56 - Ainsley

----------------------------------------

After an amazing rest, I’m ready and raring to wreck some asshole walls with my horny Battle Unicorn.

Practise.

Practise.

Practise.

I fix Millie next after Dustin. She’s a sheath of air and fire who refused to choose between her sparks. While she managed to tame them, they cock blocked her release to a wielder in retaliation. Ream one’s a bust. I try and fail to completely untangle those thundercunts. Ream two’s a success. I construct two narrow hallways where only one spark can squeeze its bitchy ass through at a time, forcing them to separate at the point of release. It isn’t a perfect solution, but it’s good enough to garner her freedom.

Nathaniel’s problem is a lot trickier to solve. He refused Singularity and has three light sparks: water, earth, and fire. He polarized as a wielder, but he can’t control the release, leading to haywire spark-splosions whenever he tries to jerk those spunklets out. I try a similar approach to Millie’s except with three hallways. All that does is jam up the overeager squirts at the access point. What I end up having to do is construct a single narrow hallway with a revolving door where only one spark can shoot through at a time. He’s never going to blast a full clip like I can with my sparks, but he’s able to wield them individually with success.

Unfortunately, this complex restoration unveils a shit serious limitation to my new abilities. As a sheath, my sparks regenerate, but wielding them this way drains my well quicker than it can fill back up again. Not only that, it’s physically exhausting, and I often pass out on the spot. That’s not a complaint. It could be worse. Much, much worse. I could be the shredded asshole begging for death by the end of it. I’m definitely getting off easy compared to that.

The rest of the patients are less complex, ranging from a similar Schism refusal like Dustin’s to one lad who just has a leaky pipe. He stopped his Polarity to a Dark Water Wielder mid-stream and ended up with a constant sheath drip as a result. I patch that asshole fissure up and send him on his way.

Although my healing touch is a tad bojank, it’s impossible not to be a smug shit over these achievements. I never managed to build salty fuck all when working with my family. My role was always prep work, tearing shit down so they could build it better. Yet, here I am restoring shattered spark wells like I’m the shiniest scut on the crew. Fuck, I’m the foreman!

Now it’s time for Sunny. Not gunna lie, dicking around with a bomb is scary shit. Naturally, Grady’s a wrecked pussy over it, especially since I refuse to promise him a successful fix. I can’t mislead my best bitch. I won’t. But I’m definitely at least fifty percent sure I won’t kill her in the attempt to fix her. Good odds for any game.

I wind up untangling Sunny’s narky sparks like I had Dustin’s light and dark. The finishing result is her fire spark is only available for wielding from her right hand, the red ring in her right eye proof of that. Her left will be for her water spark, with a corresponding blue ring in her left eye. Turns out, Sunny doesn’t want to choose between light and dark either, so for now, both cockgazers hold the white and black flecks indicative of her choice. We’ll revisit if we have to later on, assuming she doesn’t blow us up in the meantime.

Of course, I pass out after it’s done. Not for long though. Not nearly long enough. See, the pain that crippled most every other cunt must’ve lit a different sort of fire in Sunny. What I wake to is borderline traumatizing. Could I imagine Sunny in such a compromising position? Hell fucking yes. But Grady? Hell fucking no. I’ll never unsee that shit, and I’ll never, never fantasize about my pleasure palace being punished again.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Never.

Fucking.

Ever.

With Grady’s attention on other assholes, mainly his own, I’m now alone in my cage for the first time in weeks, meaning I can fully focus on another reaming. A very important one. My mission? Operation fix the fuck out of Luke. He might never forgive me for what I stole from him, and despite knowing he doesn’t want to be anywhere near me, I need to fix what I broke in him. The only way I can do that is to POOF! directly to the little backdoor bitch and hope like hell I don’t rip myself a new asshole in the process.

I think I’m ready. Though, if I’m being entirely honest, I’d be skittering off whether I was ready or not. I’ve already made up my mind, and once that happens, there isn’t a whole hell of a lot any prick can say or do to change it. Besides, I have no choice but to do this. Luke isn’t allowed in the Ward, even if I could convince him to come. No Regulars, or even Orderlies, are permitted in this hallway, and that’s what he is now. Just a Regular fucking guy. It’s what I did to him and every Dark Royal Guard. Total hibernation courtesy of my horny Battle Unicorn.

My emotions are playing a game with me, rage versus guilt, and my rage is a competitive cunt. I’m not pissed at my sparks. How could I be? I was the rusty trumpet blower ordering them to charge, but that scut landed himself in the crossfire. And when the same damn dick meant for me fucked him in the ass instead, he ran away like a hypocritical whore.

He should’ve trusted me to handle my shit, and he most definitely shouldn’t have employed the free pass he stole the fuck out of. I’ll stay true to my word, and let him go like he wants, but I’m fifty-fifty on not giving him shit and a hundred percent on not abandoning him without at least trying to fix him. I always clean up my damn messes, even if I am chaos incarnate.

Right, well, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve spent hours scouring every available blueprint and photo. I reckon they’re accurate. They have to be. Otherwise, I’m going to wind up a treefucker in Luke’s backyard. I’ll only get one chance at this bitch, and while I’m a little scared, my air spark is cheering encouragement in my ear.

Peppiest.

Slut.

Ever.

I draw a balls deep breath in preparation to transport myself, gathering every last ounce of my resolve in hopes this won’t be the first and last long-distance transport I ever make, especially when the receiving party is as likely to slam the door in my fucking face as I am to spawn in the middle of said door.

I picture myself on his front step reaching out to knock. That knocking is so realistic I half think I’ve gone ahead and shot my load prematurely, but when I open my eyes, I’m still in my cage. The knocking continues, then I see Pritchett peeking through the glass window. I wave him in excitedly. He enters with a smile that has all the damn teeth.

“I thought those squibs weren’t letting you see me,” I clip.

“They weren’t,” he confirms.

“Then how the hell are you here?” I slamfire.

“Why are you still bound to the bed?” He moves to untether me. “You’re free, Ainsley. You shouldn’t be tied.”

“The guards would disagree,” I quickfire.

I start to explain our fun as fuck shield wall game, but Pritchett cuts me off. “You’re free, Ainsley,” he repeats. “The protest at S.W.O.R.D. Palace was a success. The Order is filing the formal paperwork as we speak.”

“Where the fuck is everyone then?” I shoot back.

Not that I’m not pleased as a licked clit to see Pritchett, but this is pretty big news for him to be the asshole relaying it.

“Celebrating at the palace.” He grins. “They’ve sent me to fetch you.”

That makes more sense. He’s the gopher fucker.

“Can we make a pit stop along the way?”

“Sure,” he offers. “Anywhere you want.”

“We might not be received well,” I backstop.

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

“Fucking never,” I report. “Best we giddy-the-fuck-up then.”

“Best we do,” he agrees.