Dee

It’s a long needed escape from urban crush. The fatigue of your nine to five recedes as your brief getaway frees you of the unseen cuffs of modern survival. There are no emails, no memos, or stuffy meetings. There is only you and naked outdoors.

Oh, and your friends.

You never traveled much. Most of the time you had off, you were too tired to do much more than the bare minimum. You hadn’t even thought of it until Larissa invited you. It just never occurred to you to spend the money or the energy. Now you’re more than happy you did.

You follow the snakish path that dips between valleys and over hills, up steep walkways and across sprawling plateaus. The lush green is endless, littered with patches of thick forest, and the occasion running river crested by an old wooden bridge. 

Larissa chatters loudly about your eventual return to the cottage. She dreams of kebabs cooked over the campfire and some fruity sangria. You trail the others, four of you in all. Jodi and Cameron ahead of you as your host leads the way. Work friends, but you suppose more now that you’re here.

The river water sends up a fresh scent from behind the looming trunks and you glance over at the gleaming ripples, almost twinkling as you admire them between the trees. You could do this every day. Just wander until you can’t move anymore.

“I can’t believe this is your first time up north,” Jodi says, drawing you from your mind.

“Uh, yeah, never did much exploring I guess,” you shrug.

“Even as a kid?”

“Nope. I think we had one family trip and we didn’t even make it to the amusement park,” you chuckle dryly, “ah well.”

“Ugh, I remember one time, when we were camping, my brother, Toby,” Cameron begins, “he put a frog in my bag. I screamed so loud. My mother didn’t even believe me.”

“Damn,” you remark. Cam tends to do that. Everything in some way relates back to one of her stories.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Larissa stops and faces you, “we have to decide who’s cooking.”

“It’s fine, I said I would–” You begin.

“Boo, that’s no fun,” she snips, “we used to play this game when I was a kid. I always won. Whoever collects the least acorns in ten minutes cooks.”

“Acorns?” You look around nervously. “Where?”

“You shouldn’t get lost. If you go too far, just stay still and we’ll find you,” she brushes off your concern, “it’ll be fun. And I know all the best spots!”

“That’s no fair,” Jodie pouts.

“How about I start after you. I’ll only do five minutes,” she barters.

“How do we know time’s up?” Cam picks a fingernail.

“Like I said, if you don’t show up, we’ll come find you.”

“I guess…”

“Alright, how about, whoever collects the most gets princess treatment for the night. The rest of us will have to serve you drinks and get you whatever you want,” she offers with a smug grin.

You bite your lip but don’t argue. It’s obvious she’s going to win but you wouldn’t mind the chance to explore a bit more. Besides, you never complain about time alone. It’s so peaceful here, that might just be a reward of its own.

“Come on!” Larissa claps, “bragging rights are included.”

“Fine,” Cameron sighs, “I guess it’s not completely stupid.” 

“It’ll be fun just to wipe that look off your face, Lar,” Jodi snorts.

You shrug and give a nod. You have little faith in your foraging skills but you don’t mind running to the cooler a few extra times that night. Besides, the cottage did get a bit suffocating with all of you there. This might be your only chance for alone time.

“Alright, on three,” Larissa declares, “one, two–” Jodi sprints off and Larissa holler, “I didn’t say three!”

Cameron runs after her and Larissa scowls. She puts her hands on her hips and drags her foot over the grass. You give a sheepish smile and awkwardly sway.

“Guess they won’t know if I start early,” she says and sets off in the opposite direction.

You slowly putter away as you head for the river. You have no intent of gathering acorns, you just want to watch the water. You weave between the trees and come out to the shore along the winding river. You watch the lazy flow and the little minnows flitting beneath the clear ripples.

You get closer and sit on your knees in the dirt. You drag your hands through the water and push your fingers into the silt. You bend slightly and look at your reflection. You're almost hypnotised by the ambiance. 

You close your eyes and pull your hands from the water. You place them on your shorts and take a deep breath. You want to hold onto this moment, to remember it once you're stuck back behind a keyboard.

You smile and your lashes flutter open. You see your reflection again, then it suddenly darkens as a shadow comes up behind you. At first, you’re confused, but you assume it’s one of the girls trying to scare you.

“Very funny–”

You fly forward into the water, arms flailing out as you splash into the shallow depth. Your head is pushed down to the riverbed as a foot crush your skull. You cough and gag, gulping down water as your breath bubbles out of your nose. Your head begins to thrum as you choke until at last, the weight relents and you rip your head from beneath the surface.

A sharp boot cracks into your ribs and sends you onto your back. You heave as you land flat, keeping your head just above the water. A man stands above you, crystal blue eyes boring into you as a growl creases in his forehead. He squats and grabs your chin, unsheathing a large knife from his belt.

“Scream and I’ll cut your throat out,” he warns as he pokes the knife tip along your lip, hushing you as he turns it slowly.

You shut your mouth, eyes rounding in terror as you watch him. Who is he? What does he want? You can’t let him know about the other girls. At least, you hope he doesn’t already.

“Listen to me,” he traces along your jaw and down to your throat, “you will do exactly as I say.”

You blink, saying nothing. His voice is gristly and unbending. His dark hair curls behind his head and he wears a thick beard that thins to coarse stubble. Around his neck is a thick cord with a single fang hanging from it.

Your eyes nearly cross as you try to see the knife in his hand..

“Gold locket. Pearl set in the middle. Bring it to me.”

You stare at him searchingly. It’s like he’s speaking another language. Or your brain just won’t hear them as fear courses through your veins. 

“She wears it around her neck.”

