14. Stella
STELLA
A loud female voice breaks through my drug-induced sleep, just as I hear flesh hitting flesh.
It’s not the sound of someone hitting another but that of flesh pounding into flesh.
Takes me a minute but, and I hate to think it, I thank God it’s not me being taken against my will yet again.
Since that sponge bath, I don’t know how long ago, I’ve had regular bathings and meals along with clean water.
The woman doesn’t say much if anything, except to keep my mouth shut and try to sleep whenever I can.
When I hear a painful moan I scrunch my eyes a bit, only to open them and, holy shit, it’s the voice of the woman helping me, and she’s being fucked by three bastards.
When her eyes shift and she sees me, she gives me a tiny nod then lets out a loud screech, which earns her a hard slap on her ass.
I’m not sure if they are hurting her or she’s playing into their madness.
I close my eyes but my ears pick up every moan, slap, and flesh pounding, until one by one I hear the ultimate groans of a man coming.
Hearing a crash, I take a chance and see they’ve pushed her to the ground and the biggest one is kicking her.
I know how much that hurts but she says not a word, just lies there taking all of their abuse.
Before they leave two of the three spit on her, and the other pulls his dick forward and pisses all over her bruised body.
The smell of urine is so strong it makes me think that motherfucker is not long for this earth, which pleases me greatly.
When the door slams shut and the lock is engaged, she stumbles up to her feet, moving to a room off the main one my bed is in.
I hear gagging and then the sounds of vomiting.
After a few minutes the sound of a shower goes on and I try to think of other things than what I just witnessed.
When she comes out a while later, she has her hair in a towel and clean jeans and a T-shirt on.
Her feet are bare, which grosses me out until up close I see she has on a cheap pair of thin flip-flops.
“I know you’re awake, Stella. Thank you for not saying a word, it saved us both more pain.
Just so you know, the reason they were going at me is because they thought you were healed enough to play with again.
When I said you weren’t they told me it was you or me.
I took the abuse because I don’t think your body could withstand their fucking, especially that asshole Lefty.
Each time he forces himself in me I get why they gave him that club name. ”
I lift my eyebrows as I have no idea what she is going on about. For the first time she grins, and shit she’s beautiful, even with scars on her face and a towel wrapped around her head.
“When he was a prospect, one of the brothers couldn’t understand why none of the club whores wanted to take him to bed.
The prez asked one of them one night and she very quietly told the president his dick isn’t only huge, but he’s got a bend in it that has it pointing to the left.
She said where the bend is hurts when he fucks because he likes to fuck hard, so they try to avoid him.
The prez and VP thought it would be funny to drug him so they could check out his dick and see what the club whore was talking about.
When they saw his bent thick cock they totally understood and that’s how he got his road name, which he obviously isn’t happy with, never has been.
So whenever he can, Lefty tries to make his point by tearing a woman’s cunt to pieces.
You feel him for days after. I didn’t want you to have to experience that, as you are still in the tender times of healing down there and your ass is nowhere near ready for a pounding by any of those three maniacs. How are you feeling, by the way?”
As we talk quietly my eyes watch her, trying to see if she’s being truthful or playing me for an ultimate purpose.
I learned early in my career that if it seems too good to be true then it probably is the exact opposite.
I mean, she’s not given me a name or any personal information but seems to know a lot about me.
Thank Christ nothing has been said about Isabella, and I pray it stays that way.
She asks me if I’m hungry and when I tell her I actually am, she moves to the small gallery kitchen and starts to make some scrambled eggs with toast. The smell has my mouth watering, so by the time she places a full plate of cheesy scrambled eggs in front of me I devour them quickly.
I haven’t felt hungry since she came into the picture, which I’m grateful for.
Since I’m in bed all the time I’ve been doing isometrics to keep my muscles strong while I recover.
Staying under the covers and doing these exercises slowly and precisely, no one is any the wiser, which is the way I want to keep it.
I’m going through withdrawals, but I think this woman is putting either methadone or buprenorphine in my water.
Also the sweating and anxiety has gotten better so maybe some clonidine also.
I felt really bad earlier as my stomach was going crazy.
I was mortified when she had to put me in adult diapers, but now I understand why.
As the drugs ran through my system I had massive diarrhea, which has settled down a bit now.
The food she is feeding me is helping too.
Rice, potatoes, toast, eggs, and poultry.
All very bland that sticks to your ribs, as my mother used to say.
Jesus Christ, my family must be going nuts with me missing and worrying about Isabella and even Cullen.
They aren’t his biggest fans but they know how much I love the man, and as long as I’m happy they keep all opinions to themselves.
Realizing my mind is wandering I glance up to see the woman slumped in the chair, head tilted to the side, eyes shut.
Not wanting to disturb her, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep with a full belly.
