CHAPTER 15
When I come home on the eighth night, a foreboding feeling twists in my stomach as I push the key into the lock. Sliding the door open, I gulp as I face a fully lit hallway. I never leave the lights on.
I freeze, knowing what awaits me on the other side of the threshold. I can’t make myself take that step, but I can’t turn around either. Where would I go?
Footsteps approach from the living room, and Janos appears, clad in a black suit that announces the nightmare awaiting me.
Clasping the door handle, I shake my head as I stare at him with pleading eyes. But there’s no mercy. Janos grabs my arm and drags me to the living room, where another set of eyes greets me—cold ones set deep in a gaunt face.
I take a step back—straight into Janos’s chest. He flicks the buttons on my shirt open, and I grapple at his thick arms to make him stop, but I might as well be struggling against solid rock. When the scrawny man yanks at my pants, I give up the fight and grab on tightly instead, afraid I’ll fall. But even as he hurts me, Janos never lets me fall. He grips my waist, securing me to his body as my legs fall out from under me. The pain is always deliberate with him—it has been ever since our eyes locked that first night. I should hate him, but I can’t help the irrational feeling of security as I hang in his arms.
The scrawny man struggles to get my shoes off as he has already dragged my pants down. He doesn’t even bother undoing the laces, just tugs, and I squeal as I try to pull my foot out of his painful grip.
“Step aside,” Janos orders his partner, but he just digs his fingers deeper into my shin and pulls harder.
“Ah,” I yelp as he tugs hard on my shoe and it finally comes off, scraping against my skin.
“Get. The fuck. Off her,” Janos demands in a murderous tone that reverberates through the air and makes me freeze even though the reprimand is not directed at me.
The thin man sends Janos a disgruntled look but steps back, nonetheless.
From then on, it’s just Janos and me, trapped in this warped game as he undresses me. I sway back and forth between blind struggling and submissive compliance until he orders the scrawny man to procure a pair of latex gloves and a bottle of lube.
I lock up every muscle. Not that. Not here. He’s never done it on one of these nights—never in front of the vile man.
Janos has to bend my limbs to get me down on all fours. I’m trembling so hard it’s a struggle to support my weight when I hear the crackle of latex. The sound rings terrifyingly familiar to my ears, and the following trickle of lube between my cheeks is like dripping ice, chilling my skin with dreadful recognition.
I want to beg him, but it would only cause more humiliation, so I bite down on my lips and squeeze my eyes shut.
Instead of taking his time prodding and massaging, Janos pushes one thick digit straight in. He has trained me so well he gains effortless entrance despite my tense muscles. He wriggles his finger against my narrow walls a few times as if to test something—maybe to check if I’ve kept up the training—before drawing back out.
Closing his ungloved hand around my nape, he leans in and whispers, only for my ears to hear, “Good girl. In a week, you’ll be able to take a cock without any preparation.”
I let out a choked whimper. I hate the words, but I can’t resist the comfort. I lap it up like sweet milk and let it seep into my body, loosening my muscles and quelling my resistance. My body openly follows his silent directions as he presses his hand to my back to get me to lie flat on the carpet.
The change within me happens so fast it’s a shock to my system when his comforting touch disappears as fast as it came. With a final stroke of his thumb, he leaves my side, and I gulp as I hear him settle on the couch behind me, where I can’t see him. And thus, the waiting begins.
The intermission is worse than usual. Janos has never left me alone like this. No matter if it’s him or the ropes restraining me, he always has a hand on me while we wait. But now, I get to lie here alone on the floor like a dirty, discarded thing. The artificial carpet fibers stick to my clammy skin even as cold goosebumps scatter over my naked body. Fear keeps twisting and turning in my stomach, and when the sound of the front door breaks the silence, my muscles are so tense it hurts.
Sharp clicks of Gabor’s shoes ring out through the apartment, closing in, and the urge to run becomes a raging storm inside my head as the pink carpet swallows the sound. But I can’t move as I feel Gabor’s violent desire crackling in the air as he looms above me. There’s nowhere to go; a failed escape attempt will only make everything worse.
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath as he leans down to trail his soft-skinned fingers along my spine. The gentleness sends a new wave of nausea up my throat. Because I know there’s nothing gentle about the intent. It’s all a hoax. Like his perfect suits, charming smiles, and sweet cards. Like this very apartment.
The deception only lasts a minute before Gabor’s true nature rears its ugly head. The sides of his shoe connect with my inner thighs as he kicks my legs apart, and I yelp as the carpet burns my knees. Slamming the sole to my back, he presses me down, drawing a choked groan from my throat as the air gushes out of my lungs. I dig my fingers into the pink fibers, seeking purchase where none can be found.
