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“I’ve heard what you’ve been doing.” Ice cold fear freezes her in the small bedroom Jimmy called her to.
“What…do you mean, Sir Lord?”
“You’ve been self pleasuring without permission?”
“What? No! Of course not!” There were rules to this group. Ones that she stopped following closely as the years went by and they made less sense to her. Why would Old Nick want them to abstain from pleasure when they’re hedonistic in every other way?
“Don’t lie to me, child. I heard it from Old Nick himself.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please!”
“If you were sorry…” he waits for her to finish his sentence but it’s a tad difficult between the begging for her life. It obviously annoys him. She should know by now that begging never works. “…you wouldn’t have done it.”
“Take off your trousers.” A spark jumps through her. Some excitement and some hope. Maybe he’ll help her out? Touch her down there. Feel Wetness between her legs.
“Wider…wider…alright that’s enough.” Said with barely hid disgust. Eyes squinting at the wild hair between her legs like it’s a beast to be put down without mercy. “Now, what will we do with you?”
She was dumb with want, the heat in her belly speaking before her mind.
“I was hoping, Sir Lord Jimmy, that maybe you would help me?”
“You want me to fuck you?” There must’ve been something in her expression. Something that confirms it because his face hardens.
“Understand this, your filthy fuckin cunt is below me, and I wouldn't stick my knob in it to save my life. Howzat?” Her eyes sting and chest tightens. She can take rejection. Hasn’t that been their relationship so far anyway? Her wanting to believe that they’re closer than they are? “Lil’ Jimmy!” Small steps rush down the hall from the living room not too far away. At the creak of the door, Ink tries to close her legs but a big hand on her knee stops her. Spike, bless him, keeps his head down and eyes to the floor like always.
“Grab me something wooden from the kitchen drawer. Anything will do.” As they wait Jimmy hums something cheery. There’s a far off look in his eyes. Head tilted like he’s listening to something.
When the boy returns with the item, Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “Nice pick, Jimmy!” A stick about as long as his forearm, thick in the middle with rounded off handles on each end. “Quite a lovely rolling pin.” It’s not a blade this time, so she knows she’s still in his good graces. Something may break, but she’ll survive. This thought leaves her the second a handle prods at her entrance.
“Ji-“
“Don’t move. Don't move or I’ll bash your fuckin head in.” That focus, that gleam in his eyes when innocent blood is spilled. “Go on little Jimmy.” Spike quickly escapes as Crystal lines the stake up properly and pushes harder. It starts to creep in. The wood is dry as bone.
It’s not what she thought it’d feel like, it’s worse than some discomfort. As bad as a fist being shoved in her mouth and down her throat. The stretch is too much. There’s a Blinding pain when it jabs at something inside her. It feels like she was stabbed and she cries out, begging for it to end.
“Aw. You should be enjoying this.” Another stab and she sobs. It hurts so much already and she worries he’s gonna keep pushing more in. Tearing through her guts and leaving her to bleed out on this stranger’s bed. “Come on, you can touch yerself. I give my permission now.” He slides it out a few inches and then quickly shoves it back, the searing bloom of pain has her squeezing her legs together and trying to crawl up the bedspread.
“Fuck! Please, I’m sorry! I won’t- I’m- I won’t do it again.”
“Oh, Jimmy Ink, I know, I know, but you need to finish this lesson first. I’ll even let you choose the rest of it. Inside, or outside.” She can’t take any more of it hammering into her, it may actually kill her.
“Outside!”
“Right-o, hold the back of your shins…There.” Chaotic swings that feel they have no rhythm or reason to them. Ink thought it would be easier to handle, but when the wood stuck her button at full force she felt her soul leave her body. She can see Jimmy’s growing excitement tenting his trousers as she howls. The screams of his victims always did it for him. She knows what he’s doing. Making an example out of her with the other Jimmy’s in hearing range. Ink tries to focus on the good. At least he’s not doing this in front of their peeping eyes. At least he won’t actually kill her. But it slips away. All she feels is hate. Burning hotter than any other emotion. Even more than fear. She hates him. Hates what she’s Letting him do to her. That she’s rolling over and taking it instead of putting a knife in his throat like she’d do with any other man. Like she’s done before.
——
Ink wakes up to the feeling of tears and spit dried to her face, and her middle is throbbing. There’s humming again and a hand stroking along her wig. She can barely feel his touch through it.