Page 127 of Judas

He won’t hurt you like this, he’ll replace it all. One try at a time.

“S.. stomach. Kace?”

“Yeah, babygirl?”

Nimbly, Kace turns me over where the front my hips are digging against the corner of the countertop, toes barely scraping the floor— my bare ass offered up on a plate. Warm air caressing my skin, when it tightens from an adrenaline induced chill, I hear Kace’s breath shake.

“D… damnit.”

Every fiber of my being is telling me to run and hide, to get the hell away from him, to put space between me and anyone who looks at the scars cut into me. His fingers glide along the globes of my ass, over each one, making me flinch. The lightheadedness is starting to take hold and I don’t know if I—-

“I love you.” His words soften, then I feel the gentleness of his lips against my skin.

“I love you.” This time another scar.

“I love you.” Another.

“I—“ Kace keeps going until he’s said it a hundred times I fear. At least that’s the way it feels to my heart. He’s seen me fall into a tonic state, he sees me fight him at every turn, limits his touch, and now works on erasing each scar one declaration at a time.

Trailing up to my spine, he stops there and gives me a moment to collect myself before speaking. My chin rests on the surface of the too cold granite, some of the tension has dulled, leaving me raw to emotion. But, I’m still wound tightly and not in the wayeither of us wants me to be. I don’t want to be the broken thing that’s sprawled out before him, I want to be everything I was before the rape and all of the good things I have become since then.

“What were you going to say, baby?”

“I… if I say stop, you’ll stop. Right?”

“Every time.”

Against my better judgement, I nod and he seizes his opportunity.

Lifting me up, Kace turns me on my side instead of keeping me on my stomach. Like we were both testing one another to see if there is enough still existing between us. The position is a bit awkward but doesn’t look like he cares when his hot mouth meets my sensitive skin. Long swipes of his tongue punctuated by quick flicks of its skilled tip over my clit before drawing it between his lips.

Holding me open with his thumbs, his ravenous licking and sucking continues. The bluntness of his tongue dips into me over and over then trails back to my clit, setting a pattern that he quickly abandons just to keep me on the edge.

Closing my eyes, I start to squirm on his mouth, feeling the whiskers on his top and bottom lip scrape at me. It’s heady, the contrasting sensations and I fucking love it. So much so the new tongue lashings drag desperate moans out of me. Legs trembling as the release I want—no, the release I crave—creeps closer, liquid heat pooling low in my belly.

“K… Kace,” his name a plea on the crest of my lips.

“So… pretty when you say my name like that.” Fucker swirls his tongue around my throbbing clit every few words to egg me on.

“Please,” I whine. Shifting my hips to grind harder against his mouth. Close enough to the edge that if he stops I might still fall over it.

“Killing me, baby. Go on, be my good girl and come all over my mouth.”

His hands grip me a bit harder and he clamps down on my clit, sucking on it, lashing his tongue violently against the most sensitive spot at the front. Teeth graze along the hood when I start to thrash against him, simultaneously running from the intensity and making him tighten on me cause I need more.

Turning me onto my back, he uses one arm to shove my legs up and out of the way, exposing my flushed center to him. Being the deviant he is, he slaps my pussy and shoves two fingers into me. That’s all it takes to throw me off the pleasure-ridden cliff. I lock around him, milking his fingers while he leaves them still inside of me, occasionally stroking my sweet spot.

“Good girl.” He croons all while my desperate moans morph into a broken cry.

You will never hear me tell him but I enjoy his version of breakfast. After all of that, Kace decided to let me go see Sadie on my own. So here I stand now, riding up the elevator to the mental health ward. At the information desk, I gawked at the older ladies that sit there manning it for all of the visitors, contractors, and delivery drivers. Completely dumbfounded once informed that Sadie had been relocated to mental health following an episode I wasn’t there to help her navigate. She was fighting so hard that they put her behind a lock and key. It’s not the same thing, but in a sense, it is. The fear and trepidation I felt in prison understands what she may be experiencing now.

As the elevator slows at the designated floor, it dings and slides open revealing a small waiting area with two entry doors on the left and right side. Directly ahead sits a nurse station tucked behind thick panes of protective glass. Stepping out, I look around, seeing empty chairs along the perimeter of the room. Magazines that have collected dust, and a mix of dark blueand wood accents. It feels lonely, like the seating area is just for looks because no one is coming to visit these patients. Their families don’t want to be seen in a place like this, don’t want to be reminded that mental health exists.

“Do you need help, ma’am?” A male voice greets me. Turning toward it, my gaze meets that of a younger Asian boy. He’s looking at me curiously, as if I may not realize where I have ended up. And while that’s not remotely close to the truth I don’t doubt the fact that I appear out of my element.

“Uhm, yes.”

Walking up to the double paned glass window, the likeness to jail is making me nauseous. I don’t like it here, I can only imagine what these vulnerable patients are feeling. Do they get to walk around and socialize with others? Is there a common room? Are they locked in their room like special housing units? I have so many questions and they only make my nerves worsen.

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