IMPERFECT MONSTER

by Jennifer Bene

  White-hot agony seared across my shoulders, only easing a little as he released my arm and I hit the floor, trying to bite back the shit I wanted to scream into their faces. We were in a kitchen now, a giant chef’s island dominating the center of it, complete with a copper hanging pot rack above it. I could smell food, my stomach growling at the scent of spices in the air, but Diego had his hand around my throat before I could even regret refusing to eat.

  He hauled me off the floor, my fingers wrapping uselessly around his wrist as I stood. Fetid breath puffing on my face as he laughed. “Oh, puta, I’m going to enjoy making you scream like that.”

  “Go to hell,” I choked, but he just smiled.

  “Downstairs, Diego. You heard jefe.” The bastard shoved the shoulder he'd just nearly ripped out of socket, and I clenched my teeth, stifling the whine of pain. There was no choice except to walk. They paused in a small hallway off the side, near the pantry, but it wasn't the single door that José reached for — it was a seam in the decorative wallpaper on the opposite wall. Palm fronds and fucking tropical fruits done in a tasteful soft yellow against cream. The details of the wallpaper instantly evaporated from my head as the wall separated an inch, just enough for José’s fingers to slip in and swing a panel of it out like a door.

  A black hole loomed where the panel had been. Not enough light in the dimly lit hall to even illuminate the first few inches of the pitch black in front of me. My chest tightened, fear overwhelming me, and the two men behind me knew it. Diego fisted my hair, tearing most of it free of the ponytail as he attempted to shove me forward into the darkness.

  “No!” I shouted, panic making my voice high-pitched, and the whimper as I braced my hand against the wall was even worse.

  I'd wanted to be strong, to protect Chris, get him out of this bullshit so he could get better, make his life better — but I'd never planned to die for him.

  “Let. Go.” It was José who moved close, the heat of his body radiating through the back of my shirt.

  “Please don't do this?” I turned, meeting empty black eyes, and I found no pity, no mercy. “Don't kill me.” My words were so soft I wasn't even sure they could hear me, but the tightening of Diego’s fist in my hair, accompanied by his low laugh, assured me they had.

  “Why would we kill you when there's so many other things we can do?” Diego only laughed harder when I whimpered, trying to fight as José buckled my arm with ease and the two of them shoved me through the doorway.

  The first wooden step made me gasp. Not falling. It's some kind of basement. The second step made a chill rush over my skin as the scent of earth and damp hit my nose. There was no light, not even a sliver, and I reached out to stroke the walls as Diego’s hand forced me to take the steps faster and faster.

  I am walking into my own grave.

  The thought was completely unhelpful, but once it had appeared, I couldn't push it away. It smelled like soil and stale air, like the inside of a coffin. The vacuous darkness of being underground. My lungs couldn't get enough oxygen, my heart racing even though there was nothing to do but take the next step, and the next — until there wasn't even that. Flat, gritty concrete scratched under my shoes, and then someone slammed me into the wall.

  My head hit in a stunning flash before I could bring my hands up to try and push back, but his weight was against me, crushing me. “You gonna scream for me?” Diego growled against my ear, huffing as one of his hands slid over my stomach, tugging blindly at my shirt until he found skin. I felt his fingers scratching, and wanted to throw up.

  “STOP!” My voice tore with the effort of the shout, body shaking from the adrenaline. Desperate, trying to push his hand away and keep him from pinning me to the wall at the same time, but it was useless. He was bigger, so much fucking stronger, and all I could do was scream — just like he wanted — as he groped me, rubbed the hard ridge of his erection against my ass.

  “That’s it, fight me, puta. Make me work for it.” Diego found the button of my shorts too fast, and we struggled as I kicked back from the wall. His laughter rebounded back in the space, louder, just before he landed a punch to my ribs. Pain starburst from the point, and I cried out, buckled, tears burning my eyes as he slammed me into the wall again.

  “Please, please don't — no, stop! Just STOP!” I was panicking, grabbing blindly at his hands as the button of my shorts popped free and I felt the zipper give. Snapping my head back, I heard a grunt, a pained curse as his body pulled back from mine and I threw myself to the side. Away from him, deeper into whatever fucking room they'd brought me to.

