“I’m not ready, Malachi.”
His hand slaps my face so hard I reel sideways. I stare, shocked and fearful, as he moves closer. “I don’t care how ready you are.” He reaches for the bottom of my dress, grabs with both hands and tears until it rips straight up the middle. “I am ready. Extremely ready, and you’re going to be a good girl and give me every fucking minute I ask for. It’ll hurt.”
More fear slides through me, as if reminding me of times gone by with him and the panic I initially felt around him. It’s not real – or not to do with him. It’s them – the three of them and the way they touched me, fucked me. “Are you thinking of them, little Ally cat?” I squirm as he gets closer to me and grabs me around the waist. I suck in a breath at the feel of his dick pressing against my hip bone. “They were nothing compared to me or what you’re about to go through.”
He moves me, making me trip over my own heels, and grabs a steak knife from one of the tables. It’s placed in my hand carefully, his fingers wrapping my own around it. “This is what we call a safe word. Cut hard and true if you need to.”
The belt gets pulled from his trousers, and then he’s all over me. I can’t breathe because of the feeling consuming me. He’s everywhere. My dress gets ripped more, my body punished and pulled around like a rag doll. I end up on the floor by his feet, dazed and confused. He picks my hair up at the crown, scrunches it into his hold until my head’s turned upward severely. “Thinking of using that knife yet, Ally cat?” he asks, staring.
I don’t know what I’m thinking, but my hand curls around the handle some more.
Panic starts to turn to an immobile sense of fear, catatonic, like before, as I gaze at the tattered dress being torn from me. The last shards of green crumple to the floor nearby, and all I can do is watch it float downwards. I’m just dragged around. Moved, shoved. Put in place until something glides along my legs, slithers downwards like the green did. I don’t know what, but the assault that suddenly strikes my back makes me wail out loud.
I spin, crawl, try to get away from the feeling, but it lands again and again. Some on my back, some on my ass and legs. I’m crying at the pain, desperate to escape it but unable to move. I look back, catch a glance of his body behind me. It morphs, changes wickedly, as I see him raise his arm.
The feeling lands on my skin again soon after, and this time I’m consumed by the vision holding the belt that’s hitting me. He’s so big up there – smothering. I can’t see anything but those eyes of his, as he watches me reacting. It hurts, creates an agony I’ve never felt before. It hits my ankle next, and then my breasts.
More pain sends me crashing to the floor, arms splayed and legs twisted up under me.
“Good girl,” he says, quietly.
I don’t know what that means, but I’m crawling again, searching for a way out. I don’t get any further than a few steps before my hips are being hauled backwards, and my face is being turned to him. ”Who’s hurting you, Alice?” he asks. I shake my head, unsure what’s happening. “Who’s here with us?” I don’t know. Him. Me. Us and … I stop panting, search the room.
No one else.
Pain lands so hard between my legs I try blinking back the tears as they come. I can’t, though, and the following pain just makes it worse. “No!” I cry. “PLEASE!”
The knife drops from my hand, as it carries on. More pain on each part of my skin – legs, hips, stomach and back, as I roll - and then something’s being forced deep inside me. I stop breathing, just exist in the seconds. I’m being violated again, being forced and held and made to do things I don’t want to do. Wherever I am, I’m not here all of a sudden. I’m there – with them.
I can feel their hands.
Smell their cum.
Taste their breath as they raped me.
“Did they call you a whore?” I pant through my tears, nod my head against the floor. “Whose little whore are you now?” Something goes in my ass harshly. I reel forward onto my chest, try using my hands to pull me away from the feeling. One of them is yanked up behind my back, forcing me to stay where I am and take the pain. “Tell me, Alice.”
It hurts so much – too much. I can’t breathe anymore. Panic races through me, as a hand pulls my neck up from the ground. I sag in the hold, eyes searching for something that makes sense to me, but the fingers get tighter, the grasp more fierce and deadly.
“Who’s here?” his voice says.
The fingers pinch in before I can think and send me straight back to the floor, enough pressure in them that breathing becomes impossible. I gasp and choke, as the room turns blurred and incoherent. Nothing makes any sense. It’s Malachi – he’s here but this isn’t him. It’s them and I can’t breathe and it all hurts.
Another choke comes out of me, and my fingers scrabble around the floor to search for my knife. I had it, and now it’s gone and I don’t know where it is, but he gave it to me – told me something about it.
“Did you cum for them? I shake my head, knowing I didn’t. “You will for me. Who do you belong to?” Nothing stops. The grip just gets tighter, the pain being levelled at my skin more excruciating. Everything starts going black. I can’t breathe and he’s here and I’m going to die. I try sucking in air one final time. Nothing comes. It’s just black and limp. Not even painful anymore.
Just dark.
A long strangled breath suddenly fills me with oxygen. I collapse, pull in as many breaths as I can before it starts again and I lose myself. “Say it, Alice.” My wrist is dragged and I’m pulled upright and thrown over a table. My hip bones land hard, and I fold over and cry out in agony.
Something lands in front of my face, a hand placing mine over it. It’s my knife. I’ve found it, or been given it. It curls into my grip again, and I watch the wall in front of me. “Malachi?” The pain doesn’t stop, though. It just moves and wanes into some constant battery landing on my skin. Again and again I’m beaten, or violated, or debased with some other suffering.
“Say it again, Alice.”
“Malachi.”
I go numb after a while – find that place I was in before, as I listen to him talking. It’s all dirty, all filled with his ability to make language drip with sex and dominance. And then it’s just movement. Nothing hurts. Nothing lands. Nothing does anything but pull me to a place of calm and, eventually, pleasure. I come. I come hard and fast and then it wracks through me again somehow. It floods through me like a storm, confuses me and makes his voice louder.
