Losers: Part I

Manson carried me back to the garage, thrown over his shoulder. My head bobbed up and down, giving me glimpses of the other men’s faces. Lucas’s expression was fierce, so tense I wouldn’t have been surprised if sparks started shooting out of his eyeballs. Jason’s was tight and controlled, like he was about to attend the funeral of someone he hated. Vincent was smiling, the eerie expression punctuated by occasional shakes of his head.

“Let’s see what you got up to, Jessica,” Manson grunted, shifting me slightly as we reached the front of the garage.

“No, no, let’s not,” I said quickly. All the blood was rushing to my head, and I groaned, my stomach churning with dread. How could I have been so abysmally foolish? When they saw what was inside that garage, my ass was dead.

Vincent squatted down beside us, using a small key to unlock the rolling metal door. He grasped the handle and pulled, and every creak of the metal sounded like another nail being hammered into my coffin.

The collective gasps of shock as the garage was opened made me wish I’d let the dogs eat me out there in the trees.

“Lucas, go put the dogs in the house,” Manson said, his voice hollow. “They’ll cut their paws in here.”

Shattered glass covered the floor, sparkling in the fluorescent light. It crunched under Manson’s boots as he carried me inside. The cars were dented, the windows busted, tires slashed. Tools had been ripped off the walls and thrown to the floor, drawers had been flung open and their contents scattered.

“Holy shit,” Vincent said. “Holy fucking shit.”

Manson set me back on my fight, and for a brief moment, I wasn’t captive. Manson stood beside me, surveying the destruction with a slack expression as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. For nearly a minute, they stared, expressions of stunned disbelief frozen on their faces.

Suddenly arms gripped me from behind, pulling me back against a hard, broad chest.

“We’re going to have a nice long chat about this, Miss Martin.” Lucas had returned, and his voice was so cold that I shivered. Manson and Vincent walked among the ruins, Manson rubbing a hand through his hair as he shook his head. Jason was rapidly typing on his phone, glancing up only occasionally as if taking notes on the damages.

“Thousands of dollars,” he said. “Fucking thousands of dollars in damage.” He whirled around, glaring at me. “You. You…” Any insults that came into his mind clearly weren’t good enough. He turned away and slipped out the open side door, which swung crookedly on its hinges. The alarm finally stopped blaring, and Jason was back a few seconds later.

“They cut the wires for the cameras,” he said. He swore under his breath, looking at me with disgust. “Looks like they tried to kill the security system completely, but the backup battery took over.” He leaned his hands against the trunk of his white Nissan, head bowed over the scratched, dented metal. “Fuck! God fucking damn it!”

“You did it now, Jess,” Vincent laughed bitterly. “Fucking hell.”

“I didn’t do it!” I cried. I jerked against Lucas’s hold on me, trying and failing to break it. I didn’t even know what to do if I did get him to let go of me. Was I going to run all the way back home in the dark? Move out of Wickeston and pretend this night had never happened? Never leave my house again and hope they didn’t come knocking on my door?

I’d royally fucked up.

“Keep fighting me and this is going to get a hell of a lot worse for you,” Lucas hissed. “You’re not running away from this.”

“I didn’t damage your cars!” I insisted. “It was them. I didn’t do it!”

“Oh, right, of course,” Vincent said. “As always, it couldn’t possibly be your fault.”

“No, it — I — Please don’t call the cops,” I said, stumbling over my words. What if I ended up in jail? What the hell would I tell my parents? What would I tell my boss? “I didn’t do it. I fucking swear I didn’t.”

The words died on my tongue as Manson turned around, glaring at me over the roof of his damaged Mustang.

“Don’t call the cops?” he said, his voice dangerously low as he stalked toward me. “No consequences for Jess, right? No fucking responsibility for your own actions?” He was right in my face now, inches away. Behind him, Vincent leaned against a large toolbox with his arms folded.

Manson reached into his pocket and wrenched out a cell phone, several models out of date with a cracked screen. He unlocked it and thrust it toward me. “Call them. Call the police. Believe me, you’d rather have them deal with you than me.”