  Light flashed on, instantly blinding, and I winced and stumbled back further. “Shit…”

  José was laughing, a huskier sound than Diego’s menacing one. “She got you, did she, cabrón?”

  “Fuck off!” Diego snapped, growling, and as my eyes focused I caught the swipe of red under his nose that matched the blur on his hand. His eyes found mine and he pointed at me. “I'm going to make you bleed, whore.”

  My stomach dropped, but José caught his shirt before he managed more than a step. “Jefe said she stays in here and thinks for now, but you know he will let us have her later.” José’s stoic expression turned into a smirk, the scar on his jaw stretching so I could see it. “And then we will see just how long she can keep fighting.”

  “And whether or not she's got any fucking tan lines.”

  “That's right, what did you bet me on that one?” José stood side by side with Diego, both of their eyes moving over me as they made their plans.

  “Nada, but I'll bet you now that I fuck her first if she doesn’t have a tan line.” Diego groped the front of his pants as he said it, and I bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood just to keep from saying anything stupid.

  Well, anything else stupid.

  “Nah, I'll bet you a hundred she has at least one tan line, and another fifty that she’s shaved.”

  I swallowed, eyes finally adjusted enough to look at the room. It was small, maybe ten feet wide, fifteen feet deep, but there was a table and some scattered chairs. Some odds and ends stacked in an alcove by the stairs. When I tuned back into them they were both staring, grinning, and I felt my hands clench into fists, the prick of my nails biting into my palms.

  “Eh, Nicole? You want to play nice with us?”

  “Never.” I growled out the words, knowing I didn't scare them a bit, but when José pulled out his gun again I was terrified.

  “Have you ever put a gun in your mouth?” he asked, walking towards me slowly, and when I stepped backwards he snapped his fingers. “Stop.”

  “What's the plan, José?” Diego was moving closer, a nervous glance over his shoulder at the stairs before he returned his eyes to me.

  “Come here.” Ignoring his friend, José pointed at the floor in front of him, beckoning me, but I didn't move. Not until he flicked something on the gun and I heard it click. “Now, puta, before I decide that shooting you in the leg is worth shortening our fun.”

  “You don't have to do this.” I spoke softly as I approached, my body revolting at every inch I progressed. “I can get the rest of the money, I swear—”

  José huffed as he grabbed my injured shoulder, digging his thumb in until I gasped in pain and he forced me to my knees. “You think money is what we want from you? What jefe wants from you?” He laughed as he ran the gun along my cheek, and when I jerked back he snapped it against the side of my head.

  Fuck!

  I flinched as the ache spread, a headache building behind my eyes as I refused to imagine what was next. If I thought about it, pictured it, I was lost. Dead.

  “Open your mouth.” José nudged the metal of the gun under my chin, lifting until I was looking up at him. His lips twitched and then he slapped me, the blunt, stinging force of it sending me to the floor as pain bloomed across my cheek, aching.

  “Please, I just want to leave. You can keep the money, you can—”

  “We can do whatever we want.�
� José slapped me hard again, and I crumpled against the gritty concrete, cried out, pleaded nonsense words as Diego dragged me up by my hair, ponytail gone — and for some fucked up reason, that was what my brain focused on.

  Even as the tears streaked my cheeks, and he ripped my head back harder and the pain spread, I wondered where the little hair band had gone. Like it's going to fucking matter once Paulo says they can have you.

  I whimpered as reality set in, as my hopeless stupidity settled over me, and then José tapped my lips with the gun. “Open.”

  This time I listened, and before there was even enough room he pushed it in, scraping my teeth until I widened enough for it not to clatter against them. I wasn't strong anymore, couldn't fight while kneeling between them with a fucking gun in my mouth. No, I was losing it. I was crying, hot tears fighting the chill on my skin even though it was over ninety outside. Outside of this hellhole, where no one knew where I fucking was.

  They're going to kill you when they're done.