You see the golden chain around Larissa’s neck. You noticed it once or twice, never really thinking much of it. You just thought it must be sentimental. Your lip trembles as the man clutches the back of your neck and leans into the blade.

“Why?”

He chuckles, “you want to live. I can feel it. So no more questions and I might let you. The locket, midnight. I will wait here. If you do not come, I will come to you. And you can weep with their heads in your bed.”

You gulp as he smirks at you. You nod slowly as he loosens his grip. He releases you. You almost sink back under the water as he stands and you push yourself up. He swirls the thick knife then holds it up to reflect the sunlight.

“Such a beautiful day, it would be a pity if it were to end in blood.”

“I will bring you the locket. I promise.”

“I know you will,” he says as he struts towards the trees, “it is why I chose you.”

You sit dumbfounded, staring after him until you can see nothing but the trees. You shiver as the water stirs calmly around you, soaking you through to the point of discomfort. You climb out of the river and wrings out the fabric of your shirt.

As you look around at the serenity of the pastoral bliss, you can’t fathom that the man had ever truly been there. The tenderness in your neck assures you otherwise. He was and he will be back.

☀️

“What happened to you?” Cameron giggles as you appear from the trees. 

“No acorns, huh?” Jodi boasts.

“I uh… dropped them in the river. Tripped,” you lie. You’re too stunned to explain further.

“You okay?” Larissa asks.

“Yep, fine,” you utter.

“Well, Jodi got eleven and Cameron got eight, and I… got twelve.”

“Cheater,” Jodi mutters under her breath.

You’re thankful they’re too distracted by their child’s game to be very concerned. You throw up your hands. “Looks like I’m cooking,” you resign dully.

“And I get to be pampered,” Larissa trills tauntingly.

“Whatever. You’ll be lucky if I don’t dump the sangria on you,” Cameron warns.

Larissa laughs. The girls might play up their cattiness but it’s just friendly competition. Another thing you never really had growing up. Friends.

They leave the acorns in the grass. You’re quiet as you follow them onwards. You look back just before you’re out of sight of the river. You don’t see the man but you have no doubt he meant what he said. He knew about Larissa and the necklace, that’s enough for you.

🌄

As a gracious loser, and a terrified individual, you volunteer to make a pitcher of sangria for the other girls. They happily accept the offer and go out to get the fire started. The night is quickly setting in as you watch the time on your phone. As there is only one solar charger amongst the bunch of you, your battery stays at fifty percent. Without reception, it isn’t of much use anyhow.

You mix the wine, brandy, lemonade and fruit together with a wooden spoon. You hear Larissa giving orders outside over the crackle of the fire. The locket with the pearl. You know she’s still wearing it, you looked for it and there it was, around her neck. What use is jewelry all the way up here.

Your thoughts are split by the snap of the spring door. Jodi tramps inside and huffs.

“Is the wine ready yet? She’s driving me nuts.”

“I’ll bring it out,” you assure her, “why don’t you grab the kebabs, they’re ready to go.”

You nod to the pan of skewers and she lets out a disappointed grumble. She takes the pan and leaves you again to ponder your impromptu mission. You’re not stupid enough to ask for the locket. You watch the oranges swirl in the wine mixture…

You can’t. Can you? You peek over your shoulder and peek through the window. They wouldn’t notice. You could say you used more wine than you thought.

You turn your back to the window. The girls can survive a few bendaryls, they won’t survive that man and his knife. You can deal with hating yourself. That’s never been hard.

You tiptoe across the kitchen. You don’t know why you think they’ll hear you, your guilt just makes you paranoid. You go down to the room and search in the lower bunk for your bag. You take out your box of emergency benadryl and slide out a full insert. Just enough for an edge, nothing deadly.

You sneak back out and drop the pills one by one into the sangria. You stir and you stir and you stir. Finally, you’re content that your potion is complete. Your curse is pharmaceutical allergy relief with a side of drowsiness. The girls are probably too thirsty to notice you’re not sharing.

🌙

Jodi stumbles back from the outhouse. You watch her cautiously, ready to hop up and catch her. She manages to make her way back to the fire and falls into the folding chair with a burp.

“Damn, that sangria is strong,” Cameron chimes.

“And it’s going right through me,” Jodi slurs into a giggle.

“Me too,” Larissa stands up and puts her hands in front of her shorts, “my turn.”

You listen to her go around the side of the cottage, her sandals scraping and scuffling. Jodi leans her head back and snorts, waking herself and lurching forward. You get up and keep her from falling out of her chair.

“Hey, you should lay down,” you say.

“Lightweight,” Cameron teases and gulps down a mouthful. You try not to cringe.

“Whatever, I’m fine,” Jodi babbles.

“Come on,” you get her up, letting her lean on you heavily.

She’s dragging her feet as you get her across the yard and to the steps of the deck. You haul her up and through the back door. Inside, you feel her slacken on your arm until you're pretty much carrying her. You get her into her bed and roll her onto her stomach, already snoring.

You check the time. It’s late. Just after eleven.

You go back out, the blaze of the fire obscuring your view of the yard.

“Not you too,” Cameron chortles as Larissa falls past the chair trying to sit.

“I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“Bleh, listen to the office administrator, she never gives it up,” Larissa sneers, “isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you agree softly. You want all the abuse she has to offer you. You deserve it.

“You wanted to be princess for the night,” Cameron calls over, “let her carry you to bed.”

You ignore Cameron as you steady Larissa and direct her around the fire. You take the same path with the same end, dumping her in the singular queen she claimed for herself in the main bedroom. You make sure she’s on her stomach and shake out your nerves. 