Lucas let go of me as I took the cell in my trembling hands. The glares I was getting from the four of them could have melted steel beams as I opened up the dial pad, my thumb hovering over the 9.

I shook my head, pushing the phone back toward him.

“No.” I couldn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at the glass-covered floor, chewing the inside of my cheek. “I don’t want the cops involved. I’d rather…” I gulped. What the hell was I doing? The turning in my stomach didn’t feel like fear. It was something else, something strange. “I want to keep this between us.”

Manson’s eyes widened, his eyebrows disappearing beneath the hair lying loose over his forehead. Jason rubbed his hands over his face with a groan, saying, “I can’t believe it. I can’t fucking believe this shit.”

Vincent was laughing, a low chuckle that sounded truly maniacal. “So Jess wants to keep it between us. You come here, thrash our shit —”

“Oh, you’ve got it all wrong, Vince,” Jason said, head still bowed over his busted car. “She came here innocently and didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Not her fault, as usual.”

The guilt flooding through me was heavy, too intense to bear. Even though I hadn’t broken anything myself, I was still here. I’d followed Alex and the others, I’d broken in, I’d participated.

Lucas had called it right. I needed to be punished. I knew it, and I dreaded it as much as I desperately wanted it. Anything to make this crushing feeling of guilt and regret go away.

“I fucked up. I…I know this is bad.” I gulped. What I was about to ask for felt as difficult as dragging fish hooks through my guts, but I had to do it. “I get it, you’re mad. You’re angry and…”

“Angry is a fucking understatement,” Lucas said, his teeth snapping together near my ear. My heart was pattering like a rabbit facing down wolves — a very foolish rabbit who’d walked right into their den and lingered long enough to be caught.

Although I tried to sound brave, I doubt it worked. I took a deep breath and said, “I can take it.”

Manson’s mouth twitched as he narrowed his eyes at me. “You can take it? What exactly do you think you’re taking right now? We’re pretty damn calm, considering what we’re looking at, Jess. If we were to truly show you anger, you’d change your tune.”

“Then show me,” I said. “Punish me, if that’s what you want to do. I’ll take it. I deserve it.”

Vincent laughed again, but this time, Lucas joined him too. It alarmed me enough that I turned to look at him, standing in the shadows behind me with the lightbulb above him slightly flickering. He was…fuck…

Lucas was smiling.

“Punish you?” he said. “Is that what you want? Does that sound like a fun little game to you? Because this” — he looked around, his smile dangerously tight — “this doesn’t look like a game. This looks like you’ve earned some real fucking consequences.”

“Fine,” I said. I was blustering my way through every word. “I remember my safeword. You can just —”

Manson whirled toward me like a viper, lean body coiled with fury. His dark eyes appeared almost black as he looked down at me.

“I see what you’re doing,” he said, his voice a dangerous hiss. “Do you think that because you have a safeword that we won’t be properly punishing you? Or have you forgotten what it’s like to be over my knee?”

I certainly hadn’t forgotten. Finding myself bent over his lap in the middle of a party had been one of the most defining moments of my life, bizarre as that was. I’d accepted his dare to serve him but had never expected him to offer me a safeword, giving me a safety net in case things got to be too much.

That word gave me the freedom to kick and cry over his lap with complete abandon, knowing I had a way out if I needed it. They wouldn’t cause me harm, but they also wouldn’t make this easy.

I didn’t deserve to have it easy. I wanted to erase my shame, get rid of it as quickly as I possibly could. The only way I knew of to do that was to accept the consequences they wanted to give.

Manson was watching my face, eyes narrowed. It was a sharp and accusatory gaze, searching for any crack in my determination.

“You don’t know what you’re fucking asking for,” he said. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face, and the brief touch of his fingers against my cheek was electric. “We’ll make you cry. We’ll make it hurt.”

Behind him, Jason fixed me with a cold stare. “And we’ll enjoy every goddamn second.”

Ooh, fuck. My guilt was suddenly crowded by a swell of intense desire.

“Then make it hurt,” I said. “I’m telling you that I’m accepting the consequences.”

