Fourteen
The men might’ve enjoyed what I did to Eduardo’s face, but it isn’t enough to make them see me as one of them. As soon as I’m wheeled into their living quarters, they drag me out of the hospital bed and force me onto a breeding table.
An actual, bonafide fucking breeding table.
It’s in three parts. One table with leather straps for my arms and two separate pillars with ties for my ankles. The pillars are on locking wheels so my legs can be moved to wherever they want them.
I fight like a hellcat as they throw me down onto my back. They drag me across the table until my ass is near the edge. Hourglass pins me down by my throat while Sadist, Grubs, and Chucky get me strapped in. I kick Chucky in the balls, so he punches me in the face until I pass out.
I come to a few seconds later, as the last strap gets pulled tight on my elbow. By not tying my wrists down, I can still give them handjobs. My head is killing me, and one of my eyes is swollen shut. As I struggle to see past the blood and the stars dancing behind my eyes, Grubs steps between my legs and spits on my pussy. He rubs his saliva over me as he takes out his short, fat cock. “You’re such a good girl, letting me make love to your pretty little cunt,”
he says. He lines his cock up with my hole.
Just as he’s about to thrust in though, Softie, the guy who couldn’t get it up earlier, says, “Fuck her in the morning, Michael. I want to go to bed.”
His real name might be Michael, but I am still going to call him Grubs. He doesn’t deserve that level of respect.
“But –”
“That table’s loud as fuck.”
Grubs looks at Sadist, but he just yawns and walks away. Even monsters need their sleep.
Sighing, Grubs puts his dick away and backs off. Softie shoots me an empathetic look that says, That’s all I can do.
In this moment, it is enough. I breathe out slowly to hide my tremors as he steps through a door that I assume leads into his bedroom. We’re in the gym, the court-painted floor and high rafted ceiling dead giveaways, but there are over a dozen square pods set up around the edges for the men to have their privacy. I lie in the middle of the communal area, beside sofas and a TV, my pussy spread open for all to see.
Left alone, I try to relax enough to close my eyes. Sleep increases the healing process, and if I don’t get some rest, I will lose my edge and my ability to think clearly. I won’t survive this place then.
I already know that tomorrow I’m going to break. That’s when the breeding will start for real. When I’ll be forced to take V after V as they rape me in their werewolf forms.
My heart rate increases as I force myself to think about it, to imagine every detail of what’s coming in an attempt to prepare myself. I can’t stop what’s going to happen come the morning, but by confronting it in my thoughts, I can work my way through the trauma before it begins.
Hopefully.
Theoretically.
Probably not, but it’s giving me a sense of control, which is something I desperately need right now because Vs don’t just change a woman’s anatomy so she can take monster cocks without dying. They increase her arousal, heightening the sensitivity of her g-spot and clit. I won’t be able to stop myself from orgasming as they rape me, and when they ejaculate inside of me, it’ll trigger the V to make me squirt all over them.
I know, logically, that it won’t be me doing those things. It will be the drug they give me. It’ll be anatomy. Nipples simply stand up in the cold. It doesn’t mean the A/C unit turns us on.
But it’s still my body betraying me.
It’s still my mind associating something pleasurable and intimate with something so fucking disgusting.
It’s still going to break me from the shame.
From the knowledge that this won’t just be a one time thing. It’ll be hour after hour, day after day, week after week if Varius doesn’t fucking save me. Because I’m not escaping this bed by myself, and it will take a long time for me to manipulate any of these men into helping me.
By that point, I’ll be addicted to Vs. To their touch. The increase of arousal hormones will fuck with my reality. I’ll lose my desire to escape. I’ll beg them to fuck me day and night just so I can get another fix.
Then eventually, I’ll get pregnant.
That reality terrifies me.
Makes me sick.
Makes it nearly impossible for me to go to sleep despite my training. Though even when I do, I keep one eye open. Waking up at every perceived movement or sound.
Varius better fucking come for me soon, I think as I’m trying my best to sleep.
A pinprick stabs the bottom of my foot, and I wince. I can’t get comfortable on this damn –
I jerk wide awake, though I keep my body still so I don’t make a sound. Softie wasn’t kidding when he said this table was loud. Every movement echoes through the gym.
Another pinprick radiates up my leg. It isn’t painful, but the significance of it makes it so damn electrifying, I could cry.
Khalid’s made a soul doll of me.
Half a year ago, that would’ve fucking terrified me. He’s the reason I kept my head shaved, not wanting to leave any DNA evidence for him to find. With it, he can create soul dolls, allowing him to torture you from afar, then straight up kill you.
But fuck, right now I am so damn relieved. The range and limitations of his magic is a well kept secret, though there are rumors that he can see and hear everything his victims do. Granted, those are rumors mostly spread by rats. I swear I didn’t tell anyone, Boss. Khalid must have made a soul doll of you and found out that way. But I hope to gods it’s true.
I open my mouth to start to tell him everything I have found out, but he cuts me off with a series of pinpricks in Morse code.
Dayne alive
Relief burns my eyes and throat. I can’t stop the tears from leaking down my face. I only just manage to stifle the sobs. I thought he died. I thought –
Rescue one hour
I close my eyes as a tremble rushes through me. Then I open them again as I whisper, “There are kids here.”
I don’t want them caught in the crossfire. Whatever the sins of their parents, they are innocent.
We know
That doesn’t sound like he cares though. “Don’t –”
Zita. Ally. Bye
I don’t feel any different when he’s gone. There’s no way for me to tell when he’s here with me. I also still don’t know if he can really see or hear what I do or if he can only hear what I say. My throat tightens at the idea of him having witnessed any of my abuse. Then I think about the video Antonio sent Varius. I don’t know which one is worse.
Khalid watching in real time “through me.”
Or the love of my life seeing it at all.
How can I ever face either of them?
Taking a deep breath, I push those thoughts aside. I can’t lose my head right now. I need to keep it together so when Zita comes, I can do whatever she needs me to. Focusing on the tattoo I gave Dayne all those years ago – something I’ve been terrified to do, thinking I’d feel it gone, I concentrate on his heartbeat.
It’s faster than normal. A bit more panicked.
But it’s there.
He’s alive.
I breathe out on a shudder.
Breathe in on a fractured smile.
Out and in until my thoughts quiet...
As it’s done so many times, the rhythm of his pulse soon lures me into sleep.
Just for a little while though.
When I open my eyes, I look to the high windows of the gym. The sun isn’t up yet, but the sky’s darker than before, telling me the moon’s gone. It’s perhaps two or three hours before dawn.
A tear falls down my cheek as I focus on Dayne’s pulse. It’s calmer now, less stressed. He believes in the plan.
They’re going to save me before the men wake, before I’m forced to take a V.
Of course, that’s when one of the pod doors opens, and footsteps creep towards me.