by West, Sam
Christ Molly, what a fucking thought.
Evangeline’s expression remained dead, despite the man grunting behind her. It must have been a tight fit as beads of sweat broke out on the man’s forehead. He gritted his teeth, the veins in his neck protruding with the effort of entering her.
Evangeline’s paralysis broke and she screamed. Or at least, she would have done, had her voice-box been intact. The blade of the penknife vibrated slightly in her throat with the force of her silent scream. Her fingernails clawed at the table top, her face contorting into a grimace of such open-mouthed, eye-watering agony that Molly wept tears enough for both of them.
With an almighty shove, Harlan drove all the way home. Evangeline’s eyes bulged, her body convulsed with spasms and blood flew from her lips.
Fuck, his monster cock’s ruptured her insides…
No, hopefully it’s just blood in her throat from the knife.
Molly squeezed her eyes shut and placed her hands over her ears in an effort to drown out his grunts. When she felt brave enough to peek out of one half closed eye, Evangeline was unconscious. Or dead. Harlan carried on humping the girl’s unmoving body, his face red and his spittle-wetted lips pulled back in something that might have been a grin. Although to Molly it more resembled the hungry snarl of a wild animal.
The movement of his hips grew sloppy and erratic, and he slammed into her hard and fast. Her torso slid back and forth over the table and Harlan howled in pleasure.
He’s coming. God help her, he’s coming.
Briefly she thought of the monstrous baby that might be conceived with Harlan as the father. Although she doubted either she or Evangeline would live long enough to witness such a thing.
“Oh yeah, that was a fine piece of arse.”
Molly noticed in horror that his stiff cock showed no signs of going down. The awful thing glistened with blood where he had ruptured the girl’s womb. He saw Molly looking at it, and he stroked it, only pausing to bring his bloodied hand up to his lips to suck his fingers.
“Mmm, nothing beats the taste of pussy blood. I see you admiring my manhood, Molly. Don’t worry, it won’t be long before you taste the delights that I can give you. And I will, over and over. Because I am blessed with an entirely unique condition. The thing is, Molly, I have been known to discharge over twenty times a day.”
Twenty times? He had to be taking the piss.
Yet that monster fucking thing was still as hard as ever.
“Good for you,” she said with far more bravado than she felt. “Have you killed her?”
“You have spunk, I admire that in a girl. You will be fun to break.”
Once again, Molly cast a longing eye over to his coat. She couldn’t help herself. She would die before she let that brute rape her.
“AND I’M STILL SO FUCKING HORNY!” he suddenly shouted, making her jump. Just as quick, he was the calm gentleman once more. “Where are my manners? We need champagne to celebrate the start of our beautiful party.”
She thanked a God whom she didn’t believe in when he pulled up his suit pants and tucked away his blood splattered cock. He walked over to the wall at the far end of the ballroom near their table and pulled on a bell rope that she hadn’t noticed until this moment. It didn’t make a sound, but she supposed the ringing bell could only be heard by the staff at the other end.
Staff. Who else is in this house? Maybe they don’t know what’s going on here, maybe they’ll call the police when they see what’s really happening...
Yeah, right. They would be in on it too, how could they not be?
In less than five seconds a new man dressed in black appeared. He hardly looked like a butler. In fact, he wore the same dark jeans and pullover that the guards outside wore.
“Sir?”
“Champagne on ice. Make it snappy. Oh, and a large glass of water too.”
“Sir.”
The man didn’t so much as glance at her and Evangeline. Harlan clapped his hands in delight at her quizzical expression.
“Yes, Molly, we have employed scores of men to help make this party an unforgettable experience. All are trained killers. And some can cook too. Such multi-talented chaps.”
Her heart sank. This place would be swarming with those guys.
The same man brought in a bottle of Moet cooling in an ice bucket and three glasses, as well as a tall glass of water. He placed them on the centre of the table and silently retreated. Molly went dizzy with longing just looking at the water. It was only adrenalin keeping her going at this stage; dehydration had severely weakened her to the point where she was close to passing out.
Harlan poured out the champagne and placed one flute by the unconscious Evangeline’s head and handed Molly the other. She took it, even though the last thing she wanted in the world was alcohol. She couldn’t take her eyes off the water.
Harlan raised his own glass in a toast. “To good times,” he said, and drank.
Molly didn’t respond. In a flash Harlan was on her, knocking the glass out of her fear stiffened hand so that it shattered on the floor. He fisted her hair and pushed her face down onto the table. The shock of it made her scream and her nose mashed painfully against the table top.
“Just because Sebastian has a soft spot for you, it doesn’t mean you can disobey me. You’re not completely fucking immune, do you really think he’ll give a shit if I do off you?” In a flash he was calm again and released his grip. “But of course, you’re thirsty aren’t you? Where are my manners? Please, drink the water.”
Her hand trembled violently when she took the offered glass. His features were composed, that friendly twinkle back in his brown eyes as he perched his backside on the table edge right next to her.
Jesus. What a fucking psycho.
