Peep Show

by Starling, Isabella

  I’ll be ready. Can’t wait to see you. xoxo

  My heart broke for both of us this time. She was so naive, so fucking clueless of all the ways I was going to break her to make sure she didn’t see me this way anymore. I’d already let things go too far. Now it was time to distance myself, detach myself from Bebe Hall. After tonight, I would no longer be in the equation. I would give her the night of her life without ever laying a finger on her, and then I’d wash my hands and move on. Back to my routine, back to regularly scheduled programming.

  I couldn’t bear to think of what would happen to me after Bebe. But I knew she could handle losing me. She wasn’t as invested as I was yet.

  What was going to happen after she moved on? Would we still be neighbors, or would the pain of seeing her apartment across the street from mine be too much to bear? Would I pretend it wasn’t before I finally moved out, endured the annoyance of moving all my shit to a new place just so I could ease the pain of seeing her in the window and never getting to hold her? Was I being a selfish prick, looking out for myself by doing this, or was I trying to protect us both?

  Only time would tell, but I knew it was what had to be done. Bebe would be better off without me, and I’d only have myself to blame for the pain I’d be in, not an innocent woman.

  I wasn’t looking forward to that night, but I knew it had to happen. And once it was over and done with, I’d finally be able to move the fuck on.

  I would be a closed chapter in Bebe Hall’s life, and she would be the girl that got away.

  It was always supposed to be this way.

  Because the monster never ends up with the princess.

  Eccedentesiast, noun

  A person who fakes a smile.

  The initial disappointment of Miles leaving my apartment was quelled the moment I got his text message. I’d been grinning to myself the entire day, getting ready and primping for whatever he had in store.

  As it always happened, the minutes ticked by painfully slowly, and I was more impatient than ever waiting for the time to come.

  What would he make me do? Would he finally sleep with me? Excitement made me shiver and adrenaline pumped through my veins when I thought about it. I was desperate for it, desperate for him.

  By the time seven rolled around, I was ready. I’d taken special effort in every bit of my appearance, and I’d opened all the curtains to let Miles watch me as I waited for him. But I didn’t even see a glimpse of him by the window. If he was at home, he was hiding from me.

  I’d waxed, plucked and shaved everything below the eyebrows. My hair was a shiny, thick dark mane falling in perfect waves down my shoulders, and my eyes looked especially bright. Thankfully I still had a leftover tan from my last visit to the tanning salon, and I decided to wear a bright white babydoll to complement my complexion. On my feet, I wore sky-high pink heels. I looked innocent. Like the girl I used to be.

  For the last two hours, I paced the room, hoping he would show up early. No such luck. The minutes ticked by even slower, painfully moving to the arranged time.

  And then there it was, a single ring of my doorbell.

  I ran to the front door and buzzed him in without checking to hear his voice. I was too nervous, my whole body trembling with fear as I waited to hear the sound of his footsteps on the stairway.

  My legs barely managed to hold me up, and I shivered in front of the door, trying to prepare myself for whatever lay on the other side. Footsteps approaching. Fast, angry footsteps. There was an impatient knock, and then a man cleared his throat and it didn’t sound like Miles.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Had he sent a guy over to fuck me?

  I grabbed the door handle trying to steady myself. My heart was hammering in my chest and I felt dizzy.

  Anger pumped through my veins, incomprehensible anger because he was fucking doing this to me. I wanted to be his, I wanted him to fuck me. Miles and nobody else. So what was he doing sending someone else over?

  I yanked the door open and glared.

  Two men.

  Two men, one in a suit, one in jeans and a leather jacket. Both taller than me, both with arms that looked like they were going to hurt me like I’d never been hurt before, make me come so much I’d pass out from the feeling. I mewled when I saw them, a desperate little moan escaping my lips, but neither of them gave a shit.

  The one that was suited up stepped inside while the other one closed the door.

