Primal Beasts (Darkly Ever After, #3)

by Mila Crawford

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” I stare into Asmodeus’ eyes, holding his stare, unsure of what’s happening. I scream, lost in a fog of pain as searing agony ricochets through me. I have a moment of reprieve before the pain returns in full force. Chills crawl up my body like marching ants, followed by a sense of calm where I’m floating on a cloud of bliss. I don’t look at my throbbing cock or worry about my lightheadedness.

“I believe my brother asked you to beg, slut.” “Please, Abaddon. Use me. All I long to be in this world is your pathetic fuck toy. Punish me for all I’ve done. Show me that all I’m good for is to be your cum dump.”

“You have any idea how hot it is that you stay so hard under torture?” Abaddon asks after popping my dick out of his mouth. “You’re such a good boy.”

Being called a “good boy” is the equivalent of a poor man winning the lottery. Euphoria and acceptance delight my mind.

My body jerks as Asmodeus uses the flat part of the knife to spread one cheek apart, and cold liquid falls down my crack. Holy anointing oil. Asmodeus’ poison. He finds it amusing, sanctifying the unsanctifiable.

My feelings for Iblis are complex. I love him, but I also want to see him suffer. It’s fucked up how much I enjoy Iblis getting used while he prays. Asmodeus and I have that kink. It’s probably why we still let him live in his fucked-up world.

Asmodeus and I make eye contact, and he smiles. Even though I’m more brutal when we kill, he’s more sadistic when we fuck. The look in his eyes tells me he wants to spit roast Iblis. To volley his body between us as we tear up his two holes.

Laughter bursts from my mouth as I realize what he’s doing. The sick fuck is fucking Iblis’ ass with his cock, and the knife is most likely being used in the same way, or at least the handle is. Double anal penetration. A cock and a knife handle. Sometimes I’m surprised Asmodeus doesn't just rip Iblis’ ass with the blade. Good to know my brother has some limits.

Asmodeus grunts, his eyes closed as he loses himself in whatever hellish bliss he’s conjured up. Even I don’t understand Mo’s shit. Sometimes he’ll fuck Iblis for hours and not come because he refuses to cut him. I think it’s his fucked-up way of being emotionally sadistic with Iblis. Some sort of psychological warfare. I’m unsure if it’s the act of fucking that’s pleasurable for Mo or the torture.

I pull Iblis off my dick and tug the mask off, taking some of his hair with it. Such a beautiful man; high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and perfect full lips that cover my cock like velvet. “Eyes on me, pretty boy.” When Iblis looks up, his eyes cause another chip in my heart. I don’t know how to make it better for him. How to fix the stains and cracks of our history that bleed violently into our present. But I can give him what he needs, even if it kills me.

“You doing okay?” Asmodeus never asks if he’s okay. I’m not sure if he cares. When he gets like this, Iblis is simply a cum dump. I don’t know if he gives a fuck about any of us.

“You have such perfect holes for your daddies to use, don’t you, boy?”

Between his nipple and tongue piercings and the three on his cock, Iblis is my favorite toy.

Would she scream for mercy like Iblis did if I pierced her little clit? I shake my head, trying to outrun the evil thoughts that permanently live in the dark corners of my brain.

“Look at you, piggy. Your own personal spit roast.” Iblis looks too perfect, stuffed to the hilt. I smirk at him and spit directly between his eyes, watching in amusement as it slowly slides down his face. “You needed a little marinade.”

“You better tell me if you’re okay. Death by blow job would be fun, but if I kill you, I might be sad.” “I’m fine, Abaddon,” Iblis says, his face red with exhaustion. “Help me.” I glide my cock back into his mouth. “Eyes on me, you insatiable little slut.” Iblis looks up, his eyes cloudy with lust. “You want to come, don’t you?” He nods as a muffled sound escapes him.

Mo sneers and fingers the cum dripping from Iblis’ ass. “Keep it in there, whore. Clinch that asshole. I’ve got plans for this cum.”

“You did well. Such a good boy.” I smear the fluids over his face. “Such a perfect whore.”

slam my lips to his, tasting him, drinking him in, wanting to meld my body with him in every holy and unholy way. Iblis parts his lips, giving me access as he uses his tongue to shove my cum and his spit back and forth from our mouths.

“You done?” Asmodeus asks. “He’s got a mess to clean up.” Ignoring Mo, I focus on Iblis. “You ok...

