by Pamela Ann
“Pussy still fucking tight, baby.” He laughed, and I heard his friends laugh along with him.
“She does look good, bro. I mean, the ass looks perfect from this angle,” Dwayne or Sean commented. I wasn’t sure which of the guys had said it because I could barely lift my eyes.
“Can I hit it, too?” asked one of them.
Doug’s thrusting became frenzied as he pounded deeper, harder into me. “Shit, let me finish up first.”
What did that mean? I wondered in my hazy mind.
Chapter 19
Apparently, I didn’t have to wonder much because Doug barely finished before he roughly shoved me on my back so he could stand to clean up, and Dwayne was standing naked, waiting for his turn. I mumbled my protest for him to stop, but he cupped his hand over my mouth and started fucking me anyway. It got worse because Sean joined in, taking me from behind. I had never felt such excruciating pain, but then Doug immediately gave me another dose in my arm so I would be numb… and I was.
With my glazed and blazed eyes, I vaguely recalled seeing him having sex with Kori on the other couch while his two friends worked on me.
They took turns. All three of them. I protested, of course I did, but those muffled, incoherent complaints were stifled with a shirt tied around my mouth and more drugs injected in my system.
This abuse went on for two whole straight days. I couldn’t move from soreness, nor did I eat anything they handed me. My lifeless body was stuck to the couch, trembling from the pain it was going through. The pain came from the sexual trauma and the intense withdrawals I had from crack, the ceaseless craving I had for the drug. I wanted more of it. I wanted it to take all these pains away. The guilt that was eating at my mind, my soul, I wished it all gone.
Doug had crossed so many lines, however this one took the cake. This one was not vile—it went beyond that. The word vile was describing it mildly. The horror I went through was abominable. It drew no pleasure, not even for a second. Even if my pussy was wet from their constant coming inside me, it hurt. What’s more, it made me feel cheap—cheaper than a whore, because a whore enjoyed it, and I clearly didn’t.
What confused me more was how odd my body was reacting to it. It throbbed, and it kept throbbing. When they took breaks to eat and regain their strength, two hours later, it was as if my pussy was trained to be in heat as it craved one of their dicks inside me, yet it drew no pleasure, only pain as I had stated. Like this instance for example…
“How’s your tight, little hole?” Sean asked as I felt his thumb press against my anal hole, making me slightly lift my eyelids open. He loved taking me this way. Thankfully, he was gentler than Dwayne.
I let out a grunt in response before I felt a straw placed in between my lips and sucked on it for some cold water.
“Shot,” I whispered the word a few times before I closed my eyes again.
“Aye, aye, mamita, you addicted to our dicks.” Dwayne laughed from the other side of the room. It wasn’t hard to decipher who was saying what now because, after a day with them, I had learned their voices quite well.
“Shot,” I croaked out again.
Kori said something to them before I felt the needle pierce into the raw spot on my arm.
“Kori’s got you, baby. You good.” Kori patted my ass before I heard her heels make that clack clack sound, walking somewhere away from the living room.
“Where’s the lube at?” Sean asked loudly, sounding frustrated.
Dwayne grumbled before I felt him massage my boobs. “Callate, pendejo. Use your nut that’s coming out of her pussy. Problem solved.”
“Fuck. You nasty.”
“Mierda,” Dwayne said as he sucked on my tits, making me sigh from the nice, tingling feeling I got from it. “If you don’t want it, then move. I want to fuck her. She’s good.”
“She’s all yours, bro.” Sean moved away. I was assuming he was probably watching on the sidelines while his friend did what he couldn’t do.
The sharp sound of a metal zipper being pulled down vaguely alerted me to what was to come. I should have cared. Deep down, I knew I should have. Yet I didn’t. I was too high, too fucked up to care anymore.
I felt him part my legs and the tip of his dick slid up and down the crack of my pussy to my ass. Then, dipping it in my pussy, he pulled it out to circle the entrance of my asshole. He did this a few more times before he took me from behind. I remembered my body shivering and trembling as Dwayne took his sweet time with it.