  And then they were on me, their hands all over me in what seemed like seconds, making me submit until I was a mess of moans and whispered begging, forced to my knees in the entryway, the men stripping before my eyes. I already felt the hot tears prickling, but I would never, ever let them fall. I wouldn’t let Miles see how disappointed and hurt I was by what he was making me do. I would never let him know much this betrayal hurt. How badly I wished the two men were him.

  “Up,” the suited man barked at me, and I stood up, my knees nearly giving out.

  “You call me Sir,” the guy with the jacket said, taking a step closer to me and wrapping a hand around my throat. “You call him Daddy. Nod if you understand.”

  I nodded, barely able to make my head move before a little sob tore its way from my lips. Only now did I notice what they looked like, the sharp differences between them aside from the way they were dressed.

  They were both only wearing boxers now. The guy I was supposed to call Daddy was older, around forty or so, but so in shape, he put me to shame. His body was covered with a thin layer of dark hair mixing with gray, and he had salt and pepper hair that made me go wild. He was handsome, in an old movie star kind of way, and I bit my lip as I stared at him before shifting my attention to the younger guy.

  He was taller, though not as tall as Miles. His hair was light and he had a faint hint of stubble whereas his older friend had a beard. The younger guy, the Sir, was toned and lean but didn’t have a six-pack like the other one. But he was still delicious, and what should’ve frightened me the most was the detached, almost sadistic look in his eyes. But it didn’t. In fact, it only served to make me wetter.

  “Pretty little girl,” Sir smiled at me while Daddy grabbed a handful of my hair.

  I struggled, but it was futile. Between them, they did an easy job of dragging me into the living room and pressing my naked, shaking body against the window.

  I could see Miles in his apartment, shirtless, his expression rigid.

  You’re fucking hurting me, I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t bear the words, so I kept my mouth shut in a pout, just glaring at Miles as the two men handled me.

  They treated me like a little fuckdoll, doing to me as they pleased and tossing me between them like I was a toy. I felt the tears hotter than ever, threatening to fall any second now and humiliate me in front of the three of them. God, I wanted to fucking scream with the injustice of it all, with how badly I wanted it to be Miles instead. But I didn’t have a chance to complain because Daddy approached me with a little pink ball gag and easily fastened it around my cheeks while Sir held my arms behind my back.

  I fought back, but not as hard as I could have, which made me blush fiercely. But it got me so wet, having them there, putting the ball gag on me while Miles watched, I was dripping down my legs like a desperate little whore fucked up on God knows what, just desperate for another dose of dick inside her slutty holes.

  I mumbled around the gag, and the men laughed in my face, making the first tear slip down my cheek.

  “Awwww,” Sir said, making me arch my back and grabbing my neck with one hand, forcing me to look over my back and up at him. “Already crying, whore? There’s so much more you have to go through before we’ll let you go… Maybe you’re not as fucked-up as we’ve been told.”

  I whimpered in protest as Daddy went behind my back. They manhandled me onto the couch, and one held me down while the other tied my wrists together with silk ties. I was crying now, fresh tears falling freely as I glared at Miles through the window. He
was going to pay for this. When I next saw him, I would hurt him. Physically and emotionally. I would fuck him up. It was already decided. Miles was going to hurt just as much as I was hurting now.

  But looking into his eyes across the street didn’t show any regret in his gaze at all. In fact, the bastard looked damn well pleased with himself, his face full-on concentration, his fist probably working his dick desperately while he watched me get treated like nothing but a fucktoy, three holes to dump cum in and nothing else.

  “We heard you’ve never had two cocks,” Daddy whispered in my ear, and my skin erupted in goosebumps.

  “Look at her needy fucking cunt,” Sir laughed. “Look at her. She’s going to squirt all over us if you don’t stop.”

  One of them reached between my legs and toyed with my clit, and I howled like I was in physical pain. And I fucking was, torn between reacting to their tormenting and keeping my eyes on Miles to punish him for what he was doing to me, let him know exactly how much it hurt that he would do this to me, right now, right on this fucking day that was supposed to be special. And he kept staring back, those eyes focused and strained, his cock probably close to fucking dripping. I wanted to fucking kill him. I wanted to fucking end him.

