Page 25 of Ruin

She tracks me as I stalk forwards, her fingers white-knuckled where they tighten around her bars, but she does not back away. I drop to my knees, the bones grinding as they hit the concrete once again, pain shooting up my femurs, but I don’t feel it at all. Her chin dipped as far as her shackle allows, eyes lifted, locked on me kneeling before her.

My own hands find the bars, placing my fingers just beneath hers, curling them around the metal. She swallows hard, and her eyes tighten with pain, my gaze drops to the neck shackle, my own throat tightening with the phantom weight of it. Then I hear her breathing labour, air sailing swiftly in and out of her slightly parted lips, her breath cool where it ghosts over my blood-slicked chest. Goosebumps raze across my flesh, sprouting out all over my skin. She swallows again, sinfully licking her lips, my cock punishing me, my desires, my need. I can’t think about anything than what I have already done to her.

I am not sorry.

I want to do it again.

It is a compulsion that has my breath stilling in my chest, lungs constricting as her plump red lips part, long, matted dark hair covering half of her bruised face, right cheek blue with the imprint of my fingers. Her small nose, hollow cheeks. All of it is dainty, even her scars, something that I try hard not to study, the thought of someone –someone else- marking her, has my blood boiling.

The sides of my index fingers brush the sides of her little ones, our curled hands flush, hers set above mine on the bars. Condensation slick on the metal, mixing with the blood on my palms, sinister red streaking down the poles. One of her hands lifts, moving towards her chest, my eyes following, even though hers are still on mine. She plants it over her heart, atop her small breasts, dark nipples plucked into sharp points from the chill in the air. I have the urge to prick them with something sharp, my cock pulses heavily with my heartbeat, reminding me that I can do so if I wish. I own her. My eyes so focused on her bony hand, mind wandering over the possibilities of piercing her body with an array of blunt and sharp objects alike, that I almost don’t hear it.

My eyes snap up, a crackled exhale from her throat painful to my ears. Unbelievably so, her cheeks flush pale pink, gaze dropping, eyes closing. The noise comes again, and I am enraptured, waiting for her, patiently, but on the third attempt at whatever it is she’s fucking doing, I snap out of it. Suddenly rushing up from my position on the ground, her hand instantly reaches out through the bars, her shoulder flush in the gap of the bars, as though she is trying to climb through,reaching for me, and I stop still. Staring at her, disbelief fills me as my lips part, my bare, bloodied chest heaving, she licks her lips again, the same crackled sound. And it reboots my brain.

My heart thundering in my throat, I grab the bottle of water on my workbench. Returning to the bars, tossing the cap aside, I jerk my head as I lower back to my knees, gesturing for her to tilt her own back, and without verbal command, she does as I want. Lips parting, mouth opening, neck arching as much as she is able with the shackle. I start to trickle the cool water onto her tongue. It doesn’t feel like the last time, when she spluttered and choked, my fingers squeezing her cheeks. Those captivating eyes on mine, her throat works the water down, I lift the bottle, still close to her lips, but she turns her head back to face me fully, chin dipping again.

Her eyes flutter closed, nostrils flaring and then those Mediterranean blues are back on me. The crackle in her chest sounds louder, making me think about antibiotics, why I haven’t heard this sound before when I listen to her so intently, it’s all I can hear when I’m down here. I can’t take my eyes from the skeletal hand over her chest. The matted dark hair strewn over her small breasts.

“A-” she swallows, trying again, my face leaning closer and closer. “A- Aaa- Vv-” shyly dropping her gaze, she pulls in another breath, deeper, my nose is almost flush with hers, and then she rasps the word right over my lips, “Ava.”

My cock kicks in my jeans, heart thudding dully in my chest, my own throat tight. I hold my breath, her name sings inside my head. Her voice is just like mine, softer though, despite the crackle, the wince in her eyes when she forced it from her tongue. My hand reaches through, finger hooking in the O-ring of her shackle, I wrench her back into the bars, her lips and nose in the gap. Cheekbones like bruised butterfly wings pulled against the metal poles.