I lose my grip as a kick to my hips knocks me to my side. Two more kicks to my thigh and ass have me writhing on the pink plush, and the nauseating color flashes in my vision, making my stomach roil anew.
Gabor growls like a beast as he delivers a kick straight to my stomach. Bile rises in my throat, and I gag and cough, fighting to keep the contents of my stomach down.
Suddenly, Gabor is in my face. “Don’t you fucking dare to retch, or I’ll drag your face through the mess.”
I gulp repeatedly to subdue my gag reflex, and when Gabor delivers a new kick to my thigh, tears brim in my eyes. Another kick and I’m weeping.
“Shut up, stupid whore. You’re nothing,” he snarls as he slams the square toe of his shoe into my thigh. “I don’t care about your fucking whimpering. All you’re good for is taking my cock.”
His words settle like poison in my soul. Without Janos’s hands, there’s no way to repel them. I curl up on myself, becoming as small as possible as I twist and turn, trying to no avail to avoid the sharp kicks. For a short while, I manage to protect the places where fresh pain flares, but soon, everything is throbbing and aching and all I can do is try to protect my vital parts.
My only consolation is that Gabor isn’t out to harm me. He only uses enough force on my stomach and back to rob me of air and drive the humiliation deeper, whereas he saves the hard kicks for my thighs and ass. But it’s barely a relief. With each strike of his foot, I cry out, and I sink into a sorrowful fit of tears and wails as helplessness settles deep within my bones.
Kicking me onto my back, Gabor tears at my soul with another snide comment. “Dirty little bitch.” He kicks my legs apart like he’s swatting away a fly. “You’re nothing but a worthless little whore.”
A shrill scream bursts from my lips as his shoe slams into my mound. Instinctively, I try to gather my legs, but Gabor has stepped between them and easily delivers another kick.
Blinking my tear-stained eyes, I search the room for something to hold on to. Anything. I find Janos. He’s on the couch, leaning back with his arms folded over his wide chest as he watches Gabor brutalize me. His face is blank. He doesn’t care. But I want him anyway, so I lock my eyes on him.
But I don’t even get to keep this sliver of comfort. When Gabor knocks me onto my side, I lose Janos again.
My world turns into a hopeless void as pain wraps around me and becomes my only friend. I have no idea how long Gabor keeps kicking. It goes on and on.
When he finally lets up, I’m shaking so hard my teeth chatter, and deep sobs are aching in my chest.
I want to believe it’s all over, but Gabor has only just begun. He hauls me onto all fours and wraps an arm around my waist. Then fingers are prodding… there. Between my ass cheeks.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I chant, tears dripping onto the plush carpet.
“Is she ready?” Gabor asks into the room.
Janos’s answer is resolute. “Nem.”
The Hungarian no is one of the few words I understand, but what he says next makes no sense to me. All I gather is the gruff tone that never seems to reflect a go-on.
Hope grows inside me, but Gabor snuffs it out as quickly as it came. “Let me check.” He waves a hand at the scrawny man. “Give me gloves and lube.”
I watch Janos through the hair spilling over my face as Gabor prepares for the next degradation. Janos doesn’t look pleased. His jaw is tight and his gaze sharp.
Before I can discern his tension, cold lube drips between my cheeks, and I shut my eyes to block everything out. But when Gabor pushes a long finger past the tight ring of muscle, I feel the intrusion all too vividly. Shame burns through my veins as he invades my most intimate opening.
I’m too paralyzed to fight. Not even when Gabor adds another finger can I move. It takes him some prodding and stretching, but despite my tense muscles, he slowly breaks through the rim and invades me anew. That’s how well Janos has trained me.
And myself,I think as I remember all the times I pushed the butt plug in. A pained whimper escapes me as I realize how I have aided Gabor, and I collapse onto my elbows, wanting to sink into the ground—let it swallow me up and never spit me back out.
“Nice job, Janos,” Gabor says, his slimy words slithering into my consciousness.
“She’s not ready,” Janos says, this time in English. “You’ll risk breaking her.”
“No more than you can fix her again.” Gabor pulls out and presses three fingers against my narrow opening. The size is too wide—way too big. But he keeps pressing, stretching and stretching.
I wail into the room as he shoves past my tight muscle. The pain breaks me from my paralysis, and I burst forward, scrambling across the floor on all fours. Straight toward Janos. It’s not a conscious choice; it’s instinct that drives me to him. Stupid, foolish instinct.
