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Shit.
“Matteo, we caught Eden out of bed. What would you like us to do?” Maximo says.
Please let him say take me back to his room.
Maximo grins. “Done.”
I swallow hard, trying to keep the fear down. Whatever Matteo told them to do I can handle it. It won’t be bad.
“I’ll go back to Matteo…” I say.
“No, you’ll be coming with us,” Maximo says, grabbing my arm.
I elbow him as hard as I can instinctively, not liking his hands on me.
He ducks though, prepared for it this time, and I panic. More hands go on me. More hands than I’m prepared to handle. I try fighting back, but I know at least three guys are holding onto me, and there is no use fighting.
I let them hold onto me and carry me into a room. I feel the bed beneath me as they toss me. My initial thought is to panic. Fight. I’m on a bed with three men standing over me. I should be afraid. Terrified they are going to rape me. But I’m not. If Matteo has made anything clear, it’s that he doesn’t share. The consequences of sharing me are enormous. Death.
So I try to calm my breathing as they stretch my limbs wide and tie me up. Each limb. One by one until I can’t move.
Deep breath. In and out. They can’t touch me. They won’t touch me.
I feel hands on my clothes though. Clothes are being ripped from my body. My shirt is torn in half, exposing my breasts. My pants are cut off.
I’m naked. In front of three men. Men I now hate. Men that had no right to try and embarrass me like this.
They all stare down at my naked body hungrily, and I’m what they are hungry for.
“You’re disgusting. All of you.”
Maximo grins. “We are about to get a lot more disgusting.”
He holds a blindfold in his hand and ties it tightly over my eyes so I can’t see.
“We won’t cover your mouth. We want to hear you scream. We want you to fight. It’s music to our ears. That way we know we are doing a good job when we break you. You’ll be speaking about Nina by the end of the night,” Maximo says.
I keep my lips closed. That’s what this is about. It’s what this is always about. Nina.
A fear tactic to try and get me to talk. It won’t work. Nothing will work.
I’ve endured worse. Whatever they are going to do to me is nothing.
I still don’t believe they will rape me. They might beat me though with whips and bats, anything to get me to speak.
I have to prove to them I can’t be broken. I will never speak, and they will stop.
I feel the strike I was anticipating on my stomach, but I don’t flinch. I’m used to the pain. I imagine Matteo doing it instead of Maximo.
I’m whipped again on my breasts, and the sting against my nipples makes them harden. Begging the attacker for more.
Next is my thighs, arms, and pussy. Each strike is hard and perfect from the hands of someone experienced with a whip.
“You’re sick. You like the pain, don’t you?” Maximo says.
I focus on breathing. I should try meditation after this is all over. I can see the benefits.
“You’re like Matteo. Dark, sick, and cruel,” he continues.