But she wasn’t about to turn down the life-saving water. Greedily, she gulped it down, choking a little to start with. The water trailed down to her stomach, both soothing and reviving and her clenched-tight insides unfurled slightly. She could even feel it in her brain, soaking into the parched cells which expanded in relief. The water tasted a little strange, not that she gave a shit and dismissed the thought instantly.
When she had drained her glass she wanted more, but didn’t dare ask. The glass felt weighty in her hand and she wondered how much damage it would do if she smashed it against his skull.
Not enough.
A shard of glass would be enough to cut his throat, though.
Yeah, but then what? Run outside and get shot by one of the gorillas?
No, she could slit his throat, call the police, and hide somewhere until she was rescued.
“Now, where were we? That’s right, making a toast. Here, have Evangeline’s champers, she doesn’t want it right now.” She accepted the glass and kept her gaze lowered, lest he should read her intentions. “Here’s to good times.”
“Good times,” she echoed listlessly, sipping the champagne when he did.
He didn’t sip though, he knocked back the contents of the entire glass in one gulp, then proceeded to fill another.
“My brother says I have the constitution of an ox. I can drink ten bottles of wine a day and not be pissed or hungover.”
Bully for you.
“Why me, Harlan?”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I wasn’t allowed to choose any, but then, I can’t say I’m too fussy. A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole, right?” He laughed. “But I like you, Molly, you’ve got guts. And I can’t wait to see them.”
He drained his second glass and poured a third. Molly didn’t stop to think or question her actions. In one fluid motion she jumped to her feet and brought her champagne flute crashing down on the table top. Clutching the stem with a jagged edge where the glass used to be, she swiped for his neck.
She had reacted quickly, but Harlan was quicker. His reflexes weren’t dulled by exhaustion and terror. He was bigger, stronger and as fast as a blood crazed cheetah. Molly didn’t stand a chance.
/> Easily he was able to deflect the blow, his big fingers circling her slender wrist and twisting until she yelped and the glass fell from her slack fingers.
“Now look what you’ve done. That’s all three glasses you’ve fucking smashed.”
Even though she had dropped the glass, he didn’t stop twisting her wrist. Her forearm screamed out in sudden, terrible pain. Bone and tendons were pushed to the max. It was impossible for her arm to turn anymore, but he tried. And he did it with a smile.
Oh my God, it’s going to fucking snap…
Her vision dimmed with the unspeakable pain.
“Are you going to be a good girl, now?”
“Yes,” she gasped and suddenly the terrible pressure was gone.
She fell to her knees, gasping and shivering. She cradled her arm which was, in turn, numb and hurting. Tentatively she wiggled her fingers and that small movement caused her to almost black out.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’re not going to enjoy the party much if you can’t take a little arm twist like that.”
Fuck you, was on the tip of her tongue but she had the good sense to leave it there. She took deep breaths, forcing down the tide of nausea and tears.
I won’t let this bastard beat me.
She lifted her eyes to meet his. He was chugging out the bottle, making light work of the little champagne that remained.
“Are you going to sit at the table now like a civilised human being?”
If she wasn’t so scared and hurting, she would’ve laughed at that one. Ignoring the impossible pain that consumed her arm with a kind of blazing numbness, she sat in her seat once more.
“Better. I think it’s time to bring in the others, don’t you?”
Molly just stared at her tormentor who hadn’t even moved from his perch on the table edge.
The others from the van. Oh God, what’s going to happen to us all?
But God had nothing to do with it, that was one thing she could be sure of. Her head was beginning to feel really strange. She was having difficulty focussing and a tingly heat spread up from her toes, making her legs feel like lead.
“I slipped a little something in the water, I’m guessing you’re feeling a little drowsy right about now.”
But she couldn’t properly hear what he was saying, her thought processes were sluggish and his voice sounded low and deep and was that even English he was speaking?
She fell face first onto the table, all further thought terminated.
10.
Bethan was not a happy camper. Since her husband’s and Richard’s bizarre announcement of the party to be held in France, she and Esther had been bundled into Sebastian’s private helicopter. He had a pilot’s licence and the helicopter was permanently parked on the roof of their London home.
Now the four of them were in the air and on the way to France. Bethan had been allowed to put on her faux-fur coat over her naked body. She was thankful for that, for she surely would’ve frozen to death during the journey otherwise.
I’m off to certain death.
No one spoke, the helicopter was too noisy for conversation. Bethan had nothing to say any way. Sebastian was in a separate compartment up front piloting the thing and Richard and Esther sat on the seat opposite her. Esther had fallen into some fear-drenched trance and Richard stared stoically out the window, blanking Bethan.
How did my life come to this? And am I ready to die?
She didn’t want to die. But she did love Sebastian. She lived to serve him, ever since they had married she had wished for a real dom/sub relationship, but it never went further than rough sex. Her father might have stopped coming into her room at nights when she turned sixteen, but the desire for a strong, male figure in all her relationships remained.