You flip on the flashlight built into your phone and shine it over her. You apologise before you unclasp the necklace. It’s heavier than you expect. You tuck it in your pocket and leave her.

One more.

Cameron meets you at the door to your surprise. She’s yawning and staggering. You let her pass as she mutters about the fire. You follow her, making sure she gets to her bed before you go outside to kill the fire.

When all is dark and still, you look up at the moon and measure the journey ahead of you. What if you get lost? What if you can’t remember the way back? You think you do. Doesn’t matter. It’s almost half past and you need to get going.

You grip your phone as you come out around the front of the cottage. You remember that you came from the right… didn’t you? You turn on your flashlight again as the darkness consumes you. You tremble at the sheer endlessness of the night.

As you set off, you hear every twig snap, every branch sway, every bat squeaking from some hidden nook. You are exposed to the unseen. Easy prey.

You hear the low trickle of water, louder in the dearth of night. You use it to guide you, flinching as leaves brush against you. You shine the light around you, trying to get a glimpse of your surroundings. It only illuminates the shadows and adds to the depths of the blackness.

A noise rolls in the darkness. Thunderous as it grows louder, footsteps making themselves heard, a beast closing in. His laughter comes from all around you, dizzying you as you spin and try to find him.

At once, he quiets and you hear nothing but the stirring of the breeze. No footsteps, not laughter, only the frantic beat of your heart. You stop and squint as you shakily raise your phone, making out the thick trunk of a tree.

There is a sudden warmth behind you. His hand is on yours, squeezing before he rips away your cell. You hear it land in the grass. His other arm hooks around your middle. His breath seeps through your hair and across your scalp.

“Give it.”

You reach into your pocket, squirming as you dig out the necklace. You hold it up with a whimper and he wraps your hand up in his again. His rough skin sends a shiver through you. He hums above the soft tinkle of the chain.

“Very good,” he keeps you close, “you are an obedient little pet, aren’t you?”

You don’t move, you don’t speak. He has what he wants. Now you want to go.

“I’ve decided,” he says bluntly. You hold your breath, trying to decipher his meaning. You try to pull away and his arm hooks tighter around you. “I will take you too.”

“What?” You quiver and grasp his arm, shoving on it without result, “no, let me go–”

“You can scream for me,” he walks you forward until you collide with a tree, putting your hands out to keep from being crushed against the bark, “the louder, the better.”

Your fingertips curl painfully against the tree. He traps you against the tree as he lets out a grow, the heat of his breath and body enshrines you. You shake and whine as panic sinks into your chest.

“Please, let me go. Please, I did what you asked–”

“I’m not asking,” he snarls and grabs your shoulder.

He spins you so violenly you can’t help but fall back against the tree. The subtle friction of metal on leather cools your blood as a sliver of moonlight gleans off the knife’s edge. You brace the tree as you babble dumbly. You don’t want to die.

He brings the curve tip of the knife to the hem of your shirt and yanks up, shearing open the front so that it falls open, revealing the bralette beneath. He makes as quick work as that, slicing up the middle and exposing you to the night chill.

He stands over you, bearing in on you as he bends slowly. You gasp as he clutches a handful of your hair and pulls your head to the side. He leans in and grazes your throat with his teeth. You writhe, caught in the arrest of his gruff touch.

He bits down, pinching your flesh until you cry out. He snickers and unclenches his teeth, trailing further down, teasing along your collarbone and over the tender flesh of your shoulder, once more nipping into you. He tortures your flesh, sucking it until it throbs.

He goes lower, tracing his path first with the metallic cold of the blade, then piercing with his teeth. He bites into the curve of your tit, he leaves sore marks blazing all around, at last taking a nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around your hard bud, toying with it, sucking, flicking, until finally he bites again.

You sob as he sinks his teeth in. You feel the flesh break and the warmth trickles from you into his mouth. He hums as he drinks it in, unlatching to let your rough skin turn fiery in the open air. He tends to the next, just as cruelly, as your body wracks in shock and agony.

How can this be happening? It can’t be real. You don’t understand. Who is this man? Where did he come from? You close your eyes, trying to hide from reality as it nips at your flesh.

You drone as he leaves a trail of spit and blood down your stomach, biting again and again, a tortured trail down to the top of your denim shorts. Your legs shake, threatening to give out.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisks and pinches your thigh, “you are weak but you will not give up, pet.”

He cuts along the seams of your shorts, left then right. You tremble with bubbling, teary gulps. The denim falls to your feet and he uses the end of his knife to play with the cotton elastic of your panties. He clicks his tongue but does not voice his amusement further.

He drops to his knees, a hand framing your hip as your legs quake. He squeezes, his thumb jabbing into your pelvis. He drags his knife down the front of your panties and hooks the fabric along the tip. He tugs until they rip, breaking through the fabric, cutting a line along your cunt. 

He turns the flat of the blade against your flesh, grazing the folds before pulling it away. You bat your lashes as terror overflows. Your head lolls as your muscles twitch. You see the man’s faint shadow in the slats of moonlight breaking between the cedar trunks, you hear him lick the blade with a purr.

A silver shine reflects the eerie night glow as he raises his knife. You scream as he aims it toward you, stabbing into the wood just beside you. Your heart hammers to cacophony as he laughs at your fright.

He pushes his hand up your thigh, his calloused fingers mean against your soft skin. He feels along the shorn cotton and dips two fingers into the opening. He delves between your lips, flicking his fingers up and down your cunt. Your legs quiver and you clutch onto the divots in the bark, fighting not to fold into a heap.

