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“Nice shot,” he says, yanking me toward him.
My eyes go wide because I’m sure he’s about to tear my clothes and have his way with me, but he doesn’t.
He smiles. Again. Then rears his fist back to punch me in the face again. And again. And again.
Pain radiates all over my face, and the back of my head stings from hitting the floor. I scratch his arms, and he rears back, getting to his feet to kick me in the ribs. Twice. I’m hurting, and I don’t know if I can take much more of this. Half of me wishes he would just end my suffering, but the other, more logical part of me says to keep fighting. It’s better to die fighting than just letting that shit happen.
Two knocks sound on the door, and the man lifts me up, still smiling. “Not bad,” he grins and then spits in my face before releasing me and marching to the door. “You put up a good fight.”
I’m breathing heavily, listening as he knocks, and the door opens before closing again a few seconds later.
“Holy fucking shit, what wasthat?” I’m glad it’s not the rape I was expecting, but did that guy seriously just pay to beat the fuck out of me?
I can barely process what just happened because it’s so outrageous. What the hell is this place, and why am I here? I don’t have answers, and after thinking for too long, the door opens again, and a different guy steps inside with a black bag in his hand, wearing the same salacious smile as the asshole before.
I don’t know what to expect or how to respond until after the fact.
The second guy is creepy as fuck when he assures me. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers and drops down on the bed. “I promise.”
I stay in the corner, trying like hell not to tremble with fear.
“Come here,” he says with a smile.
I shake my head and stand my ground. I stare at him with wide eyes as he opens the bag. What the fuck is in there? A machete? Needles?
It’s a brush. A fucking hairbrush. “Come now.”
I frown. “What are you gonna do with that?”Obviously, shove it up inside of you or beat you with it, Cassidy.I hesitate before taking a step forward because what the fuck is up with this guy? He’s not as threatening as the other man, but his creep factor is off the charts.
“I just want to brush your hair.” He’s smiling, but I see the crazy in his eyes, so I decide to pick my battles and go to him and sit on the floor between his legs while he…brushes. My. Fucking. Hair.
I’m trembling the entire time, but he spends about fifteen minutes brushing my hair and humming to himself. He doesn’t say another word to me; just ties a bow around my head, packs up his things and exits the room.
What. The. Fuck.
My mind is all over the place, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on. It’s like some twisted torture shit that is fucked up enough, but I don’t even know why this is happening or if it will ever end.
My heart races, and my mind is going a thousand miles per minute because I can’t get a grip on what the fuck is going on. Am I a slave? A whipping post? Will the next guy be the one that kills me?
I know what they’re doing. They’re trying to make me go crazy. This is psychological torture.
The door opens again, and I hold my breath, waiting for whatever fresh hell is sure to come.
Asshole number three wants to fight, and he’s good at it, so good I’m pretty sure one of my ribs is fractured. The lamp scatters into pieces, but I’m too fucking tired and in too much pain to think of anything but keeping my face against the wall.
Then the double knock sounds, and he’s gone. I sit down on the bed gently. I hurt everywhere. This is a fucking nightmare, and I have to find a way to get out of here.
Number four walks in, tall and angry at the world based on how he sneers in my direction. I prepare myself for another round of fighting, but he drops his pants and starts stroking his dick. “Get over here. Bitch. Now.”
Fuck that noise,I say, trying to muster up all the energy I can to fight off this asshole. I don’t shake my head. I don’t respond. I just stare.
His expression darkens, and he comes to me, grabbing my hair and dragging me across the room. He sits on the bed, holding me between his thighs so I’m eye to eye with his semi-hard cock.
“Get on it.” He gives my hair another pull and growls. “Right now, bitch. You bite me, I swear, I’ll kill you.”
Sounds better than what I have going on right now.
His hips jut forward, and I fall completely against his hairy crotch, but then I feel it. Right beside the bed. A piece of broken lamp.Perfect. I tap my fingers on the edges to feel which part is sharper.
