by Louise Cayne
‘Why fight the inevitable?’ She thought to herself, her mind something of a blur. ‘Resisting will just make this whole fucking thing last even longer.’
So when Alberto requested that she lay on her back holding her ankles in the air, she did exactly as she was asked, resentfully, but with a degree of submission. He eased his ample body on top of hers and started kissing her face. He was heavy, but not so much that it was physically painful for Stacey’s petite figure to support him. Not that she knew what was happening anymore. Her mind had drifted into the past, remembering the day she met Mark and all the happy times they had shared. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.
When she finally snapped back into reality, her gown had been pushed up so it had ruffled around her neck. Her nipples were wet and sore, coated in saliva and Alberto had pulled his trousers down to his knees and had guided his modestly sized penis inside her. He was thrusting hard, resting his sweat dripping chest on her face as he struggled to support his own weight. Then, after a series of groans, Stacey felt him unload shot after shot of hot semen deep inside her. There was so much. She could feel it seeping out, streaming down into her ass and all over her back.
“Keep your legs up,” he ordered. “It increases the odds.”
As before, she did as he asked, until his attention was diverted by Vincent over the intercom.
“What’s going on in there, you’ve been awfully quiet since Tony pressed that button. Is everything alright there?”
“We’re still here. Me and Raylene were just sharing an intimate moment, but we’re done now.”
“Excellent, now listen, I’m gonna send Tony in to collect Raylene. I’m also gonna have to put the lights back on, so you might want to cover your eyes until we tell you it’s safe. Does that sound okay to you?”
“Sure thing, Vinny, just give me the word,” Alberto replied, holding his hands over his eyes. Stacey slowly pushed herself upwards and rose to her feet. She pulled the chemise down as far as it would go and waited patiently for the door to open. The dull hum of surging electricity vibrated around the room as the lights flickered back on just as Tony walked in. He held the door open for Stacey, acknowledging the look of defeat on her face with a wry smile as she trudged past him.
With Stacey out of the room, Tony remained inside, quietly closing the door behind her.
“You know, Al, ever since we were kids I always looked up to you. You were the best big brother a boy could wish to have,” Vincent admitted from his seat within the cubicle. From his position he could see everything in the room. “I don’t know where it all went wrong. I wish I could have got to you sooner, I really do, and maybe things would have been different. I knew about all the horrific things you did with those women, even before you started calling me up in the middle of the night and telling me about it, but I loved you all the same. You’re family after-all. For a while, that cop I told you about kept you out of trouble, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever… It’s his fault you wound up here. Don’t blame yourself for any of this… I want you to know that I took care of him for you. You don’t mess with us Moriellos, right? Listen, you know I love you, with all my heart, I do, but this place can’t fix you. Nothing can fix you.”
He paused again, struggling to contain his emotions.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Alberto, completely unaware of his surroundings, uncovered his eyes to find the muzzle of Tony’s signature .38 revolver aiming directly at his head.
“Goodbye, Al…”
Chapter 3
Eight months had passed since Tony shot Alberto dead in the asylum. The nurse had also been found dead; strangled to death inside the observing cubicle, but after a small bribe and some wonderful acting by Barbara the receptionist, the cops were happy to put it down to a security error on the restricted floor, which ultimately resulted in a riot, two deaths and prison time for two members of staff.
Another interesting development had occurred during this time, and that was that Stacey had been made pregnant. She still lived at Vincent’s place, but had been moved to an old out-building that used to belong to Vincent Sr. before he passed away. More recently it had been used to host the infamous Moriello poker nights; some of the blood stains were still clearly visible on the walls and the furniture and the smell of smoke and strong whiskey still lingered in the air.
The truth of the matter is that Vincent had intended to make Stacey a housekeeper, working alongside Monica. He believed that she still had more to offer, and the fact that she had no family or friends to speak of made her an ideal person to have around in-case anything came up. Since finding out about the pregnancy, his views had changed. He wanted her gone. Not necessarily dead, but gone, for good. So what was stopping him? What was stopping him from taking her to the sharks, forcing an abortion, or dumping her somewhere across the border? Well, that would be Raylene, who found out that the baby was a little Moriello, and ever since had acted as though it was herself who had got pregnant. It was her idea to move Stacey into the out-building, as she considered the room in the main house too small. Of course, she also hated it when Vincent played poker. Raylene was the only person that Stacey ever said anything to, although their conversations were never deep or intrusive, and more often than not it was Raylene doing all the talking with Stacey her sole, passive audience.