He slides his fingers back and forth, feeling every part of you, doting on your clit, only to trail back to your entrance. You suck in air sharply and sob. Please just do it. Just let it be over with.

He pushes into you. Slowly, Deliberately. He leans forward and nuzzles the soft vee of hair along your cunt and sighs into you as he wiggles his fingers deeper and deeper. You groan as he stretches you. Even as your body reacts, even as the slickness welcomes the intrusion, it hurts.

He growls as he meets some resistance. You clench around his knuckles and he rams his fingers into you, to their limit. You shriek and your sandals slip in the dirt. Your nail catches in the veins of the tree and snaps.

The coolness of his tongue frightens you as it pokes out and slides along your lips. He tilts his head and glides between your folds, doting on your clit with furious flutters. You gulp and gasp, panting as a new heat blooms inside of you. Your pulse races with more than adrenaline.

He eases his fingers back then in again. Your cunt clenches around him, constricting as his tongue toys with you, flurries your nerves to an unbearable storm. Your insides clutch as rivulets of hot and cold gather in your core, mingling to a fiery roil.

You spasm, stunned by your own body. You stand on your toes as your muscles tauten and your nerves ping off each other. You cum with a raspy whine, forced over the edge by the battle of his thrusting fingers and diligent tongue.

His laughter rumbles through you as he indulges in your dissemblance. He slows as you heave helplessly. He slides his fingers out of you, leaving an emptiness there, and wipes your cum down your leg. He parts from your cunt entirely, a rocky snarl as he stands.

You smell yourself on his breath as he comes close again. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you away from the tree. Your legs tingle and shake beneath you. He turns and hurls you down to the ground. You land on your knees, hitting your elbows in the dirt.

He grabs your hips, keeping them up. He kneels behind you, one hand brushing up your back and forcing your chest down to the ground. You don’t fight him, you have nothing left.

He feels along your panties, hooking his fingers in the rent of the fabric and tears it further up your ass. He gropes you roughly, digging his nails into your skin and dragging them up, leaving hot scratches along your ass. He runs his hand from your shoulders to your hip, gripping you as his other hand retreats from your ass.

The air stills and your ears ring as each breath scalds in your chest. You stare into the deep void of the forest as his zipper splits through the silence. Time slows as dread suffocates you. This is it. This is really happening.

His fingers tickle along your ass and you twitch. He reaches your cunt, rubbing and spreading your lips, taunting you as he curves his fingers along it. He edges closer on your knees, pushing yours wider, and he pulls his hand away.

He prods you with his tip, making a slow path down to your entrance. He circles it as he groans, basking in the tension of that moment. He leans against you until his tip slips into you. You strain around him, heaving into a horrifying wail as he pushes deeper.

He reaches to your neck, pinning your face in the dirt as he jerks his hip, filling you with the single, agonizing motion. You cry out louder, your horror echoing into the sky. Your head quakes and your ears vibrate with the volume of your own grief, rising from you without restraint.

He slides back and snaps into you again. The slap of flesh underlines your breathy weeps. His weight puts an ache in your neck and down your spine. Your fingers dip into the dirt as you clutch at handfuls of dirt. He bucks again, again, again, each time growling with delight.

His palm cracks against the side of your ass, a new pain radiating through your hips. With each thrust, he smacks you, curling his nails into you, pinching, only to do it again. You whimper and wail, trapped in his fervour as you taste soil and the salt of your tears.

He bends over you, hooking his arm around your middle and the other around your neck. He sits up with you against him. His hand brushes up your side and kneads your chest as he rocks you in his lap. Your head lolls as you hiccup through your tears.

He ruts from below, splitting you in two as his muscle bulges around your neck. You wheeze as he squeezes tighter and tighter, until the world speckles to grey and black. You feel his final, jarring rams as they throb in your core, and the sudden burst of heat inside you. Almost soothing as it assures you of the end.

But it is not. He puts you on your back. Senseless, dazed, he’s on top of you, crawling over you like an animal. He fucking you against the ground, holding your leg bent against him, biting into the flesh along your shoulder. Torturing you from the inside until he’s spent again.

Not spent, not done. You’re on your side, the world flickering beneath teared-webbed lashes, each ruts shaking you. Legs together, he claps against your thighs until again he empties into you with a raucous roar.

Again, again, again. Until you’re smeared with dirt, grass, sweat, and cum. Until you’re left an empty husk across the forest floor. 

Your eyelids part as he pulls the blade from the tree, a softer light emanating from the sky as the dawn approaches. He sheathes the knife as he marches around you, poking you with the dirt of his boot. He stops and squats at your side, a crooked smile on his lips.

“This hunt is not over, pet,” he reaches to brush a roughened thumb across your cheek, “I know you are stronger than this.”

Some guys walk up to the girls, and sweep them away but the middle omega is different. When approached, she doesn’t offer the first alpha a glance, but the second one, a light-haired guy, seems to win whatever game they were playing. She lets him take her hand and draw her close, their bodies instantly grinding to the music as her friends fawn. 

“That’s how good omegas are treated. They’re protected, and pampered. Adored like the prettiest flower in the garden,” he rasps, “as long as they honour their superiors.” 

“Honour as in let themselves be used and degraded to mere machines?” Your eyes narrow, lip twitching with rage, “to be seen as nothing but a hole for your fucking knots? You must be really sick if you raped and willingly dehumanized people for cash. Your whole childhood—your existence is based on the suffering of omegas.”

Ari growls, “you think I’m careless enough to knock up some breeding bitch? If you're jealous, just say so.” 

“Is that all you heard? Does your ego take up too much room in your head? Or is it the god-complex that makes you so stupid?” You jeer, “I’d rather drown than even look at you a second longer.” 

