Four
Sadist grabs both sides of my shirt and finishes ripping it clean away. My breasts are too small to bother wearing a bra, and he exposes me completely.
“Not even fucking worth it,”
the man holding my right arm spits.
“Wait until they get erect,”
Sadist purrs. “Then you can watch the disgust in her eyes.”
He pinches both of them in between his fingers, and I jerk against his touch, praying that my body doesn’t react, that it doesn’t betray me like he said it would. But I can feel the goosebumps rising across my skin, the sudden sensation in my chest as the fear roils deep in my stomach.
Laughing, he releases me, then grabs the top of my pants. I twist my hips from side to side, but I’m not trying to get him off. I know that’s futile. Know there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop this from happening.
So the reason I’m fighting back is to turn him on even more. I want to make his dick so fucking hard that he comes quickly inside of me.
And just that thought alone, that simple admittance that I am teasing him fills me with so much disgust, my stomach revolts up my throat.
I don’t want this.
I don’t want him touching me.
I don’t want him thrusting his cock inside my pussy.
But I don’t have a choice.
It’s being stolen from me.
My body no longer mine but theirs.
Now all I can do is survive.
To hopefully reduce the time they rape me so that when they break my body, when they tear apart my vagina and leave bruises on my arms and legs from pinning me down or smacking me around, that they don’t break my mind too.
A small solace in a sea of pain.
But it’s all the control I have left.
So I fight back. I yank my legs, trying to free them from the iron grips holding them apart. I twist my hips to make it as difficult as possible for him to undo the button on my pants and pull down the zip. I buck when he steps out from between my thighs. I twist some more when they shove my legs together and yank down my pants. As they work to get them and my shoes off, I kick out as hard and as fast as I can. But I only manage to rip one leg free and slam my heel into one smug face before they grab me again.
Now I’m spread eagle, my shirt hanging down my sides, my chest bare, and only my underwear covering my pussy. I breathe heavily, tears hot behind my eyes, pain shooting up my arms despite the numbness of the tourniquets and the pressure of the men holding me down.
Stepping between my legs again, Sadist runs his hands up from my ankles to my thighs. Goosebumps trail in his wake, like acid burning across my skin, his touch a disease I can feel burrowing its way into my bones, into the very essence of who I am.
I was born into a family of assassins that were called to do the dirtiest of deeds. I have violence to my name and sins etched into every tattoo covering my skin.
I was beaten until I could withstand torture.
I have kept secrets I would’ve been all too happy to spill because I am a fighter.
Because I’m a fucking Black.
Because I’m a fucking Shadow. Wife to Varius Shadow himself.
But right now…
In this moment, in this pinpoint of time that has warped my world to fit inside its vice, all I am is a victim.
Just a thing for these men to use.
Not even human.
Sadist’s fingers slip under the top of my underwear, and as the entirety of me wants to recoil, to sink into the table and flee from his touch of disease, he tears the cotton apart.
The rip of it resonates in my soul, terrifying and final. My last poor, pathetic defense is torn away, leaving me bare and helpless.
Reducing me to nothing but a shell of shame.
And I freeze.
Despite my want to fight back, despite convincing myself it’s still a way I can take control, still the ‘best option’ when I know doing so won’t get me killed because Antonio wants me alive…
I can’t.
My limbs are frozen.
My lungs are frozen.
Every fucking atom inside of me is frozen.
So even when Sadist looks down at my pussy and laughs, I can’t find the strength to keep fighting. If he had a knife… if I was being held down to be murdered, butchered on this table like a pig, I’d still be full of rage and spitting fire.
But instead, it’s a finger he pushes against my flesh. A precursor to his cock – weapons I can survive if I just relax and don’t fight back. And that betrayal from my own body, that instinctive need to survive even when I want to go out fighting, when I want to resist so I can scream I didn’t want this, that I tried everything I could to stop it… That betrayal makes me hate myself.
Makes me feel dirty in my own skin, my soul blackened even beneath the touch of his poison.
So as Sadist traces a finger over the tattoo on my pussy, I don’t fight him.
I can’t.
I just lie here, the survival instinct forcing me still.
“Well, fucking hel. Look at this, boys,”
Sadist purrs. “This whore’s the property of Varius Shadow.”
There’s a sudden hush in the cafeteria. The grips on my hands and feet unconsciously loosen. One of the men not holding me down even steps back with a nervous energy, and a flare of hope ignites within me.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be so rough –”
one starts.
“If Varius finds this place –”
another says.
“He won’t,”
Sadist snaps, irritated that no one is sharing in his fun.
And now I laugh, relief pouring through me and making me sound mad. “He will,”
I promise them. “Because we’re fucking bonded, and he can feel exactly where I am.” I lift my head up off the table as I look at Sadist, but I don’t strain against the men holding my arms. Not yet. “He’s coming for me even now, and when he gets here, he’s going to take every last one of you back home with us.” I shift my gaze to the two men holding my feet as I let my words penetrate the heavy air.
“The ones who helped me will be healed from whatever Antonio did to you. You know his mother can do it.”
There’s another ripple around the table. More hope flares through me even as Sadist’s glare gets harder, the fury in his eyes burning bright. I hold his gaze head-on. “But anyone who fucking hurts me will be tortured far worse than whatever you do to me. Whatever Antonio’s done to you already.”
The silence is crushing.
The fear so palpable, it makes me want to weep.
I’m going to be okay. I’m going to make it through this.
But then the door opens.
And I don’t need to turn my head to know Antonio has just walked in.