Breaking In

by V T Bonds

  “It’s your house, you first,” I insist to Jay, sweeping my hand for him to lead on.

  After a fortifying breath, he nods at me, then turns to the kitchen. He darts out his hand and flicks on the light, keeping as much of his body as close to us as possible.

  We all file in and see the kitchen as we left it. He checks all the windows, trying to be fast, not wanting to be near the panes.

  Once he finishes, we head back out into the living room, as close together as we can.

  “Leave all the lights on!” Beth demands. I see the wisdom in her words and take my hand away from the switch without changing it. Next is the short entryway and front door. Secured.

  I follow behind Tami, not willing to lag. We turn to go down the hallway, and as I step out of the living room, I hear a soft snick behind me.

  I squeak and whirl around.

  A humongous black shape is sliding open the glass doors. As the opening widens, I scream and back towards Tami.

  “Go! RUN!” I yell, realizing it isn’t just one person. At least two men, covered head to toe in black, including balaclavas, are pushing their way through the door. I backpedal hard, wanting to get away, but also not willing to lose sight of them.

  Tami sees them, and her flight response kicks in. She screams and pushes Beth further down the hallway.

  “Shit!” Jay yells, and I hear flesh hit flesh. Tami and Beth both scream, and I glance in their direction.

  Another black-clad figure looms on the other end of the hallway. Jay slams into the wall, and I realize he was just hit.

  Beth flings open the bathroom door, hoping to escape that way.

  Movement from the living room jerks my attention away. Two large men barrel in, menace and hatred pouring out of their every pore.

  Panic threatens to overwhelm me. These guys seem too big to be human. My stomach churns and I curse all the wine I drank. It wasn’t enough to get me past tipsy, but it isn’t helping me to focus either.

  Practice and instinct force my body into a defensive stance.

  It’s so puny and weak amidst their immense presence. Six months of class seems wildly inadequate under the current threat.

  My eyes flit to the front door. I could make it. I could fling that door open wide and scream like a banshee. I could run and scream and probably wake the neighbors, even if they aren't close.

  But I know that's a slim possibility. This is an isolated house.

  And I can't abandon my friends.

  So I tremble in place, attempting to find my courage.

  The first man in the room zeroes his attention on me and our eyes meet.

  The balaclava hides everything but his eyes, the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows, and a bit of skin around his eyes.

  His eyes seem black, but as he prowls closer, the light reflects a dark brown shine. The skin surrounding those eyes is darker, and I can't recall ever meeting a person with skin so dark a shade. His midnight black eyebrows relay such a hateful expression that my breath catches in my throat.

  Black material covers the rest of him, even his hands. His menacing aura makes me want to curl up and pray for deliverance.

  Beth shrieks behind me and Tami shoves at my shoulder.

  I'm knocked off balance.

  I stumble forward a bit and fling my hand out to the side, trying to catch myself on the wall. A maniacal glee lights the invader’s eyes. Both Tami and Beth are screaming now, and the sound of tussling has become intensely desperate. There's not much room to maneuver in this hallway. The massive man is just out of arm's reach now.

  A strange sense of inevitability washes through me. It's like I spent all these months praying, hoping, and wishing to relive that night again. Dreaming of my men. Fantasizing about their touch. And now this is what I get. This is my penitence for wanting such dark things.

  Now things that I truly dread will happen. My friends don't deserve this. Fear, desperation, sorrow, and anger pierce me.

  Hell to the fucking no, I will not go down without a fight.

  I know a bit about my body; even though my heart beats erratically and my emotions are chaotic, I am capable of punching without hurting myself. I know how to kick a target and where men’s veritable weaknesses are. There’s a bit of my courage!

  The man lunges at me and I narrow my focus to his hands. His body may be humongous and way larger than mine, but that doesn't mean I can't defend myself.

  He moves too fast for something so large. I can’t stop the startled squeak from escaping my lips, but my body reacts.