  I watched them both put on condoms, jerking their cocks in front of me, teasing me endlessly.

  Thank you, God, thank you, thank you, I prayed in my mind. Don’t let them fuck me bare, don’t let them, I want Miles, only Miles God, please only Miles bare like that.

  And then, just like that, a cock was forcing its way into my cunt, one inch at a time. I moaned around the ball gag as Sir came in front of me, grabbing me by the cheeks and slapping me across the face so hard I saw stars.

  “You better start moaning like the whore you are,” he said. “Because I want to get off to you moaning first, crying second, and screaming third.”

  I cried. Fuck, how I cried.

  Sir got on the couch below me, and I felt Daddy pull out with a popping sound so embarrassing they both laughed in my face.

  “Come on, slut,” Sir said. “Get her on top of me, I want to feel that cunt milking my cock. Wonder if you’re as tight as I pictured you, or if you’ve already been properly stretched out for me…”

  Daddy lowered me, whispering sweet things in my ear as my pussy sank onto the stranger’s cock, filling me up so fast I bit into the ball gag and tried to get away. But Daddy grabbed me by the shoulders and made me sit on Sir’s cock, all the way down until I felt him go past my cervix and I couldn’t let out another muffled scream, just barely audible whimpers, and little sobs because it hurt so fucking good.

  I couldn’t keep eye contact with Miles, my eyes were too filled with tears, so I just kept glancing at him every once in a while, trying to see him through the mess in my eyes.

  Daddy was behind me, and I felt the tip of his dick pressing urgently against my asshole, forcing its way in even if I didn’t want to let him. I hoped he would be gentler, that maybe he would take mercy on me and stop this torture, stop me from coming all over them. But he showed no intention of doing that. He pushed so hard it fucking hurt. Fucking burned as he filled me, and I bit down on the gag, tears spilling down my cheeks.

  And then they were both inside me, and I couldn’t stop gasping from the overwhelming sensation of having both holes filled, my mouth stretched open by the ball gag, stretched so much I was sure at least one hole would tear if they pushed it farther.

  “Good girl,” Daddy murmured in my ear. “Aren’t you a good little girl…”

  They started moving, two bodies I didn’t know, pushing inside me and forcing their cocks all the way. I tried to stop the orgasm that was brewing in my center, but I didn’t last long. In a few minutes, my whimpers turned into cries and I was coming, my pussy spurting juice all over Sir, my ass working Daddy’s cock while my mouth drooled all over that fucking ball gag. I cried not just because it hurt, but because it was fucking humiliating being used like that. Because for once, I’d let myself believe a man actually gave a shit about me, wanted me for who I was and not for my body. But Miles had proved exactly the opposite by sending these two men into my apartment. And now, I was going to prove to him just what a whore I was. I couldn’t wait for him to see, and I fucking hoped he was glued to his window.

  I let them fuck me. Not just that, I let them take advantage of me like that was the only thing I was good for.

  They ravaged my body, not giving a shit whether I couldn’t walk once they were done, because why would they? They’d get to leave the second they were done with me, and I’d be left to pick up the pieces by myself, just like I always was. So I just let them do it, coming all over them, part of me hoping they’d be done soon, and the other part, the fucked up one, hoping they’d take their sweet time with my holes.

  And they did. They never stopped once, twisting me this way and that and just fucking, fucking, fucking me into a sorry, wet mess.

  I stopped counting the seconds when I couldn’t lift my head up anymore, too messed up to see whether Miles was still watching. I didn’t even care anymore. He’d gotten what he wanted, and now he was probably done with me, just like everybody else.

  They kept going and going and going, my body starting to hurt and crumble under their weight. I wanted to scream, but my mouth wouldn’t let me.

  They hauled me to my feet and pressed me against the window, and the glass fogged up when I breathed on it. I managed to look across the street. But Miles was gone.

  Possess, verb

  To have and to hold as property.