She wanted to be hurt. No, she deserved to be hurt, she craved it with every ounce of her troubled being. She was a bad, rotten, sorry excuse for a woman whom could only find redemption through painful, hard, humiliating sex.
Be careful what you wish for, she thought with a humourless smile.
She knew there was something wrong with her for feeling this way but by the same token she knew there was no other way she could think.
She closed her eyes for a second, gathering her strength. She had a feeling she was going to need it.
This is it, the moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life. The moment the man I love is going to possess me completely.
Tears stained her cheeks at the same time as the tiniest, most wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
11.
Molly came to and for a blissful few seconds she didn’t remember a thing. Her state of denial didn’t last long.
“Ah, my favourite is wake. Hello, sleepyhead.”
The sound of Harlan’s horribly familiar voice made her flesh creep. She prised open her eyes and went to bring up her good arm to wipe the sleep out of them and found she couldn’t. She ached all over. There was nothing new there, aching and hurting had become her natural state, but this was different. Her neck and shoulders screamed out in fiery protest, and her entire body was racked by cramps.
It took her a moment to work out it was because she had been sleeping upright in one of the high-backed dining chairs and her wrists were bound with coils of rope to the hard armrests.
Then she saw she was naked. She went to scream for him to until her, but her words came out muffled.
Oh my God, I’ve been gagged too.
She heard the muffled grunts around her before her eyes focussed enough to see she wasn’t alone. The others from the van were with her at the table.
“You’re all coming round at the same time. How delightfully perfect. I guess the party has officially started,” Harlan said.
Molly turned to look at him. He was seated at the head of the table at the opposite end to her. There were two empty seats either side of him and then there were the six hostages, including herself.
Molly glanced at each of her companions in turn. Everyone apart from Harlan was naked. Molly was seated at the far end of the table and Evangeline was to her right. She looked in a bad way, but she was just about conscious. Evangeline was the only one of them that wasn’t gagged by a red, silk scarf – her blood darkened scarf was tied around her neck. Molly figured it was a miracle that the girl hadn’t died from being stabbed in the neck. On Evangeline’s right was one of the other victims, an attractive young girl with a shock of bright red curls and a Rubenesque figure, kind of rounded yet underdeveloped at the same time. Her eyes were wild over her gag and she pulled uselessly at her binds.
Directly opposite her was the guy who had introduced himself as Mike. His eyes locked with hers over the red silk gag. Unlike the others he wasn’t thrashing against his binds and his big, blue eyes were soulful and sad. He was conventionally handsome in an entirely boyish way and his dark blonde hair was floppy and glossy, his naked chest hairless and pale. The two guys seated to his left were incredibly similar appearance wise, although they looked younger. One was blonde, the other dark. The blonde bore a starting resemblance to Mike, except Mike was taller and more filled out, his shoulders naturally broader. The blonde boy was much fairer, much slighter, much more delicate looking to the point of almost crossing the gender barrier. All three possessed a child-like innocence about them, like choir boys, although it wasn’t quite so strong with Mike.
Molly hung her head, Mike’s penetrating gaze shaming her through no fault of his own.
Harlan clapped his hands together in glee.
“At last, the rest of the party has arrived. Perhaps now we can eat.”
The double doors to the ballroom opened and four individuals entered the room. The tall man held her attention. For a moment she didn’t recognise his handsome face despite its familiarity.
The guy from the club. Of course. And the short, fat bloke he was with.
Two women accompanied them, one beautiful, the other older, fatter and uglier. The beautiful woman with the stylish
, short, peroxide hair and dressed in knee length fur completely ignored the boys sat at the table. She seemed to be intently scrutinising Molly and the other two girls. Like she was looking for someone she knew. Her eyes settled on each of them in turn and when it was Molly’s turn, she scowled.
What have I ever done to you, bitch?
The short, fat man in the suit immediately went straight over to Evangeline. He pulled back the red scarf that adorned her neck to peek at the wound.
“You were lucky you didn’t kill her, dear brother.”
“Indeed, but what is done is done.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“Yes,” Harlan said, a grin causing the scar that ran down his left cheek to crinkle.
The short, balding man looked like he too was trying to suppress a grin. “And she still lives. She must have a constitution that completely belies her tiny frame. Was it up the arse or in the cunt?”
The redhead squealed into her gag and thrashed violently in her chair but both Harlan and the shorter man ignored her.
“In the cunt.”
“Strange choice for you, I must say.”
The gorgeous guy that had so caught her eye in the nightclub came over to join them. He looked directly at Molly, and smiled. Like the other two men, he was dressed in a suit.
“Hello, Molly. I’m thrilled you could come to our party.”
Except now he wasn’t quite so gorgeous to Molly.
“Why?” she groaned into the gag but it came out incomprehensible.
He seemed to understand what she was saying though.
“Because you’re beautiful. Because I want you. Because I can.” He turned his attention to the short man. “Shall we take our seats? Shouldn’t we get acquainted with our guests and maybe eat? Those poor things must be famished after their long journey.”