  I try to snatch my hands out of his reach, but he targets my left wrist, the one braced against the wall. I take too long to retract it towards my body and his massive glove-covered palm engulfs my wrist and most of my forearm.

  I dodge his other hand, snap my right palm over the one surrounding my wrist, and drop my weight.

  In a practiced twist, I surge up on the back side of his hips, putting all of my weight, muscle, and intensity into the movement.

  He bellows in a mixture of pain, disbelief, and anger. His hold on my arm breaks since I have his arm twisted behind his back.

  He’s too big for me to pull high enough on his arm to make him fall forward, like I’m supposed to. With my stomach in my throat, I kick the back of his right knee with my heel. I struggle to keep my balance, his strength almost overpowering me, even in this position.

  Firm arms wrap around me from behind.

  I’m yanked into the air, my feet losing purchase, and my grasp on the first man rips loose. The arms banding around my middle and arms are so tight I can’t inhale, and panic causes me to flail for a moment.

  Then, despite the hard muscles caging me in, I lift one leg, bend my knee, and ram my heel into his thigh. He curses, his voice thunderous in my ear, and his embrace loosens. I brace my foot high against his leg and flex my hips.

  The unexpected move breaks his hold on my midsection, and gravity rushes me toward the floor.

  I hit hard, my ass taking the brunt of it.

  I suck in a breath, trying to gain my wits, and turn to scramble away. The hardwood is unyielding under my hands and knees.

  A hand in my hair abruptly stops me, and in a complete knee-jerk reaction, I kick my left leg up and behind me.

  My heel connects with something hard, most likely a knee or hip.

  Another curse, then pain sears through my right thigh as a boot impacts.

  It knocks my only supporting leg out from under me, and my stomach hits the floor.

  The hand in my hair never relents, and my neck jerks at an odd angle, my torso forced to the floor by gravity.

  Large glove-covered palms engulf my wrists and wrench them behind my back. Another hand grabs my face and I’m unceremoniously hauled upward by my face and hair.

  When my knees hit the floor again, I’m bent backward far enough that I have no balance. I’m being held hostage by my face and hair, while the other man manipulates my hands. Something cool and smooth rubs along my wrists and I jerk, renewing my attempts to escape. But no matter how hard I struggle he effortlessly ties my hands together behind my back.

  The glove lifts from my face and he yanks my hair backwards, forcing me to look up into a masked face. The same terrifying eyes glare down at me, gloating at his superior position.

  He stoops down and quietly threatens in my ear, “You want to keep fighting? Go ahead. That would make this so much more fun.”

  I freeze, every molecule within me icing over in terror. The smooth, deadly voice halts all my thoughts, too. For a moment, I can’t even suck in a breath.

  The sounds of footsteps and scuffling fill the air. Bile threatens to rise into my throat as I think of my wonderful friends having to endure any amount of pain.

  “Make a single sound, and I’ll make you regret it,” the man holding my hair growls. Tears fill my eyes, and I let them silently fall down my cheeks, not bothering to fight them. Too many emotions are rising in me. Too much pain throbs throughout my body.
Too much has happened in such a short time. It would be useless to fight these tears.

  “Understand?” he sneers down at me. I swallow and try to nod my head, but he halts it with his tight fist in my hair. He flexes his fingers and smirks down at me.

  “Good girl,” he mocks, insulting every sensibility I have.

  He grabs my upper arm closest to him and pulls me up to my feet.

  As I rise, I can feel the effects the tussle has had on my wardrobe. My tank top is all askew. The edge of the bodice barely clings to my nipple while the bottom exposes my midriff. My loose shorts are twisted around my waist and the material pulls awkwardly around me.

  For such a short fight, I am quite disheveled.

  My thigh throbs as I put weight on my leg. My chest hurts from impacting the floor. My neck and scalp ache. My face is wet with tears.

  His hand still grips my hair, and he purposefully raises his fist, forcing me to stand on tiptoe as my hair pulls taught.

