Carnage: A Dark Revenge Romance

I turn off the vibrator and toss it to the side. Looking down at her, I watch her heavy eyes dart around aimlessly. “Five times,” I tell her. “I’ll give you ten minutes, and we’ll go again.”

“N-o,” she chokes out, shaking her head. Big tears run down her wet cheeks.

“Yes.” Something like this takes time, but it’s doable. People don’t understand just how powerful sex can really be. How easily a body and mind can be trained. Manipulated. Our world is built off it.

It’s like anything else. They train us for years to be what they want us to be. Why would sex be any different?

Fuck. Fuck some more. And then fuck again. Over and over until the body needs it in order to survive. It’s like oxygen. You breathe without having to even think about it. The need to have human contact in some capacity is the same. Those who go without wouldn’t understand it. Their bodies and brains don’t think the same as those who do. And that’s okay. But they’re missing out if you ask me.

I get up off the bed, leaving her tied there and listen to her heavy breathing fill the large room as she shakes uncontrollably.

Picking up her cell, I place it on her nightstand. Nothing is wrong with wanting sex. Or watching porn. It’s human nature. A natural instinct. Hell, even animals do it.

Sure, women are meant to be toys in our world, but that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy it.

I get it. It’s not hard to see her world from a woman’s point of view. You show too much cleavage, you’re a slut. Don’t show enough, you’re a prude. You tell a guy no, you’re playing hard to get. You let him fuck you, you’re too easy.

Ashtyn was made to be mine. I’ve always felt that way about her. And any man would be lucky to have her. That’s why I’m going to take her. I saw her first and wanted her first. I’m in it for the long game. Even if that means I have to chain her up in my basement to keep her away from the world that seems to want to take her from me.

Her phone dings with another message, and I pick it up and read over it. Her mother again.

MOM: We’re going to discuss the vow ceremony. You need to understand the consequences of your actions, Ashtyn. My job as a mother is to prepare you for what’s to come.

Translation: they don’t think she’s a virgin and want to make sure she’s aware of what will happen to her when she doesn’t bleed for me.

I close the screen and place it back on the nightstand before sitting down next to her. She’s got her eyes closed, her breathing has evened out, and her body is relaxed. She’s passed out on me.

“Wake up, sweetheart.” I turn on the vibrator and push it between her open legs. She’s so wet it slides easily now, and I love the sound of her cries when her eyes spring open. Her hips immediately start to buck the best she can since I have her tied down as tightly as possible.

Her neck arches, and she sucks in a deep breath before a cry rips through the room.

We have a long night ahead of us.

ASHTYN

I feel worse today than when I woke up hungover yesterday. My body is fucking Jell-O. I have aftershocks from all the times Saint made me come yesterday and then again last night. I was so useless that we ate lunch and dinner in my bed.

When I woke up this morning, I was disappointed yet relieved that I was alone. I showered and got dressed. I didn’t do my hair or any makeup. I threw on some cotton shorts and a tank top and called it good. I managed to get through my classes at Barrington. Thankfully, I only have three today. I feel like a zombie. All I want to do is go home and pass the fuck out.

Who knew getting off so much would be this exhausting?

I sit in my mother’s therapist’s office, staring at nothing, when a hand hits my arm, making me jump. “What?” I ask.

“She asked you a question.” My mother growls at me.

“What?” I look at the therapist, who seems more annoyed today than usual.

“The vow ceremony is in three weeks. How do you feel about it?”

I shrug. “Not sure it matters. It’s happening no matter what.”

Her lips purse at my answer. “What about afterward?”

“When I’m no longer a virgin?” I arch a brow.

They’re setting me up to tell on myself. It’s only to save them from the embarrassment, and I won’t do it. If I don’t bleed, I at least want them to know what it feels like to be ashamed. They’re allowing me to be fucked in front of a crowd, so they might as well get secondhand embarrassment.

I’ve heard of women in the past having sex and breaking the rules on purpose. They want any other life than this one, and it’s their way out. But it only works if you’re given to a Spade brother. A chosen picked for the vow ceremony doesn’t have to be pure for her Lord. That’s why they dunk them in the baptism pool—to clean them of past sexual partners.

“I think…” She pauses, frowning. “You’re twenty-one, Ashtyn. You go out, party, get drunk. I think that maybe you experienced more than you are aware of.”

“Maybe you were raped,” my mother adds, nodding to herself.

I run a hand down my face. “Mom…”

“It’s happened, Ashtyn. Women go out, get drunk, and wake up the next day with no memory of what happened.”

I know. I did that. Apparently, I was trying to suck Saint’s dick the night he took me home from the bonfire party. Do I believe him? Absolutely. I would have let him fuck me a long time ago if it had not been for the Lords and their stupid rules.

“Men take advantage of girls in situations like that. Maybe we should call the doctor. Have him check you,” my mom offers.

You can’t check for virginity. I’ve googled that before to see. And there’s no way you can tell. “Did both of you bleed your first time?” I ask.

“Of course.” My mother huffs. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be my mother. My father would have given her away, and her family would’ve shunned her. Then he would have gone on to marry another woman, and I would not exist. A Spade brother doesn’t have to marry his chosen, but my father did end up marrying my mother.

The therapist, however, I don’t know her past or her personal life. I understand it’s none of my business, but if she wants to get personal, then let’s get personal. “This conversation isn’t about us.” She refuses to answer my question.

I stand, and my mother does as well. “Ash—”

“I’m leaving, Mom. I’m going home. I’m tired, and you guys can’t tell me anything that I don’t already know.” With that, I walk out of her office and get in the elevator. I make my way down to the first floor and out to my car.

When I woke this morning, my mother texted me yesterday that she would pick me up. I told her I’d meet her here because I was staying late at Barrington to do some research and didn’t have time to go to my place. It was a lie. I wasn’t about to be stuck in the car with her again after another session.

I drive to my place in silence, and it doesn’t help me any. If anything, it makes me even more on edge. They’re making me doubt my body and myself.

Pulling up to my house, I get out and walk in through the front door. I drop my purse, keys, and phone on the floor, not caring about any of them. I make my way to my bedroom and push the door open. I come to a stop when I see Saint sitting on the edge of my bed.

My eyes scan the piece of rope laid out. Day two of my training, and honestly, it’s exactly what I need. Force me to come over and over until I can’t speak clearly and just pass the fuck out.

When my eyes meet his, the smile drops off his face. “Ashtyn.” He jumps to his feet and rushes over to me. “Hey.” His voice softens. “What’s wrong?” His bright-green eyes search mine, and I don’t realize I’m crying until he wipes the tears from my face.

I shake my head, the knot in my throat keeping me from forming a word. He wraps his arms around me, and I cling to him as he holds me.

“I’m going to take care of it,” he says as if he knows why I’m upset.

I’m not even sure why I’m crying. The rules, the society, the pressure. Hell, it could be my damn period for all I know. Maybe I just need a nap or a stiff drink. I feel like I’m yelling in a room full of people, and no one is listening to what I have to say. Seriously? How many times do I need to have the same conversation with my mother and her therapist? I guess the answer to that is until Saint fucks me in front of the Lords. That day will change everything. My future, my chance at being with him. I have a fifty-fifty shot of spending the next year with him or being sent away for the rest of my life.

“I’m going to take care of it,” he repeats, but I feel like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

I manage a nod, but I don’t believe him.