Chapter 4
Her harrowing shrieks tear through the mansion like something dying.
They ricochet off the walls, fractured, inhuman, and frantic, growing louder as she’s dragged down the stairs.
The sound should disgust me as her husband, but instead, it stirs something dark and satisfying in my chest.
I stand at the bar in the dimly lit snooker room, slowly pouring myself a double whiskey over ice.
The cubes click softly against the glass—a calm and measured sound that sits in contrast to my wife’s breaking cries ringing through the house.
By the time I’ve screwed the lid back on the bottle and set it down, they’ve already dragged her into the room, still by her ankle. Her half-naked body scrapes across the floor, leaving a faint trail of sweat.
I side-eye them over my shoulder, one brow raised in mild interest, then bring the glass to my lips. I take a long, slow swig until the amber liquid burns smoothly down my throat.
With a satisfied hiss, I pull it away, and use the reflective surface like a mirror.
In it, I watch as two of the men hoist her up and slam her down hard onto the green felt of the snooker table.
Her back hits the surface with a heavy thud, knocking the air from her lungs mid-scream. Then, her wide and utterly destroyed eyes dart around the room until they finally find me.
“Law… please…” she chokes out, voice hoarse and cracking. “Don’t do this… I didn’t mean too…”
I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the ice shift. But her cries do nothing, they never fucking do.
Without responding, I cross the room to an armchair in a shadowed corner, settling into it with an unnerving calm, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee.
“Do what you want with her,” I order without looking into Blaire’s eyes, “and make it permanent.”
“What?” The word slips from her trembling lips, small and shredded, wet gaze pleading.
Her body is slick with fear, every muscle screaming to run, to fight and to vanish. But she can’t. Not from me.
“Hurt me,” she rasps. “Punish me. Even… even fucking kill me. But not this. Please.”
The words pour out, aimed only at me.
At the man who still holds the leash on every nightmare she’s ever survived.
“After everything I’ve been through… Everything you know I’ve been through. I can’t survive it again. I’m fucking begging you, Law!”
My head tilts the smallest fraction, but her fright fails to move me.
Then I drag my gaze away, and nod once at the men, barely noticeable, and their circle tightens around her.
“Law! Please!”
Cries empty out of her, loud and ugly, eyes darting everywhere.
My whisky glass balances on my knee and I tap it with my finger like I’m not about to witness something that’s supposed to be utterly horrific.
One positions himself by her legs at the foot of the snooker table, his palms sliding down her inner thighs, fingers digging in, trying to pry them apart.
But she locks every muscle, thighs clamped so tight she trembles from the strain just to keep that last shred of dignity.
“We can do this the easy way or the fucking hard way,” he snarls. “This is hubby’s orders, and we’re just here to play.”
Not waiting a second longer, another man suddenly snatches her wrists and pins them above her head, pressing them hard into the rough green felt.
His other hand rips her shirt up, exposing her heaving breasts.
Her body bucks, spine arching off the table, hips twisting, every tendon fighting against the hold.
This is going to be a long fucking night.
Without hesitation, the one positioned near her legs pulls out a knife, and the blade catches the low light as he presses the cold steel flat against her inner thigh.
“Open your fucking legs,” he growls at her. “Or I’ll cut them open and fuck your dirty cunt with the blade.”
Blaire’s distress turns into a flicker of defiant anger, jaw set tight. But still, she refuses and keeps her thighs locked shut before spitting directly into his face.
“You sick cunts! I'll fucking kill you!”
For a second, everything stops, and he wipes the glob from his cheek, expression blank.
Then, giving no more warnings, he brings the knife down to her chest, and in one smooth, brutal swipe, he slices her pretty left nipple clean off, showing just how bad this is about to get for her.
Her scream rips through the room—high, guttural and inhuman. Blood pours and spurts down her chest instantly, bright crimson against her pale skin.
She continues to fight again, not giving it easily, but the man pinning her wrists above her head holds her firm.
The one with the knife then leans over, and drives the blade straight through both her palms, pinning them to the snooker table with a wet thunk.
Her screech rises even higher, the cruelty ringing off the walls. Her fingers shake violently, drawn out like wire pulled too tight, hands trapped beneath the hold of the blade.
