Filthy Secret

I rise to my feet and bang frantically on the door, once again pleading for someone, anyone who can hear me, “Let me out of here.” When a familiar voice cuts through the air from behind me. It sends a chill up my spine, stopping me with fists in the air.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Sergeant Carisi asks, as the soles of his shoes tap against the concrete floor closing in on me.

I swing around and press my back against a nearby wall. “Don’t come any closer or else…”

His steps don’t falter. Instead his eyes lock on me like a predator stalking his prey. “They’re here for our future,” he says. “Each one handpicked from the selection of individuals quarantined here at the airport.” If his tone wasn’t creepy enough, his robotic motions send my mind reeling with panic. It’s as though he’s in a trance of some sort. Unaffected by everything around us because his focus is solely on me.

My brain is telling me to flee, run as fast and as far away from this man as possible, but I can’t. Something about the timbre of his voice pulls me in and I want to know more, no matter what I find out or the consequences that could lie ahead. Standing taller, I meet his stare head-on. “Why have they been picked? What are you going to do with them?” I ask, conflicted between wanting to know the answers and wanting to remain ignorant to what their plans are.

“When the destructive wind came, the world wasn’t prepared. I’d told the President on many occasions, if he didn’t take drastic actions there would be mass fatalities. But I’m only a sergeant-my opinions aren’t important. At least that’s what I was told and now look at us.” He’s close enough that he could touch me if he were to reach out, and he does.

Strands of my hair roll between his fingertips, as though he’s inspecting each one, before he lets them fall back onto my shoulder. “Each motor vehicle, gas stove, and furnace that runs off the new fuel, emits poisonous gasses into the air,” he says, outstretching a hand and encouraging me to walk forward. “They’re light enough to drift anywhere without a filtering system and dangerous enough to kill in seconds, as you have witnessed with your fiance firsthand.”

The reminder should bring me to my knees, instead I push the thought to the back of my mind, fully invested in hearing what the sergeant has to say because he knows more about what’s going on than any news station. “Why wouldn’t the reporters have noticed something so, so… obvious and alerted everyone?”

“Because they only knew what they were told.” We stop in the middle of the room, and he turns me to face him. “See, the state of Colorado alone has lost over seventy percent of its population and other states are experiencing the same, if not more.”

My eyes dance between his. The pale blue I saw only moments ago is reduced to only a thin ring as his pupils expand when he leans in closer. I’m distracted by their intensity and suddenly find myself hanging on his every word. He lifts a brow and asks, “Do you really want to know why they’re here? Why you’re here?”

“Yes,” I answer, but it comes out barely a whisper.

“Very well,” he says, breaking the spell between us by shouting at a door across the room, “Bring them in!”

At his command a line of naked men march in one by one, their erections bouncing with each step they take. When they position themselves behind the women, his words from earlier make sense, “You’ve been selected to participate in a secret government reproductive division.” These men are here to impregnate the women.

A gasp tumbles from my lips, so loud it echoes through the large room. He’d said I’d been selected. That means… No, I can’t. My first time isn’t meant to be with some random guy. It was meant to be with Elijah. Backing away, I manage only a couple of steps before he grabs my arm and pulls my back against his chest, preventing my escape.

“Ah, ah. You don’t want to miss this. Watching humans breed is one of the most erotic things you’ll ever see.” Once we’re both facing the line of men, he leans over my shoulder. “All right men, let’s make some babies.” They don’t question or fight over a specific woman, instead they stay in the same order they walked in.

Some begin fisting themselves while others spew out dirty talk, but none of what happens next is what I expect. There aren’t any screams from the women being force-fucked into pregnancy. No whips, chains, or tears rolling down their cheeks. I’d been prepared for almost anything, just not this.

The men take care in preparing the women for procreation. Some are caressing breasts and pinching nipples, while others are rubbing clits and teasing the woman’s pussy until she’s moaning and slick enough for entry. I should look away out of respect, but the sergeant is right; this is highly erotic.