As did Sean.
Then Doug.
And all three of them all at once.
Like I said before, I wished I cared more, but I was secure in my own little, darkened nook, conveniently located in one of the crevices of my mind.
My body was theirs. My mind was my own.
It was enough.
For now…
Chapter 20
I woke up as if someone was choking me. I was gasping for air. My throat was ash dry, my tongue felt like sand, and the mere idea of breathing was unbearably painful. Willing my body to stand on my feet, I could barely sum up energy to lift myself, therefore I rolled to my side until I fell on the carpeted floor.
Pushing myself up with my elbows, coughing as I did so, I immediately felt the liquid ooze out of both of my holes as I gathered myself up to move, crawling on the floor with the use of my forearms.
At the crack of dawn, all four of them left the house when Dwayne had gotten a call. He had spoken in rapid, fluent Spanish before he yelled at everyone to get ready to bounce. Doug then told me he’d be back in a few days, maybe a week. But he’d surely be back, thus I shouldn’t even try to think about running away because he would hunt me down and kill me himself.
I wasn’t sure how long I crawled towards the kitchen fridge. My arms were sore. I had never exerted this much effort to move. I supposed, after days without food and barely drinking any liquids with insurmountable drugs injected into me, this was bound to happen. My body was limp, as though it didn’t have any energy at all. Even breathing felt painful, like I had to use all energy and focus to do it.
Once I got to the fridge, I reached for one of the cabinet handles to plop myself upwards and onto my feet before I took hold of the refrigerator, hanging onto the matte, metallic handle as if it was a lifesaver. My body trembled, sweating like I had run to the Sahara Desert.
I engaged all of my effort into opening the door. Fresh, cool air greeted my face, making me salivate more to quench my thirst, wanting something cool to soothe my achy throat. The first thing I spotted was the milk carton. Not bothering to check if it was expired or not, I roughly gripped it, uncapped it then placed it on my cracked, dry lips. The immediate coolness in my mouth was refreshing, but swallowing the contents was harder than I would have thought. Moreover, when I did swallow a bit of it, the pain was just as unbearable as breathing air into my lungs.
Weak and hollow with the milk carton in my hand, my body slipped against the fridge before I was on the ground again, spilling some of the contents on the floor and my body. I was choking and coughing before my eyes got blurry once more, as if I was about to faint. Calming myself, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the exterior of the refrigerator.
Steady… steady…
Breathe… Open your mouth and breathe.
Keep breathing, even if it hurts.
JUST. KEEP. BREATHING.
My mind was a mess, yet it dictated what to do, and I did as it directed me. It was as if my mind was yelling at me, never letting me give up, even if I wanted to stop breathing altogether because the pain was too much to bear.
I wasn’t sure how long I was on the kitchen floor. I took my time, taking miniscule sips of milk as I programmed my body to endure the pain of drinking it while also numbing myself from the hurt I had from breathing air. I was so consumed by it, I spent a lot of my time doing only that. I was there possibly half of the day. By the time I managed to get up, it was already dark.
I didn’t really
get up and walk. It was more like limping as I hung onto the nearest fixture that could help me with my weight, step by step, until I reached the stairs, until I reached the security and comfort of my bedroom. Seeing my bed had never had this effect on me. I stared at it like it was nirvana, thinking, once I was on it, comforted and blanketed, I would feel better, I would feel whole again.
Gradually making my way towards it, I unceremoniously let my body fall the moment my knee touched the edge of the mattress. Depleted, my body surrendered to the exhaustion that conquered my senses once more. I slept until my head ached.
Waking up the following morning wasn’t as eventful as yesterday. For that, I was more than grateful, too.
The memory of being that parched, as if one drop of water or any liquid on my tongue was salvation, was enough to frighten me into making sure to have a bottled water gripped in my hand everywhere I went in the house. I took it while I showered, while I prepared my breakfast, cocooned in my arms as I took a nap after I ate. Everything I did, I had one with me.