Raylene had always wanted children of her own, but Vincent had always been opposed to the idea. There was always a reason, the latest of which was that he was too old. Before that it was that Raylene was too old, which considering that she was a full decade younger than her husband, was taken as an insult. He made bad choices. He was irresponsible. Always some kind of excuse.
With little less than a month left until the due date, Raylene had visited Stacey for the second time since breakfast, this time holding a box in her hands and wearing a huge smile on her face.
“Look what I have,” she shouted as she bundled through the door like an excited child. “It’s a baby monitor, so I can watch you from the house.”
Stacey took the box unenthusiastically, and pretended to read what was on the back, whilst Raylene fiddled with the tuning on the monitor.
“Look at your bump. I think you’ve grown again since this morning.”
“You said that the last time you were here,” Stacey replied glumly. “How long ago was it? One hour? Not even that?”
“What’s wrong with you sweet-heart? Mood-swings? It’s only a mood-swing if your mood changes you know? You’ve been in a bad one ever since you got here.”
“What do you expect?”
Raylene was taken aback by Stacey’s volatile response, and offered nothing in the way of a reply of her own.
“I was happy before all of this…” She sobbed, looking down at her huge bump. “My husband was killed, by your husband no less, and his brother, also a murderer, has put a baby inside me I don’t even want.”
“Listen,” Raylene said, comfortingly, placing the monitor on top of the television. “I never knew your husband, but I did know Alberto. Not the messed up Alberto we all saw towards the end; the kind, gentle man he was before. Al would have done anything for me. You know, I never told anybody this, but he told me he loved me, and please, promise not to tell anybody… but I loved him too. I was already with Vincent at the time and things were complicated. Early on in my marriage, me and Al had an affair. It only lasted a few weeks then I called it off. It’s easy to say this looking back but I regret that decision to this day. For the life of me I can’t even remember why I stayed with Vincent. Al would have given me a family. That’s all I ever wanted, a family of my own. So let me tell you, if that little bump is anything like the man I used to know, you have been blessed.”
Stacey sighed and held her face in her hands. She despised everything about her situation, but she had always considered giving birth to be a wonderful thing. Her mixed emotions toyed with her every day and every night, keeping her awake, as she struggled to come to terms with
what she had become.
“You should get some rest,” Raylene advised. “Those bags under your eyes aren’t flattering at all.”
Just as she had motioned for the door, Vincent walked in looking extremely troubled. Breathing hard, his face burned bright red, and his hands trembled with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Holding a pistol in one hand and a monitor in the other, it quickly became obvious why he was so upset.
“You had an affair?”
“Vincent… I just…”
“You just what?” He yelled, grabbing her straightened red hair and pulling her towards his face, holding the monitor in front of her eyes. “Did you have an affair?”
“It was a long time ago, baby… it…”
“Oh, how stupid of me. It was a long time ago, so I must be over-reacting.”
“That’s not what I meant, baby… calm down, you’re hurting me.”
“I know, baby, I know. It’s not nice being hurt by the ones you love, is it? I heard your moving speech about Alberto… well let me tell you some other things about him… Let’s see… where to begin… Oh yeah, the fact that he was a rapist and a murderer. He stalked girls at night, coming out of clubs, finishing work, even the homeless ones sleeping rough in the street. He kidnapped girls and sold them to pimps, and they were the lucky ones, and make no mistake, I’m looking at you when I say this sweet-heart. How do you think you came to work for Bubba? Huh? Magic? It was Alberto’s doing. As for the unlucky ones… they were raped, and then strangled, and then as if that wasn’t enough, he had sex with them again… I know; it’s disgusting, right? My own brother had sex with dead bodies… It makes me sick. I don’t know why I tried to help him. I made it worse…”
“Honey, please don’t blame yourself,” Raylene said, her comment met with a fierce backhand across the face.
“You don’t tell me what to do, or what to feel ever again. Do you hear me? You two are sluts. Look at you… with your swollen belly… newsflash sweet-heart, your husband died eight months ago, and here you are, sat in my home, eight months pregnant with a lunatic child inside you. If that isn’t the behaviour of a whore, I don’t know what is… And you… My own wife… I’m lost for words.”