You don’t get far before Ari is tugging you back, caging you against the wall with his body. “I suggest you behave, unless you want that to be you.” He spins you around to the rest of the room. 

The once confident omega is now trapped on a bearded man’s lap—a different alpha from before. Her skirt is hiked up, making room for the alpha’s big hand as he lands spanks on her thigh, dangerously close to her ass. Each slap echoes through the packed room, sounding over the booming music from the basement. 

“You see that, starlet? Do you want all eyes on you, just like her?” Ari murmurs, stepping closer as his fingers trail up your arm, “again, if you’re jealous, just say so. We could put on our own show, but we’ll be way better.” 

An awful taste fills your mouth as you shrug off his hand, “No, and don’t touch me.” 

Ari raises his eyebrows, taking a long sip of his beer. “Really? I would’ve thought an attention whore like yourself would kill to be the star…”

Another loud slap bounces off the walls, followed by a high-pitched squeal. 

You feel embarrassed for her, the pure humiliation of being punished for everyone to see—right out in the open without shame. 

But, that sharp distress is a waste. It turns out, you’re the only one who feels it, the only person not blinded by the hierarchy and the cruel shimmer of alphas. 

“Ah, there we go. Look at little casanova.” Ari’s voice drops low, and suddenly he’s close enough for his beard to brush your cheek. “You know, she used to be quite the handful. Always with that attitude, flaunting herself, fucking anything that moves.” He snickers, “as if she was regaining ownership of herself and her body.” 

“I bet she was.” You try to shove him away, but it’s only a few inches. “You think your status guarantees you the world, but worthless assholes like you don’t deserve headstrong people like her—” like us, omegas. 

“No?” His blue eyes glimmer with amusement. “Well, how about you take a look at that headstrong omega right now?” He turns your face in her direction again. 

Your breath hitches as your heart beats loudly in your ears, bouncing off your skull while you helplessly watch the poor omega—you wish to knock some sense into her. Tell her this isn’t her purpose, she isn’t a plaything to be shown off, she’s worth so much more. 

“Look at her, casanova would be nothing without Andy.” 

The spanks have turned heated. The big alpha swats her thigh then rubs it roughly, and you know it’s to make it hurt more rather than to soothe it. And she doesn’t protest or flail away, no, she stays in his lap, almost happily. She kisses his gland while running her fingers through his hair. Her moans are loud enough for you and everyone else to hear when she unabashedly grinds against his hand up her skirt. 

“You always preach about control, but omegas aren't made for that. They can’t handle all that pressure,” his warm breath fans across your face and this close, you can see every beauty mark and freckle on his face. “They need someone to do all the planning, heavy lifting and thinking for them while they stick to simpler tasks. They need to be used, owned—they were made to be owned.” 

You raise your hand and swing back, but in the blink of an eye, you’re pinned against the wall. The shock makes your drink drop to the floor, splattering all over your shoes and Ari’s boots. 

With eyes full of burning hatred, and teeth clenched so tightly you can practically hear them grinding—you don’t usually resort to violence, but he always gets under your skin. 

Your fist collides with his side before he restrains that one above your head too. His bottle joins your plastic cup on the floor, the glass doesn’t break but the beer spills on the floorboards and joins the puddle beneath the two of you. 

Ari didn't even flinch, let alone, wince. Leaning closer with daring eyes, “Do that again, and I’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone. Make them watch as I tear your tight cunt apart, show them how a real alpha punishes a disobedient omega.” 

You do the only thing you can think of and spit in his face. He stiffens and you try to headbutt him but he swiftly dodges. You would’ve expected him to have fast reflexes with his boxing skills—but he isn’t quick enough to avoid another hunk of your saliva. 

This time, it lands on the corner of his mouth, and his eyes turn shades darker. He makes a disgusting show of it, easily constraining your wrists above your head despite your wriggling, and swiping your saliva from his face. 

He brings it to his lips, sucking it off and groaning lowly. His eyes never leave yours, searing into your soul and fueling your hostility. You suck in your cheeks again, ready to spit a third time and hopefully burn a hole in his ego, but he slaps that same hand over your mouth. 

“God, I love that fight in you. Makes me so fucking hard.” He forces your head into the wall as your breaths deepen, nostrils flaring with each exhale. “Oh, looks like Curtis finally got the show on the road.”

Once again, he makes you look at the buzzcut-haired alpha and his omega. He’s got her tucked in a dark corner, you can barely make out her legs around his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck, securing herself with each rock of his hips. 

A deep dread fills your chest as people go about their lives, drinking and dancing, enjoying themselves while a poor girl is getting taken advantage of. 

Or so you think because it physically pains you to hear her moans of enjoyment. 

He slowly removes his palm from your mouth, loving the helplessness in your eyes. “Look at Curtis and sweet, innocent cherry—she’s getting fucked at a party like it’s her job. Hm, I wonder what her religious and overbearing parents would think of that… Say, should I record it and send it to them?”

“Leave her alone.” You hiss, bringing up your knee but Ari quickly hikes your thighs around his waist, just like Curtis. In this position, you’re completely vulnerable and at his mercy. Fear rushes through your veins, making you only more motivated to get free. 

But, Ari is having none of it. His hand wraps around your throat, keeping you against the wall for everyone to see. 

Shame blooms like a spring garden—but the flowers are roses with the sharpest thorns, and they tear you apart from the inside. 

