“Nigga dicks.”
“Ow! Nigga dicks—that hurt.”
“Shut the fuck up. Keep suckin’.”
“Goddamn, watch that bitch go.”
“Yeah. Told you so.”
“Suck mine.”
“Mine too.”
“Heh-heh.”
“Stop slappin’ her in the face with it while she’s workin’, dog.”
“Don’t gag.”
“Yeah, make her gag. Fuckin’ cracker ho.”
“How you likin’ this, bitch? Five big black dicks. We call it a muthafuckin’ full-court press.”
“Hell yeah.”
“You know it, my nigga.”
“I axed you a question, bitch. You like them big nigga dicks? Answer me.”
“Oh god I love it. I want it. Give them to me.”
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Get the fuck over here. I want some pussy.”
“We all want some pussy. Wait your muthafuckin’ turn.”
“Over here, on the bed. Yeah, that’s it. Spread those legs. Open that pussy.”
“Oh yeah, dog.”
“Stand the fuck back. I’m tappin’ that shit.”
“Oh god. Ohh!”
“Nice an’ tight, like I like it.”
“Not after I get done with it.”
“Like hell. I’m gonna tear that shit up.”
“Give it to her balls deep.”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck her.”
“Slam it in.”
“Oh god oh god oh god.”
“Shut that bitch up with your dick.”
“Yeah, that’s it, ho. Suck it.”
“Suck it like you mean it.”
“Don’t just lay there, jerk my dick.”
“You got two hands. You best be jerkin’ mine, too.”
“Yeah-yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”
“Switch up already. I’m over here jerkin’ off.”
“Pull out. I’m fuckin’ that cunt.”
“Suck it.”
“Fuck it.”
“Take it.”
“Oh god. Fuck me.”
“My turn.”
“She got more holes. Use ‘em.”
“Get that bitch on my dick. Now. Get her on me. That’s it.”
“Suck it.”
“Hey—watch the balls.”
“Lick ‘em, dog.”
“Fuck you.”
“You guys be trippin’.”
“Stop fuckin’ her a second. I’m slidin’ in the back way.”
“Yeah, fill ‘er up.”
“Oh god … Easy. Slower.”
“Shut up, bitch. I’m goin’ slow.”
“Oh god …”
“Spread that ass.”
“Suck my pecker.”
“Tear that bitch up.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”
“She can take it. Look at ‘er go.”
“She loves it.”
“Yeah.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Really give it to her.”
“Switch up. Switch up, muthafucka.”
“Goddamn, bro. That bitch looks like the fuckin’ Grand Canyon.”
“You reamed her good.”
“Yeah.”
“Uh-huh.”
“More. I want more, Jaylon.”
“That’s it—tease it.”
“Stretch it.”
“Here I come, baby.”
“Ohh …”
“She wants more, muthafucka. Lemme squeeze in.”
“Yeah! Give ‘er two!”
“She’s good an’ wet—do it. She can take it.”
“Hell yeah.”
“Ohh … OHHH!”
“Stick one in her ass. Go on, Ray-Ray.”
“I got her mouth.”
“Full court press, baby!”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!”
“Ahhh!”
“Shut up, bitch.”
“Slap ‘er ‘round.”
“Pound that ass.”
“Rip her another one.”
“That’s it, dog.”
“Hell yeah!”
“Shit yeah.”
“Overtime, muthafucka. Outta the way, Tyrone. This bitch is takin’ two up the ass.”
“Nnnooooo—OW!”
“Shut the fuck up. You know you want it.”
“Tell us you want it.”
“Yeah, bitch, tell us.”
“I—I want it.”
“Tell us you want two big black dicks up the ass.”
“I w-want two black dicks up the ass.”
“Spread yourself open. Show us where you want ‘em.”
“Jaylon?”
“Heh-heh … You know you want ‘em.”
“Yeah she does.”
“That’s it, bitch.”
“Here I come.”
“Me too.”
“Oh fuck … Oh god!”
“She’s so fuckin’ tight.”