  I couldn’t stand the sight of her with another man for one more second.

  Pulling up my tracksuit, I didn’t even pause to grab my keys or my phone on my way out, leaving the front door wide open. I took the steps two at a time, rushing so much I didn’t even have time to glance at the doorman on my way out. I stormed down the street and barged past the doorman in her building. The stairs made me breathe angrily, rage seeping through every pore of my body.

  Fuck. No. Bebe was mine. No way was I letting anyone touch her. Never again. Never. Ever.

  Her front door was unlocked, but I still opened it with my shoulder, the wood bumping into the wall, plaster falling down in a thick, dusty cloud.

  “Get the fuck OFF!” I screamed as I made my way into the living room, my hands shaking.

  I felt every vein in my body throbbing. Anger making me an ugly, deranged monster that cared about nothing else but my woman. I needed her in my arms. My mouth on her. My cock in her tight little cunt. My hands all over that sweet little body. Me, fucking me tasting that sugar. Nobody else. Never fucking EVER again.

  My eyes locked with Bebe’s the second I walked into the room. She looked like hell and sex in that fucking outfit. Her eyes were red-rimmed and accusatory, and her mouth was trembling.

  I went for the older guy first because I wanted to take my fucking time with the other prick.

  My fist smashed into his face and I heard the sickening crunch of bone as the guy screamed.

  “What the fuck,” he roared, while the younger dude only laughed, still fucking my girl.

  I saw red. Not just a mist, I saw their fucking thick, dark blood spilling all over the floor. I wanted to kill, maim, hurt, torture. I wanted to rip their sorry dicks off and stuff them in each other’s mouths. My legs kept kicking, and my arms kept on punching with all the rage I had in my body. I heard Bebe’s screams and saw the blood pool under the guy.

  Turning to the other one, I knew I’d wipe that smirk off his face for good. He was a prick, fucking enjoying this, loving that Bebe was hurting. But I couldn’t even look at her, too disgusted with myself to face her just yet. I was going to pay her back though, and I’d kill the two men for what they’d done to her.

  My fists pummeled the guy against the wall. He put up a fight, but his punches landed on rock-hard abs and thick muscle throbbing with the need for revenge.

  “Now you die,” I growled in his face, and kept on punching
.

  His blood sprayed my skin, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to understand suffering like he never had before. I kept punching, hitting, snarling, screaming. I beat him to a pulp until his nose was broken and his forehead bore a big red gash.

  “Miles!”

  I heard Bebe calling my name from afar, but I couldn’t break out of it. All I knew was pain, hurting, hurting, fucking hurting him until it stopped hurting me. I held the bastard against the wall with one hand gripped around his throat and punched the fucker until his teeth broke and he gargled his own blood.

  “Miles, please, Miles, I love you, Miles, don’t, Miles, don’t baby, don’t…”

  I dropped my hands and stumbled back, and heard the front door opening as the other prick ran outside. I watched the mess that used to be a man groan and sigh and cry out in pain, but I felt no fucking mercy for him. I’d seen the way he treated my girl and the moment I locked eyes with him I understood what he was. A deranged, damaged man just like me, but so different, so much more dangerous. He was a sick as fuck sociopath, who would’ve come back and hurt her when I wasn’t looking. I saw it from the glint in his eyes, a look I remembered from the last time I’d been in an institution. I saw the darkness and the pain, but whereas mine turned inward, his was angry, vengeful, and thirsty for the pain of others.

  “You’re never coming back here,” I snarled at the bloody mess on the floor. “I never want to see you again, you worthless piece of shit.”

  He stood up and his knees buckled as he grabbed his jacket.

  “You’re a fucking psychopath,” he growled at me, and I stared him down until he stumbled out of Bebe’s apartment, wishing I’d kicked his ass out myself.

  And then it was just us, and I couldn’t even look at her.

  Couldn’t bear the thought of her being angry with me, of not understanding why I’d done this. And most of all, I couldn’t bear to think that maybe, just maybe, my Bebe had enjoyed it.