Pepper Winters - Twisted Together

The blindfold stole my sight, amplifying my awareness of the drug-induced mania building inside.

“I trust you, Q. I—I want you.”

He chuckled, hiding the lace of pain. “You want me? You want this?” He drove his finger deeper, his knuckles connecting with sensitive flesh.

My pussy rippled, sending a wave of sensation into my lower belly.

My head fell back even as a torrent of black liquid and fog filled my mind. I wanted to stay in his arms forever. I wanted to never let go of the tingling erotic pleasure.

 I wanted more. More, more, more.

“Yes—”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“You want more, pretty girl? Beg.”

I gasped, fisting my hands, tugging on binds hanging me from the ceiling. No!

“Keep talking and I’ll make you come. I’ll give you a release,” Q whispered, slowly penetrating me with another finger.

My mind had taken over, contaminated with whatever he’d given me. My body switched from hot and needy to fearful and cold.

White Man flickered in and out like a faulty hologram.  “You want it? Beg. You know you’ll beg eventually.”

“Please—not again.” Pincers weighed down my mind, dragging me deeper into the inky puddle residing in my brain.

I wanted nothing more than to cling to his hard form. I didn’t want to be lost again. I didn’t want to spiral into fog.

Squeezing my eyes, I tried to claw my way back to reality.

Q held me tight. “Let go. Don’t fight.” His two fingers stroked my inner walls, stretching me, keeping me tethered to a hypersensitive body. The coax was dangerous—fooling me into thinking I wouldn’t suffer if I surrendered. I would suffer.

I shuddered, flushing with a wave of desire even as I swam upstream in a river of blackness.

Leather Jacket appeared, hazy and unformed, his foul lips twisting into a grin. Waiting—waiting for me to be washed into his torture once again.

“Q—I don’t want to. Please. Don’t let them take me.”

“It’s okay. Trust me.” His touch no longer had the power to keep me sane, every passing heartbeat dampened the desire in my blood, favouring brittle panic instead.

Ropes around my wrists. Blindfold on my eyes. I was helpless. I can’t do this. Swaying forward, I found Q’s neck, latching onto his slightly salty skin. I bit. Hard.

Q jerked, his fingers twitching inside me. “Tess...” he growled. “Stop fighting.”

“You like it rough, don’t you, pretty girl. We’ll sell you to an owner who will look after you.”

No. I would never stop fighting them. Not after what they made me do. Made me become.

But no matter how hard I clambered to stay coherent I slid down and down, deeper and deeper.

Q groaned, his fingers diving harder. Now there were no lust sparkles or pleasure, now all I felt were bullets of shame. My hips spasmed backward, dislodging Q's touch. I couldn’t do it anymore. His fingers fell away, leaving me empty and all alone.

I can’t fight it.

My heart went sluggish, a curtain of drugs falling over me.

“Tess…” Q’s voice lost its perfect baritone, morphing into my enemy. “I need to know the truth—why did you sacrifice yourself? Why did you let me almost rape you?” French accent traded for Spanish, and Leather Jacket swirled into being.

No longer hazy or unformed—every inch of him was real. The blindfold didn’t keep images out anymore. I saw him plain as truth. His yellow-stained teeth and creaking, reeking jacket. His greasy black hair and dirty fingernails.

“Did you like my fingers inside you, puta?” Leather Jacket sneered.

Q. God, please let me wakeup. This couldn’t be real.

I licked my lips, invoking courage I no longer had. “Let me go.”

He shook his head. “Not until you answer me.”

Tell him. Tell him before he hurts them!

Honesty exploded up my throat, not answering Leather Jacket—but Q. The admission was for him even though he no longer existed. “I wanted to make you happy. I’d gladly give you my life to do that.”

Q suddenly appeared, smashing through the putridity, standing tall. “What do you mean?”

Wanting to answer before I was stolen away again, I said, “I would die for you, Q. That’s what that means. All this talk of belonging to each other—well, you truly do own me. I would gladly give up my life if it meant you’d be happy.”

Q disappeared again, replaced by Leather Jacket. His hand came from nowhere, spanking my thigh with a wicked hot strike. Burning tears flocked to my eyes.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Did you like my fingers inside you, puta?” he asked. His voice smooth and coaxing but beneath it lived a layer of deadly steel.

I hiccupped with building tears. What’s going on?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The ink completely stole my mind.

Then guilt crushed heavily. Blonde Hummingbird and Angel.

Their silhouettes appeared, bloody and bullet-ridden.

“If you won’t answer my other question, perhaps you’ll answer this. Did you enjoy hurting them? Did you enjoy murder?” Leather Jacket threw his head back, laughing. The sound cut right through me, dredging up everything I wanted to forget.

My tower stood taller, knowing I would have no choice but to step inside its circular walls if I wanted to survive.

I couldn’t live in this limbo anymore. I couldn’t live with these lies, these fears—this guilt.

I wanted to be whole. I wanted to be happy.

Leather Jacket grabbed a handful of my hair, tugging hard. The burn in my scalp sent bugs and beetles, residual from the drugs, skittering over my skin. Their feelers and creepy-crawly legs welcomed me back into the muck I’d lived in.

It wasn’t often I craved another hit. I hated drugs—but in that moment I would’ve willingly traded anything for the smoggy numbness.

Whatever Q gave me wasn’t enough. He’d pushed me overboard, letting me sink into my twisted mind, but it was too twisted—I would never be able to untangle the mess.

