by Abby Weeks
XVII
WHEN ROSE HEARD THOSE WORDS she knew that it was already over. There was no point even trying to resist this or hope that it could turn out any differently. Patrice wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t going to take on the might of the DRMC in order to protect her. He was just a prospect for the club and the only thing he was worried about was getting his patch.
Patrice looked conflicted, like he was having a hard time with what Serge was telling him to do.
“You made me fall for her just so that you could use her to test me, didn’t you?” Patrice said.
“Every member’s got to go through a test,” Serge said. “You can’t ride with the DRMC until we know you’re committed.”
“But isn’t there some other way I could show you?”
Serge looked at Fat Boy. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “Look at this kid.”
“I was just saying,” Patrice went on.
“Just saying shit,” Fat Boy said. “You don’t know how lucky you are, kid. You should see what Serge has made some prospects do. It’s a lot worse than fucking a fine piece of ass like this.”
Patrice looked at Rose again and then looked away. He didn’t want to do it. She could tell. But she knew enough to know that that wouldn’t be enough to save her. Not now. This was the way the DRMC worked. It made its members go against their instincts, it broke them down until they were nothing more than soldiers, unable to think or act for themselves. It turned them into mindless warriors who would do anything for the club. They would kill for the club and they would die for the club. And this was the way such mindless, senseless loyalty was born.
“Take your cock out right now and put it inside this bitch.”
Patrice was still hesitating. He looked from Fat Boy to Serge to Rose. She couldn’t look at him anymore. Things were no longer the same. Everything they’d had together, even if it was just the beginning of something more meaningful, was gone. It had all been destroyed. Fat Boy and Serge had made sure of that. They’d covered her in piss and left her lying there. There was no way a man could look at her the same way as before.
“Look,” Serge said to Patrice. “You’re a good fighter, a good soldier. I know you’ll be a good Dark Rebel. I just need to know you’re not soft. Some of the guys have said you’re soft, too sympathetic, and I need to be sure you’ve got the balls for an MC like ours.”
Patrice nodded. He looked down at his waist and began opening the belt on his jeans. He pulled down his pants and underwear and revealed to Rose for the first time, the perfectly formed loins of his body. Under other circumstances she would have been glad to see that body but not today. Today she would rather have seen anything else in the world.
Patrice sighed as he got up onto the bed. He had his shoes on, his pants around his ankles. He was getting her urine on his knees as he leaned onto the wet mattress.
“That’s it,” Serge said. “You know what to do.”
“Oh yeah,” Fat Boy said. “Give it to her nice and hard, boy.”
Patrice spat on his hand and began rubbing the saliva on his cock. It was still soft and flaccid but it began to harden as he rubbed it. She could tell he didn’t want to do this, but she knew that after he’d done it he’d be another man. He’d be a monster like the rest of the DRMC. They forced their prospects to commit brutal acts so that they would become brutal soldiers.
“Make her wet, too,” Serge said.
Serge and Fat Boy were obviously enjoying the show. Rose could see the bulges in their jeans as their cocks hardened.
Patrice spat on his hand again and began to rub the saliva on her pussy.
“That’s not going to cut it,” Serge said. “Get your mouth down onto that pink pussy and lick it.”
“Down there?” Patrice said.
“Where else do you think?”
“But she’s covered in piss,” Patrice said.
Serge and Fat Boy were laughing more and more as the situation got more and more humiliating for Rose. This was hell. Patrice couldn’t even rape her without being disgusted. She didn’t know whether she was mad at him for doing what Serge had ordered, or ashamed at herself that he didn’t want to do it.
“You want to ride with the Dark Rebels, you’ve got to be willing to do what it takes.”
Rose saw Patrice grimace in disgust as he moved his face down toward her cunt.
“She’s disgusting, isn’t she?” Serge said.
Patrice didn’t answer. He sniffed at her cunt and shook his head. She was disgusting. She knew she was. She’d never be able to think of herself as anything but a disgusting whore from this moment on.
“Isn’t she?” Serge said again.
“She is,” Patrice said. “She’s a disgusting whore. She makes me sick.”
“She stinks,” Serge said.
“She stinks like a fucking urinal,” Patrice said.
“That’s it boy,” Serge said. “She’s your urinal. That’s how I want you to treat her.”
*
THE THINGS THAT SERGE AND Fat Boy made Patrice do to Rose that night were horrific. They were degrading and demeaning. They were humiliating and disgusting and they would stay with her for the rest of her life.
Those things that they did to her left permanent, painful scars on her soul. They made her feel worthless and disgusting, like a pig. The real crime wasn’t that they thought she was disgusting, but that they actually made her believe herself that she was disgusting. They were trying to break her down and ruin her self-esteem, her sense of self-respect, and they were succeeding. There are limits to the strength of the human mind and men like Serge Gauthier knew exactly how to force a girl to meet them. By the time it was all over, she could hardly even look at herself in the mirror. She wouldn’t try to escape after this. She wouldn’t believe in herself enough. She wouldn’t feel that she was worth it. It would be years before Rose would be able to look at a man again and see anything but pain and anguish and self-loathing. That was the intention of the process and it worked.
Serge had succeeded not only in training a new soldier, not only in showing Patrice how low he could go, how mean he could become in service to the MC, but he’d also succeeded in showing Rose what her role in the world would be from then on.
It was all so painful that Rose could hardly even force herself to think about it. She couldn’t think about Patrice. She couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eye. She’d liked him. She’d let her guard down, and he had too. But Serge had put a stop to it. A permanent stop.
And the worst part was that she couldn’t even bring herself to blame Patrice for what he’d done. The things he did to her that night were unthinkable. But in a way, Rose even believed that she deserved it. That was all she was worth. She was a girl owned by an evil MC who was covered in piss and semen. Who could blame Patrice for hurting her the way he did? She almost pitied him more than she pitied herself. He’d been forced to fuck a girl who stank of piss and jizz, who was no better than a disgusting animal. She’d have pitied anyone who had to touch her that night.
Rose realized just how many lessons Serge had taught that night. He hadn’t just taught Patrice that he would have to be willing to do anything if he was going to be a fully patched member of the DRMC. He’d also taught Rose just how worthless she was, just how meaningless her life was now that she was the property of the club.
That was what she learned that night, and she didn’t forget that lesson for the rest of the long years that she was forced to work as a slave for the DRMC. It wasn’t till two years later, two long and painful years later, that Rose learned to trust in herself again. It wasn’t till two more years had passed that Rose went from becoming Tangled, to Tainted. Tainted Rose is the full length novel that begins the story of Rose’s journey to redemption.
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I want to thank you personally for being a part of The Darkness Trilogy. Stories bring people closer together and this story is based partially on experiences from my own life. I am g
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Abby Weeks
2014
Continue The Darkness Trilogy
Tainted Rose
[Book Two of The Darkness Trilogy]
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