“You want me to leave her alone? To leave every other omega alone?” He mocks, “Now, why would I do that? It’d be neglecting my duties as an alpha, just letting them be—letting them have power over themselves.” He inches closer, his hips snug between yours and you can feel his sickening excitement through your jeans. “Omegas need guidance and they need to be used… and alphas are the only ones who can fill that void. Omegas are made to be owned.” He repeats again to drill it into your head. 

Ari can see it in your eyes, the blazing fury, the pure loathing that resigns within you. 

It was made for him, and he will never get enough of it. 

He squeezes a little tighter, enjoying the stutter in your breath. He wonders if it’s getting harder to breathe yet, or if you’re just being difficult, as always. 

“And you, starlet, regardless of how much you protest and fight, you’re one of them.” 

The last peek you took, showed you the poor man’s lead tormentor. A tall, imposing man wearing a polo shirt in shades of mustard and tan. The gray slacks and expensive shoes hinted that he might be someone important. The gold of his pinky ring winked in the light as he moved around the chair, removing the metal clamps from the man’s ruined face.

The tormentor caressed the man’s face with his hand, a gentle gesture.

Whoever he was, you would have found him oddly attractive anywhere else but here. Everything about him from his perfectly trimmed mustache to the precise styling of his hair told you he was methodical, maybe manically so. Now that you could see him, you didn’t move. You stayed right there in the shadows, watching him grin at his tortured victim.

“See? It didn’t have to get this bad, did it?” the man reasoned, leaning down to get on eye level with him. “We all get what we want. I learned what I wanted to know. You now get out of this chair.”

At the subtle motion of his hand, armed men came into view, freeing the man from the chair and hauling him roughly out of it. As the group of them moved out of your view you heard three simple words.

“Make him dead.”

Adrenaline and fear had your body humming as you fought to stay still. Now wasn’t the time to get stupid. All you had to do was sit tight. Wait. Wait until it was quiet, and you didn’t hear anything anywhere around you. And when you were sure you were alone, you’d wait a little longer.

You were going to get out of there.

When the door flew opened, a scream ripped from your throat. You’d made yourself small in the darkness of the coat closet, shaking in mortal terror as you looked up to meet the blue-eyed gaze of the man who appeared to be in charge.

You might have thought his smile was authentic in different circumstances.

“What do we have here?” he asked in a way that led you to believe he had some idea. A spike of fear shot through your heart. “Somehow I didn’t think you made it out of the building.”

When he lunged at you, you scrambled away until your back met the closet wall. His grip on your wrist felt like a vice. With a hard jerk, he yanked you up off the floor. There was little you could do when he wrapped an arm around your waist and hauled you out of the closet.

The man was easily twice your size. You fought him but it did little good.

Yeah, you’d reached the part where you should probably be begging for your life. Tears were already filling your eyes and sliding down your face.

But he let you go. Let you stand there in the fading yellow light filtering through the office window. The man just watched you, slowly walking a circle around you and studying you like he was trying to decide something.

How to kill you most likely.

“You were here to meet Drysdale, right?” he asked with deceptive calm. There was an intensity about him that had you flinching. A blue-green storm brewing in this sharp eyes. It made you feel exposed and vulnerable. “You got here early.”

You nodded. You didn’t mean to get there almost an hour early. Just now, you really regretted it.

“Why?” he demanded.

“A j-job offer,” you replied.

The best thing you could do was cooperate, say as little as possible.

“And how did Drysdale run across a sweet thing like you?” Slowly, he walked another circle around you.

Dropping your gaze, you shrugged. “I worked for his mother’s real estate firm. He told me to make an appointment to see him about a job… in publishing.”

Ransom Drysdale was the CEO of one New York’s top publishing houses. You wanted to be an author. It was an offer you couldn’t pass up.

Were they after Ransom Drysdale then?

Your hopes sank as you realized it didn’t matter who the terrifying man stalking you was after. You’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see.

Coming to a stop next to you, the smirk was back.

“He wasn’t going to offer you a job, cupcake,” the man explained. “He was trying to fuck you.”

The stinging truth in those words had you dropping your gaze. Maybe. But given your dismal track record with men, you’d been prepared for such an offer. If men were just going to use you for sex, you may as well get something out it, right?

“Please.” You were blinking back tears. “I’ll tell you anything I know about him. I swear.”

The man chuckled, his perfect white teeth gleaming. “There’s nothing you can tell me about him that I don’t already know.”

Panic had your mind whirling. “I didn’t see anything. I promise.”

“Yes, you did.”

You were about to die.

“I won’t say anything,” you swore, pleading. “I don’t have anyone to t-tell.”

The man took a step closer. “No, you don’t, do you?”

That stopped you. He said your name quietly.

“Your mother is dead, your father was never in the picture,” the man explained. “You have no siblings or extended family. You go away? No one will miss you. You’ll be just another pretty face on a missing poster.”

You cried then. It was over. This was how you disappeared. It was the end.

“M-make it quick,” you whispered. “P-please.”

“Shhh,” he soothed, walking up and pulling you into a hug. The man was warm, solid. The scent he wore subtle. His hands smoothed over your back as you cried there against him, a lamb to the slaughter. “I’m not going to kill you just yet.”

Yet.

“I mean I could kill you and leave you here for him to find.” He spoke so casually like he wasn’t discussing your life. “And he might feel regret.”

Shaking, you just stood there with his arms around you as he impersonally decided your fate.

“But if I really wanted to piss him off, I’d take what he really wanted.”

You were all too afraid you knew what that meant.

Easing back and grinning at you like he was about to tell the best joke in the world, he said, “You’re not my usual type. You’re his. So pretty... But you are desperate, right?”

You were desperate to survive.

The man’s gaze raked over you, over the strappy summer dress you wore today. You could tell his mind was going a mile a minute.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered you.

