Carnage: A Dark Revenge Romance

I wake up, a groan escaping my lips as I roll over and bury my face into the soft cool pillow. I’m so tired. It’s the pills. They linger in my system, making my head foggy and body sluggish.

What the fuck had Jessie given me? I hallucinated last night. Or dreamed it. Either way, it felt so real. Saint was there, hovering over my restrained body. His hand over my mouth and nose while he fucked me in the most delicious way.

My hands instinctively go to my lips, and I wipe the drool off. Looking up from the pillow, I catch sight of two leather cuffs on the bed, and my pulse begins to race. Sitting up, I pull my knees up and under me as I face the headboard. I shove the multiple pillows to the floor. I pick up the chains that connect to the leather restraints and yank on them, but there’s no give. I lean over, feeling down between the bed and headboard, and find the chains connected to the bedframe.

It was real. Of course, it was. I should have known. The pills I swallowed wouldn’t have made me sore between my legs. Only Saint has that effect on my body.

He left them here. Saint wanted me to see them. A reminder that it wasn’t a dream. That I’m in his hell and that he has control of me. I used to love that, and he knows it. We tried it one weekend when my mom was out of town, and I was obsessed. I loved the feeling of waking up and knowing he had used me. I submitted to him in any way that I could. It was even better when I woke up with my ass red from his hand and my body sore from how rough he’d gotten.

I fall onto the bed, my head now by the footboard, and I realize something is between my legs. Propping myself up on my elbows, I look, and it’s a white-crusted substance—cum—all over my pelvic bone and inner thighs.

“Fuck him…” My hands go to my face and push the wild hair back. I blink rapidly, my eyes sensitive to the harsh light that filters in through the double doors that lead out to the balcony. I never closed them last night after I had dinner.

“Fuck.” What time is it? I have no cell phone. Shocker. Only a clock in my room hangs on the wall. It’s large and loud as it slowly ticks by the seconds. Time doesn’t matter when you’re a prisoner. At least I get conjugal visits. Silver lining.

I took my time getting ready, mainly because I didn’t have the strength to move any faster. The bathroom was fully stocked with all of my things. I highly doubt they packed up my stuff and had everything moved. I’m sure they’ve been watching me for weeks, months even, and they’ve been in my house. They just bought all new and had everything prepared for my arrival. None of it had been used before. That sounds better than the voice in the back of my head that was shouting Saint knows you. What you like and choose to use.

I won’t lie; I am pretty predictable. The only thing that changed in my life was him no longer being in it and the hole in my chest that was left behind from losing everything.

Once finished in the bathroom, I walk back into the bedroom to find a robe on the end of my now made bed. Someone was in here while I was in the shower. I’m not surprised. You’re never alone here at Carnage. Someone is always watching. I know that from experience. I bet there are cameras all over this room and the bathroom. Hell, they probably have them in the closet.

They’re probably watching me right now.

I can’t help but notice the leather cuffs are gone. They were connected to the bed, so I’m sure they just shoved them back down between the headboard and the wall.

I walk over to the robe, and my tongue feels heavy. This is what they want me to wear? Again, no surprise. Saint wasn’t wrong. Carnage is hell, a place where people come to die. They don’t allow privacy in a place like that, and I hate how excited I am at the thought of him wanting to chain me up and make me his.

I’ve been dead for years. So no one will be looking for me here. Or anywhere. Other than the dancers at Glass. But let’s face it, the two years I’ve worked there, girls have come and gone quicker than the weather can change.

No one will ever think of me again. I have no cell, no dignity. Just my body and the three numbers branded on my skin to remind me that I’m a slave to the Spade brothers until the day I die. Saint will own me.

Wrapping the thick black robe around me, I tighten the sash high on my waist as if it can save me from them. I open the bedroom door to find a man standing outside it. They’ve given me a guard. Afraid I’ll try to escape again. I could never get as lucky as I was last time. I had help then, and my freedom was short-lived. I won’t try again, mainly because I won’t kill them. I may hate them now, but they were once all I had. I was a coward, and I’m no longer that person.