“Ava,” I rasp back, her lashes fluttering, eyes dropping. “Look at me,” I creak out. “Baby Bird,” her gaze snaps up, eyes flicking rapidly between mine, no doubt with blurry vision from where we’re so close.

I breathe her in, filling my lungs with her, thinking of only hours ago, having her bent over my workbench. My cock in her cunt. My other hand reaches through the bars, palming the back of her head, rough, coarse, matted hair beneath my calloused palm. Forehead dropping to hers, eyes closing, her quickened breath ghosts across my cheeks, my parted lips, panting breaths from her and I, heaving in and out.

Disgust roils in my belly, grey eyes infiltrating my mind, I fight them back, expel them from my thoughts, not wanting them to ruin this. I think of the ones I can feel staring at my closed lids instead. Blue, ringed in brown, heavy lashes, fat lips, high cheekbones, slim face. My breath sails free of my open mouth, I lift my forehead from hers. Eyes opening.

Ava.

My heart thuds and all I can think about is her.

Ava. Ava. Ava.

Baby Bird.

Finally.

It feels like a weight lifts from my chest, my shoulders falling, the tense muscles unclenching, burning with release. I let my head roll on my shoulders, the small bones in my neck popping and cracking with relief. My lungs pull in deep breaths, slow, unhurried, my brow smoothing. Thoughts of my Kyla-Rose drain away from the forefront of my mind, the place they had been nailed to the inside of my skull.

My own cage burns into my memory, the smell, the room, the eyes, fists, feet. And I am suddenly standing, bolt clippers in my hands, the blade of which pinches the thick padlock I threaded through her chain. Muscles straining, the lock drops free, coiled chains slithering to the floor. I toss the cutters aside, the stench of death sharp in the air. Blood and organs, and more mere feet behind us and all I can think about is this girl.

Ava. Ava. Ava.

Her name fills my head like birdsong, dizzying me to the brink of madness.

She watches me, same position, same calmness as my hurried actions. I tug the chain from around the bars, ripping the gate open, and she doesn’t move, one hand dropped from her bars, the other still white-knuckled around the icy metal. She stares at me, one knee bent, outer leg flush with the floor, foot curled beneath her other thigh, the leg limp on the floor. She is open to me, her bloodied cunt on full display, her concave belly rising and falling rapidly. But her eyes are on mine, wide and unblinking and I can’t not take her again.

I reach in, my hands curling over her upper arms, dragging her towards me, she does not protest. Her legs drag behind her as I drag her into my chest, dropping back onto my arse, my thighs parted, one arm banding around her back, hand cupping her waist, thumb smoothing over the scarred skin on the side of her left breast. My right hand works my jeans, and then the hot flesh of my cock is pulsing in my hand. I lift her, positioning her legs over my thighs, her feet curling slightly into my back, my cock lines up at the dry heat of her.

I heft her up higher, dragging her even closer, her breasts flush with my bloody chest, she falls into me, hands loose at her sides, she eyes me, and I don’t want her to ever fucking look away.

I think of keeping her forever, in her cage, with her shackle and chain, acting like a collar and lead. Having something that nobody knows about, something just for me, and my dick swells. The fingers of my other hand bite into her hip, thumb in the divot of hollow bone.

She doesn’t flinch when I thrust up into her, but I do. Her dry walls tighten so hard around my cock, I can feel it tearing the frenulum, my foreskin pulling back too fucking far and it makes white spots dance across my vision. I bite down hard on my teeth, a deep crease between my eyes, brows drawing in, but I keep going, keep fucking up into her, she gets tighter, my cock growing further, all of the blood in my body is shooting straight to my cock. Spurring me on.

But, Ava’s not staring at me anymore. She’s not doing anything. I thrust out, back in harder, but she just stares blankly behind me. I still, my hands tightening on her body. I glance over my shoulder, see fucking nothing, and my chest aches. I growl lowly, baring my teeth, but there’s nothing, no response, if I released my hold on her right now, she’d flop down to the ground like a rag doll.

“Ava,” I rumble, my chest vibrating with the threat of her name, and there’s nothing.

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