You couldn’t have heard him correctly. What?

His brows shot up in his amusement. “You’re not commando under there, are you? If you are that will make the next part much easier.”

You shook your head in denial.

“Then take them off,” he told you. “Now.”

Humiliation burned you up from the inside as you quickly reached under your skirt and slid them down, dropping them to your ankles. They were easy to step out of with the flat sandals you wore.

You couldn’t meet his gaze once you’d done as he asked.

“Give them to me,” he ordered.

Was he serious?

“I’m waiting,” he prompted you, his jaw tightening when you chanced to look up.

Unless you wanted him to start pulling out your teeth, you decided it was in your best interest to do as he said.

Fishing them out of the floor, you held out the simple lilac-colored garment with a trembling hand.

That smirk pushed your anxiety higher as he took them from your grasp. You just stared at him when he brought them up, pressed his face into them. Breathing deeply, he took in the smell of you.

When his gaze was back on you, he nodded.

“You do smell good, cupcake.” The heat in those intent eyes had you taking a small step back. “Did Drysdale ever have you before today?”

“No,” you told him, horrified to be having this conversation.

“Not even a taste?”

You shook your head. Sure, the man had hovered over you when you worked for his mother. He tried to find excuses to touch you. He just never had much of an opportunity to do much else.

The laugh was unexpected. “Oh, this is just too fucking easy. But I’ll take it.”

Shoving your panties in the pocket of his slacks, he motioned towards the huge wooden desk that was the centerpiece of the office.

“Go to the desk, walk around to Drysdale’s chair,” he instructed. You felt his gaze as you did. “Now be a good girl and take a seat on that desk.”

Your anxiety was through the roof. You had no idea what he expected you to do. If you sat down there, you were turning your back on him. What if that made him angry? The blood-covered pliers were there on the desk not far from you. Your heart was pounding out your fear.

“No,” his voice was deceptively soft. “You’re not understanding the assignment.”

You heard his heavy steps as he walked around the desk to join you. His huge form blocked out the dying light from the setting sun. In his shadow you felt cold. You didn’t move as he pulled the enormous leather chair back and took a seat.

“Let me give you a point of reference then,” he explained, taking you in casually. You flinched when he grabbed your hips, moving you to sit directly in front of him. “We’ll pretend I’m Drysdale. And if I were Drysdale and you’d come to my little meeting, I’d sit you right here.”

You were now on top of a stack of important looking papers, contracts, and you fidgeted nervously. The man’s expression was pure disapproval.

“Now, pull up that skirt. Since I disrupted Drysdale’s meeting, I want to leave him something.”

A muscle at his jaw twitched when you didn’t spring into action. Fear had you doing what he wanted even though you were horrified to have your bare ass on top of that small stack of crisp, printed pages.

The man sighed before scooting his chair up, so he was closer to the desk. Then he did it again, until his knees touched your shins. You had nowhere to go when his hands clamped down on your knees. You froze, afraid of what he’d do next.

When he wrenched your thighs wide apart, hiking up the skirt of your dress to reveal your most private parts to him, you struggled in his hold. Tossing your ankles to the outside of the arms of the chair, he moved closer, between your thighs, one strong hand grabbing your throat. He got in your face.

“You’re going to do exactly what I say,” he told you. “Or I’ll duct tape your ass to that chair over there and I’ll treat you like I did the asshole who was just here. And I know you saw what I did to him.”

Oh, you had. You swallowed hard beneath his hand.

“Got it? When I tell you to move, you do it. When I tell you to scream my name, you scream.”

Your mouth opened before you realized you shouldn’t talk. The man just watched you in fascination.

“Oh, that’s right. I didn’t tell you my name,” he said after a moment. “It’s Lloyd. And I want to hear it when I say. Nice and loud.”

His other hand tightened over your bare knee before sliding up over the quivering flesh of your inner thigh. You froze as his fingers skimmed higher, into your folds without preamble. It took everything in you to stay in place while those digits explored you.

“This won’t do,” Lloyd told you, his face still close to yours. “All dry and scared.” The look of disapproval was back. His hand tightened around your throat. “I want this little pussy purring for me.”

Your thighs shook worse now. Was he serious?

“What do you like, cupcake?” Moving closer, his lips were by your ear. “Do you like fingers? Or do you like oral better? You can’t believe the tricks I can do with this mustache.”

Those hotly whispered words in your ear had you squirming in his hold. Despite the situation, your body was warming up to him. His fingers slid a little easier now.

Lloyd’s chuckle was dirty. “Yeah, all the girls like the stache.”

Using his hand on your neck, he pushed you down on the desk. He rose, looming over you as you lay on the desk now. His fingers were still sliding around your lower lips and your body was easing his way.

“A little above your head is the edge of the desk,” the man told you as he released your neck, lowering himself back into the chair. “Grab it and keep those hands there until I tell you that you can let go.”

What choice did you have? The movement had your back arching.

You felt his mustache first and you flinched. The brush of it over your outer lips was a duel between scratchy and soft. His lips were hot and wet as they nibbled at those petals, burning a path down towards your opening.

Sucking in a breath, your hands tightened on the edge of the desk. You’d had guys go down on you before, but it was usually fast and half-hearted. A bone they threw you until they could get their bone in you. To get to the main event. It had always been something awkward that you were in just as much of a hurry to get through as they were.

It didn’t help that you’d watched him straight up torture another man. You were terrified, had no idea what he’d do next. Every inch of you was tensed and trembling.

At first.

