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“Please,” I beg, before I can stop myself, and I hate that I do it. I hate that I’m begging for mercy. But it’s too much. The pain is too much.

“You’re a whore, Scarlett,” Vincent snarls as he starts thrusting more and more violently into me. “You’re a cheap little tart. The only part of you worth anything is this cunt, and it’s been so well used that it’s barely worth your bed and board.”

His words shouldn’t have the effect they do on me. Nothing he says should hurt me but my tears are streaming down my face and I hate how trapped I am. How stuck I am.

There is no escape from this.

No escape from them.

“Listen to it,” He groans, as something inside me gives way, as some part of me still resisting is forced into submission in the worst way possible. “Listen to your cunt, listen to how you squelch, bitch.”

It’s not arousal. It can’t be. I don’t want to look and yet I stupidly do, I stupidly drop my gaze and then I scream more, scream at the amount of blood, the damage, what this man is doing to me.

I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised by it. I know both he and Alex are raping me on a regular occurrence, that shit has to leave a mark, and sooner or later that will leave permanent damage.

“Stop.” I beg again. “Please, please stop…”

He pulls his hand out, gives me a moment of reprieve and then he’s rubbing his cock through the mess, sliding it between my labia.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” He says, chuckling, like I’ve squirted and not bled out.

I can feel the length of him, the hardness, pushing against me. He’s not as big as his son, not as hard either but it’s still repulsive. Still disgusting.

He then pushes me back down, forces me into a tighter angle and works his way into my arse, using my blood as lube, while I start screaming once more.

“Fuck,” He groans. “Fuck, I’m gonna miss this, miss this cunt, miss this arse, miss this feeling.”

“You make me sick.” I hiss back. My words are my only defence now. My only form of fight. My own way to show that while he may have my body, he doesn’t have me the person. He hasn’t ever taken that part of me. “You’re a disgusting piece of shit. You…”

He throws his head back and laughs like I’ve said some sort of joke. Something funny.

“Wasn’t that long ago you were riding this cock, so eager to please.” He taunts.

I shake my head. No. No, that’s a lie.

He lowers his head, his mouth right by my ear as he thrusts. “You wanted it Scarlett, you took off your slutty little dress, and while your husband watched on, you sucked my cock like you couldn’t get enough.”

“I didn’t.”

His laughter fills my ears as his disgusting body continues to abuse me. And I can see it. That scene. That moment.

We were here, in this very house. It was the first time I’d met them, Alex’s parents.

Irene had retired early for the night. Alex and his father and I, we were having a nightcap.

We were talking. Alex was trying to impress me with some business thing and I’d just sat there, feeling like the alcohol had gone to my head far too quickly to be normal, feeling like my mind couldn’t focus.

I’d tried to blink, to gain some composure. Was I drooling? God, I hoped not. But it felt like I was.

I’d only had one glass, two at most. Why did everything feel like it was spinning?

God it was hot. So hot.

Something seemed to prickle beneath my skin, like an itch I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I’d let out a gasp, and it had sounded far too salacious, far too inappropriate for the setting.

What the fuck was wrong with me? If I didn’t know better I’d think I was high, no, not high, turned on, gagging for it.

I could feel arousal pooling between my thighs, but why?

Why was I reacting like this? Why did it feel like my blood was pounding in my ears while desire pounded in my most intimate of places?

And then Vincent had made some crude remark, something about wanting a real look at me, without all the fancy wrapping getting in the way.

And Alex had laughed and said ‘what else had he brought me here for?’.

I’d looked between them, confused. What was going on here? What even was this? Did they know, could they tell that I was feeling… I don’t even want to define how I was feeling. It was shameful, disgusting, no decent human felt the amount of lust that was churning in me at this moment.

But my dress, my dress was being undone. Unzipped. I hadn’t done it. I know I hadn’t.

And that cool air swirled around my body.

No.

NO.

I didn’t want to do that.

I didn’t…

I shut my eyes. I shake my head more violently, swearing that I can hear my screams ringing out in my ears, but I know it’s just the past. Just more ghosts demanding to be suddenly let out and vanquished.

“You bastard.” I scream. “You drugged me, even then…”

He thrusts into me so hard my hips slam into the wood, and more pain explodes in my body.

“You were always a whore, Scarlett. That was the point.”

“I didn’t, I wasn’t…” Tears start to pool. I don’t know whether it’s the fact he’s raping me, or the realisation that this abuse had been going on far longer than I’d realised. Far longer than just my supposed sickness and my move to this infernal house.

“You took after your mother in that regard too.” He continues. “She liked to strut around our office in those tight little dresses. She enjoyed the attention, preened under the gaze of so many men.”

“No,” I choke. That’s a lie. A nasty, horrible, bullshit lie.

“Yes,” He groans. “She was a filthy little slut. Oh, she pretended not to be, but I knew deep down what she was. We all did.”

“My mother was a kind…”

“Filthy. Fucking. Slut.” He punctuates every word with one brutal thrust after another.

The pain of her death hits me harder. The pain of this entire situation seems to break me more. I just want it over. I just want whatever this ending is to be here. Right now.

But that’s not the answer, is it?

That’s not the plan.

I don’t even know what the plan is, but I know there is one. That I’m not completely helpless here. That I’m not as much of a sacrificial lamb as they believe me to be.

Christ, it hurts.

It hurts so much.

Vincent groans again, tightening his grip, grunting a slew of expletives about how ‘great my arse feels’. And while I want to shut down, to switch off, to disassociate and disappear into my own mind until this barbarity is over, I can’t. I just can’t.

All I keep thinking is that this is my life. That I’m trapped. That he will walk out this door and any minute after, he or Alex will decide they want another go. And they’ll keep using me. Abusing me. Treating me like I’m nothing more than a fleshlight until I draw my last breath.

He suddenly jerks, slamming into me one final time before I can feel his dick pumping his disgusting DNA into me. Then after he’s done, he just lays there on top of me, stealing the very breath from my lungs.

When he gets up, he kicks my legs out and I fall from the bench, crumbling onto the floor, where I lay, half broken, with both my blood and his come leaking out of me.

“You’re a means to an end, Scarlett.” He says before spitting on me. “A hole to use, and a thing to fuck until your time is up.”

I can’t look at him. I can’t bring myself to meet his awful eyes, but I’m aware of every step he takes as he walks out of the room.

I need this to stop. I need this to end.

I try to get up, but my arms won’t work. I try to force myself to my knees, but they buckle. And then that screaming that was only in my head, is now erupting. It’s exploding. And I can’t shut it up. I can’t do a damned thing except let it out, let it all out.