The man grabs my robe, yanking on it to pull me forward. Once I pass him, he hits my back, shoving me once again, and I stumble but manage to stay standing. “Quit touching me,” I turn and yell at him.

He slaps me across the face. I’ve been hit harder before, but it knocks me into the wall, and I fall to my knees in the hallway. The lingering drugs make me sluggish and weaker than I’d normally be. I catch sight of a Lords ring on his right finger, and I reach up to touch my cheek to make sure it didn’t cut me.

“Fuck you, bitch.” He laughs. “No one here gives a shit about you. You’re here to be nothing more than a fuck-toy for the brothers. And believe me when I say anyone is allowed to have their piece.”

A part of me doesn’t want to believe him. Saint sharing me with Kashton and Haidyn? Now that I believe, but just anyone…? I refuse to think that’s a possibility. But I also know that I no longer mean to him what I once did. I can’t blame him. He loved me, and I shot him, then left him for dead.

I swallow the knot in my throat and get to my knees, my vision a little blurry from his hand to my cheek. I get to my wobbly legs, and he grips my hair, yanking me forward, and I cry out at the sting of my head and the jerk of my neck.

A door to my left opens, and I’m yanked back off my feet and shoved to the floor once again. “Fuck…” I groan, sitting up.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a voice snaps.

“I was told to deliver her to your office,” the man assigned to be my babysitter answers in a rush.

I look up, rubbing the back of my neck just in time to see Haidyn grab the guy’s hand in one of his and squeezes it. The man falls to his knees, and I hear bones snap like twigs. “Deliver her, not beat her,” he growls.

My breathing accelerates as a set of blue eyes meets mine. Haidyn Jamison Reeves is by far the biggest of the three Spade brothers. He stands six-foot-seven and is built like a fucking house. He’s always had anger issues and chose to take them out on other men. He used to spend all of his time in the gym.

But I’ve seen him be the softest teddy bear out of the bunch. He’s a complicated man. Of course, that was the old him. I have a feeling the Spade brothers have all changed just as much as I have over the past few years.

The fact he’s covered in ink like the other two and has a nose ring proves my point. He’s got a pair of black sweatpants on, and that’s it. They rest low on his narrow hips, and he’s just as chiseled as I remember with his defined V and abs.

The guy on his knees continues to scream into the hall, and I cover my ears, pushing my back into the wall.

Haidyn’s eyes drop to my robe, and I realize it’s open. I quickly grab it and pull it closed. He looks away to glare at my babysitter. “Take her to the office and don’t fucking touch her, or I’ll break both of your fucking hands. It’ll be hard to jack yourself off without them.” With that, he releases his hand and steps into the room, slamming the door shut so hard it makes me flinch.

The man gets to his feet, cradling his now broken hand. A bone sticks out of his pinky, and his finger is already turning colors. “Get the fuck up,” he growls through gritted teeth.

I get to my feet, and this time, the guy walks in front of me. We enter the elevator at the end of the hall, and he turns to face me when the doors slide shut. I push my back into the mirrored wall as he glares down at me, but I don’t miss the sheen in his eyes. He’s trying everything he can not to cry.

I wrap my arms around myself, and he gives a rough laugh. “Once my hand heals, I’m going to fucking break your neck with it.”

I step into him, my chest hitting his. “Good luck with that.” I give him a sweet, fuck-you smile. After what Haidyn just did, I know that no one at Carnage will touch me. Because if Haidyn protects me, all of the brothers will protect me, and they run this bitch.

“You won’t be smiling when you’re trying to breathe while I’m raping you, you piece of shit trash. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you until after I come all over your fake tits.”