“Not for long.”
“Ow shit. Watch it.”
“Slap those titties.”
“Grab ‘em.”
“Ow. Stop it.”
“Slap ‘em.”
“Grab ‘em.”
“Smack the hell outta ‘em.”
“Wear that bitch out!”
“Ream that ass!”
“Fuck that pussy!”
“That ho is a lean, mean dick-takin’ machine.”
“Fuck, bro. Think I’m gonna nut.”
“Hang on, dog. I ain’t done yet.”
“Fuck you. Back off, I’m goin’ for a three-pointer. Open wide bitch.”
“Ow—fuck. I said stop slapping my tits.”
“No white bitch tells me what to do.”
“And we ain’t done with you yet.”
“Not by a long shot.”
Chapter Nineteen
* * *
A stench of shit met her nostrils as consciousness took hold. Her ass ached. Her nipples throbbed. A fiery itch covered her crotch and the insides of both thighs. Bleary-eyed, Audrey glanced at her alarm clock. It read 10:43. Last night with the starting lineup of the Lightning thundered through her mind.
She had never been banged like that before. Pushed to her limits, actually a little beyond. So many men, such large cocks, their near-endless stamina … After nearly eight hours of sleep, all she wanted to do was drift back to slumber.
Her buzzing body denied her that peace. Now awake, the stench of shit and sour sweat grew stronger.
Throwing back the covers, Audrey twisted her aching body to find soiled sheets.
What the hell?
Fear seized her. She recalled the pain of anal sex. She also recalled a sharper pain followed by sweet anal relief. Each man had taken a turn (or more) drilling her deep.
Voices echoed in her head.
Tear that bitch up.
Gape that ass.
Ream that whore.
On closer inspection she saw dark red and black tinged the disgusting brown shit. Blood? Her anus throbbed as it involuntarily tried to flex.
Horrified, Audrey knew she must climb out of bed, inspect herself. Then the inevitable cleanup would have to start.
She sat up on the edge of her mattress. Burning genitals grabbed her attention. Oozing, pus-filled sores had sprung up overnight. Would this nightmare end? Blinking her eyes she looked again. It didn’t end. So she made her way to the bathroom, nearly tripping over Leo along the way. Lifting the lid, she sat down on the toilet. With a wad of toilet tissue she gently wiped her bottom. Pain exploded through her. But most frightening, she felt something puffy protruding. An interior soreness seemed to extend from her body.
Standing, twisting, Audrey looked in the mirror. What she saw caused her to scream.
Her sphincter, ruptured or snapped, let her rectum extend from her anus, turning inside-out when she flexed. The men last night had literally tor
n her up.
The woman looking back in the mirror turned white in shock before tears burst from her eyes. Audrey had no idea this could happen, or what to do about it. She stood there numb for minutes, crying, shaking.
Finally she sat down. Spreading her legs she took closer inspection of the burning eruptions between her legs. She had seen these before. Her roommate Samantha in college had got herpes, so Audrey knew there was no cure—she would have to live with outbreaks for the rest of her life.
Audrey sat aghast. This couldn’t be happening to her. After all, Mark had made her get tested for sexually transmitted diseases. Club Nadir played it safe.
But obviously not foolproof.
How many other women did these men fuck on a regular basis? Janice, the young chubby girl whose name escaped her, and herself. She had seen another woman a couple of times. A woman pushing forty but very good-looking for her age. These men kept their escapades private. They seemed fairly safe on the surface. Could one of their wives been having an affair? Very possible.
But what about the Lightning team? Of course. Wealthy pro basketball players, they probably fucked a different woman in every city they traveled to. Probably had one or more girlfriends at home. That’s it, Audrey decided. Jaylon must have infected her. Herpes, from what she remembered, could take a little time to incubate, but not long. My god, what was she going to do?