He took his pistol and struck Raylene powerfully on the side of her head, knocking her unconscious, before turning to Stacey and doing the same.
* * * *
When Stacey came around, she noticed it was dark. As her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings she realised that Raylene was on all fours just opposite her, and they were somewhere outdoors. Her tongue was swollen, sticking out of her mouth like a thirsty pupping waiting for water. She was cold, with good reason. She had been stripped bare, as had Raylene. Their arms and feet covered in set concrete, unable to move even slightly.
Footsteps could be heard close-by.
Then they stopped.
“Good evening ladies,” Vincent said. “You’ll be glad to know that I had a few drinks, and I managed to calm myself down a little, just in time to see you two whores waking up. You may be looking at each other and wondering why your tongues are drooping out like that, well, the truth is, I injected them with an anaesthetic. In my defence this was before I’d had a drink, so I still hadn’t calmed down at that point. Anyway, I brought you here, to this building site as I thought it was quite symbolic of our current situation. You see, although this looks like an abandoned shell of a building right now, in just a few months, there will be a brand new maternity unit, right here. It’s poetic, I think. I toyed with the idea of burying you both in concrete, so you could be a part of the foundations forever, but then these old, dishevelled looking men started walking on-site with their blankets and what not, and I started thinking… maybe there is another way. You see, by day, this place is filled with builders, but when night falls, it’s a haven for the homeless. There’s dozens of them. So I thought I’d give something back to the community for once in my life, and offer these people something truly special. Raylene… my darling wife… you wanted a family, well tonight you may just get your wish, but good luck figuring out who the father is. I’m going to go home and play poker with the boys, maybe try it on with Monica, I haven’t decided yet, but I never… want to see either of you two ever again in my life… Oh, and by the way… today is Friday…”
With that, a bedraggled looking Vincent turned his back on the women for good and left the site, an almost empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.
Stacey looked on in horror as the first wave of old hairy men crept up behind Raylene. Neither woman was capable of making a noise loud enough to attract any sort of help, as all they could muster were weak grunts such was the severity of the swelling. Even without a swollen tongue, they were in a part of the city where nobody went at night, and the constant barking coming from the salivating mouths of some of the hobo’s’ canine companions would most likely have drowned them out anyway.
Stacey could tell by the look on Raylene’s face that there were some men behind her too, and before long, six or seven hungry hands were exploring her helpless body. Rubbing her enlarged belly, and squeezing her swollen breasts, their hands trembled nervously; so long it had been since they had experienced the warmth of a woman’s skin. It didn’t take much longer for the more adventurous among them to start sliding fingers and tongues inside her, two or three men at a time, every hole available. She looked again at Raylene, who had a red, blistered cock half way down her throat. She gagged from the smell, and probably the taste too, covering each new cock in a coat of her saliva, which at least took away some of the taste. She was swaying back and forth, as though she was being fucked from behind, Stacey couldn’t tell as her view had been obstructed by a man standing in front of her. Overrun with pubic hair, it didn’t stop him from forcing his cock as far into her mouth as he could. Like Raylene had moments ago, Stacey gagged on the cock inside her mouth, and almost choked as it squirted a pathetic amount of yellow ejaculate onto her tongue, almost as soon as it had entered. The man tipped her head back as far as it would go, forcing her to swallow the bitter liquid he had left inside her.
The barking grew more intense, and as Stacey caught sight of Raylene from between the boil covered legs of one of the men, she realised why. Two of the men had poured tepid soup onto her back, and it had run down her legs. The dogs, as hungry as their owners, had wasted no time rushing toward Raylene, biting her, chewing on her and licking the soup from the crease of her spine. Her eyes screwed closed as one of the bigger dogs sunk his teeth into her calf, all the while her body being fondled by a mass of hands. One of the men positioned himself in between her legs, grabbed her shoulders and thrust himself inside her. A few strokes later and it was somebody else’s turn, and before long five or six men had each filled her with their pungent ejaculate.
As the night wore on, the abuse continued. Vincent’s words echoed through Stacey’s head as she realised what he had meant. ‘It’s Friday,’ he had said, which meant the builders wouldn’t be back for three nights. Of all the sexually depraved and humiliating situations she had been in, she considered this the worst. She wondered whether she would even make it to Monday, and if she did; what then? She was more lost now than she had ever been before.
