Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
“Please, Saint?” she begs, her bouncing ass fucking my three fingers. ,
I add a fourth and slap her ass once more. It’s starting to turn red. You can see each hit, and her pussy is dripping.
“Please…oh, god…” She’s practically crying now. Her voice so desperate and her body aching. “I need to come, Saint. Please…”
She clenches down on my fingers. I drop the belt next to her to turn off the vibrating butt plug, and she growls, yanking on the rope that ties her to our bed.
“Five swats, Ash. You don’t get to come until you get your punishment.” I remove my fingers, and her shaking body sags. “Then I’m going to remove this plug and fuck that tight ass of yours.”
“Pl-ease-” she cries.
“Only after my cum drips from your ass will you get to come.”
I was born a Spade brother, but I will die a husband and a father. And when I am buried in our cemetery and arrive at the gates of hell, I’ll smile because I’ll already know what to expect from the devil. A very short life with my family is worth an eternity of damnation.
THE END
Book 6: Madness
PROLOGUE
L.O.R.D.
ALord takes his oath seriously. Only blood will solidify their commitment to serve those who demand their complete devotion.
He is a Leader, believes in Order, knows when to Rule, and is a Deity.
A Lord must be initiated in order to become a member but can be removed at any time for any reason. If he makes it past the three trials of initiation, he will forever know power and wealth. But not all Lords are built the same. Some are stronger, smarter, hungrier than others.
They are challenged just to see how far their loyalty will go.
They are pushed to their limits in order to prove their devotion.
They are willing to show their commitment.
Nothing except their life will suffice.
Limits will be tested, and morals forgotten.
A Lord can be a judge, jury, and executioner. He holds power that is unmatched by anyone other than his brother.
Chosen one:
A Lord must remain celibate during his first three years at Barrington University. Once he is initiated into the Lords, he is gifted a chosen for his senior year.
A Lady:
After they graduate from Barrington, they are to marry a Lady-a wife to serve him. If he shall die before her, she is then gifted to another Lord to ensure the secrets are kept within the secret society.
A Spade brother:
A Lord is placed strategically out into the world. But no Lord is safe from their own if they break their oath. If you don’t believe in hell, the Spade brothers will change your mind. They are a special kind of Lord. They will sit on their thrones and watch you burn to death for eternity with the fire they started. They give no fucks and have no limits. They collect the names they are given, and erase you from the world as if you never existed, and make you wish that was the truth.
ONE
HAIDYN
INITIATION
Loyalty
Freshman year at Barrington University
“Don’t embarrass me.” My father’s words echo in the back of my mind. Like a song stuck on repeat that can’t be changed.
“Yes, Father,” I told him just before being thrown into a cell.
I’ll become a Spade brother-a member of a secret society that is fucked up, for a lack of a better word. Centuries ago, some bored rich men came up with a game.
The story is, they got drunk, branded one another, and then fought each other to see who got to fuck whose wife. Apparently, it got messy-doesn’t it always when pussy is involved-and the Lords were invented. Marriage no longer meant what it was supposed to be. Love was a weakness that a man couldn’t afford. It became kill or be killed. But like anything else, you have the bad apples. The ones who want more than they are given. They betray their oath and must be made an example of.
That’s where the Spade brothers came along. A Spade brother runs their hell. As if any aspect of the society is heaven. We’re the minority. There are four of us, and today is my day to begin my journey to becoming a member. My father has reminded me what he expects of me every day of my life. The only reason I bother to show up is to stay alive. I couldn’t care less about the Lords. But most don’t. The Lords try to make you think you’re special. Most of us know the truth and see it for what it is-a curse.
They’ll tell you who you can fuck, who you will marry, and what you’ll do for a living.
Carnage is my future. I will learn to accept the fight and crave the blood.
“Haidyn Jamison Reeves.” My name is called out, and I look up from the spot where I kneel in the center of the arena. I was dragged in here after I spent forty-eight hours in a blacked-out concrete cell. Minimal food and water. They want you to be at your weakest when they test you. “You have been called to serve. Do you wish to proceed?”
Why the fuck would I say no? I don’t have a death wish. “Yes, sir.”
He nods and takes a step back from the platform. “He’s all yours.” Turning, he walks out of the arena and disappears through a side door.
“Hands behind your back,” a man orders from behind me.
Doing as instructed, I feel the cold metal placed around each wrist as I’m handcuffed. A rope wraps around my neck, and I arch it to try and loosen the pressure, but it does no good.
I tell myself to slow my breathing and not fight the inevitable. I know how this goes, and this is just to get me ready for the show. All the Lords dressed in cloaks and masks fill the seats surrounding the arena’s second story to see if I prove myself and pass.
A man comes to stand in front of me and orders, “Open wide.”
He shoves a ball gag into my mouth. My breathing accelerates through my nose, knowing what’s coming next. He takes the syringe and fills it with the clear liquid before stabbing it into my chest. Adrenaline.
My teeth sink into the rubber as pain explodes throughout my body-it feels like hot lava covers my skin.
“He’s ready,” he calls out and steps back.
My wrists are released from the cuffs, and the rope is removed from my neck as I spit out the gag. I bow my head and close my eyes. My heart pounds in my chest, and my pulse races. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins. My fingers tingle, and I fist my hands.
Fuck! I feel invincible. It’s an illusion. They want you to think you’re God so they can remind you that you’re their fucking servant.
“A well-fed devil is more loyal than a starving saint” has never been a truer statement than when it comes to the Lords.
A door opening and closing has me looking up, and I see a man enter the arena. He’s dressed in a bulletproof vest, jeans, and combat boots. All I wear is jeans and my boots.
I slowly get to my feet, taking inventory of my body and liking the way it hums with excitement. As if I was just jump-started-conditioned to fucking destroy whoever comes my way.