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But then someone was playing with my ass as the man continued fucking me. I didn’t know if it was the man himself or someone else. Because they weren’t all just standing back now. Hands grabbed me from all sides. Squeezing my breasts. Slapping my ass. Slapping my face. Sticking fingers in my ass. Pinching my nose until I really choked for breath on the cock in my mouth.
The man fucking me grabbed my hips and came at me harder and harder with every in stroke, almost rivaling Gentry in brutality. He slapped my ass hard with every outstroke.
Hating myself didn’t stop my pleasure from ramping higher and higher again the harder he fucked me.
“Little bitch is about to come again, Dylan,” Bryce laughed. “Looks like you really do know how to fuck whores the right way.”
And then Dylan’s grunting voice in response. “You only know you’re doing it right if you can make them cry.”
Dylan. Oh God it was Dylan.
How did I forget the name until now? It’s true I’ve tried to block out that entire night, not remember details, but still. Or did some sick, subconscious part of me know all along?
But God, now to know that it was his horrible brother fucking my mouth at the same time. I gag and cover my mouth.
I need some mouthwash.
I need a brainwash.
The water of the bath is finally deep enough, I sink down on my back, completely submerged.
You knew it was a possibility Dylan was there. You knew Bryce and Dylan were acquainted around that time.
It was a few months before his sister moved away, now that I think through the timeline based on my research and what he’s told me.
I close my eyes. It’s nice down here under the water. Sound is muted. Life is muted. I don’t have to be who I am.
What if I just never surfaced? If I just stayed down here? Breathed the water into my lungs?
What does dying feel like?
How much would it hurt?
More than living?
I open my eyes and look through the water at the undulating light on the ceiling. My chest is starting to burn from not breathing.
How long did Dylan stay that night?
One man left early. Was it him? I remember Bryce asking the man why he was leaving so soon. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to concentrate. Had Bryce used a name?
Think. Think.
The more I concentrate, the more everything I’ve tried to repress comes bubbling back up.
“Leaving so soon? What, you’re just going to take your fuck and run?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t— This is too much for me right now.”
Bryce’s caustic laughter rang through the room, echoed by several other men.
“Wouldn’t have thought you were such a pussy. She loves it. Besides, things are just getting fun.”
Two other men were fucking me and concentrating on what Bryce was saying seemed important because I kept thinking: any second he’ll call it off. He’ll see how hard this is for me and he’ll put a stop to it.
“Whatever, man,” the stranger said dismissively. Then, “You coming, bro?”
Another voice said no, he wanted to stay. Then there was the sound of a closing door.
It was Dylan. I thought when he’d said ‘bro’ he’d just meant friend. But he’d actually meant brother. Because it was Dylan and he was asking if Darren wanted to leave with him.
But of course psycho Darren said no.
I jolt up out of the water, heaving for breath. Water sloshes all around me from the sudden movement and I push hair back out of my eyes.
Dylan wasn’t there when things turned so awful later on.
He wasn’t there when I begged Bryce to stop. Over and over I cried that I wanted to stop but Bryce just kept ordering man after man to use me however they wanted.
There were no such things as safe words with Bryce.
There was only what he wanted.
I’d trusted him before that night to never let it go too far.
Was Darren one of the men who slapped me so hard that for the first time, I did have a black eye? Was he one of the men who kept on fucking me long after I had no more strength to be up on my knees or to try to fight them off? It must have been little better than fucking a corpse but maybe that was how they liked it.
It went on all night. For hours and hours and hours. Just when I thought it was done, another would enter me.
No matter how sore or bloody or broken I was.
When it was over, when it was finally over, Bryce just left me there, in that horrible room.
I thought he’d come back for me after he showed all his ‘friends’ to the door and help me to the bath. Back in the beginning, after he use me roughly, he used to do that. Take care of me. During the worst times, it was the only thing that made it even bearable.