Not sure how long we both sleep, but when the door is flung open we both jump as our eyes open immediately. When she sees who has entered she slightly turns and shakes her head, which has me close my eyes.
“Why is that bitch still sleeping, whore? What are you giving her? We have needs and you ain’t meeting them.”
“She was pretty torn up and your doctor suggested keeping her pretty drugged so her body could heal quicker. Otherwise she’d already be dead.
Besides, he stitched her from front to back, stating she was out of commission for a while.
Hey, don’t take it out on me. If you don’t believe me, call him yourself. I just do what I’m told around here.”
With my eyes barely open I can see him glaring at her then he turns, slamming the door behind him then locking it.
She lets out a huge breath then turns to me.
When she reaches the bed she gently helps me sit then stand, which has become our routine.
A few times a day, unless I ask, she takes me to the bathroom where she leaves me to take care of my business.
The first few times, after looking at my face, I refused to look in the mirror.
Today I glance and notice the dark black-and-blue bruises are now turning to green and yellow.
So attractive for sure. I release my bladder, which is still a bit painful, which I’m wondering if that’s normal or if by chance I have a urinary tract infection.
Or something worse because I doubt these bastards used condoms. I finish up, wash my hands, brush my teeth, then pick up the hairbrush, trying to remove the tangles before slowly putting my hair up in a high ponytail.
The mirror shows me my efforts helped a bit but not much.
I call out and the door opens instantly, and with her assistance I walk, going toward the bed, but today she helps me to the lounge chair.
Once I’m seated she throws a blanket across my lap, then puts an ottoman in front of the chair and lifts my legs.
She puts a stack of magazines next to me on another small table.
“I’m going into town in a little bit with two of those assholes to get some groceries, is there anything I can get for you?”
Her face shows nothing so I can’t read if she’s being sincere or playing me. I tell her no and she just shakes her head. When she approaches I tense up, but she reaches in her pocket, pulling out a knife and shoving it into my hands.
“The one staying back is the least threat, but who knows what runs through a maniac’s head?
Use this only if you have to. Then either shove it into the mattress or the toilet tank, or even down the toilet so they don’t find it because if they do, I’m dead.
I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can. If I have a chance, will send out an SOS for you but need to encrypt it for my protection. I hope you understand.”
I watch her knock on the door twice then once.
I hear the lock disengage and the one called Lefty opens the door.
As soon as his eyes see me in the chair, his eyes start to dilate as he gives me a snarky grin.
The woman puts her hand up then points, and he moves back out the door.
Now that is strange, why would a man like him let a supposed victim order him around?
Need to keep my guard up and eyes open. I grab a magazine and give it half of my attention, glancing through the photos.
Not sure how much time goes by but I get bored and put the first magazine down and pick up the next, which is about living in Montana.
As I gaze at the photos I realize how beautiful and breathtaking the state is compared to Indiana.
I get lost in the photos and articles, remembering Cullen once talked about a few motorcycle clubs out in Montana that he called friendlies.
Just thinking about him has my heart feel so heavy because the future for us is unknown, which makes me even more sad.
I am trying so hard to stay positive for him and especially our daughter, Isabella, but I’m slowly losing hope that someone will find me before it’s too late.
Not sure how long she’s been gone, but when the door opens and she walks in I’m surprised at how relieved I am she’s back.
Fuck, I don’t even have a name or nickname, not sure what to call her.
We need to talk about that but not now with the audience we have.
Every one of them have plastic bags in their hands and all go on the small table.
The two assholes glare at me for a second then turn and leave.
I don’t hear the lock and when I look her way, she is watching me closely.
Not backing down, I mouth, “Door isn’t locked. ”
Still mouthing she says, “It’s a test.” How does she know that unless she’s in on this whole shitshow?
She must read my mind as she comes over, pulling a chair closer to me, and sits down.
Leaning in she whispers they did the exact same thing to her when she first arrived.
That’s when I ask her what I should call her.
She drops her head to her shoulders and I just wait.
When she lifts her head there are tears in her eyes, which puts all my alarms on full alert.
“You’re the only person to ask me that in I don’t know how long. Forgot what the feeling is to be a human being. Stella, my name is Mildred, but my friends used to call me Milly.”
I don’t get the feeling that she’s lying, so I just nod her way then look at the bags on the table.
Quite a few of them, so guess they are figuring that I’ll be staying here even longer.
At least there’s that is my thought as I slowly stand and, with Milly beside me, we empty the bags, putting everything away.
When Milly asks what my thoughts for dinner are, I think on it for a second or two then say something easy like soup and a sandwich, which brings a smile to her face.
Feeling exhausted, I make my way back to the lounge chair and gently sit down, flipping my feet back on the ottoman and just trying to relax, which has me falling to sleep yet again.