Page 30 of Our Little Dove

My morals fade as I remember their words:“…Your sexy little sobs and whimpers might scream ‘no,’ but baby, your body speaks volumes about what you truly crave. You are just as hungry and depraved as we are.”

They were right. I am just as sick as they are.

I feel as though I’m not only watching the screen but experiencing it—all over again—as if for the first time. With my fingers grazing the hem of my underwear, I slip my hand underneath the fabric.

I grip my cell phone tighter, the screen glowing brightly as I replay the video again and again, each time focusing on a different detail. Every scratch, every bruise, every moan pulled from my throat, I analyze and memorize.

With my fingers inside me, I think about Kieran - fucking me while I flick my pierced tongue side to side, tickling the roof of my mouth as I imagine Fintan’s piercings moving in and out.

I can barely make out the flickering images on the screen as I grow wetter, fucking myself harder and faster as they do on the screen, drawing my orgasm closer. It’s enough to fuel my obsession with finding these men. The faceless figures who had control over me. They are like demons haunting my conscious thoughts.

They have been present in my every waking thought for weeks. But now, as I touch myself, I feel a strange connection to them. A twisted understanding of their desires.

My orgasm builds, fueled by the depravity and violence depicted on the screen. I can’t help but moan, the sound getting lost in the darkness of the room. My breath hitches as I picture their masks, their hands, and their breath on my skin. Each detail is etched into my mind, becoming a blueprint for my revenge.

I am no longer just watching helplessly at what they did to me. I am feeling, experiencing, and understanding. And with that, I decide that I am no longer their victim.

With each stroke over my sensitive clit, I am taking back control, claiming my body as my own. I’m losing myself in the darkness of my own desires, merging with the depravity that had been inflicted upon me. My breaths turn into moans, growing louder and louder each time my fingers find their way back inside.

As the orgasm crashes over me, I feel as though I’m being possessed by some darker version of myself. The orgasm is unlike any I have ever experienced by myself. It’s not just bliss, it’s primal.

I have never made myself come like this.

My body convulses, and I feel as though I’m no longer a passive observer in this horrifying scene. I’m a participant, and I’m the one in control.

When the orgasm subsides, I take a shaky breath. The room spins slightly, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve lost my grip on reality. It doesn’t matter. My desire to find Kieran and Fintan has only intensified.

I take a moment to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. I can barely believe what just happened, but I know this is a turning point. It’s time to stop feeling sorry for myself. I need to find them and confront them.

I stand up slowly, my legs feeling slightly wobbly. I toss my phone onto the light-oak coffee table and make my way back to my bedroom, where I collapse onto the bed, still panting from the intensity I felt a few moments ago.

As I am lying here, I start to think about a plan. I need to find out where Kieran and Fintan are. They must be somewhere close, given that it all happened within twenty-four hours even though it felt like days.

I remember the chloroform, but did they give me something else to make my memory and sense of time this fuzzy?

A thought occurs to me - Molly. I get the distinct feeling that she knows more than she told me. She spoke with them, after all. There has to be more to it than what she told us the day I showed up on her doorstep. I was strangely excited to tell her about the experience before that godforsaken video fucked it all up.

Well, that, and both she and Joel were acting strangely. Guess now I know why they were horrified.

Blowing out a heavy breath, I get up and head to the bathroom to clean up. Stripping down, I step into the shower and turn the valve on full heat. I manage to block out my emotions and numb myself under the warm water.

I’m back on my couch again, my hair still wet from the shower.

I am engrossed in an episode of Supernatural,fuck-knows which season, when I hear a knock at the front door. My heart skips a beat as I glance at the time on my phone—it’s late, and I don’t want to deal with anyone right now.

I rise from my seat and make my way to the door. With each step, a sense of apprehension gnaws at me.

As I open the door, lock eyes with Molly, her expression a mix of anxiety and guilt. My stomach churns at the sight of her, remembering everything I felt the last time she stood before me, and I can feel tension crackling in the air between us.

“Hey,” I greet her, my voice strained. “What are you doing here?”

She shifts uncomfortably on her feet, her gaze flickering away from mine for a moment before meeting it head-on. “Can we talk?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I exhale an already exhausted breath and step aside, allowing her to enter, before closing the door behind her. She takes a hesitant step into the dark living room, her eyes scanning the space as if searching for something to focus on other than me.

“Have you just been sitting in the dark?” she asks, focusing on the tv. Sam Winchester is her favorite; I’m team Dean all the way.

“Yes,” I bark. “Are you going to talk?” I ask, my voice tight with apprehension.

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