a pain that was still there. I fought, keeping my lips pressed together. He pinched my nose harder, grasping the back of my head firmly. My body reacted without my permission. The moment my mouth flew open, he pushed himself inside my mouth. The tug of the sutures hindered the movement of my jaw.
 

His hips rolled, repeatedly filling me and withdrawing, giving me only tiny seconds to breathe before he filled me with his erection again. The tiny droplet of warmth on the head of his cock coated the back of my throat. The urge to gag was overtaken by the urge to breathe. My eyes watered, my body shook, struggling for air. His hand at the back of my head guided the movement of my head and mouth back and forth. Twisting my hair around his fist, he brought me closer, forcing his hardness down the back of my throat.
 

Gagging and struggling against my body’s involuntary actions—as he rode my mouth harder and faster—tears streamed down my cheeks.
 

He groaned, his eyelids falling heavily over his hazel eyes. His hold on my nose and hair began to tug as he forced my neck to crane and my throat to open. He pushed all the way down, holding it there, and coated my throat with salty thickness. My gag reflex kicked in violently. He receded and abruptly closed my mouth, keeping my nose pinched between his fingers.

Forced to swallow, I did so, erecting a mischievous grin to spread across his face. With his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, he simply stated, “I don’t often allow many that gift, but I’ve made an exception for you today. Don’t make me regret it. What happened in this room is only a taste of my wrath. Push me further and you will discover the full extent of my vengefulness.

“We’ve only just begun. There are so many iniquities to explore, and that particular one will definitely be explored again. Keep worshipping me this way and you will be rewarded.” He stepped back from me and pushed his waning erection back into his pants. Zipping up, he palmed the stray strands that grazed his forehead back into place. With his shoulders strong, he left the room.

Noah worked quickly to unbind my restraints. Without a second glance, he grabbed me by my hair and dragged me across the floor. My struggle and protests did very little to stop him as he threw me over his shoulder. I expected the dark room, but instead, he took me to my bedroom and closed the door. The clank of the mechanism indicated he locked it from the outside.

 
I ran to the bathroom as I hovered over the sink. I turned on the faucet, shoving my fingers down my throat. Retching, I expelled what I was made to swallow into the sink. I thrust my hand underneath the faucet, splashing copious amounts of piping hot water on my face and mouth, scrubbing away the remnants. I scrubbed until my mouth became sore and red with irritation.
 

My legs gave out and I flopped down on the floor, landing hard on my behind.

I stared into space, my mood reflecting the tone of the room in the basement. The room I’d prefer over the one serving as a prettier version of my prison; dark, dank, bare, and gutted.

T
HE
P
AST

My mother’s palm was uncharacteristically clammy as she held onto my hand. My father paced the living room, holding tightly to his tumbler half-full with bourbon. We were all weary and tired as our eyes remained glued to the television, staring at an unmanned podium, awaiting the verdict we’d spent more than half the year agonizing over.

“We…should’ve went. We would know by now if we’d have gone.” My mother brought her hands to her mouth, gnawing on her manicure.

“I—I couldn’t go,” I said to her, my voice strained and scratchy. I was emotionally overtaxed and tired. It seemed I’d been crying nonstop as the trial dragged on. Every night I hoped justice would be served.

“I know, baby girl.” With her eyes watering, she lovingly stroked my hair. “I would never have put you through”—she pointed to the television with disgust—“that circus.”

“Carl Mitchum has been the talk of the town for the republican candidate of presidency.” As my father spoke, explaining the media circus that made sure I was confined to my home or had to endure grand schemes to evade the press. He appeared stuck in a faraway place and had been since a tragedy took the lives of two people. “This is a huge deal.”

I remembered what he said to me at the police station. I recalled it every night:
“I’m sorry I failed you as a father, Keaton. I was supposed to protect you from monsters.”

The crowd began to stir as the District Attorney took the podium. My head pounded in sync with the beat of my heart. My grip firmed on my mother’s hand. My breath hitched in my throat as I waited for the verdict.