  I see Jay being seated on the mound of pillows in the middle of the room, his shoulder brushing with Tami’s. His mussed hair and red face are evidence of his fight. His tied hands keep him captured by the man gripping his shirt collar. Tami sits, eyes wide and tears streaking down her face. Little hiccups of fear have her chest shaking and hitching. Beth sits on her other side, face white, raven hair sticking in all directions, arms behind her back.

  We have five captors in all; the two manhandling me, the man holding Jay’s collar, and two more hovering behind Tami and Beth.

  My heart breaks, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself. My dreams have brought this upon my friends. My wishes have given them this fear. This experience will forever haunt them.

  The man restraining me walks in their direction, and the pressure change on my scalp has me scrambling for purchase on the hardwood. He moves around the couch, not giving me enough space to shuffle by, and my injured thigh hits the armrest. It catches the edge, but he continues forward, and suddenly all my weight is on my scalp and thigh.

  My shocked squeak is pure reaction and pain. A male voice bellows through the air, and for a second the pressure on my scalp is overwhelming and terrible.

  Then it releases and there’s nothing stopping the ground from rushing up to me. Before my skull smacks into the hard surface, strong arms wrap around me. It’s awkward, my neck at an uncomfortable angle, my shoulder pulled backward, my hip still caught on the armrest. But I’m not seeing stars or knocked unconscious.

  A sliver of gratefulness slides through me, and I can’t stop the shaking or sobbing. As he hauls me up, the cacophony of emotions steamrolling through me take their toll.

  Did I just feel THANKFUL towards one of these brutes? How could I do that, after they’ve attacked me and my friends?!

  A familiar scent hits my nose, and the memory of all-consuming fear, darkness, and terror coalesce with my present predicament. Anger builds inside my chest as I piece together who belongs to the arms wrapped around me.

  His name forms on my lips before I can stop myself, and the icy hatred because he has included my friends rings in my voice. Lightning streaks of rage course through me, and my body reacts without my consent.

  I prepare for the pain of colliding with his face and fling my head backward. The crack of violence snaps through the air. I become an inconsolable demon, hatred and anger too minuscule in their meanings to describe the emotions overtaking me.

  Hansel’s arms tighten, but I grab whatever flesh is near my hands and dig my nails in, even as I jab backward with my heels. I scream, words beyond my capabilities, my vocal cords screeching with the effort. I thrash and strike and squeeze and kick.

  The room breaks out in noise and movement, and a high-pitched squeak causes worry for my friends to intrude. My anger abates, but fury at the injustice still has hold of me.

  More hands grab me, and I’m engulfed in heat, another black-clad man plastering himself to my front. I recognize those eyes. My anger ratchets higher again and an inhuman screech breaks from my throat. Aluino.

  I ram my knee into his thigh, still fighting, full of hatred and anger, and he snarls.

  “LET ME GO!” I scream, my tongue loosened from its paralyzed state. He grabs my thighs, hiking my legs up off the ground, nestling his hips between them. My struggling and writhing causes a glorious friction, but I continue to buck and fight. I need to hurt them. I need for their bodies to be physical representations of my anger and bitterness.

  His dark eyes shine with enjoyment and arousal, and even though my core erupts with a new fire, my heart hardens with anger. He looks at Hansel over my shoulder, and his eyes darken at what he sees. A muscle ticks in emotion, then he nods his head, communication passing between them.

  Carried between the two of them, Aluino controlling my lower half and Hansel holding my torso, they move in tandem toward the hallway.

  I try to jerk and make them lose their balance, but they’re so in sync with one another that my efforts are void.

  I glimpse my friends through arms and hair. My soul will forever bear the scar from the sight. They huddle together on the pillows with arms bound, their faces full of worry and varying degrees of understanding. Tami’s shoulders have straightened, and her facial expression is the one she gets before she makes a dominant’s ego shrink to a centimeter tall. Beth seems frozen in fright. Jay’s eyes are wide in disbelief, and he’s glancing at the two men standing over them.