Manson and Lucas exchanged a glance. Then Manson straightened, cracking his wrists. The motion sent a tingle zapping through me. I took a step back, only to flinch when I nudged against Lucas and realized how close he’d been the entire time.

“How is the little slut going to make this up to us?” he said. His breath tingled over my neck, hot and dangerously close. I kept my eyes on Manson, but I could see Lucas in my peripheral vision, leaning around my shoulder as he watched my face. “I think I’d like to see her beg. What do you think, boys?”

God, the fact that this turned me on as much as it shamed me was so confusing. There was probably a psychology student out there who could write their entire thesis studying my horny brain.

Manson nodded along to Lucas’s idea as he stepped toward me, his hand cupping the back of my neck to jerk me closer. He was shirtless, every lean muscle defined by a slight sheen of sweat.

“I’d enjoy that,” he said, his fingers digging into my neck. “I think I’d like to see her begging for mercy.”

“I’ll give her one minute until she’s wailing like a baby,” Jason said. He was still standing against his car, face in shadow from his hood. He lifted his arm and curled his finger at me. “Come here.”

Oh, fuck. I instinctually took a step back but bumped into Lucas. He hissed in my ear, “Where do you think you’re going? He told you to come, so get your ass over there.”

Manson pushed me forward, using his hand on the back of my neck to propel me on my way. I stumbled slightly and Jason grabbed my arm, bending me over the back of the Z. The metal was freezing cold, and I squealed, pressing back against his hand, but it was like fighting a brick wall.

“I should beat your ass black and blue,” he said, his words pouring liquid heat into my veins.

“Oh, she’ll be getting a spanking,” Manson said. “Why don’t you start her off?”

Jason was grinning when I turned my face toward him. Shit, I was in for it.

I had a thing for spanking, undeniably. But telling partners I liked to be spanked usually resulted in a few little smacks during sex and nothing more. It was hard to find the words to explain that I didn’t want a swat; I wanted a fully-fledged, bent over, legs kicking, doubting-my-own-endurance spanking.

Well, congratulations Jessica Martin, you got your wish in the absolute worst way possible. This spanking wasn’t for fun, it was for punishment. They intended to make me regret what I’d done, and they had the power to do it.

Vincent rested his hands on the trunk beside me. I had Jason on my right and him on my left.

“Pull your dress up,” Vincent said. I hesitated, but he leaned down and said sweetly, “Pull it up or you’re taking off everything.”

I bit my lip, teeth digging painfully into my flesh. The pain gave me something to focus on besides embarrassment as I reached down, pulling up the hem of my dress. A blush swept over my face, hot and damning. My panties were cheeky little things with scarcely more material than a thong.

Manson and Lucas stepped closer, but it was Jason I kept my eyes on. He passed his baseball bat to Manson, who swung it idly in his hand.

“Look at that cute little ass,” Jason mused. “Bubbly. I bet it bounces when you smack it.”

I was so nervous I thought I was going to burst. The dread was going to kill me. “Just spank me already!” I blurted. “I don’t need to hear your horny monologuing. I —”

Smack!

The force of his swat shocked my pride into a red alert, and it was immediately followed by more. Every slap was sharp and biting, igniting a wildfire against my ass as he swapped between cheeks, making sure each got a stinging introduction to the palm of his hand. I clenched — teeth, fists, thighs, everything. But clenching didn’t make it any easier. Jason’s pace never faltered.

“Fuck,” I growled, bringing up my arm and curling it beneath my face so I could press my mouth against it. But Vincent got his hand beneath my chin and squeezed my face, holding my head up.

“No hiding, Jess,” he said. “You wanted consequences, well, here they are. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Fantastic.” I was huffing, holding back my whimpers through sheer force of will. My core was swiftly heating, my pussy clenching despite the pain — not just despite it, but because of it. It had been a few years, but damn, I’d forgotten how impossible it was to maintain any dignity during a spanking.

“Ow!” The yelp burst out of me, hands flying back in a foolish attempt to cover myself. Vincent caught my hands immediately. He held my wrists firmly against my lower back, leaving me without even a moment of reprieve.

“Do. Not. Fuck. With. My. Things.” Each of Jason’s words had a smack to emphasize it.