His need to delay with the minute details of the deliberation, the jury, and the timing only increased my worry. I only needed to hear one word: “Guilty.” But it wasn’t what I heard. What I heard was something I had never fathomed would happen. It was repeated after each crime he was acquitted of. Just like the crime I never reported, he wouldn’t serve justice for what he did—in any way. “Not guilty. The defendant, Gregory Mitchum was acquitted of all charges brought against him…”

The crashing of glass against the wall startled me. My father expressed his fury by destroying his Lalique tumbler and spilling his prided Glen Garioch 1958 reserve.
 

“How can this…happen?” I asked, sobbing.

“We won’t give up,” my mother assured me, fighting with her own tears. “We’ll file a civil suit. We’ll do everything we can to make sure he gets what he deserves.”

My father wrestled with the phone, angrily pressing a few pointed numbers against the sleek surface. He pressed his phone to his ear as he waited for someone to respond on the other end. “Hello, Richard? What the hell happened?” The longer he spoke to his golfing partner and friend, the District Attorney, Richard Parsons, the more severe his scowl became.
 

After a short five-minute conversation, my father slammed down the phone. “They could only get him on the conspiracy to commit murder charge. Even with that specific charge, the evidence…was tainted. Gregory’s alibis held up strongly to the jury. They believed the confession of the brute Gregory hired. They believed he was the one who did those heinous crimes and that he alone was the culprit. They thought they could at least get him on the accessory to murder charge.” His voice broke as he looked down at the floor. “It was a failure. It’s not enough, but Richard assured me that the man who helped Gregory would pay.”

It wasn’t enough. The fall guy was the innocent bystander. He was a man paid to take the blame for a man who should’ve been given a life sentence. The bystander saved my life when he could’ve easily taken it away. He was going to serve life in prison for crimes he didn’t commit.
 

I had no faith in the balance of justice anymore. It was a joke I could barely find a reason to laugh about.

I rubbed my aching forehead. “I—I just want to lie down.”

“Of course, baby girl,” my mother assured me. “Is there anything I can bring you…?”

I was halfway up the stairs before my mother could finish. I closed my door to my childhood bedroom; the place I returned to after my own home was tainted by a horrid memory.

I became frozen in place as my phone buzzed against my desk on the opposite wall. I had no reason or desire to answer it, but somehow, it wound up in my shaky hand and the button to accept the call was pressed. I didn’t need to greet him, nor him me.

“Keaton,” he purred over the phone. “I wanted to come to you tonight, but my father is forcing me to go to some retreat to work out what he thinks are my issues for a while. It’s idiotic, isn’t it? I don’t have any issues. Wait for me, because in six months, probably less, I will come for you. We’re going to be together as I promised. No one will stand in the middle of that. I love you, angel.” He paused as muffled voices carried on in the background on his end of the line. “Oh…shit. I have to go. My father wants me to smile for the cameras. And believe me…I’m wearing a huge smile right now. I’ll come see you tonight before I’m sent away. I can’t wait. See you soon.”

The phone dropped from my hands, landing on the floor. A sense of urgency pushed me.
 

I had to get out of there.

It took me hours to scour Franklin Park in search of Jeffrey. The other inhabitants gawked at me, sensing I was fresh meat. I did the best I could, packing light with whatever I could fit in an old backpack and dressed down in a pair of jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt with my hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. I was ready to abandon my life and hide in plain view. The love I had for my parents wouldn’t allow me to leave the city. Being here, while not being with them, would’ve slightly satisfied my need to be around them. I could deal with the distance as long as I could observe them from afar.

I finally found Jeff, scavenging the garbage cans in the park for something he could use…or eat. “Jeff?”

Surprised, he glanced around the park looking for me. He never truly smiled and when he saw me, his frown was so extreme I thought for sure he’d scold me. “Ah, hell no.” He shoved the invisible space between us. “Go on back home.”