Chapter 17: The Altar's Sacrifice
The air in the stone chapel was cool, but Cam felt a slick heat under his tuxedo collar. He stood at the end of the aisle, his hands clasped tight, a practiced smile on his face. The organ notes swelled, filling the vaulted space. All the respectable faces of the town turned.
Then she appeared.
Nia. His bride. Her white silk dress was sculpted to her body, the fabric straining over the subtle, firm swell of her belly. Their babies, the doctors said. Triplets. A miracle. Cam’s smirk deepened, a private, knowing thing.
She walked slowly, her gaze fixed on him, but her eyes held a distant, glazed shine. The scent of her reached him first—a mix of gardenias from her bouquet and something underneath, something musky and familiar. Sex. The scent was baked into her skin, into the lace at her wrists, a secret perfume only he could recognize. He saw the faint, purpling bruise peeking above the delicate neckline of her dress, a souvenir from a thick, possessive mouth.
She reached him. Her fingers were ice-cold when he took them. The pastor’s words washed over them, a droning river of sanctimony. Cam repeated his vows, his voice clear and steady. He meant every word. To have and to hold. To cherish. To share.
When it was Nia’s turn, her “I do” was a breathy whisper, her lips barely moving. Her mind was somewhere else, her body still humming from the symphony played upon it just an hour before in the room above. She flinched when he slid the ring onto her finger, a full-body shiver that had nothing to do with cold.
The reception at the Easton mansion was a blur of crystal and forced laughter. Cam watched her, a beautiful doll propped up at the head table, picking at her cake. Trez held court at a nearby table of businessmen, his laughter a booming counterpoint to the string quartet. Jax leaned against the bar, surrounded by his teammates, his eyes rarely leaving Nia’s form, a possessive gleam in his gaze.
Finally, they were alone, ascending the grand staircase to the master suite. The door clicked shut, sealing them in a room drenched in moonlight and silence. Cam turned to her. The polite groom’s mask dissolved.
Without a word, he walked to her, his hands gripping the bodice of her wedding gown. With a sharp, brutal tear, the expensive silk gave way, ripping from neckline to waist. Nia gasped, but didn’t fight. The dress fell away, pooling at her feet like a slain ghost.
She stood shivering in just her heels and white lace panties, her pale skin glowing in the dim light. And there it was. The evidence. The glossy, sticky trails of dried seed on her inner thighs. The fresh, angry red marks on her hips from large hands. The faint, pearlescent smear at the corner of her mouth.
Cam’s breath hitched. He traced a finger through the mess on her thigh, bringing it to his nose, then to his tongue. His eyes rolled back slightly. “They really filled you up, didn’t they?” he murmured, his voice thick.
Nia looked at the floor, shame and a terrifying thrill warring inside her.
The connecting door to the sitting room opened. Trez and Jax walked in as if they owned the space, which they did. Both had shed their jackets and ties, shirts open at the collar.
“Enjoying the view, boy?” Trez rumbled, pouring a brandy from the sideboard.
“She’s a mess,” Cam said, but he was smiling, his cock straining against his trousers. “Tell me. Tell me everything you did to her before she walked to me.”
Jax sprawled in a wingback chair, his muscular frame dwarfing it. “Where to start? Had her on her knees first. Me and the guys from the O-line. She took all five of us in her mouth, one after another. Gagged pretty, but swallowed every drop like a good girl.”
Cam’s hand slipped into his pants, stroking himself slowly as he stared at Nia.
Trez took over, his voice a low, vivid narration. “Then we bent her over that old vanity. Jax took that tight little pussy from behind. I watched her face in the mirror while she sucked me off. Those big blue eyes gone totally blank, just pleasure. Then I replaced him. Jax and I double-stretched her tiny pussy as usual. Screamed the goddamn house down.”
Nia’s legs trembled. A fresh trickle of warmth leaked from her core, hearing it recounted. Cam moaned, his strokes quicker.
“Then the Reverend showed up,” Jax said, grinning. “Preaching hellfire with a hard-on. You should’ve seen his face, Cam. Priceless.”
Cam’s eyes widened. “He watched?”
“More than watched,” Trez said, finishing his brandy. “After we came in her, we sat his holy ass down and made her ride him. She came on her stepdaddy’s dick while she was still full of us. Sobbed the whole time. Fucked him raw.”
A strangled, ecstatic sound escaped Cam’s throat. The image—the sheer blasphemous depravity of it—pushed him over the edge. He came suddenly, stripes of white painting the torn wedding dress at Nia’s feet. He panted, slumping against the post of the bed. “Fuck. That’s… that’s so hot.”
Nia stared at him, a new understanding dawning. Her husband wasn’t disgusted. He was aroused. He wanted this. The last fragment of her old world slid away.
