Chapter 4 #2
Heavy ropes of cum splatter across her tear-streaked cheeks, her swollen lips, and into her open gasping mouth. But Blaire barely reacts—her eyes are now unfocused, vodka and oxygen deprivation pulling her deeper into delirium.
“Fucking pathetic,” he chuckles jumping off the snooker table. “Look at her. A raped out slut.”
“Let’s open her up properly.” Another adds as he pulls his dick out of her ruined asshole.
He slides his arm around the middle of her back, making her spine arch, then forces four fingers into her red, swollen pussy.
He pushes into her cunt brutally until his hand sinks inside her with a sickening, soaked squelch. He starts fisting her hard right away, punching in and out of her with savage force, her pink hole thinning around his thick wrist, but she just lies there.
At the same time, the third man drags a blade out of his pocket, and with a cruel smirk, he starts cutting her flesh. He slices shallow, jagged lines across her stomach and breasts, then moves lower.
He carves into the soft flesh of her inner thighs before pressing the knife against her pussy and cuts into her outer lips while the other man continues hand raping her, the blade nicking her sensitive flesh.
Blood flows freely, trickling down onto the green felt, and they laugh and tease between themselves as they destroy her.
“Shit, she’s bleeding out like a gutted pig,” the other says, twisting his hand deeper inside her until he’s almost wearing her as a sleeve.
“Make that slut wider. I want to see how much she can take,” the other replies, amused as he carves another slash along her clit.
Blaire’s body spasms with every new cut and every forceful plunge of the hand inside her, and muffled, broken noise leaves her mouth, but there’s no longer screams. Just weak, small whimpers.
His hand thrusts deeper, twisting viciously until red leaks down his forearm, while the other keeps slicing fresh cuts into her lips.
They laugh between themselves, crude jokes about how she’s ‘ruined for life.’
“Cut it off,” one says, egging his friend on, and it doesn’t take much convincing.
He grips her swollen clit between his fingers and slices it off in one deliberate cut.
Blaire’s body seizes, and an exhausted cry tears from her vomit-filled throat—high-pitched and animalistic.
Blood sprays from the fresh wound as her hips buck wildly against the fist still buried inside her, the sound raw, wet, and utterly ruined.
“Fuck, that woke her up,” one of them chuckles, yanking his hand out of her ruined cunt with a grotesque sucking sound, only to immediately shove it back in even harder, making her belly bulge.
The one who cut her clit holds up the small, bloody piece of flesh like a trophy before tossing it at her.
“Now she really is just a hole.”
They keep going for what feels like hours—raping her harder, cutting her deeper until gore pours freely from between her legs, mixing with cum and puke.
I coldly fix my eyes on her face as her wheezing begins—a shallow, broken noise that sounds like death is already sitting heavily on her chest.
The one who had been ruining her guts pulls his hand out with a sickening slurp, and thick, dark blood clots the size of grapes cling to his wrist and fingers before sliding off and splattering onto the floor below with heavy plops.
Blaire’s body spasms once when the fist leaves her destroyed cunt, and a torrent of piss and torn flesh follows, gushing out of her gaping hole onto the floor.
I stare as her mutilated pussy twitches and spasms pathetically under the light, the lips sliced open and hanging in bloody flaps, her clit now a bloodied stub.
Unfazed, one of them grips the knife buried in both her hands and yanks it out with a shredding sound. Fresh blood spurts from the deep wounds in her palms, but she only twitches this time.
They flip her over roughly like a piece of meat, slamming her onto her stomach, then drag her body to the edge of the snooker table, forcing her knees wide apart so her ass and pussy hang exposed over the side.
Her pinned, bleeding hands lie limp above her head, leaving dark red smears across the green fabric as one grabs the half-empty vodka bottle, and without hesitation, he presses the thick glass bottom against her swollen, mutilated pussy and forces it inside her.
He pushes it deep, twisting it roughly until several inches disappear inside her bleeding cunt. Then he holds it there like a handle, keeping her open.
The first man steps up behind her, lines his cock with her asshole, and slams into her with full force. He starts raping her ass brutally, hips pounding against her with loud, violent slaps. The bottle in her pussy jostles with each thrust, extending her further.
He rapes her anally for several minutes before pulling out, and the second man immediately takes his place, rams his cock even harder into her. They take turns cruelly reaming her asshole one after another, faster and rougher each time, while the bottle stays firmly in place.
Her body jerks forward with each savage plunge, the fleshy sounds of anal rape booming through the room as she’s fucked wider and wider. It doesn’t take long before it begins to gape between turns—a loose, red hole that throbs and leaks as they switch.
Blaire’s wheezing grows even louder and more desperate like she’s winded, her white face pressed sideways against the bloody table, eyes wet and distant.
I swirl the last of my whiskey and take a final sip, eyes fixed on the huge wreck of her asshole, battered and loose. Growling lowly, I squeeze the head of my cock, trying to dull the ache building inside my balls.
After some time, the men step back, their sadistic fun finished, and they finally let go of her legs. Blaire gradually slides lifelessly off the edge of the snooker table like a floppy corpse, the vodka bottle still lodged deep inside her.
She collapses hard onto the floor on her back with a loud thump, her body folding unnaturally.
Lying there motionless with her hands torn open, her entire body carved with bloody slashes and one nipple missing, the three men stand over her, snickering and joking as they stare down at the wreckage they made.
“Fuck, what a fucking mess, she’s not even twitching anymore.”
“Should’ve seen her face when I cut her clit off. Thought she was gonna pass out right then.”
“Pathetic cunt. All that fighting for nothing.”
Before leaving, they finish with one last degrading act. They all take turns pissing on her limp, broken body. Hot streams of urine splashing across her face, in her open wounds, and between her legs, mixing with the blood and cum already covering her.
Then as one of them passes her—the same one who cut her earlier—he raises his boot and stamps down hard on her pelvis with all his weight.
The crunch of the glass bottle breaking inside her instantly reaches my ears, followed by the faint, splintered rasp leaving Blaire’s throat as sharp shards tear through her insides.
Her body folds in on itself before she falls onto her side, then goes still again. Fresh crimson begins to seep out from between her legs, gushing darker and thicker now.
The men laugh one last time, zip up their pants, and walk out of the snooker room without another glance at either of us.
I observe her for a long moment, letting the full image burn into me of her lying in a thick mess of blood, piss, cum, and broken glass.
After setting my empty glass down on the side table with a quiet clink, I push myself to my feet, and stride over slowly, my polished shoes stopping right at the edge of the mess.
Standing over her, I peer down at my wife, and she wheezes again, a rattling sound before her bloodshot tear-filled eyes gradually drag up to find mine.
Her wounded hand trembles as she lifts it toward me, crimson slipping steadily from the deep gash in her palm. Her fingers reach out, shaking, straining for mine like I’m still the man who might save her.
I blink once, blank and hollow, and before her fingertips can meet me, I step back, taking with it whatever last hope she was still clinging on to.
“Didn’t I warn you?” I say quietly. “When I’m finished, no one else will want you anyway, Blaire.”
Her hand falls into the spreading red with a wet slap, and I turn my back on her, walking out of the snooker room without looking back.