My stomach drops at his words, and he sees it because the smile he gives me raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

The elevator dings as it comes to a stop, and he spins around to walk off. I follow him slowly, my feet heavy. His words getting to me more than they should. Carnage is a big place, a city of its own, and I have to remind myself that the Carnage I left behind might not be the Carnage that it is today. It was evil then, and I’m sure it’s even more so now.

He stops in front of a door and pushes it open, glaring at me. I walk into the room, and my pulse begins to race as I see Saint sitting behind a large black wooden desk. He doesn’t even bother looking up. He’s bent over, a pen in one hand, his cell to his ear.

The man who delivered me clears his throat, and I turn around to see him walk out, shutting the door. I don’t miss the fact that he’s got his broken hand behind his back. He obviously doesn’t want Saint or Kashton asking any questions. Then he’d have to explain what he did to me.

I hope he runs to his room and cries like a baby.

When I turn back to face the office, my breath catches when I see Saint standing in front of me. He holds out his right fist, and I stare at it. His left hand reaches out, grabs mine, and holds open my hand as he opens his to drop a ponytail into it.

“Put your hair up. And none of that messy, half-ass shit. I want it all out of your face,” he commands, giving me his back. He’s clearly not going to acknowledge that he fucked me last night and left me unsatisfied. It’s just another way to throw around his power. He wants me crawling on my hands and knees, begging for release. We both know that I have no shame when it comes to getting off.

Licking my lips nervously, I lean over, running my hands through my thick hair to gather it into a high pony and then tie it up tight. When I return upright to my full height, Saint now stands by his desk at the other end of the office. He nods his head once as if I asked if it was good enough.

“Strip,” he commands, and my heart leaps with excitement and fear. Why am I here? What is he going to make me do?

My eyes dart around to take in the room. A set of floor-to-ceiling windows runs the length of the wall behind his desk. The white curtains are pulled open and tied back to show off the woods that surround the city. It’s a gloomy day here in Pennsylvania. I’ve missed the trees, the rain, the cold winters. Everything in Las Vegas was always hot.

“Ashtyn,” he snaps, making me jump.

My fingers fumble to undo the sash, but I get it done. I shrug the soft material off my shoulders, and it falls to the floor at my feet. My hands go to my side, refusing to hide myself but also not knowing what to do with them. I won’t go back in time and be that innocent woman in her room who hid herself from him.

Saint moves to stand in front of a large mirror framed in black wood. He turns and opens a drawer in his desk and tosses some rope on top of the surface.

My heart races as I try to slow my breathing because the office is silent.

“Come over here.” Just the sound of his voice makes me whimper, and I hear Kashton chuckle from his desk. He hasn’t even looked up once. He’s too busy reading something on his cell, leaning back in his chair, combat boots propped up on his desk.

My feet are heavy, but I manage to get over to him without tripping. Once I stop, he grabs my upper arm and pulls me to stand in front of the mirror. He stands behind me, and I watch him in the glass. He picks up the rope, and my breathing accelerates.

He doubles the rope and then reaches over my head, bringing it around my upper chest and arms. The rough material sits on top of my breasts. He brings it behind me, and the rope pulls against my skin as he tightens it. I can’t see what he’s doing with it, but I know he’s tying it off when I feel the knot on my upper back.

“Hands behind your back and interlock your fingers,” he orders.

His commands, his words, the voice…I’ve dreamed of him every night since I escaped this place. Careful what you wish for, ladies. Sometimes the devil hears you and delivers exactly what you want, knowing it will be the last thing you ever get.

I do as I’m told, and the rope wraps around my upper arms. He pulls on it hard, forcing my chest out, and pinching my shoulder blades together.

My head drops to stare at the floor, and a moan escapes my parted lips. My breathing can now be heard throughout the room. There’s no hiding it. At this point, it’d be better if I just passed the fuck out.

Once my upper arms are secured, I feel the rope drop to my wrists, tying them as well. The remainder of the rope falls between my feet, and he walks around to stand in front of me. I look up and stare directly at his chest. He blocks my view of the mirror, but I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye due to how wet I am.