After waking up from my hour nap, my hazy mind started to clear up, as though the fog causing me to think incoherently had immediately vanished. I instantly thought of the phone and sent a text message to Hunter. I hoped it wasn’t too late since Doug had left the previous morning, but what could I do? I sure couldn’t even stand on my own two feet, let alone draw up a sentence that made sense. This was the best I could, consequently I hoped it was enough for Hunter as well.
Hunter…
Thinking about his name brought sadness to me. I wasn’t sure why, but if he asked I didn’t think I could confess what had happened to me in the past couple of days as Doug’s friends were “staying over.”
It wasn’t out of embarrassment—maybe a little of that—but I believed it had more to do with how he viewed me. True, he and Doug had made a deal that put me in his bed in the first place, but there was something about him. I sure couldn’t fathom him learning what I had been doing, or more like, what the men had been doing to me and my body.
Every time those ice-blue eyes of Hunter gazed upon me, I felt like a woman—a desirable woman. If he learned what had occurred and saw me differently—not a whore but more like a piece of garbage, one men spat at, choked, and beat up—I wasn’t sure how I could handle it. If he ever learned the truth.
I just wanted to hide it, to save face. For someone to know me without ever knowing the whole truth. Partial truths and half truths weren’t the same as the whole truth. The whole truth was between Doug and I, and I would like to keep it that way until I was ready—emotionally and mentally—to share it with another living soul.
The weekend bag was in the same spot as I had left it Sunday. I was relieved to find the phone and everything else was still in there. Typing and sending the message didn’t take up much time. Subsequently, after sending Hunter the update, I immediately went into the bathroom to take a long bath. I only hoped I could wash and scrub away the grime and filth those pigs had rubbed on me, scrub away the sounds of their grunting and groaning—the short, hollowed out panting as they pleasured themselves with my body, using it for their own selfishness without any consent from me. Not only was my body filthy, but they had also tainted my soul.
My soul that craved one thing—more euphoria. More. More of the shots.
I knew I was in trouble. Moreover, no matter how my mind was cautioning me in a loud warning that I was only digging myself into more trouble, my body—my mind—was focused on solely one thing. Shots.
It chanted. It imagined. It craved. It sought, like it was a part of me, and without it, I would die. It made me feel and think it was essential to my existence. It made it my reason. It made itself a purpose. How did I challenge that?
Knowing Doug, he never made it a habit of leaving any around the house when he wasn’t here. I wasn’t sure if it was out of habit before my mother died and his father resorted to hiding in the cabin, however even though they were gone, he still took everything with him. It was as if they were a part of him, too. Maybe it was. God only knew how long he’d been using.
He sure did seem like he knew it all well; he was efficient around it. A year? Maybe two? It was funny how the drugs made me feel amazing, yet the effects on him only enhanced his psychosis. Maybe he had already been psychotic and he had been stomping down on his evilness all that time I knew him… Perhaps the drugs only gave him the illusion of power, courage, to bring out what he’d been hiding behind that mask of his all these years.
Without drugs around, and with no appetite for food, I ended up drinking more liquids. Mostly, I consumed all the juices in the fridge, hoping it was enough to sustain me until my mind would cease to imagine the feeling of the sharp needle penetrating my skin, shooting magic into my veins before giving me the world.
My freedom.
Chapter 21
It wasn’t until the next day that I finally dragged myself to a functioning capacity. Though my mind and body were somehow jittery from craving the drug I had no idea how to get a hold of, I knew I had to occupy my mind before I went crazy with just imagining what it would be like to have the first shot of euphoria stream into my blood. I could only replay it in my mind, so much so that I ended up angry with myself for succumbing to an addiction to it.
I was weak—very weak—and I had to live with that.