The situation, already taken hold, began to squeeze. Her chest grew tight; she gasped for breath. What a stupid slut she had been. My god, why would she let herself get into such a situation? Her stomach clenched in fear. It rolled. She could feel her anus trying to pucker in nervous horror. Instead she could feel it pushing out then sucking back in—disgusting. She held her belly as if to calm its turmoil, but the chaos grew worse. Acid boiled into her throat. It also felt raw, just like every last nerve ending in her body. A sore throat helped her recall sucking each man in deep.
Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord, she thought. Her breath wouldn’t catch. She couldn’t swallow. Saliva, thick like mucus, filled her mouth, further turning her stomach as her body hitched. Tears flowed.
Her stomach flipped.
Audrey leapt from the toilet. Elbows locking, she braced herself against the edge of the counter. She vomited into the sink, wishing she had thought to turn to the toilet instead. Luckily the mess that spewed out didn’t amount to much more than stomach acid, jism, and what Audrey assumed to be club soda with a splash of cola. She stood frozen a moment. Spat to clear her mouth. Rinsed. Splashed water in her face, again hoping to awake from this hell.
Looking up into the mirror she saw the tangled disarray of her hair with dried semen clotted in it. Tangled it. She looked as fucked-over as she felt. The image of herself blurred behind tears.
She let them flow, eager for release. Eventually they lessened enough for her to stand up straight. Wiping them away she saw her breasts clearly in the mirror. The right sagged lower than the left, deflated. Somehow the brutality of being bitten, squeezed, and slapped had caused it to rupture. She thought implants tougher than that.
Complete trash, that’s how she looked. A whore. Used, abused. Destroyed, infected, damaged, knocked-up. This couldn’t be happening. Not all at once. No, never. Unbelievable.
After the abusive hardcore sex the night before, a ruptured breast implant and anal trauma didn’t seem so unbelievable. My god, the men had actually tried to hurt her. Although she had liberally applied anal lube, the men had double-penetrated her with their massive penises.
Still—unbelievable that all of this could happen to her, seemingly overnight.
Yet here she stood, realizing not everything had happened overnight. No. She had become pregnant about two months before. How long had the herpes been incubating? Probably not long. Maybe since the first time she had fucked Jaylon. Or perhaps only a week. Or maybe it had been Carl a week and a half ago or more. How well did she know him? How well did she know any of them? She knew they had organized a private club. A club where they brought, and met, women for sex.
Her head swam.
In fact, now that she thought about it, Audrey was surprised she had any hair left as much as Jay-Jay liked pulling it as he plowed into her. She should have bald spots too.
Tentatively, she touched the deflated breast. Lifted it. Of course she could always get it replaced. Perhaps even go larger. However, it would cost—either in the form of money or favors. Both were prices she didn’t wish to pay.
She collapsed on the cold, hard linoleum floor. Her body balled up, knees clutched to battered breasts. Why me why me why me why me why me rang in her skull.
Was love too much to ask for? What about respect?
Forget all that. Why couldn’t she simply have good sex? Consenting adults receiving mutual gratification. But isn’t that what she had received?
But no, not this. She had never agreed to this. No, last night, to her, had been gratification to the max. In retrospect she realized for those men it had been something else entirely.
Tear that bitch up. Gape that ass. Ream that whore. Gag her. Slap her. Fuck up that skanky white bitch!
Those men had set out to—to damage her.
Had other men done the same?
I’ll toss in a grand for some titties. Get yourself some big ones.
She isn’t much to look at, but she can suck dick.
I’ve got a hundred bucks on her—that’s good enough for me.
You really know how to pick ‘em.
They picked the imperfect. Hot bods with ugly faces. Average-looking women with low self-esteem. Fat, grateful, submissive types.
My god, Audrey thought. Club Nadir didn’t exist for private rendezvous. It existed for private entertainment. Entertainment at her expense.
Mark never wanted anything from her, except to fuck her, and fuck with her. But why give her the thousand dollars for an abortion? If he merely wanted to fuck with her head, he didn’t have to do that. But he would enjoy knowing she would be contemplating the murder of her unborn child. She had never thought of abortion as murder before—a woman could choose. But she chose life. To her the fetus was a child. All a matter of perception, hope, want. Love.