Kneeling, he picks up the rope with one hand while the other goes to my pussy. I gasp when he spreads my lips and slides the rope between them.

“Saint?” His name is spoken softly, but my heart races.

He smirks but doesn’t say anything. He yanks on the rope, and I cry out as it rubs between my legs.

My head falls forward to look down at my chest to see he’s taken the excess rope between my legs and then through the two pieces around my upper chest.

Once satisfied he’s tied it tightly, he yanks my ponytail, forcing me to look up. “Eyes on me.”

The blood rushes in my ears, and I’m panting. My hips thrust forward to rub the rope on my pussy, and he notices because he smirks.

Fuck me!

He lets the access rope hang as he reaches into his back pocket. Before I can see what he’s grabbed, he places something rough around my neck, and I hear the familiar click of a lock.

Then he picks the rope back up and ties it off to what he just put around my neck. He steps back, admiring his work.

I try to move, but the slightest wiggle pulls on the rope where it sits between my legs and my neck. I swallow nervously.

“I never forgot how beautiful you are, Ash,” he says softly, and my eyes rise to meet his. Reaching out, he cups my face. His thumb runs over my parted lips. “Today, you’re going to work on this mouth of yours.”

I whimper, knowing exactly what he means.

“Your jaw will be sore and your throat raw by the time you’re done. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out what looks like a small container of Vaseline. He places his finger in it and then rubs a generous amount onto my shaking lips.

He leaves me to go over to his desk and opens up the top drawer. I get a look at myself in the mirror, and as I suspected, he placed a collar on me. It’s black leather and has a silver ring in the center. The rope is looped through it and then tied to the piece that sits high on my chest.

Saint returns to stand in front of me, stating, “Open wide.” I do so, and he sprays something that resembles a sample size of a perfume bottle into my mouth, making me flinch. But I keep it open like the good girl I am. And he sprays it again. The taste of cinnamon overtakes my senses, and I cough a few times.

“On your knees.”

He tosses the spray onto his desk, and I fall to my knees in front of the mirror, whimpering as the new position pulls the rope even tighter, making it only harder to swallow as the collar pulls on my neck, but the tightness of the rope squeezes my clit.

“Kash.” He looks over at him. “I need your belt.”

Kashton stands up from his desk, removes his belt, and tosses it over to Saint without even looking away from his phone that sits on his desk. Saint then removes his own and leans down. He places his between my leg and the floor, he wraps it around my right thigh and shin, pulling it tightly, buckling it in place, and then does the same with my other.

I’m immobile, and that has my pulse racing. He knows how much I love this. Goddamn him. He’s going to use everything my body likes against me in the worst torturous way.

He goes over to his desk, opens the top drawer once more and pulls out a dildo. My heavy breathing grows louder, and I can feel my pulse throbbing against the inside of the collar.

Coming back to me, he kneels and suctions it to the mirror. Then he grips the back of my head and shoves it forward until my Vaseline-covered lips are just inches from it. I’m breathing so heavily that it fogs the mirror.

I stare at the clear dildo that faces me, my mouth already watering excessively. It has a small silver ring that resembles a piercing at the bottom of the shaft, right above the balls. There is a short chain that hangs from it. It softly clanks against the mirror as it swings back and forth.

“You will fuck your mouth with this. I sprayed numbing spray down your throat. You should feel it already starting to work.”

I swallow nervously and realize there’s a tingling feeling at the back of my throat. I blink, staring up into his narrowed eyes in the mirror unable to respond.

“It’ll last for a good fifteen minutes.” He goes on. “But as it begins to wear off, you will start to gag. Your throat is like anything else, Ash. It needs to be trained. Conditioned. So you’re going to sit here and suck this fake dick until you can swallow the whole thing. Do you understand?”

I can barely breathe from the rope and collar around my throat let alone speak so when a cracked “y-yes” comes out of my slick lips, he seems satisfied.

