The Demon among us, Pt. 02

It's important to remember. It'll explain why this is happening.

***

I woke up to the sound of you opening your door. I blinked, sleepily, looking up at you.

You were drunk. You were tired. You were not ready for me lying in your bed.

You sat down, swaying, the smell of booze on your breath, and asked what was going on, and...

I told you everything. Aunt Sienna. My cousin Kylie. Everything. You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes half asleep, and you said, "Then you came here?"

"I didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry."

You didn't speak. You just stared into the distance. Then you said, "What are you going to do?"

"We could leave."

"We?" You said, turning, and something in the way you said it make my stomach clench.

"We talked about going," I said. "We could leave. Like you said."

You made a scoffing sound. "When?"

"Now!"

You stared at me with dull eyes. Then you said carefully, "It was just talk, Jamie. It wasn't serious."

"We could do it. Just go."

But you were already shaking your head. Dismissing it. Dismissing me. "It's not a good time," you said. "I didn't mean now."

"I'm in trouble." I said, and I saw how you wouldn't look me in the eye. "I need your help." It felt more unreal than anything Trevor had done, worse than seeing my Aunt broken. "I'm your best friend!"

You muttered something under your breath- something I did not catch- and then you stood up. "If you stay here, then this creep'll probably come over too, right? Look, Jamie-"

"Please." I reached over, I took your hands in mine and...

You snatched them away. You looked at me again, and there was something ugly in your eyes.

And you said, "Maybe it'd be better if you went back to him."

And you said, "Then he could teach you to like guys."

And you said, "Then you'd stop embarrassing me by sniffing after me like a lost puppy."

And then you said more. About how you'd gotten sick of being around me. Of how you'd started hanging out with other people and not telling me.

Of how you'd been wanting to tell me this for a long time.

Every word, every spite-laden sentence cutting away at me, scooping out parts of me I thought long safe, long secure; until, after you'd finished, after you'd wound down, I didn't have anything in me to cry. I stood, perfectly hollow, and walked out your room, your house. I got into my car.

I realised I had no idea where I could go. I thought about driving out of town until my gas ran out; I thought about getting on a bus to somewhere. I thought about other escapes, more certain, more final, before the hollowness ended, before the collapse started.

I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do anything. In the end I drove to the lake pier and just...waited.

I knew. I knew you weren't interested in me, I knew that you weren't interested in girls. I just...I didn't care. I didn't care that I wouldn't be able to touch you, that I wouldn't be able to sleep next to you. You were around. You were there, in my life. That was enough for me, you know? That was all I wanted.

It wasn't what you wanted, though.

I wonder if, in the morning, you felt bad for the things you said- you make me sick, I'm tired of being your friend- or if you felt guilty but...relieved. A weight off your chest. How long had you waited to say those words? How long had you promised yourself, the same way I did, that tonight would be the time I own up, I let her know how much I hate her, how much she's an embarrassment- tonight's the night. For real. For serious, this time. Does hatred require as much courage as love to confess?

I wonder if you ever meant to tell me you were sorry.

It doesn't matter. Not anymore. But we'll get to that shortly.

***

Morning came. I made a decision.

I can't say why. All I really know is that I got into my car again and drove and then the next thing I knew I was outside my house. His house now. Maybe I was tired of fighting. Maybe I was desperate for comfort, even from him. Or maybe I was so dazed and broken that I drove home on instinct, and once I got there...well, why not? It was a kind of end, wasn't it?

I got out of the car and walked into the empty house. I showered. I ate something. I slept.

I woke to someone shaking my shoulder.

Mum. She looked down at me with an inscrutable expression and wordlessly gestured for me to follow. When I reached for my clothes she shook her head. I left the clothes and followed her, naked.

I entered the lounge room. They were all there.

Mum looked stern as she sat down. Denise was sneering. Aunt Sienna looked guilty, and Kylie looked confused, like she wasn't sure what was about to happen.

And Trevor...Trevor looked content. Like this was pleasant, but in no way surprising. I opened my mouth to say something- a last, defiant statement, a plea, an acknowledgement of surrender- before I shut my mouth. None of it really mattered, did it?

He didn't seem to think so either. He gestured and I stepped forward, like a dog trotting to its master. He grabbed me and pulled me - not unkindly- onto his naked lap, chuckling as I squirmed. He cupped my chin and stared into my eyes.

This time the thing inside him didn't leap.

It unfurled like a flower, revealed itself to me like a secret; gently wound its way across the distance between us, slow and deliberate. It's invisible, intangible tendrils eased its way through my eye and curled around my mind.

My body's reaction was gentler than before; a slow rise rather than a shocking shift. But I felt the lust, the hunger spread through me, consuming my thoughts. I gasped as he cupped my breast, rough hands sliding against my heated flesh, and I shuddered.

His mouth curled into the beginnings of a sneer and that's when something returned to me, past the lust filtering back into my brain. That's when I decided; I was going to be broken by him like my family. Resisting him was pointless.

