Page 26 of Jagged Souls

Those words weren’t just tattoos on my skin. They were akin to a wedding band and all its vows – a promise of love, devotion, and protection. It was the strongest tie I had to home, and now it’s been violated and destroyed. Exactly like I will be soon.

Tears burning my eyes, I try to call out for the dark magic again, but my voice box won’t work enough to shape a spell into existence. I am utterly defenseless and at the mercy of these men.

Antonio steps back and takes the phone off Sadist. He stands coldly to the side, his eyes on mine, his camera pointed at me. Sadist grabs my hips and hauls me to him. With his pants already shoved down to his knees, his hard cock presses against my naked pussy. I will myself to sit up again, to keep fighting, but my body’s been too deprived of oxygen and blood, and my limbs and brain are sluggish.

A palm slaps across my face, whipping my head to the side before cruel fingers grab my chin and yank me back to face him. “Come on, whore,” Sadist sneers as he forces my mouth open. “Don’t stop fighting me now.”

He shoves the fingers of his other hand into my mouth, rubbing them against my tongue. I gag on reflex, and he laughs before releasing my face and backhanding me across it. My head hits the table. Blood seeps from my cut cheek and busted lip. Pain radiates inside my skull, but I find it in me to pull one leg up and kick him in the chest. He staggers back as I sit up, delight curling his lips, and I know he let me shove him back. There was barely any strength in that blow.

But if he wants to draw this out, then I’ll use this time to get more messages to Varius.

I scoot back towards the other end of the table, where the men who were holding down my arms are now hiding their faces. If I can get them in the shot, Varius can search the country for them, then he can figure out what city I’m in. If I can get the camera to pan around the room, maybe he can figure out the building.

But I barely make it off the table before I’m grabbed by Sadist. He hauls me back around and punches me in the liver. The explosion of agony makes my knees buckle. I drop like a stone, but I’m caught before I hit the floor, then I’m tossed back onto the table.

My legs are wrenched apart by other men. Sadist steps up between my legs.

“I knew you’d like this,” he sneers as he rubs the head of his cock between my naked pussy lips. Disgust fills me, thickening with every stroke he does. My stomach burns from all the cuts, and the men holding my ankles spread me even wider.

“You have a fucking ugly cunt,” Sadist says. “It would be better to fuck a pig, but you’re just begging me to take you, aren’t you, whore?”

I’m not. Varius, I swear I’m not.

“And I’m nothing if not a nice guy.” He shoves into me with one hard thrust.

I arch up on a soundless scream.

Sheer agony burns through my pussy, like I am being sandpapered inside, like a hot knife is being thrust into me. He’s tearing me apart, ripping me into a thousand pieces, a thousand cuts that are then filled with salt. With acid. With fucking fire.

I scream despite the bruising of my voice box, emitting only a raspy wheeze that can’t express the volume inside my skull. I twist on the table, trying to flee. I beat at him with numb hands, trying to make him stop. But he doesn’t stop, and I can’t flee.

He grunts as he rams into me, pulling out and shoving all the way in; each movement is tearing me apart. His fingers dig hard into my hips. His pelvis bruises my thighs.

“Wrap her legs around me,” he orders as he grabs my breasts with both hands. He squeezes them painfully, then slaps them to make them jiggle. This entire time, I’m hitting him, each whack sending agonizing pain through the holes in my wrists. And there’s a part of me wondering if I’m still ‘seducing’ him, if he’s only raping me because I’m allowing it. Have I made the wrong choice to fight back? By knowing he’s a sadist, should I be lying still so he can’t get it up? Is me hitting him a twisted way of giving consent?

Am I leading him on?

My throat grows tight as all these thoughts ram into me. This confusion and disgust and pain and self-loathing. I am not Micha Black right now. Not even Micha Shadow.

All I am is a victim.

A thing for him to use.

Not human.

He fucks me faster, harder. The two men wrap my legs around him, forcing me to cross my ankles, to hug him like I want him, when in reality, I want nothing more than to die.

It hurts so much. The burning in my pussy, the dirtiness of the act, and the knowledge that Varius will watch this. Will he blame me for making the wrong choices? Will he see my pathetic blows as me just ‘playing hard to get’ with a sadist?

I cry, my whole body shaking, and I don’t know what to do anymore. Fight back or lie still? I just want to go home. I just want my husband to burst through those doors and take me home.

“She’s so fucking wet, Varius,” he says as he fucks me on camera. “I’m sliding into her pussy like it’s a Slip ‘N Slide.”

I’m not!I scream. I’m not wet at all. But it’s his word against mine, and I’m terrified Varius will believe him.

Sadist’s hand closes around my throat, and I know he’s getting close to coming. My relief that he’s going to finish quickly wars with the knowledge that he’s going to come inside of me. I don’t want him to fill me with his poison. I try to move away again, but both my legs are held firmly around his back.

He lifts me up by my neck, forcing me to sit on the edge of the table. I slam an elbow into his nose, snapping it to the side. Blood pours down his face. He punches me in the jaw with his free hand. Once, twice. Then he headbutts me, and as I’m left reeling, he releases my neck to wrestle my arms behind me.