Page 32 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

“This is the first ceremony of such stature we have had. I racked my brain for days, months even, trying to decide how this should be done. Then Rylee reminded me, sometimes the best solutions are the easiest. And she was right, as usual.” A few chuckle. I can see Papa’s distinguished smile lines embedded into the depths of his face, shadowing against the bright flames. I admire how much he loves her, Rylee, a love like Mom and Dad’s. It comes once in a lifetime and you never take advantage of it.

As the group silences, he continues. “When it’s your turn to pass this responsibility down, you will do it as you see fit, which I predict will include a lot of enthusiasm, calculated chaos, and extravagance.” That’s a nice way of him saying dramatics, as no expense is too dramatic, and in true me style, of course.

“Sid, please take a seat,” he instructs. My face contorts in confusion. Does he mean on the ground? But my questions are quickly answered once he steps aside, revealing a wooden high-back throne, and I burst out laughing in disbelief, because I will not cry. This gesture is beyond purposeful. This is love. A bond, a respect between grandfather and granddaughter, and a leader and his heir. Unable to help myself, I turn into a blubbering idiot, tears I have been holding back flooding my cheeks as my nose sniffles trying to mask my emotions. But I am not ashamed, I let them flow.

My toes curl as grass tickles between them, and I ground myself once more before preparing to take the first step toward the rest of my life. In my periphery, I catch a glimpse of Greta, Lucy, and Uncle Thomas as I pass them. Greta’s distinct aroma of nicotine and musk invade my nose, which then brings me to think of her and Rogers as a couple. It occupies my mind, distracting me until reaching the throne.

My hands reach out and touch the hard, wooden arms. I shake my head in disbelief. All of this for me? Are they sure? Papa reads my mind, placing his hand on top of mine, and he curls his fingers underneath and givesme a gentle squeeze of reassurance while whispering, “Take a seat. It’s yours now.” Dammit, this man is attacking me in all the feels tonight. Well fucking played, Papa, well fucking played.

Once his hand releases from mine, I turn around and let the wood guide me down. Bending my knees, I lower myself until my bottom reaches the hard surface. Closing my eyes, I take another deep inhale through my nose. The tears have subsided, but could resume their flow at any moment, it seems.

“It was many years ago when we, the upper ranks, started to notice The Devil’s Society emblem being carved into the skin of The Damned, our new initiates, and to those who joined us prior to that.” My eyes shift, unsure of where this could be going. “What you all didn’t know was, us old-timers did it first.” The corner of my lip rises, curious and excited about where this could be going. Have they had them this entire time?

Papa undoes the first buttons of his shirt, pulling one corner to the side. He steps forward so I can see. I lean forward, but all I see is his silver chest hair. Looking up at him, I ask, “What am I meant to be looking at?” A few snickers follow and I bite my lip, stopping a laugh from bursting out myself.

“It’s okay, I got this.” Rylee comes to save the day. Stepping up, she lifts her top, exposing her bra, and also fabulous tits. This woman is perfection, but that’s besides the fact. Next, she flips her bra strap up from under her arm. “Do you see it?” she asks.

I lean closer to her and see faintly, a small scar decorating the side of her ribs, just under her armpit. The shape reminds me of a snake with maybe a circle or letterDunderneath, it’s hard to tell.

“Our original founding members did this days after founding our organization, the society. And now it’s your turn. It’s sacred, share this only with someone you can trust into death. As we are now trusting you with our lives.”

Sitting back, the responsibility of hundreds of people’s lives now weighs heavily on my shoulders. Doubt tries to cross my mind, but I don’t allow it to linger. I’ve trained for this moment my entire fucking life. I can do this.

The crunching of grass catching my attention. Looking toward the noise, Lucy is making her way over to me. In head to toe black like the others, her hair is long, cascading over her shoulders, and a giant smile adorns her face. She seems far too excited for my liking, just as sadistic as I am, in her own way. Standing in front of me now, she boxes me in, placing her hands on the armrests. “Left or right?” she asks.

I look back at her, confused, and hesitantly respond with, “Left?”

Lifting one hand, her finger brushes against my bare skin, pushing my hair over my shoulder. Goosebumps follow and I am so fucking embarrassed that my body is betraying me.

Once satisfied, she reaches behind her and pulls out ablade. It shines beautifully under the moonlight and my body is now giddy with excitement. I love where this could be going, naughty bitch.

Lifting her hand, she places the sharp tip into my exposed skin and presses in deep, then she starts cutting. The sting, the parting of flesh, and the feeling of my warm blood beginning to drip down my body, feels so fucking good, it’s euphoric.

Her body leans farther into mine, and her mouth moves, whispering sweet words. “This is how the adults play.”

I smile at her statement and continue to feel the release she is giving me. I don’t look down, I don’t watch her work. I focus on her face. Lucy’s eyes squint slightly, she loves this just as much as I do, as her lips part and her head tilts.

She is a woman dedicated to the craft.

“Your family didn’t want to make you bleed. They asked me to do the honors and I gladly accepted. To make you bleed, at my mercy. How could I say no?” She speaks with such mischief, and the wink at the end only adds to her allure.

Lucy’s focus returns to my chest. I think the snake is done as I feel her adjust the blade and start the next portion. Taking the opportunity of her being occupied, I rasp the words to a classic song, “Say my name, it tastes good rolling off your tongue.”

This causes her to pause. We stay like this for amoment longer, at a standstill of sorts, until she responds. “No.”

Interesting.

Taking a deep breath, I catch her scent, and it is delicious, cupcakes. The woman smells of delicious fucking cupcakes. My mouth waters as I picture stacks of cupcakes. Captivated, I watch as she steps back then slices her hand with the same knife she just used on me. Squeezing her palm tight, Lucy holds it over my brand, letting droplets of her blood mix with mine. The act is sensual. Others join us and she passes the knife around. One by one they do the same notion, allowing our blood to mix, like Blaise and I did all those years ago.

Mom steps up just before Dad, who is last, and mouths, “I am so proud of you.” And I could explode into a ball of emotions at any second now.

Dad passes the pigs’ leashes back to Mom and he greets me last. I notice he also didn’t take the blade from Mom, instead pulling out his own, of course. He’s so particular. Cutting his hand, he follows suit, squeezing his into mine, and says, “Baby Sin.” A nickname he gave me as a baby, which stayed with me my entire life. And the tears are back. Dammit.

Mom joins him now, standing side by side. Reaching forward, she passes me my babies’ leashes and they come to sit on either side of me on my throne. I briefly look down at my chest, the slitheringShas a letterDprominently underneath.

Papa speaks up. “For most, it means Devil’s Society,for you and I, it means Diablo. Wear it with pride, Sid. It’s yours now.” A bright flash follows, nearly blinding me, before I realize it’s someone taking a photo. Then it occurs to me that Greta was on her best behavior tonight and I am shocked and kind of disappointed. We can always count on her for making serious moments lighter.

Staying seated for a few moments longer, I watch as buckets of water douse the flames. Comforting sizzles relax me.

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