38. Kevlar
Kevlar
Vrr. Vrr.
Jesus Christ. Could Kevlar not get one minute of peace? He got it. Remi was pissed. Did she have to keep badgering him? They were cleaning it up. What more did she want him to do at this hour?
Vrr. Vrr.
From his back pocket, he pulled out his cell, ready to get another tongue-lashing from his sister.
Vrr. Vrr.
Except it wasn’t Remi.
“Hey, Kitten. Now’s not really a good time. You okay?” he asked as he brought the phone to his ear.
The hour was late. Nearly midnight. There would only be one reason she would call.
While that would be nice, her reaching out for a booty call couldn’t have been more inopportune. Unfortunately, club business impeded his enjoying life’s purest and simplest of pleasures sometimes. Maybe, if she were still awake, he could stop by later.
Loud music and muffled conversation were all he could make out. The sounds were too jumbled for him to understand whether she was speaking. Where was she? A club? A bar?
“Kitten?” he tried again. Had she butt-dialed him?
“No!” she shrieked. “Get off me!”
What the fuck was going on?
“Kelsey,” he hollered into the phone.
Silence.
He pulled the cell back and stared at the blinking screen. The call had ended. That wasn’t good.
Anxiety jittered through his veins. His muscles tensed, and his jaw tightened. Foreboding swirled in his gut. Kelsey was in trouble. Only one place was that dangerous for her.
“Call Paul,” Kevlar barked to his brother, doing his best to stay calm. “We’re going to need reinforcements.”
Kelsey
Pete and the man with the old president patch each took an arm and dragged Kelsey, kicking and screaming, farther into the large room.
Heavy guitar riffs and deep drumbeats thundered in her ears from a song she didn’t recognize.
Jerking this way and that, she did her best to wrench herself free of the men holding her.
Obscenities left her lips, but her protests fell on deaf ears.
Pete pulled a large blade with a curved handle from his hip as he released her. Kelsey tried to use the moment to her advantage, but the president guy was far quicker than he looked. He locked her arms behind her back, thrusting her chest forward.
She bucked and flailed as though she were a bull at the rodeo.
He held on tightly. She couldn’t escape.
“You’ve been a naughty girl,” Pete said as he got closer. “I think it’s time you learned your place.”
The president pushed her forward into Pete so hard that she couldn’t get her footing to kick him. Her gaze fell to the shiny new patch on Pete’s vest. It also read President. How the hell was that possible?
Right now, his position, and how he got there, didn’t fucking matter. She had to get her and Carrie’s asses out of there. Alive.
Pete’s eyes glittered with menace as he brought the blade to her throat.
Raising her chin, Kelsey stilled. She didn’t want to get stabbed, accidentally or on purpose. Her eyes darted around. Surely, someone had to be there who didn’t agree with what was happening.
Where the hell was Carrie?
The roughly fifty people in the room cleared a path, and the conversation halted, but they weren’t looking at Kelsey. She followed their mesmerized gazes, and she spotted her friend.
On a pool table, completely naked, Carrie lay on her back. Hands were all over her. She whimpered as men yanked her thighs apart, obscenely exposing her to everyone. Kelsey closed her eyes and attempted to turn away, but Pete grabbed her jaw roughly, squeezing it hard.
The tip of the blade pressed against her neck, and the first hint of pain tingled as he nicked her. His hot breath heated her skin as he whispered in her ear.
“Watch,” he demanded.
No. She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. Squeezing her eyes shut, she did what she could to defy him.
Kelsey did her best to lift her chin and move away from the blade that pressed harder against her. Blood trailed down her skin.
“Open your eyes,” Pete insisted as he poked her under the chin.
People cheered, apparently enjoying the horrendous show of Carrie’s defilement. Kelsey refused to watch.
Fingers peeled her eyelids back. She screamed.
No one cared. Like mindless zombies, they were entranced by what was happening to Carrie.
Mike stood at the front of the pool table. Carrie’s chin blocked Kelsey’s view, but Kelsey understood what went on. His cock was shoved in her throat. Rocking his hips, he thrust it in and out while two men pinched and pulled at Carrie’s nipples.
“Stop,” Kelsey cried, tears streaming down her face.
Carrie would never agree to this. She had never been the sharing type. She was a one-man kind of woman. Monogamous to her core.
Pete lowered the blade. It cut through the fabric of Kelsey’s blouse like butter. Sliding it beneath the joint of her bra, Pete thrust it forward. The knife sliced shallowly into her sternum. She squirmed futilely. A bulge ground against her ass, and her stomach threatened to spill its contents.