The moment Jason stopped, Vincent hauled me upright. He turned me, directing me toward his mangled Subaru. All his windows had been busted out, the glass shimmering around the vehicle like a sad dusting of glitter. He guided me with one hand on the nape of my neck as Manson opened the car’s passenger door.

“I believe in making the best of a bad situation,” Vincent said, his lips brushing teasingly over my ear as Manson used a rag to brush any remaining shards of glass away from the window frame. “Would I prefer to take you up to my attic and string you up from the ceiling? Absolutely. But I guess that will have to wait until the next time you throw a goddamn tantrum.”

Manson smiled at me through the open window, the baseball bat he held tapping on the ground. If it had been Alex or one of the other guys left behind, those bats would have been put to use. They would have made an example of them, a clear warning that they weren’t to be fucked with. Instead, it was only me here to take the fall.

My brain was a mess, flooded with confusing hormones, but it didn’t need to do me the cruelty of thinking about how hot the four of them wielding bats would be. Bloody beatdowns weren’t supposed to be sexy.

Vincent bent me over the open window. My feet barely touched the ground, the windowsill digging into my stomach. It put my face level with Manson’s hips, with his…

God. He was hard. My mouth gaped open and closed wordlessly as he clutched himself through his jeans.

“How are we doing this, angel?” he said. Vincent shoved up my dress and gripped my stinging flesh before he dragged his nails over me, leaving burning trails behind. “Are you going to show me you’re sorry, or am I forcing you?”

I felt like I’d been shrunk down to a minuscule size. Lucas came around the side of Subaru, bat swinging in his hand, to stand behind Manson’s shoulder. The two of them looking down at me — armed, dangerous, and furious — was even more fuel for my quivering humiliation.

I sharply sucked in a breath as Vincent smacked my ass. The swat stung as much as Jason’s, but Vincent paused before the next smack, allowing the sting to bloom and settle before he ignited it again.

“Answer Daddy Manson, Jess,” he said, the tease obvious in his voice.

The expression on my face as I struggled to keep my mouth shut must have been truly comical, because both Manson and Lucas laughed at me. The octaves of their voices in unison made my stomach do a backflip as Lucas reached around Manson’s waist and unbuckled his belt. He brought his face close to Manson’s neck as he did, his nose tracing along his flesh until he reached Manson’s ear and nipped, teeth flashing in a sudden, spontaneous bite.

Manson gave me a cocksure grin as Lucas slid the belt free. The two of them made brief eye contact, something unspoken passing between them as Lucas looped the belt around my throat. It squeezed me, not enough to stifle my breathing but more than enough to lock me into the position.

“Sounds like we’re forcing you, then,” Lucas said. He gave the belt a tug, keeping my head up as Manson unbuttoned his jeans. He took his time, unhurried. He was too calm, too perfectly in control of this situation, while I was swiftly losing any semblance of calm.

Vincent’s spanking forced a cry from my mouth, and I stomped my feet, puffing desperately.

“That fucking hurts!” I choked out the words, which trembled like I was on the verge of tears. God, crying would feel good. It was so hard to hold back. As much as the spanking itself hurt, trying to force myself to be calm and brave hurt too. I was gripped by the constant sense of fighting a losing battle, backsliding into complete debasement with nothing I could do to stop it.

“Aww, it hurts?” Vincent clawed his nails down my ass again as Lucas tightened the belt, holding me in place. “Funny, because it looks to me like you’ve got a wet spot on your panties, Jess. I can’t imagine it hurts that bad.”

I snapped my legs together, but it was too late. They’d already seen it and shame wrapped around me, searing over my face. It was hardly a secret that pain turned me on; they already knew that. But it didn’t make having my reaction pointed out any easier.

Manson pulled down his briefs and his cock sprang free, bouncing in front of my face. Fuck, even in one of the worst positions of my life, he looked so damn good. His head was swollen, his shaft lined with blue veins that were tight against his pale skin.

He leaned down, and for a brief moment, his voice softened. “Still want the consequences, Jess?”

My stomach roiled, but I determinedly nodded my head. “Yes.”