The doorbell chimed, a distant, melodious sound from three floors below.
Trez’s smile was all teeth. “Right on time.”
A few minutes later, a quiet knock sounded on the suite door. Jax opened it. The Reverend stood there, out of his clerical clothes, wearing a simple, worn sweater and slacks. He looked decades older, his eyes hollow, his hands shaking. He couldn’t look at Nia, standing nearly naked in the center of the room.
“You called,” he said, his voice raspy.
“We did,” Trez said, standing to his full, imposing height. “It’s a wedding night. Tradition. Family celebrates together.”
The Reverend shook his head. “I can’t. What you made me do… I’m damned.”
“You were damned the second your dick got hard for her,” Jax scoffed. “Might as well enjoy the ride to hell.”
Trez walked over to Nia, cupping her face. “Look at her. She’s your little girl. And she’s drowning in need. You feel responsible, don’t you? You want to make it right?” He leaned close, his words for her alone. “You want to be full again, baby girl? You want that ache gone?”
Tears spilled down Nia’s cheeks. She nodded, a desperate, tiny movement. “Please,” she whispered. “I need it. I feel so empty.”
It was the truth. The terrifying, addictive truth.
Trez looked from his son, to Cam, to the Reverend. “Two black men. Two white men. Her wedding night. Let’s see which side she really belongs to.”
He pushed Nia gently towards the massive, canopied bed. She crawled onto it, her body moving with a practiced, eager hunger, leaving her ruined panties on the floor. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes no longer glazed but sharp with a desperate craving.
Cam was already undressed, his cock hard again, standing proudly. The Reverend remained frozen by the door, a war playing out on his face.
Jax shoved him. “Get in the game, old man. Or get out. But if you leave, we tell the town everything. Starting with how you came in your stepdaughter’s mouth.”
With a broken sigh, the Reverend began to undress with clumsy, trembling fingers.
Cam lay on his back in the center of the bed. Nia didn’t need instruction. She straddled him, guiding his thick, familiar cock into her waiting pussy. She sank down with a groan, the pleasant stretch a mere appetizer. She began to ride him, her hips rolling, her full breasts bouncing.
“That’s it, wife,” Cam breathed, his hands groping her flesh. “Take your husband’s cock.”
But his eyes were on the others.
Trez stood at the head of the bed. He fed his monstrous, thick length into Nia’s waiting mouth. She took him greedily, choking herself on it, saliva dripping down her chin. Jax positioned himself behind her, the broad head of his cock pressing against her other entrance. He spit into his hand, slicking himself, then pressed forward against the tight, resistant pucker of her ass.
Nia screamed around Trez’s cock as Jax breached her, the dual penetration a blinding shock of pain and overwhelming fullness. Cam beneath her felt her convulse, her inner muscles clamping down on him like a vise. He cursed, thrusting upward, driving himself deeper.
The Reverend stood naked at the bedside, his cock half-hard, watching the debauchery with horrified fascination. Trez, fucking Nia’s mouth with slow, deep strokes, pointed at the space between Cam’s chest and Nia’s writhing body.
“There’s a place for you, Reverend. Her hands are free. Put that pathetic white dick in them. Let her worship it while she gets split open by real men.”
Hesitantly, the Reverend climbed onto the bed. He knelt beside Cam’s shoulder, his cock level with Nia’s face. She turned her glazed eyes towards it. One of her hands, trembling, reached out and wrapped around him. She began to stroke, her rhythm faltering, dictated by the three cocks pistoning into her from different angles.
The room dissolved into a raw, animalistic chorus. The wet slap of flesh on flesh. Guttural grunts. Nia’s muffled, continuous moans of overstimulated pleasure. The bedframe groaned in protest.
Trez picked up his pace, his balls slapping against her chin. “You’re a fucking wedding cake, Nia. And we’re all taking a piece. Whose cock feels the best? Your white husband’s? Your white stepdaddy’s? Or the black cocks ruining you?”
She couldn’t answer. She was a thing of pure sensation, a vessel being overfilled, her mind white-hot and blank. Her body was no longer her own. It belonged to the rhythm, to the filling, to the brutal, beautiful destruction of the girl she had been.
The Reverend was thrusting into her fist now, his hips jerking, his prayers forgotten, replaced by low, choked grunts. Cam’s hands were brutal on her hips, his own climax building as he felt the presence of the other men surrounding them, using her, claiming her.
Jax growled, his thrusts becoming ragged. “Gonna breed this ass, Cam. You gonna watch me fill your wife’s ass up?”
Cam could only nod, his eyes wild, his orgasm coiling tight in his gut. This was his wedding night. This was his family. This was his perfect, depraved forever.