As soon as the sound leaves her mouth, and she becomes lost in the anguish, the man between her legs takes advantage, and wrenches her thighs wide apart with brutal strength.
In an instant, he stoops and buries his face against her. He viciously eats her pussy—aggressively and mercilessly tongue fucking his way inside her as blood continues to run down her torso.
I breathe in deeply as Blaire’s body twitches, her legs attempting to kick uselessly, crimson pooling beneath her on the table.
He devours her, sucking and biting while her broken screams turn into choking sobs. And all I do is watch, taking another slow sip of whiskey, eyes fixed on her face.
She’s already breaking completely, and they haven’t even fucking started yet.
Tears stream sideways into her black, sweaty hair, and her weeps come in defeated bursts, but as usual, I feel nothing for her.
Another man steps forward with a bottle of vodka in hand.
“Let’s make this whore a bit more submissive,” he mutters.
He pinches Blaire’s nose shut with thick fingers, and as soon as she runs out of breath and opens her mouth, he angles the bottle and starts pouring the clear liquid straight down her throat.
She immediately starts choking and sputtering, vodka trickling down her chin, over her neck, and mixes with the blood on her chest. Although she spewing some of it back up, he doesn’t stop pouring. Not until half of the liquid disappears inside her.
When he finally stops and lowers the bottle, he cruelly seizes the moment in her vulnerability, and climbs onto the table, straddling her chest. He plants one hand above her for balance, the other tilting her head forward.
Bucking his hips, he forces his hard cock past her lips, and Blaire’s eyes pop in horror as he starts face-fucking her with savage power.
I take another slow sip of whiskey, eyes cold, feeling the pressure of my deprived cock expanding under the fabric of my tight pants.
Her face turns a deep, sickly red, then begins shifting toward purple as he continues smashing into her throat, using it like a worthless fuck sleeve.
And I can tell the vodka is already starting to hit her since her movements are becoming sluggish and uncoordinated, even as her body fights for oxygen.
Swirling the glass once, I continue observing as her eyes roll back, convulsing violently around the dick brutally raping her face.
In detached silence my gaze darts to the third man as he reaches down, grabbing the backs of Blaire’s thighs. And with rough, bruising hands, he yanks her legs up, her pussy and ass spread, pinning her knees against the snooker table.
This new position gives the one still buried between her legs perfect access, and he immediately shifts lower, plunging his tongue deep in her asshole. The slurping sounds grow louder as he eats her ass ravenously—licking, sucking, forcing her tight hole wider while she’s held completely exposed.
Blaire’s body jerks, a fresh, helpless scream trying to escape, but it comes out as nothing more than a bubbling heave.
Her legs quake uncontrollably in the third man’s iron grip as he holds her, holes completely exposed and violated, her stomach shuddering from the relentless abuse she's facing.
I watch unemotionally as the two men below her decide to escalate.
The one who had been violently tongue-fucking her asshole pulls back, his face glistening, and without a word, he lines up his dick with her pussy and slams into her in one cruel drive.
He buries himself balls-deep, immediately starting to rape her with hard, punishing strokes. He fucks her like he hates her—deep, savage thrusts that make her pinned fingers stretch out under the knife.
That’s exactly how I’d rape her too, and watching it happen only makes me harder.
Her cunt makes obscene, squelching sounds as he drives into her again and again, widening her further.
After a few minutes, he pulls out abruptly, his cock slick and shining, and the other man immediately takes his place, ramming his own into her pussy with equal violence.
I stroke my dick over my pants, the throb becoming too much as they begin taking turns—one raping her cunt while the other waits, then switching, each using her little hole like a disposable fucktoy.
The first man then slides out, and presses the head of his dick against her asshole and forces his way in with a single merciless shove. He starts fucking her ass with torturous thrusts, the dry friction making it even more agonizing for her, and it turns her cries into a dying howl.
They rotate again and again. One raping her pussy, the other her ass. Switching holes and turns relentlessly until blood and juices coat their shafts. Her holes are red, swollen, and gaping each time one pulls out before the next one rams his way back in.
All the while, the third man never stops face-fucking her, thick spit bubbling from her nose and mouth, running down her face in messy rivers.
When the man brutally fucking her throat finally reaches his limit and pulls out with a wet pop, his cock pulsing as he jerks himself furiously over her flushed face.