“Open up for him,” Lucas ordered roughly. I looked up, my eyes locking on to Manson’s as he straightened, but I wasn’t fast enough to obey. Lucas gripped my face and squeezed my jaw, forcing my mouth open. At the same time, Vincent smacked me again, and the cry that burst out of me was shockingly loud as it echoed around the garage.

“That’s what I want to hear,” Manson said. “I want to hear you try to scream like that with my cock down your throat.”

I’m sure I would. He would claim every scream, every cry, every tear he possibly could.

“You’d better give him what he fucking wants, girl, you hear me?” Lucas said. “I want to see tears.” I nodded, although it was difficult while being so restrained. Manson entered my mouth while Lucas held me still, sliding his shaft over my tongue. He nudged against the back of my throat, pressing until it was a struggle not to gag. Restrained bliss flickered over his face as I experimentally stroked my tongue over him.

“If you need to tap out, three knocks on the door,” he said. “Understood?”

None of them moved until I nodded. Then Manson thrust hard into my mouth, fucking my throat with a mercilessness that swiftly became overwhelming. Vincent gave me another sharp smack and Manson’s cock muffled my cry, choking me with every thrust.

“This is what happens to bad girls,” he said, his breath quickening as I tried to use my tongue in unison with his thrusts. If I could make him feel good, then maybe…

Maybe I’d still get exactly the punishment I deserved.

“Choke on it,” Lucas said, and a slight jerk on the belt guaranteed I did. The tears in my eyes overflowed, streaming down my cheeks. Any semblance of composure was completely destroyed.

Manson gasped, lip curling with pleasure as my throat squeezed around him. Vincent and Lucas switched places, and Vincent gripped the belt around my neck. He crouched down, catching a tear as it rolled down my cheek, and licked it from his fingertip.

“Poor little Jess,” he said. “Makes your pussy wet, doesn’t it?”

Manson buried himself deep in my throat, his breath hitching. God, he tasted good. Sweat and skin, with an intoxicating natural musk as my nose was buried in the dark hair around the base of his shaft. Lucas’s big calloused hands gripped my ass, squeezing me roughly. Behind me, Jason said, “Fuck, she turns so red, doesn’t she?”

“And she’s fucking dripping,” Lucas said. He kicked my feet wider apart, throwing me off balance as my toes stretched to remain on the ground. My panties were tugged to the side, the cool air kissing over my skin. “Get your face in there, J. Let’s see her shake.”

My surprised cry vibrated around Manson’s cock as a tongue slid over me, swirling over my clit and dipping into my pussy. Lucas spanked me at the same time, his palm landing in a shockingly heavy smack. My ass was burning, my endurance cracking with every additional spank. But Jason’s tongue focused in on my clit, lapping until the muscles in my thighs were twitching, and I groaned. Manson’s cock jerked in my mouth, his pre-cum salty and slightly bitter on my tongue.

“You like how that cock tastes?” Vincent said, his green eyes bright and his voice low. “Jason is on his knees between your legs with his face buried in your pussy. It’s too bad you won’t get to come.”

“Oh God, no.” The words tried to come out, but they were garbled around Manson’s thick cock.

“Fuck…” Manson cursed, jaw clenched. He thrust harder, faster. I knew he was going to come as I lapped my tongue over him, eager to show him I was sorry.

But he gripped my hair and pulled out of my mouth. I was left gasping, then desperately yelping as Lucas spanked me and Jason’s lips closed over my clit, sucking until I saw sparks. Manson’s cock was right in front of my face, but I couldn’t reach it, pre-cum dripping slowly from his slit as he stroked himself.

“Lucas.” He snapped the man’s name from between clenched teeth. Lucas left me with one last burning swat and knelt before Manson, right in front of me. He took Manson’s cock in his hand, unbridled hunger on his face as he looked at the man standing over him and ran his tongue over his lips.

Lucas opened his mouth, taking Manson all the way into his throat. Manson exhaled sharply, lifting his arms and clasping them behind his head. Vincent tugged on the belt around my throat, warning me, “Watch him. Maybe you can learn a thing or two about pleasing your masters.”