“Your thoughts are right on the mark,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “The women are into this as much as the men. They are happy to be part of a program where they can contribute to repopulating the world.”

Some couples are ready sooner than others. Those men drop to their knees and rub the head of their shaft around the woman’s opening for an all-natural lube before sliding inside. Moans, grunts, and the slap of skin on skin soon become the only sounds echoing through the room.

A throbbing need builds between my legs as my body betrays me from the sight.

“That’s right, baby, keep watching,” he encourages, distracting me from his actions. I don’t notice the grip he has around my neck until my head is forced back against his shoulder and soft warm lips are on mine. Images of Elijah tumble into my mind and for a moment I imagine it’s him. His pace is slow and tentative, just like our first kiss so long ago-so frustratingly sweet.

I want to give in, to let this stranger take me back to a time when there was no murderous wind. A time when we didn’t have a care in the world, and life was lived to the fullest. But I don’t, because the right thing to do is resist, to break free from the imposter’s delicate touch, and slap him for invading my precious memories.

It’s not my palm meeting his flesh that draws our attention away from one another, though. Shouts and groans of passion come from the line, leaving us breathing heavily, and turning to watch the final two men release their seed into two of the women.

When the men finish, they retrieve a device that’s connected by a chain to the individual pillories and insert it into the women. The sergeant doesn’t hide his arousal, his erection bumps against my ass as he pulls me tighter against him and explains, “They’re putting in a plug, for lack of a better term, it holds the sperm in, ensuring a better chance at conceiving.”

It makes sense but doesn’t answer the lingering question in my mind. “Why are these women so calm, but Darla was a wreck when Travis tried to bring her here?” He glances from me to the open pillory. A reminder I am supposed to take her place. There’s no way I’ll be taking part in what I just saw.

Twisting in his arms, I’m hoping I can distract him from the thought of placing my head between the metal bars before locking me in and stripping off my clothes. “Actually, before you answer, maybe you should tell me your name. I mean, it feels weird calling you Sergeant and all when I’m not even in the military.”

A flash of something passes through his eyes before he answers. “Anthony. Anthony Carisi,” he says, keeping his tone so that none of the others can hear.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Glancing toward the women, I curiously roll his name around on my tongue. “Anthony Carisi. Sergeant Carisi.” He grips my jawline tightly, forcing my attention back on him. The intensity in his stare raises gooseflesh on my arms, leaving me unprepared for what he does next.

His lips crash down on mine and he slides his free hand across my stomach until his fingers breach the waistband of my yoga pants. This time he takes whatever he wants no second-guessing, no regrets, and he gives absolutely nothing in return. I need to stop him, because in this room filled with the smell of sex and sweaty bodies, my chances of remaining pure are declining with every second, but how.

“Now that I know your name, what about my other question?” I ask against his hostile lips, hoping it will change the direction of where this is going. It’s clear he has no interest in responding, not verbally anyway.

Instead, he works his entire hand into my pants and teases my clit with his middle finger. My head drops back as every nerve in my body ignites.

This is wrong. I should pull away, but the sensations overwhelming me at this very moment prevent any logical thought from entering my head. I’m so close to the point of no return. Wanting, needing his fingers to slip inside. But suddenly he stops cold. The kissing. The touching. Everything. He just stops.

I should be grateful, yet a whimper of disappointment tumbles from my swollen lips.

“You want to know more about Darla?” he asks, gripping my hand.

“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly. “Why did she fight against coming here if all these women are volunteers?”

Tugging me toward the door where the first line of men had come from, he speaks in an even tone. “They were all like her in the beginning.”

“What changed their minds?” I ask nervously, now more alert because I know my chances of ending up like them increases with each step we take toward the threshold to the unknown.

“Well, Victoria, I’m glad you asked,” he says as he yanks me into a dark oblivion.