The Dead World

Author's Note:

I would like to thank @MediocreAuthor for her keen eye as my beta-reader, and @DeducibleBabeMester for offering her editing expertise. Working with them both has been a pleasure.

The following Chapter, and this Series overall, exists in a dark vein of a Post-Apocalyptic world overshadowed by fragmented morality, violence, survival and psychologically compelling scenes that may be unsuitable for sensitive audiences.

This Chapter contains elements of reluctant sexual encounters and sexual servitude.

I ask that you please read no further if you are triggered by these topics as described or simply find them unappealing. All scenes depicted are entirely fictional and penned for mature audiences. for the purpose of dark entertainment with erotic horror in mind.

Reader discretion is advised.

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"This week, you'll be visiting Diablo. Afterwards, Slash... and then Ruthless."

The hatred that glowed in her eyes as he spoke only amused him. She bit back her resentment as he commanded her, only because she did not wish to inspire him to force her into anything more than what he was already demanding of her. He was still above her... still

inside

of her.

By now she wasn't even certain how long, or how many times it had been, but she knew well enough that Skully was not lacking in stamina or will. If he wanted to take her again, he wouldn't hesitate. She didn't want to give him any reason to punish her.

"Spare me the look, Dove. You've already agreed to it. You owe us a lot more than your body for all the shit you've pulled, and trouble you've caused... I think Diablo before all others. He's gone above and beyond to make sure you're still alive."

I wouldn't owe

any

of you

anything

if you

left

a month ago.

The words were there, poised on her tongue. She wanted to snap the angered retort, but torn by fatigue and certainty that she would only make things worse for herself, she refrained.

He pulled away from her, his thick member softening and sliding free from her abused body, before laying back onto the bed with that dark expression of satisfied pleasure playing over his stern features. His cool gaze settled on her face, and he reached out to tease a few stray curls back behind a little round ear.

"You're going to do everything in your power to convince our reluctant companions to fuck you. And if you can't manage that... you'll spend the wasted day with me again, and we'll keep practicing... until you get it right. I'm going to ask you for the details--and don't play with me, Dove, or I'll make you regret it."

She turned away from him bitterly. Her body ached. The speckling of hickies and harsh bite marks on her svelte neck were only a minor annoyance compared to that carnal throbbing between her thighs; her thoughts were still unfairly polluted by lustful desire. Some part of her was positive this was what he wanted...

Dove knew, deep down, that Skully's motives had changed drastically once he had discovered who she really was. He wanted control over her.

He wanted to own her.

He seemed far more content now that he had gotten his claws into her and had her exactly where he wanted her, and for some reason, it felt conclusive and damning.

Dove snapped her eyes shut and forced the welling of tears away. She wouldn't allow herself to show that weakness. Instead, she embraced the peculiar numbness and dissociation, welcoming her like a fond embrace. Her growing anxiety over the orders bestowed upon her was prominent, yes, but the entire night had felt like little more than a haze of a nightmare. Still... the thought of having to present herself to the resistant men among them, the good men, under the guise of eager consent was troubling.

She tried to push the uncomfortable thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn't want to think of Skully's punishment if she were unsuccessful, no more than she wanted to imagine the humiliation that lay ahead. But the former was worse, far worse than enduring the embarrassment of doing things with the others in the group, things she truly did not want to do.

The thought of spending another night with him the way she had tonight brought her nothing short of dread. Dove knew what failure would mean, and had already decided that subjecting herself to

anything else

would be better than having to give herself to

him

for any extended period. As fucked up as she thought it was... some part of her greatly preferred his earlier intentions behind raping her, far more than the twisted mess he was now dragging her down into.

Her mind fought sleep. It was like trying to doze off with a dangerous animal unleashed in her room, but eventually her exhaustion had gotten the better of her, and she drifted off into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning. It was not nearly soon enough, and Colton wasn't far behind her.