My clit felt as if it had its own heartbeat, pulsating under Jason’s tongue and heating as Lucas locked his eyes on me. The sight of his full lips stroking along Manson’s shaft was so unbearably erotic. Manson groaned, long and loud as his hard, shallow thrusts kept him deep in Lucas’s throat as he came.

But Lucas didn’t swallow. He turned to me and gripped my face again. Vincent pulled up on the belt and said, “Open up. Take it.”

I whimpered as I obeyed. Lucas leaned close, and spat Manson’s cum into my mouth. It dripped down my chin, too much for me to take. It was disgusting — God, it was so hot. It was truly repulsive — it made me shiver with ecstasy. I managed to swallow as Lucas watched me, cruel amusement twisting his mouth into a mockery of a grin.

“Take your medicine,” he said, using his fingers to catch the drips that had streaked down my chin. He pushed his fingers into my mouth, forcing me to lick them clean. “Every drop.” He pressed his fingers so deep into my mouth that I gagged, my chest lurching. My moment of weakness gave him new inspiration. He kept his fingers there, hooked deep into my mouth and pressing on the back of my tongue. “Don’t throw up on me now, girl.”

“Control yourself, Jessica,” Manson ordered, tucking his cock away. Every muscle in my throat demanded I gag again, my muscles convulsing. I was shaking all over as Vincent reached through the open window, gave my ass a smack, and then sunk his fingers inside me.

He thrust into me with a quick steady rhythm, fingers slick with my arousal as Jason kept pleasuring me with his tongue. But the stimulation was far too brief. Vincent pulled his hand back and forced his fingers into my mouth beside Lucas’s.

“You like that, don’t you?” Vincent said, saliva dripping from my lips. “You like tasting how wet you are?” Jason groaned against me, and my eyes nearly rolled back.

“That’s a good girl, keep it down,” Manson said.

Finally my mouth was freed, leaving me messy and trembling as Lucas got to his feet and Vincent went back to fingering me.

“Fuck, please…” I keened. The wet sound of his fingers thrusting into me was so humiliatingly loud, as were my gasping breaths. I wanted to curl up at their feet. I wanted to cry, scream, and kick with abandon. “Please, please, please, I’m sorry, I’ll be good!”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Manson said, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“No, no, please, I mean it, I really mean it, please!” I was certain I wouldn’t be sitting down for the rest of the week, but I needed this orgasm so damn badly that I sobbed. “God, Jason, please don’t stop, please…”

Manson seized my face. “When you call to your God, you’d better look at him,” he said. I shuddered, the heat in my abdomen becoming a throbbing inferno as I realized what he meant. There was only one God before me and it was Manson himself.

“God, please.” My voice was tiny, pleading. I was right on the edge. “Please, please, please, let me come, please!”

But Manson’s expression was merciless. Vincent was chuckling at my pleading, an utterly sadistic sound that drenched me in shame again. Dignity? What dignity? That was out the window, long gone, an extinct species. My brain was latched on to one thing, and one thing only — somehow managing to orgasm before Manson cut me off.

But I was a fool to think I could win. This was their playground and I was their toy, a desperate horny mess bucking my hips against Jason’s mouth to reach my peak faster. Manson was smiling, the expression widening with my every desperate breath.

“Don’t,” I pleaded, my voice shaking. My pussy throbbed in that blissful, familiar feeling. “Don’t stop him. Please, God, don’t make him stop, please.”

Manson shook his head, as if I were so very silly. “Bad girls don’t get rewarded, Jess. And you’ve been a very bad girl.”

He didn’t even need to give an order. Jason stopped, the lack of contact making me cry out in protest. He smacked his lips as if he’d just eaten a meal, and instead of pleasure, I got his palm slapping down on my ass again, reigniting my skin with stunning speed.

“This is what happens,” Lucas said as I begged with useless abandon. “This is what you earned.”

I shook my head frantically, gasping through tears at the stinging pain. My safeword teetered on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t give it voice. I’d told them I could take it and I would. I knew what I deserved, what I needed. And I needed to suffer.

Only when I was wailing, my begging completely incomprehensible, did the spanking stop.