SAINT

I stand behind her, arms crossed over my chest. She stares at herself in the mirror and licks her trembling lips. Slowly, they part, and she leans forward, closing them around the head of the dildo.

It’s got lines indicating one inch, two inches, three inches, and so on to ten. Do I think she’ll be able to take the entire thing today? No. Like I told her, it takes practice, and then you have to continue to work on it to train that gag reflex. Honestly, I like the sound she makes when she gags. This is just a way to humiliate my girl. Because I know she’s into that shit. Plus, it keeps her on her knees in the office by my desk while I work. Because if I moved my desk to her room, it’d be too obvious how much I missed her. The last time she was out of my sight, she managed to disappear for years. I won’t make that same mistake again.

She pulls her head back and takes a deep breath before going back to it. Her head bobs as she takes a little bit more, and I smile. “That’s a good girl,” I praise her, and her body shakes as her eyes fall closed. “Watch yourself, Ashtyn. I want you to see how pretty you look while you suck a dick.”

Her eyes open, and they’re already filled with tears. I can’t wait to see her crying and drool running down her naked body. I tied her so she’d feel every little movement. Her pussy will be soaked by the time I allow her to stop.

I bend down, and she pulls back, the head falling from her mouth. That won’t do. I grab the back of her head. “Open wide.” And push it forward. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to take the head once more, and I reach out to grab the chain connected to the ring in the dildo. I open the clasp on the end of the chain and connect it to the ring around her collar.

Her wide eyes meet mine, and she mumbles nonsense around the tip of the dildo. “This will make sure you keep sucking, sweetheart,” I inform her, and her eyes close as her shoulders shake. “Don’t want you to stop too soon.” There’s plenty of give in the chain. It’s not like I shortened it to where she’s deep throating the dildo. That’ll come once she gets better at it. This is the beginner’s class.

Standing, I turn and walk over to my desk. She’s to the left of my back, but I don’t need to see her to know she’s being good. I can hear her sucking on the dildo.

I pick up my cell to see that Haidyn had texted me five minutes ago. Opening it up, I read.

HAIDYN: Check the hallway cameras in the birdcage.

I pull them up on my computer. Nothing looks off to me. There are four bedrooms and an elevator along with access to the stairs. Nothing more. I’m about to exit when I see the elevator door slide open.

A woman steps out in a pair of black thigh-high boots, black booty shorts, and a white crop top that shows off her large tits. She walks over to Haidyn’s door and knocks on it. Spreading her legs, she places her hands on the doorframe while she waits for him to answer.

The door swings open, his hand reaches out and wraps around her neck, forcing her chin up. Her arms fall to her sides, and he yanks her into the room, slamming it shut behind him.

I frown, knowing that’s not what he meant for me to see.

The sound of Ashtyn slobbering all over the dildo gets my attention, and I rewind the cameras back to when she would have been up there.

Once I get the clock on where I want, I push play. I see Ashtyn walking out of her room, and Emerson already waiting for her. He yanks on her, then shoves her forward. I pause it, place my earbuds in, and push play once more. I don’t want her to know that I’m watching the video by hearing the audio.

What follows makes my blood boil. Why didn’t she tell me what he did? Why didn’t I pay attention to him when he entered the office with her? My body tenses when he speaks to her in the elevator. My brothers and I don’t really give a fuck what happens to those that are here, but Ashtyn? I fucking care who speaks to her, touches her, and threatens her.

I wait until he exits and shuts the office door before I stop the video, yank the earbuds from my ears, and turn to look at her. She’s got her eyes closed, her body pressed forward, and she’s now up to three inches on the dildo. Drool runs down her mouth. The fact that she can’t feel her throat will cause her to produce more saliva than usual.

Going over to Kashton’s desk, I lean over, and he looks up at me. “Keep an eye on her. I’ll be back.”

He nods and goes back to whoever the fuck he’s texting on his cell. I can’t take him with me because I won’t leave her here alone tied up and vulnerable. Especially after what I just saw and heard.

