The driver waited, slouched over the wooden fence. He leered as the brute picked me up, helping me over the slats. The driver caught me, running hands sickeningly up my ribcage, brushing the sides of my br**sts. “Nice of you to try and run. We always like a chase.”
I dropped my eyes, taking in my dirt stained clothing. I prayed for that vacant part again, the cloud of uncaring, but as they pulled me, struggling, into the Tuscan inspired house, it never came. My mind shackled me to endure whatever would come next.
The brute shoved me through the door, and I jumped as it slammed shut. My throat dried, noticing how many locks braced the exit. It looked like a bunker—someone who didn’t trust a dead-bolt but had to have a chain and bar, too. What the hell did he do in here? Don’t answer that.
I tried hard not to panic, but breath came faster.
The brute strode fast, fingers bruising my upper arm as he pushed me through the house. Rooms of understated elegance and money greeted, but cobwebs laced chandeliers and dust rested on unused furniture. What the f**k was this place?
“Why are you doing this?” I asked as he opened a room and shoved me through. My jaw fell open.
The ballroom of the dilapidated house had been turned into a sadistic fun-room. Plasterwork of roses and angels on the ceiling smiled down on rows and rows of dusty floggers, whips, restraints, and so many toys it could’ve been a sex shop. Two expanses of the huge walls were mirrors.
I immediately looked away from the image. I couldn’t stand the sight of being entrapped by two men. My life had fallen into the devil’s clutches and I’d done this to myself! I ran from Q. I’d been stupid. So, so f**king stupid!
The brute grabbed my chin, making me look into black eyes. “I’m doing this because it’s high time that bastard Mercer gave me some p**sy. He thought he could stop farming out women? Too bad, he has customers, and customers have needs.”
My world fell apart. That couldn’t be true. Q was many things, but I couldn’t see him sharing women, trading them, renting them out. But some terrified part wondered if that’s how he earned his money. Where did he go during the day? Were there other girls, hidden in the house, being used, abused?
I shook my head. Q hated himself for what Russian Lumberjack did. His apology ached with remorse. He couldn’t have those sort of emotions and be a trafficker, too. It didn’t make sense!
The driver spoke up. “That cunt Mercer has a lot to answer for, and we’re gonna take those answers from you.” He licked his lips. “The moment you said he was the one you ran from, I couldn’t believe my f**king luck! He lied to us, and now you’re the one who will pay.”
I whimpered as The Brute grabbed the back of my neck, shoving me toward the massive mattress on the floor. I fell, coughing as a billow of dust surrounded me. My eyes smarted but I refused to let any moisture fall.
The men laughed and punched each other in the shoulder, as if they were about to get lucky on a date. The world was infested with evil. I hated them. Hated, hated, hated!
I glared up. “I’m not an object to take your revenge out on. If you have issues with Q, take it up with him!”
Brute laughed, slapping meaty thighs. “Oh, treasure. You are the perfect revenge.” He removed his brown jacket, shrugging it to the floor. “I am curious, though. How many girls does he have now?”
I clamped my lips closed. Q conned me into believing I was his only slave—his only plaything. Once again, jealousy gripped my heart. Everything Q made me believe was a lie. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t have emotions, and he trafficked women. He was worse than the men who kidnapped me—at least they wore their true colours. Q was a chameleon, so clever at hiding the truth.
Driver went to one of the racks and chose a flogger. Heartbeats raced as he swatted his hand, testing the sting. He grabbed a couple of packets from a dusty bowl and threw one at Brute.
The man nodded. “Merci.” His eyes fell on me and darkness took over. I wouldn’t be able to reason as no soul remained. I knew with deadly certainty they would kill me after. I wished they’d kill me now, before they ruined me.
Driver went behind me and I swivelled my neck, hating him being there.
The air thickened and all three of us froze—caught in a tiny window where normalcy reigned—then my life ended for the third time.
Brute threw himself onto the mattress; his bulk crushed, expelling my breath. I yelped as Driver’s hands wrapped in my hair, tugging so I had no choice but to lie down against the rank mattress. I always liked my long hair, but now I wished I was bald. My own body fettered me; I couldn’t get free. My scalp stung as he pulled harder. “Obey, slut.”
Brute wasted no time in clambering on top; his entire body made me retch. Breath reeked of cigarettes and sourness, and he pulled my legs apart as if they were matchsticks. He looked like a giant wildebeest, about to mount and rut to death.
My chest rose and fell; vision flickered with black spots as I hyperventilated. “Stop!”
The men laughed. “Keep begging, treasure. We like it when you cry.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. This was really going to happen. No humanity shone in his eyes. There wasn’t anyone to save me. No Brax. No Q.
Just me, two bastards, and an empty house.
I whimpered, squeezing my eyes closed as Brute unbuttoned my jeans and yanked them off. He did the same to my knickers as I scratched at Driver’s wrists, trying to make him let go of my hair.
Driver growled, letting go with one hand to slap me. The sound of palm hitting flesh ricocheted around the room. He slapped me again, coaxing tears to stream. Then he reached down, snaking a hand inside my t-shirt, pinching my breast so hard I saw jagged stars.
