My palms turn clammy, and my breath flattens itself, like a child hiding under the bed from the monster, when ten men lift the front half of the rug. The girl is pushed to the ground, landing on her knees, while someone bellows a command in Russian.
I watch, in horror, as she starts crawling, her petite body quaking so hard she has trouble balancing on all fours. Once she’s more or less in the middle, the carpet drops, trapping her underneath.
“Watch,” Darius hisses, wrenching my jaw to turn my head.
Fear whips itself around my chest when one man places his foot on the rug. With a cruel snap, his belt strikes down. It’s three times as long and twice as wide as a normal belt, adorned with sharp, silver studs and a metal buckle with a prong so sharp it could bite into the scalp and, with a tug, rip it wide open.
The girl cries out, pain undoubtedly lacing her skin even through the thick carpet.
Another man joins, then another, and within seconds a cacophony of belts and whips lashing down fills the grand space. Save for Darius, not one man here isn’t torturing the girl while she crawls every which way.
It’s sick. Vile. It makes me want to scream, cry, and puke all at the same time while her screams pierce my eardrums.
One girl at the front of the room grabs the door handle, desperate to run, but the door is locked shut. Her blatant escape attempt costs her a kick to the back of her legs. She goes down, knees cracking against the parqueted floor.
Tears blur my vision as I scrutinize the other girls. They’re mostly shell-shocked, but a few seem unfazed. Like they’ve seen it before and know what to expect.
Or maybe they enjoy the premise.
People have all kinds of kinks... some enjoy degradation, some enjoy pain, and some prefer praise.
My mind drifts back to how Nash worshipped every inch of my skin. How he cradled me into his chest all night, both arms around me, his soft lips stamping tender kisses wherever he could reach.
He’s a liar I shouldn’t have trusted, but when I gave him my heart, he held it close and took care of it. He took care ofmeeven while he was prying for information. Despite his lies, knowing not one moment we shared was real, I’d give my right arm to be with him now.
The girl under the rug reaches the left edge. I quake harder, seeing how the man standing closest unbuckles his belt, exposing his cock. As soon as her violet head peeks out, he fists her hair, hauls her up and forces his dick down her throat.
She slaps her hands against his thighs, trying to shove him away, but the more she fights, the more eager he seems.
Dropping the whip, he walks backward, dragging the girl with him until he falls onto the nearest leather couch, never once letting her take a breath. He holds his cock deep in her throat until he sits comfortably, and my mind floods with Alex. Every flashback of his cock in my mouth resurfaces, flickering before my eyelids, a cruel looped clip.
“Lucky fucker,” someone beside me says, snapping me out of one nightmare and straight into another.
The man on the couch wraps the girl’s violet hair around his wrist and gouges his fingers into her scalp, yanking her up only to ram her down quickly. Up and down, up and down, over and over, his head thrown back, eyes rolling into his head, lips parted to let out disgusting moans.
The other men shuffle about, extending the distances between them to patch the hole in formation he created.
The choking and gagging sounds are quickly overpowered by shrills when three more girls are shoved under the rug.
“You’re next,” Darius tells me, flexing his fingers around my elbow. “You know where I am. The quicker you get here, the less bruises you’ll collect.” He yanks me closer, my cheek hitting the handle of a knife taped to his bicep. “Don’t even think about veering left or right. Either you come here, or I’ll make sure every man in this room gets a turn with you.”
It takes thirty seconds for one of the girls to emerge five feet away, in front of a guy already palming his cock, but he isn’t interested in her mouth. He drags her out, spins her around, slams her against the nearest table, and fucks her from behind.
She cries out, then again even louder when he raps her head down. The sound of cheekbone connecting with the wooden top makes my stomach sink to my feet.
“Little princess is next,” Darius booms once the other two girls have been promptly dragged away.
Tears sting my eyes at the sound of horny grunts and pained whimpers, but I hold them in. And I don’t dare look around. I can’t watch them being raped. Just hearing it will give me nightmares for the rest of my life.
“Cross the room.” Darius shoves me forward, my cold, bare feet touching the rug.
Every man around stares at me with dark, heated eyes. Half have already pulled their dicks out, jerking off to the sickening sounds of distressed girls being raped on the sidelines. I take the first step, my vision swaying.
It’s a no-win situation.
I can’t get out of here without being raped.
What’s more, I have to willingly cross this room then crawl under the rug to get whipped from all directions.