  “LET THEM GO!” I scream, and that becomes my mantra, ricocheting through my thoughts, the words leaving my mouth over and over. Aluino’s eyes stay on me, even as they maneuver me down the hallway, shuffling down the tight space with an ease that’s frightening.

  We pass through the bedroom door frame and I lose sight of my friends.

  Aluino

  She’s broken Hansel’s nose. The sight of blood soaking his mask sends a myriad of emotions through me.

  Anger, because she hurt my friend.

  Pride, because she fought so hard.

  Eagerness, because she’s right here, between us.

  Her little body writhes against my cock, and I revel in the friction.

  Her right thigh shows a bruise beginning to form, and anger creases my brow. We told Gale to restrain only.

  The point of this is not to cause damage or injury. In fact, Mistress Malena, is currently showing her face in the living room, taking over the proceedings.

  But we have Skylar. And she’s just where we want her, frantic and angry. It will be so much fun pulling Wren out to play.

  "Let them go!" she screams again.

  Hansel leans against the wall and unlatches one of his arms from around her. He reaches between them and forces his palm over her clutching fingers. He snarls in her ear, "You will pay for every drop of blood you've caused."

  She stops screaming, fear for herself registering, but her struggling quickly resumes.

  I grind my hard dick along her core, enjoying the friction her fighting is causing. My zipper digs into me, even through my boxers, and I imagine how it must hurt her sensitive folds.

  Her shorts barely cover anything. In fact, I could reach down and reveal her sweet little hole with the crook of one finger. It's tempting. So tempting. But there's so much more I want to do to her.

  Hansel's arm rests along the bare skin of her ribs, her shirt hiked up and exposing the lower curve of her breasts.

  His arm squishes them up. They look so tasty all pushed up and almost overflowing her top. One shoulder of her camisole hangs down her arm.

  I flex my fingers into her thighs, enjoying the sensation of her flesh under me, as I push so fiercely against her that I flatten Hansel to the wall.

  She grunts from the force of it, then bucks her whole body, still fighting.

  So beautiful.

  Her actions are useless. She's trapped between Hansel and me. She's stuck in a cage of muscle and masculinity.

  "Stop it!" she shrieks, but the heat from between her thighs scorches me. She
's angry and scared, but also desperate and turned on.

  The top of her breasts jiggle as I roughly rub against her again.

  "No! Get off me!" she screams, her head shaking side to side against Hansel's chest.

  Her blonde hair sticks to his shoulders and chest, her frantic movements flinging it everywhere.

  I release her right leg and wrap my palm around her chin, covering her jawline from one ear to the other. I pin her head to Hansel's chest, enjoying the dilation of her pupils.

  "Shut up, little bird. You're ours tonight," I growl into her ear, licking her sensitive earlobe.

  The shiver that runs through her speaks of her arousal.

  "No! Let go of my friends!" she demands through clenched teeth, my palm not allowing her to open her mouth. As she continues to struggle, her breasts rub against my shirt, and it takes massive effort to resist temptation.

  My cock throbs in demand. I revel in how perfectly she presses against me, her movements sparking flames deep in my bones.

  She's everything I never knew I needed.

  Hansel

  Her greedy little fingers bite into the skin of my hand and I can't wait for her to scratch her anger all over my body.

  My nose and the surrounding tissues throb in agony but knowing that she caused it transforms the pain to ecstasy. I need to reset it, but I have more important things to do.

  But I was serious earlier. She'll pay for each drop of blood that coats the front of my mask, plus the tiny punctures right above my waistline. And she'll enjoy every second.

  Every inch of her delectable backside plasters to me. It's so good. My cock is enjoying rubbing against her plump little ass.

  Oh, and this little girl has been so naughty at the club. She's been using more and more toys, exploring more and more of her sexuality.

  What she doesn't realize is that many of the dominants she's been playing with were corresponding with us. Working with us. Preparing her for us.

  They've helped her discover anal play. Just enough for her to enjoy it. Just enough for her little hole to be familiar with entry. She's had plugs and beads, but no cocks or other toys.