  “That's nice, looks good. Real pretty. You like the taste of my gun?” José smiled above me, rubbing the bitter weapon back and forth over my tongue, just at the height of his hips. “Answer me.”

  “Oouhh!” I tried to say no, but it was hard to enunciate with the thick, black metal pressing deeper into my mouth. He shoved it forward then, gagging me, but Diego jerked my head back into place when I flinched and I caught his eyes. Hungry, merciless, and the grin told me just how much he was enjoying this.

  “This is good practice, puta. Keep your teeth off my gun and you might get to keep them when I fuck your pretty face.” José pressed the muzzle down onto my tongue, forcing me to angle my head back as it pressed into my top teeth. “Wider. I better not hear teeth.”

  My jaw ached, but I stretched, gagging again as he slid it deep once more. The taste reminded me of blood and oil, metallic and greasy, and just the recognition had me swallowing to keep from throwing up.

  Diego leaned down and licked the side of my neck, his tongue sloppy and wet. Then his teeth caught my earlobe, sharp pain making me whine against the gun while he chuckled. “You know what happens later? We will fuck your throat until you can't even scream anymore, fuck your pussy and your ass until you bleed.” His tongue dragged over my cheek, catching the tears I wasn’t fighting anymore, his mouth brushing my ear as I dragged in breaths around the metal pushed too far back. “But, personally, that's my favorite part, Nicole… because once you're bleeding we won't even need to use spit to fuck you anymore.”

  I choked, the retching sounds in my throat turning into sobs as José pulled his weapon free. The gagging didn't stop, the visions he'd planted in my head making me grateful I'd refused the dinner as I braced my hands on the floor. Diego shoved my head down as he used it to stand, and the both of them walked towards the stairs laughing low. “Look at that, she drooled all over it, but not a scratch on it. I guess she's had some practice.”

  “We will see…” Their voices faded as they climbed the steps, but under the buzzing, yellowish light of the ceiling, all I could do was curl into a ball, running my fingers over my bruised, chapped lips.

  A heavy thud at the top of the stairs assured me they were gone, but it didn't bring me the relief I thought it would. There was no escaping what they’d promised, not with the taste of José’s gun still fresh on my tongue. Broken, hushed sobs slipped out and I covered my mouth, trying to be quiet, to force them to stop — but the bruised spot on my ribs ached from the effort and eventually I gave up and let it out. Dragged myself into the nest of random shit in the alcove beside the stairs, where I curled up between boxes and imagined all of the places I should have been instead of here.

  Five

  Andre

  It wasn’t the fact that I’d gone upstairs to brush my teeth after dinner that bothered me.

  It wasn’t even that as I was standing in the dark, splashing ice cold water on my face, I hadn’t been able to get the erection to go away. After the way José had described her crying as he fucked her mouth with his gun… the erection made sense.

  The bottle of rum in my hand didn’t bother me either. That was normal.

  No, what bothered me was the pair of condoms tucked in my back pocket.

  I barely remembered grabbing them in my room. Definitely didn’t remember putting them in my pocket, but I could feel them. Had caught the edge of the foil when I’d tried to put my hand in a moment before — and now I was just frozen. Listening to the NFL game on the television, Paulo’s cheers and curses as loud as José’s. They were enjoying the blood sport. Something to fill the time.

  Tossing back the rum again, I swallowed rough and stifled a cough, the flash of Nicky on her knees with tears in her eyes making my cock twitch. I brought my head back hard against the wall, feeling the snap of pain somewhere underneath the haze of the alcohol.

  I had to get a hold of myself.

  José and Paulo were fine, Marco was sulking in one of the big chairs, and Diego was —

  Where the fuck is Diego?

  Fire rushed through my veins as I stood up straight, straining my ears to listen over the booming surround sound of the game. Before I’d even made the decision, my feet were carrying me through the kitchen, to the storage room door that was slightly ajar.

  Motherfucker.

  Rage, dark and hot, flooded me. Burning a hole in my stomach, using the alcohol as a catalyst, and at the first pathetic scream from below I ripped the door wide. Stomping down the stairs, I could hear her desperate pleading over the heavy sound of my boots booming on the steps.