When he opened his eyes once again, the room was still dark. The edge of sunrise teased through the drawn curtains. Dove had curled against his side and shifted her head to rest upon his shoulder. One of her slender arms draped over his bare, solid chest. She hadn't done it consciously. He expected she might've tried to kill him if she woke in this position before he did, nestled so near to him like this.

It was an unusual feeling, the body of a woman resting delicately against him. The last instance he recalled had been years ago, the day the world had gone to hell. He tried not to think back so far anymore. The time before the virus ravaged the country seemed more like a dream than a memory.

Dove was subconsciously searching for comfort, none the wiser that she was seeking it from her greatest nemesis. His eyes swept over her face in all of its exotic beauty, down her still and naked form beneath the covering of a thin, white sheet. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

He had thrown the blankets from the bed after forcing her onto her back for the third or fourth time during the night. Now, Colton was almost gentle in the way he slid his arm from beneath her head, and she stirred but did not wake as he rose from the bed. She turned onto her side, none the wiser of his absence. He only ever slept a few hours at a time, and it had been that way for so long now that fatigue was the new normal.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that ravishment through the night had thoroughly exhausted her. He hadn't given her a moment to rest since she opened the door and let him in. His sinister gratification in that fact, and the determination behind his intentions, would be made clear soon enough. He subjected her to his every desire--every dark, lascivious thought he could form. None more so than forcing her pleasure and enjoyment of it every step of the way.

There was little need for intimidation now, not unless she did something he explicitly disliked. The sadist in him hoped she would... but so far, Dove had been so very obedient and submissive when faced with the thoughts of Dog meeting a horrible fate if she failed to comply.

Her long curls were a hapless mess, strewn about her pretty face. Her slim arms coiled around herself, forlornly trying to establish an air of consolation. As he made his way around the bed to fetch his pants, his eyes cast back down upon her again, to the wound that had once been upon her shoulder.

Only a few weeks ago it had been angry and inflamed, especially after he had thought to manipulate it to his benefit, and worse, after she fell sick to infection. The scar had faded to nearly nothing and was barely visible now, inspiring his dark brows to knit together as he examined it closely for the first time.

Slash had not been wrong. She was not only recovering at a remarkable rate... but he had never seen anything like this, never before in his life. Wounds healed, yes. But scars of their trauma remained forever. They didn't fade, as if new cells had somehow replaced the permanently damaged tissue. That wasn't how the human body worked--that was impossible.

And yet there she lay, with the silvery streaks metamorphosing into new, smooth, unblemished skin as every day passed. His pensive stare shifted to the ground as he drew the comforter up from the floor, and pulled it up over the sleeping woman, before turning away from her.

Colt moved to the balcony as he played back images in his mind of the supple, beautiful Dove forced into catering to his every whim--coerced to embrace her pleasure with every vulgar act. How embarrassed she was... how humiliated. He watched her struggle every moment to push back the impulse to fight him, though he would have loved the opportunity to punish her for it.

He could still see her willfulness and stubborn nature itching to break through. But because she feared to cause the teenager suffering from her inability to accept her new role among the group, he observed her bite her tongue and swallow down her pride...

It was touching, really.

He relished her attempts at silence, to bury down her sounds of enjoyment and expressions of pleasure. If she had to be compelled to give in to his sexual deviancy, she sure as fuck tried her best to not allow him the satisfaction of knowing how much her body loved it. It only inspired Skully to put further effort into giving her no other choice but to accept it and embrace it.

Colt did not seek out his shirt, and left his feet bare as he pulled only the dark jeans up to his waist and fastened the button. He moved quietly out of the room to the balcony space overlooking the ocean. The temperature had spiked with the shifting of storms into the area, unusual for the time of year, but not for the area.

The early morning sky grew lighter by the second, illuminating the still thick, angry clouds lingering above. Outside, it seemed he could breathe easier. Inside, it was hard not to find his attention gravitating toward the fragile, slumbering woman. It was difficult to think about anything but her. The longer they were in close proximity, the more he came to realize his mind was

constantly

straying to her; the softness of her body, the taste of her lips, the scent of her skin.