So I didn't.

But I didn't go quietly, either.

I kissed him hard enough to draw blood, my hands tightening around his own as I rocked against him. He gave a surprised grunt as I pushed him back down, straddling him. Staring into his eyes, at the thing inside him, as I ground against his length. I caught Mum's shocked looked and Denise's angry glare before I resumed the attack, my mouth plunging against his. I wasn't going to fall into depravity.

I was going to leap.

I lost soon enough, of course. He let me play against him for a while, doing my best- my active, if horribly inexperienced best- to arouse his body- before he simply picked me up in his muscular arms and flipped me onto my back. Even then I fought, I struggled; claw marks along his back, hot glares as he slid into me, until the pleasure, the sensations, overwhelmed me, and then...

Then he took his time. Was a little gentler, I think, than Denise or Mum or Aunt Sienna. At least until I broke. Until I gave up fighting, until I came and came and came from his hands and his cock and his mouth, until I lay there, gasping, panting, broken, and then...

Then, he got serious.

I woke up that night exhausted and sore and very much aware that I was lost; I was an instant addict; I wanted nothing more than to let him do that to me all over again. That I was his, and there was nothing I could do about it.

***

Well. I was back with my family.

Although we're not quite a family anymore- not the way we were, anyway. Truth be told we're his, first and foremost. The others are willing to do anything for him- kill, rob, steal, whore our bodies out- but Aunt Sienna's ugly expectations turned out to be unfounded.

Oh, he made demands. Mum quit her job, Denise's grades plummeted. I still worked, although my social life- such that it was- vanished. Sienna kept her job and Kylie stayed in university, if only because of the opportunities that they brought. He certainly never worked; I have no idea where his money comes from.

We fucked each other; he made it clear that this was the only way, other than fucking him, that we'd get any sort of relief. And we're horny, you see- intensely, indescribably horny- all the time. Mum and Denise had already indulged him with a threesome by then, lifelong familial bonds twisted and perverted according to his whims. Mother and daughter no longer; just sluts together. I sneer, I rage, I mourn what they were- but I still fuck them regularly, putting up with Mum's mindless desire and Denise's arrogance for the chance to push their heads between my legs. For the momentary relief. Isn't that funny? After so long, and a foursome with my mother and sister was my first real lesbian experience.

Sienna and Kylie were different. Where Mum and Denise made Trevor their entire lives, those two kept something of what they were before. I'd like to say it had to do with stronger bonds between them but in truth I think he just spends less time with them. It was all changed, of course. They didn't hesitate to fuck each other for his pleasure, dominant mother with her fingers thrust into her gentle daughter's cunt. Pretty soon they were sharing a bed when he was away. I stayed over a few times and the two of them made it clear that they were pretty familiar with each other's bodies.

It was hardly just him and us, of course. They fell over themselves to offer up their friends to his lusts. Denise arranged sleep-overs; teenage girls came to the house expecting a slumber party and left broken to his will. Mum's social circle of friends, all those single ladies and bored housewives, were offered up as sacrifices. Kylie gave up college girls to him, Sienna some friends on the force. He seemed to really savour breaking cop women, for some reason. I know I certainly enjoyed making their acquaintances afterwards.

And me...

He seems to treat me a little better. Gives me a lighter touch. I get the impression that he never worked as hard to break me as the others, never subject me to the same whispered conditioning that they underwent. Oh, he made it clear who was in charge- the morning after my breaking he throat-fucked me hard enough to leave bruises and made me thank him for the privilege- but I still think I'm more...myself. I can make comments, I can disagree with him. A look, a frown, would have me backing down, but still...

I guess he enjoys the illusion of a challenge. Or just the pleasure of breaking me over and over. A different type of diversion. I'm grateful, whatever the reason. I'm still much more grateful when he sneers and crooks his finger and me, and I crawl over to him, my pussy burning up...

It's been a strange month.

I'm still angry. I'm still horrified. But the anger and horror are becoming comfortable and old and irrelevant.

Much like how I felt about you.

Which brings us to the present.

He hadn't asked me to bring anyone to him. I don't know why. There's a lot I don't know about him. How he can do this. Why he's doing it- I sense some sort of plan, some sort of reason beyond "Fuck all the women." I see the thing coiled inside him and I think it's getting stronger. And hungrier. I think it's beginning to scare him.

Anyway, my point is. He didn't make me give anyone up.

But I did, anyway.

I told him about you. About who you were, and what you did. And do you know what he said?

I was to bring you to him. Find a way to kidnap you and bring you over. And he'd claim you, more thoroughly than any girl he's conquered before, until your mind shattered and you were utterly enslaved. And then whatever was left...well, whatever was left would belong to me. A gift from him.

Like I said, I think he treats me a little better than the other girls.

Shush, don't cry. Are the cuffs too tight? It won't matter soon enough. I promise I'll remove the gag when it's time. I'm really looking forward to listening to you beg.

Ah! He's coming. Let's begin.

I knew we'd be friends again.