Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
I peer into Margarete’s eyes, willing her to say something.
But she doesn’t. She sits there and stares blankly.
Am I supposed to stop this? Should I continue? I don’t know what to do.
CHAPTER 14
Xander
Ibend and slide my belt from the loops of my discarded pants. Gripping Hans by his hair, I pull his head back and trace the leather belt along his neck before fastening it. “Good little pups need a leash, don’t they, slut?”
“Yes, sir,” Hans moans.
Humans put a lot of emphasis on love, but love isn’t what makes relationships work. Romantic love is a mirage of illusions peddled by dreamers. Love is a fabrication, while trust is illumination. Trust holds strong when every other part of life deteriorates. Trust keeps you believing in another person. Love is blind, but trust is all-seeing. Love can’t put your faith in the hands of another, but trust can. Religion knows it’s not a love for God it needs to instill in people, but a blind trust. But trust is easy to break and impossible to get back. Unlike The Covenant, I’ll never break this beautiful man's trust in me.
Hans and I have played before. I know what he needs and how to guarantee he gets it. Our relationship has already forged a bond created by trust. We’ve spent hours talking and putting stipulations into place, but with Margarete in the mix, everything is thrown off-kilter.
I weigh the situation in front of me. A thousand different scenarios flood my mind, and I try to navigate the outcomes of each one. With her faith shattered, Margarete will search for something new to believe in. I can’t fuck anything up if I want her to place her trust in me.
I brush the back of my fingers along Hans’ stubbled cheek. “You trust me?”
His curt nod and harsh “yes” send a chill down my spine, leaving me trembling in anticipation of what’s to come. My plan’s risky, but as they say, no risk, no reward.
Pushing my fingers through Hans’ disheveled hair, I grip the leather belt and yank his head back roughly so he’s turned toward me. Grabbing my cock with my other hand, I tap the tip of my dick on Hans’ lips. “Open up, baby boy. Show me what a good little slut you are for me.”
Hans takes the order without hesitation. His lips part wide as he takes my girth into his mouth. He’s come a long way since the first time he sucked my cock. Back then, he was so hesitant. Disgusted, even. I asked him if he wanted to stop, and he said no repeatedly. It was as if he was trying to prove to himself that he liked it. It’s different now. Now, Hans sucks cock like he’s convinced it’s the path to his lord and savior.
“That’s it, baby boy. Suck that dick. It’s the only thing you’re good for, isn’t it? My pretty little cock sucking whore.” I turn to Margarete and hold her gaze. “Our boy gets on his knees to suck cock like the apostles fell on their knees before Jesus was crucified. With the way he sucks my dick, you’d think that my cum is the holy fuckin’ grail. You should hear him when he gags. It’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”
Hans’ frantic eyes dart between Margarete and me as if searching for an escape from impending doom. A hollow ache settles in my chest as I witness the storm of helplessness crashing over his face. Breaking free from religious indoctrination can be painful, relentless, psychological warfare.
Hans’ head falls back as I strike his face. “Don’t look at her, you worthless cock whore. You’re my pet. When I give you orders, you do it. Got it, pup?”
Hans gazes up at me. His hands move to my shaft as he hollows his cheeks, moving his mouth vigorously up and down my dick.
“Good boy. That’s it. Suck that cock down like you mean it. Show Margarete what a pathetic little boy you are. Let her see what you really are. My pretty little hole.”
I grip the back of his head and hold him against me. Hans’ face flushes from pink to red.
“He can’t breathe,” Margarete hisses. Her hands encircle my wrists as she tries with all her might to pull me off him.
“He can breathe just fine. Can’t you, boy?”
Hans splutters, spraying droplets of saliva as he attempts to speak.
“Cock whores don’t get to speak, boy. That’s not your place. So shut up and do your job before you make me mad.”
Margarete leaps onto me, her weight landing with a surprising thud against my back. “Everything they said about you is right. You’re a monster.”
My laughter, a sinister bubbling sound, echoes through the air, heavy with malice. “The audacity. You think I’m a monster, but don’t dare whisper the devious shit your father did to both of you. I wonder, Maggie, did you and my fuck boy here ever discuss the sick shit your daddy did to the two of you late at night?”