Give in. Give up.

“Please! Just let me go.” I hated my weak confusion.

Leather Jacket shoved me, making me spin and dangle from the rope. Catching me after a circulation, he dragged me against his foul stench. “You’re mine again. All mine. I’m never letting you go.” He kissed my cheek, evil black eyes glowing. “We’re equals, you and I. And I’m about to fucking show you.”

Suddenly the blindfold was torn off. Q shattered the vision of Leather Jacket.

I sobbed, seeing him so clearly, even while a waterfall of gunk contaminated my mind. I hated drugs. Hated them! Hated what I became when I took them.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Ah, Tess. You’re leaving me. But only for a little while.” Leaning forward, Q captured my mouth in a gentle kiss. His lips were soft and sweet and perfectly Q. He didn’t kiss deeply, or request access with his tongue. He just fed me strength—strength I sorely needed.

For one precious moment, I didn’t need to fight. I knew who I was. I knew why I had to give in. We shared our love even while we acknowledged for the next few hours I would hate him.

There would be tears. There would be screams. There would be facing demons and a past that might ruin us. But if we survived, we would be unconquerable.

“Je t’aime,” Q murmured, pulling away.

The curtain slammed down, shoving me face first into the cloying ink. It wasn’t a matter of giving in—the drugs were the master now.

The transition from sweet lover to controlling diabolical trafficker happened in a blink. Q, with his gorgeous jade eyes, disappeared. Leather Jacket took centre stage, revelling in his ownership.

He grinned, shedding his jacket and cracking his fingers as if he had a monstrous task before him. His eyes were flat and cold. “Told you, you were mine, puta.” Stalking forward, he dragged a finger down my exposed cleavage. “Our first exercise is to clean you. You’re fucking filthy.”

I swallowed my fear, heart hammering. Please say shower. Please say shower.

Leather Jacket’s mouth twisted into a horrendous smile. “It’s time for your bath.”

The last drip snuffed out my light, transporting me back to Rio, to Mexico, to nightmares.

Intertwined, tangled, knotted forever, our souls will always be twisted together,

our demons, our monsters belong to the other,

Bow to me, I bow to thee, now we are free

What the fuck am I doing?

I had no fucking idea. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. Nothing about drugging and mentally torturing a woman who’d been through so much was right.

It was a stupid idea—moronic to think I could walk her through the past and replace the memories. I ought to be fucking shot. I’m an idiot.

Tess’s eyes were vacant, staring right into mine, but not seeing me. Not anymore. Her lips parted, breathing hard with whatever hallucinations whispered in her ear.

This was worse than the fucking nightmares. This was induced by me. For the next couple of hours I had to shed everything I’d fought so hard and become her worst fears. I had to become the man I’d sworn never to be.

I glared at Tess, hanging and bound. The dressing gown gaped wide, showing her perfect body and luscious breasts. She was sent to make me sin. All my life I’d abstained from my true nature but then cruel fate gave me her.

 My hands clenched, unable to deny the billowing blackness settling over me. Creeping from ignorable to fucking intolerable. Each moment I let myself continue this charade, the light inside blotted out until I no longer recognised myself.

The only thing protecting Tess from my snarling scream-thirsty beast was love.

Unconditional love—miraculously keeping me on a leash. She owned my heart and soul. That was the only safeguard preventing me from not giving a shit anymore and diving head first into debauchery.

No one would know….Something slithered in my brain, whispering sickness and want.

She dangled like a feast—surrounded in darkness, drugged out of her mind. I could do anything….

My stomach tensed as desire shot up my spine. It would be so easy to mount and fuck her while hanging from the ceiling. I could be cruel and heartless. I could hurt her the way I wanted with no repercussions. She would never know it was me.

You’d be him. You’d walk straight into fate.

My lips curled; I spat on the floor as a rush of bile filled my mouth. To ever think I was weak enough to become my father made me suicidal with rage.

I would never do that to Tess. No matter how my sick cock ached.

Locking my knees, I made an oath. A pact with my fucking soul.

Whatever I did here, I would never overstep two boundaries: rape or blood play. If Tess ever became strong enough to endure my needs, completely sane and willing, then I’d give myself some leniency. But not before and definitely not with an unhinged druggie I was trying to save.

Tess’s dilated eyes trained on me, never looking away, despite the haze. “Why—why are you doing this? He’ll come for you again, you know.” Her head dropped as if suddenly too heavy, the drugs sucking her deeper.

I shuddered at the thought of what she’d been through—what I was putting her through once again.

I knew she didn’t see me. She saw them.

The drug did what Franco had said. I’d asked him to find something—a hallucinogenic that lasted a couple of hours. He’d disappeared, returning a little while later with a single yellow pill.

I didn’t know the name of the chemical or even where he got it from. And I fed it to the woman I wanted to grow old with. How fucking irresponsible!

My jaw worked hard, grinding my teeth, flaring a rapidly building headache. I’d fed it to her because I made the choice. A choice I already fucking regretted. But it was done now. The only thing left to do was suffer the consequences.

I snapped my fingers in front of Tess’s face, making sure she was completely consumed by visions. Time to begin.

“Fuck me, I’m going to hell,” I muttered.

Tess sucked in a breath, but there was no flicker of love or comprehension. Rather, her eyes blazed with a hate so pure and piercing, my heart stuttered at the thought of her ever looking at me that way in reality.