There was something about her that was almost maddening; something that prompted insatiable erotic impulses that seemed to grow more intense the longer he was in her presence. Colt had dismissed it as human nature, at first. Years of traveling in groups of hardened men, and encountering nothing but other hostile male survivors above all else, had certainly taken a toll on every one of them; no matter how much his brother and his lackeys thought to play it off.

The longer he was around her though, the more he realized that there was much more to her than a much awaited outlet for years-long pent up sexual frustration. Dove was unique. Perhaps all women had some manner of magnetism these days, but he had yet to encounter any others to confirm that.

He didn't think it would change his newly formed opinion, though... not for this one in particular. There was far more to her than what any of them saw on the surface level, and it seemed to be making itself more apparent as the days passed. Slash had alerted him to it, as had Dog, with his dramatic shift in behavior.

Honestly, he found himself slightly annoyed by her power, and he would soon find out the extent of her allure. He preferred the haughty, sharp-tongued young man he had met when they first arrived... there was far less complication when dealing with her alter ego. The troublesome boy would have been easy to dispose of. But she had gone rapidly now from a loud-mouthed liability to a most precious asset.

For all intents and purposes, the contract he'd pushed upon her could only serve as a surefire way to prove just how blurred the lines of any man's morality was, when faced with opportunity.

Dominance over the weak had always been the natural order of the world. Was he so wrong for acknowledging that in full, now that the civilized world had crumbled to dust over the last six years? He stroked a hand through his loose black locks, shifting the length back away from his languid blue gaze, as he observed the sun attempting to peek out from the cloudy horizon.

Skully turned his back to the ocean and pulled the glass door open, his eyes drifting over to Charlotte, who stirred. Her deep brown eyes opened, and there was a split second that she did not glare at him standing there in the doorway... but only a moment before her expression shifted back to pointed abhorrence.

She visibly tensed, realizing he had never left, and she drew the blankets around her body impulsively.

"Were you bitten while you were out there with Dog?" The deep, focused tone of Skully's voice would always cause her nerves to fray. Her bitter expression did not vanish as she rubbed sleep from her eyes, cautiously shaking her head.

No... if she had been bitten, she would be dead by now, wouldn't she? Anyone who was bitten died a very painful and abrupt death, and afterwards, they turned into monsters. People who

weren't

bitten turned into monsters after death if their brain was still intact. That was how Matthew had described it to her. She had yet to see it with her own eyes. The time it took for them to turn could be seconds, or hours... perhaps even longer than that. Dove's experience with reanimates was novice at best.

"Have you always healed so quickly?"

She stared at him for a long few moments. She didn't care to be conversational with this man, even on her best day. Having just awoken from a less than comfortable sleep, that sentiment was amplified. Dove shook her head once again. She had a handful of scars from typical scrapes and cuts acquired throughout her life, just like anyone else did, but she had never before recovered from injuries the way she was in the last few weeks.

Skully's eyes settled on her for a long time, before he moved to take his shirt from the ground, not letting his eyes venture back to her as he finished dressing. She shifted uncomfortably, trying her best not to let her thoughts stray back to the night before, though the memory was vivid and fresh in her mind. As he pulled the dark t-shirt over his muscular torso, she let her eyes drift away to the open balcony.

"...The virus kills people not by making them sick, but by destroying their ability to recover from the initial illness. It attacks and destroys white blood cells, and cripples the immune system. And here you are... with

healing scar tissue,

Dove..."

"How... how do you know that?" The inquiry came as a nervous whisper from her lips.

"There were men at Kirtland Air Base when we passed through New Mexico--scientists, trying to find a cure. Before it all went to hell, they told us what they knew... which was really fuck all compared to what I'm seeing from you." There was sarcastic amusement in his tone as he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, pulling his socks back onto his feet before sliding them into his boots.

