Page 19 of Broken Queen
CHAPTER 5
Hazard
Daily work on the Bloom Estate continued as follows: arrive early, stay late, screw around whenever there was no one looking. Zira, the little minx that she was, showed herself off at every chance. Either she was used to acting as if she was being watched, or she was toying with me, knowing that my dick was constantly half-hard at the mere thought of her. I kept an eye on her as I punched in a new door for Daddy Bloom’s private gym.
If Zira was like a devil, then I was like a minion, ready to please my master. I was starving for her, and no matter how much I jacked off, she always came back to my mind, making my dick sore all over again.
Trying to give myself a break, I swung open the door to the supplies shed, then headed straight to the break room. I pulled my bag out of the fridge, then settled into a seat at an unoccupied table. The sandwich wrapper crinkled in my hands. A slip of white paper caught my eye, too stiff to be a napkin or a scrap of wrapping paper. It was a note typed and printed on cardstock. Whoever had sent it was probably a rich bastard. The note said: Zira knows what happened to Gabby.
My chest tightened. My sister.
Someone was either messing with Zira, or they were messing with me.
A handful of staff members, most of which dressed in vests and bow ties, ate their lunches, muttering quietly to each other. I cleared my throat and they turned to me like a herd of sheep.
“Who fucked with my lunch?” I asked.
Eyes blinked. Fingernails tapped on tables. I made eye contact with each of them, but there was no fidget or twitch to give anyone away.
“No one touched your things,” a man said.
“So you’re hiding like a little bitch?” I asked, glancing around the room. “Show yourself.”
But no one moved. I flexed my shoulders, daring someone to come forward. I could get personal about it, start a fight, make it a thing, but I knew what had happened. A staff member had been paid to hide the note in my lunch, and the money probably came from a Marked Blooms Syndicate member.
I was being watched, then.
My dick twitched. I didn’t care what happened, so long as I got closer to the answers about Gabby, and it worked out in my favor that Zira was my clue. I took a bite of my sandwich, and everyone went back to their meals.
I stowed the rest of my sandwich, my mind racing. I pressed my thumb knuckles together. It always helped to do something, to keep my mind from spinning. Otherwise, I got into bigger trouble.
Like a man in need of a fix, I wandered to one of the storage facilities, because technically, it was still my lunch break—not that I gave a shit about the rules. The Bloom Estate was massive, with a storage facility a short distance away from the supplies shed. It was a warehouse with three rooms; equipment, furniture, and in the last room, dungeon equipment. Saint Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, elaborate spinning racks, tables to strap victims too, medical gurneys, and cages of all sizes. Hundreds upon hundreds of strange contraptions meant to torture victims. I had only been to that one Masquerade briefly, but I could tell that they hadn’t even brought a third of their devices. They must have rotated the furniture at each event.
Wood creaked through the room as if weight was being shifted on a plank. Peering through the metal beams and wooden frames, I caught sight of her small nose, those curved, pink lips, her blond hair piled on her head in an elaborate weave of curls. Queen Zira laid back on a leather-lined bench, easing herself awfully close to the guillotine. A small device gripped in her hands, silent images flashing before her. Her legs spread across that bench, ready for more. What was my little bloom watching?
I grabbed my dick through my pants. I reeked like I was fresh out of the gym, a layer of sweat crusted over my skin, sticky with funk. But that was part of why I wanted to ruin Zira. She was clean. Orderly. Even her cunt smelled like vanilla and cherries, like she dined on fruit alone. I wanted her breasts in my dirty palms, her delicate skin against my rough flesh, her teeth sinking into my lips as I buried myself deep inside of her.
And yet I wasn’t one to beg. I could use force if I wanted to. But I liked making them kneel of their own volition. It was more of a challenge.
As quietly as I could, I snuck through the room, weaving in between the ropes and metal structures, like a wolf darting through the trees. Once she came into view, the dress exposing her bare legs, my lips dipped into a grin.
Fresh meat. All for me.
I pounced, raising the hatch of the lunette and grabbing her by her hair until her neck was in the head hole. Keeping a hand on the hatch, ready to lock her into place, I drank her in. Her breathing was rapid, her eyes glazed as she stared at me, surprise twinkling in her eyes.
I grabbed the device out of her hands. On the screen, a man in a black mask gouged out another man’s eyes. The victim’s hands lay dismembered on the floor.
So that’s what my queen had spread her legs for? She was getting off on watching someone die.
“Is that your smut, Bloomy?” I asked. “You get off on death?”
She rolled her eyes. “And you get off on watching me wiggle like a worm.”
“Oh, my queen,” I winked. “You get off on it being bait on a hook more than you’d like to admit.”
I straddled the bench, resting each of my legs inside of hers, pressing them apart, so that her pussy was spread over that bench. Her dress rode up her thighs, and the faintest hint of sweetness wafted in the air. Goddamn. She got off on violence as much as I did.
But I wasn’t here to have fun with her. Not yet.