Because Janos isn’t going to help me. I know it even before he grabs my hair and drags me back.
Gabor chuckles in his usual sadistic fashion as he digs his fingers into my hips and yanks me back into position.
I stare up at Janos with tears streaming down my cheeks as three fingers press against my rear entrance anew. Pain flares in my tissues, locking up my muscles. This time when he breaches my tight muscle, I don’t scream or cry. I just stare up at Janos.
His features are cold and impassive as he asks Gabor something in Hungarian.
“Sure, Janos. Go ahead, join the show.” Gabor pulls his fingers out. And then it’s his cock prodding between my ass cheeks.
“No!” I scream and shoot forward again, but Janos is already kneeling at my side with an arm around my waist, tightening to block my advance. He might as well have welded me in place. I collapse in his grip, burrowing my head into my arms on the floor as Gabor presses to gain entrance.
“She’s not ready,” Janos repeats, his hand splaying the side of my stomach in an almost soothing gesture. But nothing can comfort me as Gabor forces his way inside, tearing at my tissues and burning my muscles.
“She’s as ready as I need her to be,” Gabor hisses.
I vaguely notice Janos pick something off the floor, and my entire world darkens when I realize what it is.
It’s the lube. He’s helping Gabor—dragging me straight to the slaughter.
I cry out and claw at his arm, but it doesn’t faze him. He simply presses his free hand to my back and moves it in firm circles meant to soothe as if he’s on my side, trying to help me even though he just handed me to the devil on a silver platter.
Gabor pulls out, and when he presses his erection against my opening again, it’s slick and wet. But it doesn’t help a thing. It doesn’t fit, I want to yell, but all that comes out are sobs and senseless wails. Gabor breaches my opening, and I dig my fingers into the carpet with a force that cracks several of my nails. He keeps going, pushing deeper, increment by increment. It’s like salt in a wound as his shaft grates along my broken skin.
Black spots form in my vision as he forces himself past my tight muscle. For a moment, I detach, hovering above my body like a spectator to a horror show. I hope I’ll never have to go back and inhabit that defiled, broken thing again.
But luck isn’t on my side—never has been. As Janos leans down and whispers against my ear, I slip straight back into the hell of pain that is my body. “Relax,” he whispers.
The word takes me back to all the times he has seduced me to let him into that very same place. It never hurt this bad when Janos did it. It has been degrading, uncomfortable, and relentless, but I’ve never felt this crippling pain that threatens to rip me apart from within.
I hate Janos, but I need the comfort, so I let myself sink into the lull of his touch. My breathing deepens and my inner muscles slacken. I stop fighting and watch my tears drip onto the carpet, forming dark spots on the pink fibers. They look calm. Deceptively so.
“Good girl,” Janos whispers in my ear. And suddenly, everything shatters.
Two simple words break my entire world. He has said them so many times when he was the one forcing himself inside me, and I always thought it was a sincere effort to appease me. How blind could I be? It was nothing but a cruel part of a charade meant to break me to his will. He doesn’t want to help me; he just wants to see Gabor tear me apart from behind.
I go livid, the betrayal burning like hot coals in my stomach. I jerk so hard I manage to wrench forward over Janos’s arm, making Gabor’s cock slip out.
“Fucking bitch.” Gabor digs his nails into my hips, and a warm trickle of blood erupts under one of his fingers. But the pain in my skin is nothing compared to the one in my chest. I barely even notice it as I collapse over Janos’s arm, utterly devastated. Fat tears drip onto the carpet so rapidly the tiny dark spots become one big stain.
The sound of a hand masturbating hovers somewhere in the distance, and sticky come spurts onto my back as Gabor groans. Then his hand is in the mess, spreading it over my skin like a dirty reminder of my worthlessness.
Janos never loosens his grip. He just holds me in place and lets it all happen.
I’m so distraught I can’t do anything but hang there over his arm and hate him. Or maybe I hate myself for ever having believed his words.
Grabbing me by the hair, Gabor jerks my head back. “Disgusting whore,” he sneers as he drags his hand across my face, smearing the stickiness over my mouth and cheeks. “Good for nothing bitch can’t even take my cock.” He finishes with a glob of spit in my face, then shoves my head forward like he can’t stand to look at me.
I feel every bit the worthless whore he calls me, and my head gets to hang where he left it. A dead weight. I can’t find the will nor the strength to lift it.
“Don’t clean the whore,” Gabor orders and delivers a final kick to my broken body before he leaves.