This nightmare couldn’t be real life.
The bra spread open, and her breasts sprang free.
With her heart hammering in her chest, Pete and the older president jostled her.
Her ankles crossed, but she attempted to fight and wriggle as more hands held her.
There were too many blades poking at her skin, she had to be careful in attempting her escape, lest she accidentally, or purposely, get stabbed.
As she struggled futilely, the men holding her captive managed to switch possession of her.
Pete was at her back now, holding her in place with the knife beneath her chin.
The point skittered against her skin. The president lowered his head and sucked one of her nipples between his teeth. He bit down, and she screamed.
Powerlessness consumed her. She couldn’t stop this without dying. There was no way to help Carrie. They’d gone into the bowels of hell and danced with devils. They’d never escape.
Pete thrust his hand into the waistband of her now-open jeans. His thick fingers stroked her folds. Clamping her thighs together, she did her best to wiggle away as though she could evade his unwanted touch.
“Watch our new house whore,” Pete taunted. “Do you want that too? It could be you, if you keep being a fucking bitch.”
Trembling, Kelsey wept but couldn’t take her eyes off the display in front of her. Men lifted a sobbing Carrie so that the now naked Machete, who’d given her the pill earlier, could position himself beneath her. He fisted his cock, which stood proudly from his pelvis.
“How many dicks can you handle?” Pete asked as he roughly jammed a finger into her. “Fucking tight right now. We can change that.”
The men controlling Carrie turned her, made her straddle him, and lowered her down on his stiff erection. Her back was to Kelsey. She couldn’t see Carrie’s face. If she could, the vision would kill her.
Kelsey couldn’t count the hands that were covering Carrie’s body.
“Do you think you can handle me?” Pete continued describing his rape fantasy. “Or do you want to be a cock-hungry whore like your friend? Bitch is never satisfied.”
As though to remind Kelsey that Carrie wasn’t the only one being taken against her will, three of Pete’s fingers plunged into her sex.
She screamed again.
The knife at her chin dragged across her skin and cut into her. More blood trickled down her exposed body.
“Is that what you like?” Pete asked, ignoring her protests. “How about two dicks, one hole?” He laughed. “Stretch your fat ass, your cunt, so it’s sloppy.”
As Pete finger-fucked her roughly, the older president bit the flesh of her breasts. She didn’t have it in her to react with anything more than whimpers. His fingers slid in the blood coming from her neck as he continued to grope her.
“Cum-hungry bitch. We’re going to fill you up next,” Pete groaned.
Mike, naked as the day he was born, climbed onto the pool table, stroking his cock. When he lifted his fist in the air, as though in triumph, the crowd cheered in support of Carrie’s humiliation.
As they hooted, hollered, and urged him to continue, he pushed Carrie over Machete and knelt behind her.
He took hold of Carrie’s hips, and Kelsey winced. She didn’t want to watch anymore. Squeezing her eyes shut, she refused to be a witness to her friend’s rape.
“He’s fucking her in the ass,” Pete taunted. “Just like I’m going to do to you. I own you. All your holes are mine. Unless you want to be like your friend. I guess I can give you the choice. I’m not a bad guy. Do you want to be mine or a house whore?”
Before she could answer with the curse still in her throat, a thumb slid past her lips and pressed down on her tongue. She gagged. Spittle exploded from her face as her stomach lurched, threatening to spill every meal she’d consumed that week onto her attackers.
The men roared with laughter.
“You can’t keep her to yourself,” the president groaned as he withdrew his thumb. “A mouth like this is meant for dick.”
“Scorpion property,” Pete groaned as his cock pressed against her behind. “I’ll have it tattooed above your bald cunt. You and Cheeks will match.”
Hands pressed on her shoulders. Tears streamed along her face. She locked her knees. She wouldn’t go. Kelsey shook her head.
Pain rocketed across her face from the president’s open-handed slap. She jerked to the side, and her body betrayed her. Pete’s hand slid from her pants as her knees buckled. Off-balance from the force, she dropped.
Pain blooming across her face, she gathered her bearings in time for a cock to bounce in front of her face. The musky, unwashed man’s scent made her gag. Fingers tangled in her hair, fisting and pulling her closer to the foul-smelling erection.
“Open up,” the president ordered.
“Be a good girl,” Pete cooed as he trailed his fingers along her chin, painting her skin with her own blood. “Don’t embarrass me in front of my national president.”
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Gunfire.
Kelsey’s heart threatened to explode.
People screamed and scattered.
Darkness.