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I’ve fucked so many women in my short life, but there’s something about tearing apart her body that does things to me. A fire burns in my veins when I squeeze my shaft, almost to the point of pain.
Realization dawns that I want to take her sweetness, and it stills me for a moment, but only one moment, because soon I’m pumping my release down the drain imagining her virtue slick on my cock.
I will have her.
I’ll break her, make her mine, before she’s taken and defiled worse than I ever can do to her.
The darkness surrounds me.
It always has. By the time I was thirteen, I had seen far too many horrors. But it’s all him. He took and took, and when there wasn’t anything left, he preyed on others. Then again, he’s always done that. I recall the first time I learned what he was.
A monster.
It was that day my life changed. I’d never be the same again, and now that I’m twenty-five, I feel as if I’m an old, ragged man. Even though I’m only starting my life. Not the life I wanted, but the one I was thrust into at an early age.
There’s a stench in the basement when I enter. Five rooms sit to my left, and another five to my right. That’s ten captives he holds each year. One month, four weeks, he takes one of those lucky ten and ensures they shatter. The process is simple. They come in, they get tortured and used, and then on their final day, a group of men and women walk in, watch the show, and choose which they’d prefer.
He’s broken them in for years. It’s the way he gets off. I’ve seen the vilest of acts being done to girls over the years. He’s had boys here too. However, they don’t earn him enough, so he focuses on girls. They can offer him what boys can’t.
And as many years as I’ve been here, I’m still trying to find a way out. A way where I can run with my brother and my best friend and never look back. Slowly, with each night that falls, I know that day will never come. But I hold onto that faraway emotion we’re taught as kids.
Hope.
The problem is, in this place, that’s a fruitless wish. There’s no such thing as hope in here. Life will end here the same way it started. In agony. It’s the cries and screams that haunt the walls of the mansion. Even though the captives are kept in the basement, being on the upper levels, even in my bedroom, I hear them. As if they echo to me, to taint me for what I’ve helped be done to them.
I recall the day I walked into the basement when he was in one of his sessions.
The door is ajar. There’s a dim light telling me to run, to hide, but I don’t. I’m intrigued. I’m ten years old, and all I want is to learn to be a good boy. He tells me I need to be, but I never understand what he means.
I reach the last, cold, concrete step and peek through the space in the door. A gold light comes from within. A scream so loud, so filled with pain I can’t help stumbling back. It’s a girl. I can tell that already.
I lean forward once more, and the door slides open another inch. The image before me causes me to retch. The sound echoes along with her screams, and he snaps his vicious glare at me.
“Bring him in.” The familiar, deep voice I’ve known all my short life vibrates through the walls of the basement. Cold concrete greets my ass when I fall back.
Two strong meaty hands grip my bony shoulders, lifting me with no effort. My skinny legs flail wildly in the air as a man who’s the size of an ogre carries me inside the room where he’s standing.
“What the fuck is he doing in here?” the man questions.
I recoil when a hand reaches for my face. Gripping my neck, he lifts me onto a steel gurney and presses me flat on my back. The smell of blood is thick in the air, and I retch once more.
My body folds in the middle, my small arms hold onto my stomach, but he growls, ordering the ogre to bind my arms and legs to the four corners. Once I’m unable to move, he chuckles when I beg for mercy. But I know for a fact he won’t show it.
The little girl on the gurney beside me is not moving. Her long blonde hair is matted with dark red liquid. It looks like she’s sleeping —her eyes closed, her face at peace—and I notice her chest isn’t moving. She’s no longer breathing.
“What did you do?” My question is hoarse. My throat burns at the realization running through my mind. I shake my head when he looks at me and nods.
