Chapter 31
Vee
My eyelids flutter, heavy as lead, from the fog of whatever they injected me with.
The aftereffects still clouding my mind.
I stir on the bed, body sluggish, every muscle protesting the restraints that bind my wrists to the headboard.
I try to move my feet and come up short.
An urgent need building in the pit of my stomach. I need to pee.
The room smells stale, like sweat and dust, and my head throbs. But then I hear it—grunting. The noise twists my gut in knots. I know what that sound is and I freeze. It’s him. Abraham. My stomach rolls as bile rises in my throat, and I force my breathing to steady, and my body freezes.
“I know you're awake, bitch.” His voice cuts through the haze. But it's not the voice I was expecting. “Look at me.”
No. I fight the urge to open my eyes. I won’t give him what he wants.
I don't move, don't open my eyes. Instead, I choose to pretend that the darkness behind my lids will shield me.
Refusing him this small victory feels like the only control I have left.
And I plan to hold on to any that I have for as long as I can.
I know Luca, Josh, and Luke will find me. I just have to be strong until they do.
“Look at me!” he barks louder, his words like a whip lashing my flesh.
The mattress dips beside me. He has to have sat down. Panic spikes through me, but I keep my face turned away, eyes squeezed shut, breathing evenly. I need him to think I’m asleep so he’ll leave.
But he doesn’t.
His hand is on me. On my face as his rough fingers dig into my cheeks, forcing my head to turn toward where he is. I already know there’s going to be bruising from the amount of pressure he’s applying and the way his fingers pinch my skin, as his nails dig into my flesh.
“I said open your eyes,” he snarls, his breath hot against my face.
Slowly, reluctantly, I let my lids part, vision blurry at first. Then I see him.
Abraham called him his son. If he said his name, I can’t recall.
My eyes drift lower and I see he’s naked.
His skin is pale, glistening with a sheen of sweat.
My eyes catch sight of his hard, veiny cock.
A gasp escapes me before I can stop it. Fear coils tight in my chest, my heart slamming against my ribs.
The only thing I can think is that he’s going to rape me.
Instinctively, I glance down at myself. My clothes are still on—shirt covering my breasts, jeans zipped and still in place. Relief floods me for a brief moment. Neither of them have touched me yet. My intact clothing and lack of pain between my thighs are my only proof.
He notices my sigh, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk.
“Father says I can't fuck you until he gets his turn first,” he says, his voice dripping with resentment and hunger.
“Says you’re to carry his child. But that doesn't mean I can't have some fun while the old bastard's asleep.” His eyes drop from my face, lingering on my chest. My momentary relief now seems to have left.
“I can scream.” It’s not much, but I hope that fear of what Abraham would do to him outweighs his plans for me.
He laughs. “Go ahead. If you do, I'll hurt you. I’ll make you suffer.” His lips morph into an evil smirk as an amused ‘dare to defy’ him glimmers in his eyes.
My next move is stupid. I know it before I even do it.
But what other options do I have? Should I just lie here and let him do who knows what to me without any protest. Fuck NO!
I’ll take the punishment. Whatever it is has to be better than what this fucker has planned for me.
So with my mind made up, I open my mouth, drawing in a breath to let the loudest scream rip from my lungs.
I’ve barely made a sound before his hand slams over my mouth, palm rough and callused, rendering me quiet.
His eyes dart to the door, his body freezing as he listens.
But there’s nothing. No footsteps, no angry shouts from Abraham as he comes bursting into the room. My attempt is a failure. But in a way, I knew that it would be from the beginning. I still had to try.
He exhales, relief twisting into triumph on his face. “Ohh, look at that. No one to come and save you.”
With his free hand, he reaches down to the floor.
When he brings his hand back up, he’s holding a sock that’s stained with who knows what.
Before I can comprehend what he’s doing, he’s removed his hand from my mouth and stuffed the sock into it.
The foul fabric tastes like a mixture of sweat and dirt, and I can’t help but gag.
He laughs again, happy with what he’s done. “Try screaming now, bitch.”
The sock chokes my protests, but fury burns in my eyes.
He rears his fist back and punches me. His hand makes contact with my cheek as a burst of pain explodes across my face.
Stars burst behind my vision, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth as it mixes with the sock's grime.
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. To give him any satisfaction.
The hit has me so dazed I barely register his hands on my shirt, yanking the fabric up roughly over my chest. The material bunches under my armpits and with a swift tug, he pulls my bra down, popping my breasts free.
The cool air hits my exposed skin, nipples hardening against my will from the sudden chill hitting them.
He stares, licking his lips, one hand groping roughly at my hardened peaks, squeezing until I whimper into the gag.
No doubt confusing my body’s natural reaction to the cold as desire for him.
He reaches up with his other hand, fumbling with the restraint on my right wrist. It loosens just enough for him to free my hand.
My numb arm tingles, the sensation feels like a million pin pricks at once as blood rushes back.
Before I can pull away or fight, he grabs my hand, forcing it open as he wraps my fingers around his cock.
His skin is slick with pre-cum, as he forces my hand to move, stroking up and down his shaft.
He lets go of my breast and leans back supporting his body on his arm as he bucks his hips upward.
I want to vomit. Each time I try to pull my hand away he tightens his grip.
“Yeah baby, just like that,” his voice thick with lust.
Does he seriously think I’m into this? That, in any way of my own volition, am I jacking him off?
“I want to see you cry, you little slut. Do you feel how hard you make me? My cock's gonna feel so good when I finally ram it into your tight hole.” He pumps faster, using my hand like it’s his very own pocket pussy, his grip bruising my skin at how hard he’s holding me.
With each pass of his length sliding through my palm, he groans, his eyes locked on my face, searching for tears, for any hint that he’s breaking me.
He won’t find it. I refuse to give it to him.
But I refuse to look away. I stare back, blank and unyielding, my mind retreating to safer places.
The men who know I'm gone, to my friends. They will come. They have to. They’re going to burst through the door and drag this monster away.
I focus on that, on the rescue that's coming, blocking out the sounds of what he’s doing.
His breaths become ragged, his face contorting in that way it does when someone’s about to orgasm. “Fuck, yes, you little slut. I’m gonna shoot my cum all over your pretty hand.”
With a final grunt, he shudders, as hot spurts of cum erupt from his cock, coating my fingers and palm in sticky ropes. It drips down my skin, warm and degrading. The sharp musky scent makes my stomach churn.
He’s still panting as he loosens his grip on my wrist and pulls my hand away from his cock. But he doesn’t let go. He ties my wrist back tight; the rope cutting into my raw skin, leaving his cum leaking down my hand and arm like a mark of ownership.
“I can’t wait until Dad gets you pregnant so I can fuck your sweet pussy. That ass too. But until then I have your mouth.” He gives me a wink as he stands up, quickly reaching down, recovering his clothes from the floor.
The fucker takes his time, pulling on his pants with an arrogant grin as he glares at me. After he pulls his shirt over his head, he leans down, his face just inches from mine, the sock still gagging me.
“Don’t worry, slut. Father won’t keep me waiting long. And if he does, then he’s had a good life. Death wouldn’t be a bad thing for him,” he murmurs, tapping his still half-hard bulge. “Accidents do happen.”
He straightens, smirking one last time before turning toward the door, leaving me bound and gagged. I close my eyes again, willing for sleep to pull me under, away from the nightmare that just happened.
I need to hold on to the fragile hope that rescue is coming and stay strong.
I need to keep fighting.