The days that I was passed out and drugged up had left the house in such a mess; dishes were piled, garbage overflowed, crumbs and leftover pizza and fast food wrappers were trashed everywhere around the house. Obviously, no one was going to clean it except for me. Although I was haggard and exhausted, it was the perfect solution to occupy me while I was craving badly.
Cleaning the house took me until nine at night to finish, and by then, I was ready to shower and sleep. Extreme fatigue added with physical labor was seriously a hard struggle to get through, but I had done it anyway. Why? Because it was better than simmering in my own self-loathing and fighting with the intense craving that got worse by the second.
Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I tied a knot on the black plastic trash bag to dump outside. Once I opened the door, I was greeted with cool air, refreshing my body, reviving me somehow.
I forgot how nice it is outside, I thought with momentary sadness.
Pacing myself towards the garbage bins, I was caught unawares when I found Logan walking towards me, meeting me halfway.
“Hey,” I murmured, barely cracking a smile since I really didn’t feel like smiling or doing anything that would take effort to be nice and accommodating. I was numb, frozen within, and a numb person couldn’t smile.
“Hi. I came the other night to look for you, but Doug almost shut the door in my face. He said you were busy…”
What he had just said shocked me momentarily. I ended up staring at him for a full minute before deciding to calm down and play it cool. His facial expression gave off like he was fine, though a little confused. I had no idea why.
“Oh, yeah, he said something like that, but it slipped my mind. Sorry. Did you need me for something?”
Of course, Doug had never mentioned anything because I was out like a light and so drugged out of my mind I couldn’t function at all, but I wasn’t going to openly admit that. I could imagine the horrified look I’d get from a good guy like Logan. He’d probably think I was a head case.
Maybe it wasn’t probably; maybe I already was a head case.
He sighed, looking torn and frustrated, before he inserted his hands in his pockets, gazing at me with a look I couldn’t really pinpoint. “It’s no biggie really. Well, you see… I’m leaving tomorrow,” he rushed out, catching me off guard. “My cousin just opened a bar in San Diego… and… I’m going there to help out.”
Fuck, he was leaving? The only friend I had was leaving. He wasn’t a “friend,” per say, but he was the closest thing I had.
Immense sadness seized me, thinking that, by tomorrow, I really was going to be all alone again, with no ally I could run to.
In reality, I wouldn’t really do much, but it had been nice to always have Logan next door, just in case I needed help or something was to happen. Yes, it would be truly hard to lose him, too.
Awkward and with no clue as to how to say goodbye to the only friend I’d ever had, I tried to look friendly again and make the best smile I could come up with. “Oh, I guess, have a safe trip…” I said, haltingly.
He bought my odd smile and gave me a genuine one in return before he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a crumpled paper. “Here. I thought you might want to come and visit or something.” He placed the crumpled paper in-between his hands and smoothed the edges before handing it to me. It had his San Diego address and the name of the bar his cousin was opening. I took it with a shaky hand and inserted it in my pocket, feeling grateful for him again. “If you need help—any help—don’t count me out. You’ve still got my number, right?”
He still wants to be friends, I thought with so much happiness and excitement the feeling overwhelmed me. I thanked the man up there for not making me completely lose the only friend I’d ever had.
“Yeah… Thank you, Logan—” I was about choked up with emotions, but I didn’t let that stop me from dropping the garbage onto the ground and walking up to him, giving him a fierce hug. It wasn’t a hug of goodbye. It was a thank you for being so kind to me, for always looking out even when I hadn’t asked him to be there for me. “I’ll definitely come and see you when I get a chance.” After Hunter paid me off, I’d be sure to visit him in California.
“That would be great. Well, I’m a phone call away if you need me for anything, like I said—” he calmly added before releasing himself from my hug and then gazing down on me before kissing my forehead. “I have to pack; my flight leaves first thing in the morning.”
Drat. “All right. Well, please take care, okay?”
He smirked before giving me a wave of goodbye. “I will if you do, Ana.”
This time, my smile was effortless. “I sure will, Logan. You can bet on that.”