  I made it to the floor just in time to see Diego throw her down on the table, her shorts tangled around her golden thighs, legs kicking. When she reached up to claw at his face he caught her wrist, twisted it, and then he backhanded her. Sent her back to the table with a thump and a choked off sob.

  “STOP!” she screamed, but he almost had her shorts off, and there was no way she could fight him.

  There was a roaring in my ears, the heat inside my chest burning the haze of the alcohol away, and suddenly all I wanted to do was hurt him. Break his face.

  It only took a few steps for me to be beside him, surprise flashing in his expression just before I grabbed his shirt and hauled him off her, shoving him back harder than necessary. Diego stumbled, caught himself on a chair, his pants open, belt flopping as he shouted, “What the fuck, cabrón? What you think you’re doing?”

  “She’s mine,” I growled, and I felt darkness surging inside me. Lapping at the edges of my sanity, devouring it piece by piece.

  “Like hell, this little puta is mine.” Diego tried to step around me, to get to Nicky, but I caught him with a hand in the center of his chest and shoved him back once more. My fist tightened, arm twitching like I was about to knock his fucking lights out — which was crazy. I rolled my shoulder as he stared at me, as shocked as I was by what I was doing.

  And what the fuck am I doing exactly?

  Nicky’s soft whimpers, her sniffling, trickled into my consciousness and I knew I was rock hard. Could feel the strain of my cock pressed against my zipper, wanting to be buried somewhere warm and wet. Wanting me to take Diego’s place on top of her.

  “Andre, move the fuck out of the way. You can have her next!” Diego took a step toward me, toward Nicky, but he froze in place when I flexed my hands and faced him completely. He’d seen exactly what I could do with my hands, exactly what happened when I let the darkness out of its cage, and I had no idea what he saw in my eyes… but he stopped.

  “Paulo said I get her first.” The low rumble of my voice was answered by a hiccupped sob from the table behind me, and it was wrong how much I enjoyed it.

  Diego knew I was lying, his mouth gaping like a fish for a moment before he clapped it shut and cursed under his breath. “Fine, but I’m coming back later.”

  He moved towards the stairs, and I turned around to see Nicky leaned up on her elbows. Dirty blonde hair in a mussed halo around her face, feet
tucked on the edge of the table, with only one of her shoes on. Her cheeks were flushed, still wet with tears, and she was biting her lower lip hard enough to make me wonder if it hurt — and if she liked it.

  The shorts around her calves blocked my view between her legs, and I wanted to see. I promised myself all I wanted was to see her, but she didn’t know that. Kicking out at me as I approached, panicked sounds filling the room. It took no effort at all to catch her foot, rip the last shoe off and throw it somewhere else. The shorts were next, her struggles actually helping the process, and then I was looking at pale blue panties.

  “Please don’t do this.” Wide, terrified eyes, almost the same color as her underwear, but with more dimension. More vibrant from the tears.

  I didn’t answer her. I reached for the edge of the cloth and she fought me weakly, a useless punch landing on my shoulder, the heels of her hands pressing at me with what I figured was all her strength — as little as it mattered. Grabbing her by the throat I slammed her back to the table, her sharp whine of pain making my balls ache.

  She even sounds sweet.

  “Don’t move,” I growled, and her eyes went wider. Frightened and fragile. Delicate. I could seriously hurt her. I could be the one to snuff out that light if I wasn’t careful. Trailing my hand between her breasts, over her belly, I hooked my fingers into her underwear and slid them down shaking thighs. Her fear was tangible as I tossed them free, knees snapping back together like it could stop me.

  But I just wanted to see.

  I shoved her legs wide without a word, digging my thumbs into her flesh when she tried to fight me, gripping hard enough to make it hurt. Nicky whimpered, throwing an arm over her eyes as another sob shook her chest. I ran my tongue over my bottom lip as I focused on the trim, golden down between her thighs, imagining what she’d taste like. Would she be as sweet as I imagined? Would she taste like redemption even as I damned myself further?