Yes, love. Audrey yearned to love someone, to be loved back. To be a part of a family. She had actually enjoyed spending time with her mother again. Grandmother to be. And she would become a mother herself.
Tears pouring from her face, springing from pain and hate, suddenly became sprinkled with tears of joy.
Fuck those bastards. They couldn’t beat her down. Fuck them. Fuck them all. Implants could be replaced. Or removed. Surely her ass would mend. Although it hurt, she could already somewhat command those muscles. She could feel it. If she had to—but she doubted it—surgery could help her. She would never do anal again. Never return to Club Nadir. Herpes would fade. Drugs could be used to minimize outbreaks. Her throat would be better in a couple of days as well. A nice hot bath would make a world a difference. She could wash away the residue of the men, of the acts she had performed for them. The aches and pains would fade as well.
Sobbing gently as she thumped her head against the floor she thought maybe an aspirin washed down with an ice-cold glass of tea couldn’t hurt either.
Thump, thump.
She hadn’t truly come to terms with the situation—hell no. But a calming numbness befell her. Assisted by the white noise of pain humming through her body.
Thump, thump.
Even bouncing her head (dribbling it like a basketball) helped … Until the tears dried up, only to be replaced by an acidic gurgling in her throat. When it bubbled up into her mouth the taste of it made her stomach clinch, twist.
From near catatonia, Audrey lurched to her knees, wrapped her arms around cool porcelain, and vomited again. Her body continued convulsing until nothing remained to spew forth. She dry-heaved until stomach muscles hurt. The pain helped drown out everything else for a delightful moment.
That is when the pain dropped lower. This
pain reminded her of her menstrual pain, only worse. She felt like she was going to shit out of her vagina, so she immediately climbed up to sit on the toilet again. She couldn’t help but push, feeling her rectum prolapse from her body.
The burning at her crotch flared.
Gritting her teeth Audrey grabbed her knees, while doubling over. Simultaneously she tried clenching her ass to keep things straight, while pushing with her vaginal muscles. As she watched between her legs she saw the first droplets of blood splatter into the cloudy murk of stomach acid, bile, and virgin cocktail. Red twisted in the water like fluid in a lava lamp before diffusing. A stream of red soon replaced the drops. Something minute but substantial splashed into the water. It looked like a tiny shit-splattered alien.
A miscarriage—her baby, the love of her life, lost. Gone.
The black and white tiled floor flew toward Audrey’s face.
The world went black—
Chapter Twenty
* * *
Audrey jerked awake to a train rumbling through her head. The last thing she remembered was seeing the fetus of her dead baby floating in the toilet. That recollection caused her to gag.
She couldn’t bear to see that image again, although it had permanently etched itself in her mind. Summoning strength on shaky arms and weak knees, she reached blindly to flush away the remains. Down the drain swept her hopes and dreams. Her life as she longed it to be.
She gagged again. She lowered the seat, along with the lid.
Clean. She wanted to get clean. First she needed to wash the semen from her hair. At the tub she twisted the knob to start the hot water running. While it heated up, she stumbled to the cabinet beneath the sink. Already her tears had resumed flowing. Through blurred vision she reached for the shampoo and conditioner bottles. As she pulled them out the bag with the box cutter rattled to the floor, aggravating her. She should put the cutter in the catch-all drawer in the kitchen. She set it on the counter by the sink before returning to the tub with the bottles of hair product. Steam rose from the tub. So she set down the bottles, twisted the cold water knob.
On her knees (just like when she sucked cock) she leaned over the edge of the tub, lowered her head under the tap. The very warm water nearly burned her scalp, but she found the heat comforting. Once her hair had been thoroughly soaked, she began working the shampoo into her hair, into a thick lather, rinsing it away. Wash, rinse, repeat. Repeat, she did. She wanted no trace left behind. Even twice didn’t seem sufficient. Next came conditioner. Once applied, she sat thinking while it worked its magic.
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