She drew her knees up to her chest, curling her arms around them, and resting her chin atop them. He slid the bullet lined belt through the belt loops of his jeans. He combed his fingers back through jet black locks again, sweeping them away from his line of vision.

"It seems you're becoming incredibly valuable, Dove..."

She could only wonder what he meant by it, but she was not at all surprised that he didn't care to elaborate. He didn't look back at her as he moved to the door, waving a hand behind him absently.

"Bathe, and keep to the contract... Once you've taken care of the rest of the group, I'll send you Dog. Don't do anything stupid, Dove. We'll be leaving this place at the end of the week...

Don't make me have to hunt you down."

She listened as the door opened and closed, her eyes not following him. They focused beyond the balcony, out over the stormy sea. Sunlight still fought to penetrate the heavy, lingering clouds. Dove moved from the bed, not bothering to take the blankets with her. She didn't rush to lock the door after Skully... what would be the point, now that she had forfeited her freedom and surrendered to his desires?

Instead, she set her attention on the shower. The rest of the world seemed far from her mind as she turned on the water to a temperature as cold as she could stand it, and moved beneath the freezing stream, the feeling of being wholly disconnected inspiring emptiness to settle in the depths of her soul. Her mind desperately thought to slip away, back down that dark spiral into a place where she feared herself...

She stood there for what felt like an eternity, trying to force herself to break free from the heavy mental cloud she was trapped in, and at long last she curled her fingers into fists and slammed them against the glass door as a vicious, hateful scream tore from her lips.

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Staying locked away in her room wasn't an option. She didn't want to risk playing the avoidance game with Skully. His disturbingly placid and cold demeanor, paired with the first night she found herself forced to be compliant in his company, had unraveled her nerves. It made the prospect of angering or displeasing him feel far more dangerous.

He all but insisted she change her style of dress while they were still here in the comfort of the resort. He gathered bits and pieces of clothing he felt better suited her lithe frame than the oversized t-shirts and men's jackets she had hidden herself in. She turned her nose up in private at the few dresses of silky, flowing material designed for warmer weather. They left very little to the imagination. Thin shirts that dipped into low scoop necklines were honestly not much better, but paired with her well-worn jeans, they offered a bit more coverage than the sheer sundresses.

Dove felt uncomfortable with her slender arms exposed. She parted the curly waves of her hair and braided them into two separate sides, stalling as long as she could in the mock comfort of her room. She spent hours in the shower, yet somehow still felt her skin crawling in discomfort from the night before. When she could think of no further reasons to linger, she finally slid on her boots and started out and down the hall.

The way Skully had told it, the fuel that was left powering the generator was to be used to get them as far out of this territory as possible, so wasting it on the elevator was no longer an option. He had taken the card key from it. Honestly, she didn't mind the opportunity to stretch her legs. Her muscles were taut and strained from the prior evening of rigorous fornication.

It was still relatively early, but she didn't doubt for a minute the men of the group had already busied themselves with tasks in preparation to leave the resort behind. Her deep brown eyes shifted down the west wing as she exited the stairwell, toward Oz's room. Would it do her any good to go to him and plead for his help now?

Her uncertainty--and fear of repercussion--snuffed the thought quickly. She wasn't even certain where he was, or how things had panned out to put Skully in the position of group leader. Now wasn't the time to let her overly anxious mind take hold and push her deeper down the hole of debt or betrayal--not if she didn't mean to be chained to a bed if it backfired.

With a heavy sigh, she quickly moved down into the empty lobby, the stillness unusual. She half expected to at least see Ruthless posted up, cleaning weapons or something of that nature, or Diablo with his attention set on the flat screen television trying to blot their crumbling society from his mind.

When she found neither, she moved down into the east wing, and beelined for the medic's door... and there she hesitated. She felt a terrible feeling of anxiety twisting in the pit of her stomach. Or was it hunger? She had almost gotten entirely used to the feeling of anxiety by now, so it was hard to trace. She brought a hand up and knocked on the door, smothering down her uncertainty.