I wanted to remain mute, to not give them pleasure by begging. But words sobbed. “Please. I just want to go home. You were supposed to help me!”
Driver chuckled, twisting my hair with an evil flourish. “Oh, we’ll help you alright.”
I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. There was nothing but animalistic lust and enjoyment at my pain. What had Q done to these men to make them so happy to destroy a woman? Why must I pay for his sins?
Driver placed a hand on my throat and pressed down, choking me.
Tess, disappear. Find that place. Hurry!
Brute spat on his fingers, putting them between my legs. He frowned, muttering, “She’s f**king dry as a husk.”
My mind exploded with thoughts of Brax. I was always dry for Brax. But Q… Q made me wet. He befriended my body, despite my hate. I’d broken myself—I didn’t need men to torture me. I’d done it every night since I hit puberty.
I wilted in terror as Brute forced his saliva inside. Fingers scraped and tore. My dryness granted pain… agony.
If someone offered me a gun or this, I’d take the gun.
How could I think I wanted to be dominated, commanded? The naïve fantasy of rape wasn’t fun. It wasn’t sexy or hot. This was true rape, and it would do more than just take my body. It would be what finally broke me into tinkling, unfixable pieces.
Brute’s fingers thrust harder; dirty fingernails scraped the inside of my core. I thrashed my head to the side, ignoring the ripping of hair.
The tear of foil echoed and my breathing accelerated; a low keening sounded in my chest.
Driver slapped my face. “Shut up. You’ll like it, slut. Then it’s my turn.”
I opened my eyes. Big mistake.
Brute had his c*ck out, rolling a slimy condom down the length. The smell of latex filled the air, gagging me. I tried to close my legs, to lock knees together.
Driver laughed, passing the flogger over my head to him. “Use this. Make her ready.”
Brute’s lips stretched into a cruel smile. “Ah, treasure. You’re in for it now.” He raised his arm and struck.
The leather bit my nak*d thigh, welting immediately with angry blood. I bit my lip, trying so hard to pretend I was dead.
Brute hit me again. And again. Each lick eroded parts of me: my hopes, my stupid thoughts of escape, my love for Brax, my hatred for Q—everything twisted into a cauldron of filthy emotions, sucking me deep into the dark. The fight I prided myself on, disintegrated into pieces and I shrivelled. Each beat stripped me bare; I became lost. I no longer knew who Tess was—I didn’t want to know.
The flogger stopped and Brute wrenched my legs apart. Spitting on his fingers, he rubbed my entrance roughly.
“Please—” I moaned. “Don’t.”
Brute laughed, positioning himself between my legs. “Was that a beg, treasure? You want me?”
Driver panted heavily in my ear, pulling my hair in excitement. “I think she’s asking you to f**k her. Better give her what she wants.”
Please, oblivion take me. I wouldn’t survive. My mind rattled like fractured glass already.
Brute shifted, nudging me with his cock. My body revolted, stomach snarled, and tears flurried down my cheeks. No, no, no.
Brute grunted, forcing his way inside. My flesh rejected him, burning with violation.
Hips thrust, burying himself deep. His head dropped as he shuddered, grinning at Driver. “She’s f**king tight. You’ll enjoy this one.”
Driver growled. “Hurry up.” He forced horrible fingers into my mouth, tasting of sourness and metal.
While Driver f**ked my mouth with fingers, Brute thrust his hips, bucking with violence. Heavy breathing rained on my face, horrid, rancid.
I tried to shut everything off. I wanted to bite Driver’s fingers—I wanted to fight. I’d been reduced to a piece of meat.
My ears rang, and the room swam with delirium. Mirrors reflected Brute’s nak*d ass as he f**ked me. My eyes were haunted, and Driver loomed with a manic look on his face.
A loud bang sounded from somewhere in the house; Brute faltered in rhythm. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see if more men arrived—if I’d be subjected to endless purgatory. I never wanted to open my eyes again.
Another bang, then empty air. Brute’s horrible c*ck disappeared and his weight flew off. My hair jerked, then released as Driver screamed.
Grunts and shouts amplified around the room and I opened my eyes.
Three men in suits beat Brute where he huddled in a ball with jeans around his ankles and arms over his head. Blow after blow they rained, and I flinched when one kicked Brute’s jaw so hard, his head snapped back, and teeth flew.
My hands curled, loving retribution, the pain Brute suffered.
Driver was strung to the mirrored wall on the rack with whips and handcuffs. More guards punched him; his head lolled on shoulders, blood glinting on his temple.
My heart leaped free from my flogged and hurting body as Q strode into the room. He moved with angry grace, hands curled, mouth pursed. But his eyes—I’d never seen such rage contained.
“Putain de bâtards,” Q seethed, pulling a gun from his lower back, stalking toward where Brute lay whimpering on the floor. “You f**king touch a girl of mine and think you could survive?”
Brute reached for him, eyes imploring mercy. “We only took what we used to get from your family. Nothing more.” Blood and spittle flew from his mangled mouth.