Shoving the door open, I exit the office and take the elevator up to the birdcage. Once I get off, I march down the hall and don’t even bother knocking. I shove the door open to find Haidyn sitting in the chair by the double doors to his balcony. The woman I saw on the camera is on her knees before him. Her arms handcuffed behind her back. She’s naked, and he’s fucking her mouth.

“I need your help,” I inform him.

He nods but doesn’t pay me any attention. I lean against the door as she gags and slurps on his dick like it’s a straw. It reminds me of Ashtyn, and the thought pisses me off. I should be listening to her do this right now instead of what I’m about to do.

His hands tangle in her short, bleach-blond hair, and he arches his back, forcing his cock farther down her throat. She shifts on her knees, trying her best to fight him. It’s useless. He holds her head down as his muscles stiffen, and he forces her to swallow.

When he pulls out, she’s gasping as cum and drool fall from the corner of her mouth. I get sight of her eyes, and they’re solid black—blackout lenses. They’re like blindfolding someone without putting something over one’s face. It allows them to see nothing but darkness, but he can still see her expressions. Haidyn loves using them on whoever he fucks.

Standing, he yanks her up from her shaky knees by her hair, making her cry out. He walks her over to the far wall and turns her to face it. “Don’t move,” he orders, slapping her bare ass, making her jump.

He then picks up a collar, fastens it around her neck, and pulls on the end of the chain that hangs from the ceiling, connecting it to the front. The position forces her to arch her neck and rise up on her tiptoes. She struggles between moaning and gasping, still trying to catch her breath.

He picks up his jeans off the floor and pulls them on along with his shirt. Then he walks toward me. “I’ll be back.” She fights harder in her restraints as we exit the room, and he slams it shut, locking the door from the outside. All of our doors have keyless access. They each require a fingerprint. It keeps others from getting in and killing us in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t say anyone would, but you can never be too sure.

Lots of measures have been taken since my sweetheart got away.

Haidyn doesn’t even ask what I need help with. He never does. He’s always down to fuck some shit up. And I’m about to do just that.

I remove my cell from my pocket and pull up the location that I need. Everyone here at Carnage has a tracking device—even us brothers. Everyone else’s is so no one can hide from us. Ours is for our protection.

We’re Lords, but we’re not untouchable. We’re what you would consider the outcasts of our secret society. The only reason they haven’t killed us off is because they need us. No one else would want to run Carnage. That’s why they invented the Spade brothers centuries ago. The Lords are known for killing those who wrong them or go against their oath. But death is too easy and sometimes a Lord goes too far. He deserves more than a knife in his neck with a shallow grave. And that’s where we come in.

“Morgue,” I say, and my teeth grind. Every time I’m down there, I’m reminded that Ashtyn almost succeeded in getting away from me. I mean, I can overlook her shooting me. A part of me gets hard just thinking about the fact she had the balls to do it. But leaving me? She’ll pay for that. And no matter how much I love her, I can’t overlook or forget what we went through after she escaped.

Haidyn doesn’t speak. He just shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and leans back against the wall, staring straight ahead. I’m not even sure he’s breathing.

I send a quick text and pocket my cell.

The elevator comes to a stop, and we step off. I don’t even feel the coldness down here anymore. I’m used to it. Haidyn follows me, and I round the corner. Voices echo from down the hall.

“Yeah, man. A fight broke out,” a familiar voice lies.

“What the fuck did you do?” another asks.

“I taught him a fucking lesson.”

Haidyn grunts, letting me know what I already do. We round the corner, and I come up behind a man who has his back toward us. The one standing across from him spots us. Swallowing nervously, he takes a step back. “I need to go…” He turns and runs.

“What the hell, man?” the guy in front of us calls out. “I need your help. I can’t wrap this myself.”

“We can help,” I say.

The man spins around, and his eyes widen. I punch him in the side of the face, knocking his ass out before he can even speak.