“Push it out.” Right on cue, my dick stiffens as I get a perfect view of Asmodeus’ cum dripping out of Iblis’ asshole. “Fuck, glad you’re okay. I love seeing you push that fresh load out of your ass. Why are cream pies so damn hot?”

“It’s not the cream pie that’s hot. It’s watching what he does after.” Once the last drop of cum leaks from Iblis’ ass, he turns and faces the cum on the floor. “Lap it up like a good little bitch.”

“That’s it. Lick it all up. You think God is enjoying the show? How his devoted servant is nothing but my cum eating whore? Tell me, Iblis, when I’m fucking your ass, do you pray to the heavens for mercy, or are you swearing allegiance to hell for me to tear your tight little hole apart?”

“It’s still nice and wet, Iblis. Your pretty asshole is begging to be used again.” “Please,” Iblis pleads. “Tell me what I want to hear, Iblis. Say it, and I’ll fill your fuck hole again.”

“That’s right, bitch. God knows best. He made you my whore, gifted you to me to use like a dirty cum rag. Your penance is to take what I give you, say thank you, and beg for more.”

Abaddon tried to follow me after, but I wouldn’t allow it. It’s harder being around him than Asmodeus. Mo gives me what I need. I know he does it as a perverse way of garnering his revenge, but Abaddon only takes part because he knows it’s what I need. I guess what Abaddon does is crueler because he strips me bare and makes me feel. Abaddon’s tenderness provides glimmers of light in my perpetual hell, and that hurts more than any violence and humiliation I’ll ever experience.

“Getting an actual bed instead of lying on a mattress on the floor won’t suddenly make you better. You’ll still be treating yourself like shit. Don’t worry. The only thing you’ll change is getting a good night's sleep. “I don’t deserve this mattress,” I whisper, unable to look Abaddon in the eye.

“I forgive you.” “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” “The fuck you don’t. You were ten. That fucker groomed you. You think a ten-year-old is capable of doing that shit on their own? Fuck, Iblis. He gave you CPP to rile you up. Most times, it wasn’t even you. The drugs created someone different, something different. It was like you were possessed. None of what happened was your doing.”

But, man, when you make me do shit to hurt you, sometimes it kills my boner. There’s an odd pain in my chest that makes me feel bad or some shit. And I don’t give two shits about anything.”

“You still believe in God, don’t you, Iblis? The shrine on your wall and the rosary you wear around your neck isn’t just for show, is it?” I concentrate on his question, searching deep to see if I have an honest answer. “I want to believe.”

“Stop,” I beg. “I don’t deserve this.” “You’re right,” Abaddon says as he places another kiss on my flesh. “Neither do I. Neither does Asmodeus. We were kids, taken by a madman and forced to partake in horrors no child should.” “Stop, Abaddon. All this makes the pain worse.” “Can’t be any worse than the wounds that you keep reopening. They’ll never heal if you keep doing this shit.”

“Good. I hope they remind me of the monster I am for the rest of my life. I don’t deserve kindness or grace. I sure as fuck don’t deserve your love. It’s because of me that you’re fucked up, don’t you see that? Don’t you understand everything was my fault? All I can hope for now is to pay penance so I’ll be forgiven.” “I forgave you a long time ago.”

“As grateful as I am for you, Asmodeus gives me what I need to survive, and when he can’t, I take up the mantel. I need the pain, Abaddon. I need the reminder. I have a longing for the euphoric bliss only the pain can release. An anchor which keeps me from going off the edge, a reminder of what I’m capable of if the two of you ever turn away from me. But as much as I long to be punished, I worry that a part of him will hate me forever, that the pain he makes me suffer is beyond what I need but fueled by his incapacity to forgive me.”

“He’ll come around.” “He hasn’t forgiven me in almost twenty years.” “He has, Iblis. If he hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

This is the moment I’m going to die. Hopefully, it will be less painful than my meager existence on this planet. It’s funny how the possibility of dying isn’t what worries me. I’m more concerned about what will happen after. What’s waiting in the beyond? Perpetual darkness or everlasting light?

I’m still wearing my pants and jacket, which means I wasn’t violated. I may be about to die a bloody, gruesome death, but at least it will be by a psycho with some sort of moral code. It’s more than I could have hoped for after the demons I’ve face.

A huge, shirtless man wearing a black ski mask. His muscular body is impressive, with black tattoos covering his chest and massive arms. Jeans ride low on his hips, and his feet are bare. He’s got pretty feet. It’s a random thought and not something I’d expect from a man who looks like him.