He wrapped his powerful arms around your thighs, holding them open for him as he just dove in. His mouth, that mustache, worked into your folds. You fought to keep quiet, to be still. But the only reason you managed the latter was the steely grip he had on your lower body.

His tongue danced around your clit for several seconds, making it throb and ache. From anticipation? Because the brush of that mustache was the only stimulation he gave it.

You didn’t know what he was doing but it was insane. The flicker of his tongue around your opening pulled breathy gasps from you. When it traced up to your clit again only to avoid it, you whined, and it was an embarrassingly loud sound. There was laughter in his blue eyes gazing up at you over your mound.

Your back arched more, your grip on the desk hurt. But you were afraid to let go. The important papers beneath your ass were no doubt ruined as the man destroyed you with his mouth and he was yet to touch you where you needed him most.

When his tongue finally slid over your clit you cried out, the sound filling the room. Lloyd laughed into your flesh as you felt a finger tracing around your opening. You realized you were fighting to get closer to his mouth, not away. You writhed on that desk as that finger penetrated you, the pad of it gently stroking your front wall in a way that took your breath.

What was he doing?

Lloyd alternated between brushing that mustache over your clit, the bristling just shy of painful. Then he’d teasing it with the tip of his tongue. The finger now was a sinful torment, sliding in and out slowly, soft strokes taking you apart on that desk.

Drunk on sensation, you squirmed, and your breath came fast. The pressure built fast, and you didn’t know if you’d survive it.

“Please,” you begged him. What were you going to do? You’d never had an orgasm with someone else present. Not once. Now you felt like you were going to explode.

His moan was a deep rumble in your quivering flesh. His tongue soothed you where his facial hair was just shy of abrasive. The rough pad of his finger tested the weeping wall within you until you were about to lose your mind. You didn’t know what he was doing, and you were ashamed that it felt amazing. Worse, you were afraid of how your body was going to react to his continued campaign.

“You’re just about there, aren’t you, cupcake?” Lloyd whispered into your soaked flesh.

You shook your head in denial. You didn’t know where was. But your heart was racing, and your thighs ached from his unrelenting grip.

“Please,” you whispered again.

“Give me what I want, and I will,” he whispered into you.

What did he want?

That finger was an unceasing torment that was zeroing in one small space inside you, stroking it with a delicacy you wouldn’t have expected from someone like him. When his tongue resumed teasing the center of your distress, soft wet strokes that you couldn’t get away from, you screamed. Whatever he was pushing you into couldn’t be avoided.

“Scream it,” he ordered.

“Lloyd!” You screamed as the gush of wetness literally burst from you. Lloyd backed away just enough to watch, delighted with what he saw. Raw currents of pleasure raced through you, wrecked you. His finger kept up those soft strokes, prolonging the wild, unfamiliar spiral he’d just sent you on.

“My little cupcake can squirt.” He waggled his eyebrows at you as he sucked you off his finger. “That’s a bonus.”

Horror at what you’d just done to Ransom Drysdale’s desk bled onto that fading pleasure. You would have covered your face in shame if you hadn’t been instructed not to let go of the desk until told.

“You’re going to be happy about that in a few seconds,” he told you as he rose from the chair, his hands going to the front of those dove gray slacks. He stopped only long enough to reach for a drawer to his left, fishing a small black condom pack out of it.

You stared at it not sure what surprised you more. That Ransom Drysdale just kept condoms in his office drawer or that Lloyd knew where they were.

Lloyd tore open the pack and got busy rolling it onto the swollen erection revealed when he opened those slacks. You shifted on the desk, the expensive paper sticking to your ass.

Those sharp blue eyes were on you in disapproval. “Don’t you dare let go,” he warned you. “I’ll fire your ass up if you do.”

You froze and you thought disappointment flashed in those blue eyes.

Then he started pushing into you with a determination that had you gasping. Sure, you’d had sex before, but Lloyd was stretching you quite a bit more than you were used to.

Sex with all the men who only managed to disappoint you in the end seemed quick and apologetic. There was nothing apologetic about the way Lloyd was claiming you. There was a dominance that had fear mixing with something primal within you, had you clenching around his intrusion.

Once he sank all the way in, Lloyd grabbed the front of your dress, and with a vicious yank, he pulled it down until the straps gave way. When he’d bared your breasts, his big hands covered them.

And then he started railing into you. His thrusts were swift and firm. They would have moved you up the desk if he weren’t holding you in place. With the position of your arms, your breasts were thrust up for his easy access.

“Such a good girl,” he muttered as he worked you hard, panting above you. “Drysdale would love this ride.”

Lloyd slid easily in and out of you on all the excitement he’d drawn from you. If the smirk he wore was any indication, he was enjoying it. His shoulders were wide enough to block out the last of the evening light, and your thighs were locked around his slim hips as they slammed into you over and over.

When he started speeding up, you hoped he was close. He leaned forward, the slightest movement, and then his pelvis was hitting your clit in such a way…

The wave of sensation rose fast, sweeping you away from a place where you were holding on until it was over to a place where you were about to fucking shatter. As Lloyd continued to fill you, fighting for his own end, you broke out in a sweat. Your core tightened as he plowed into you, your heart racing in your chest.

The orgasm hit you with the force of a hurricane. Your nipples were painful points under his hands as he rode you hard, crying out as he worked himself through his own release with strong thrusts that punched the air from your chest. Your cries blended with his. His frantic movements only served to prolong your release and you were panting and trembling as it went on and on.

Lloyd was looming over you as laid there, just trying to breathe. How the hell your hands were still over your head, gripping the edge of the desk, you had no idea.

His breath huffed over your damp breasts when he moved his hands, causing you to shiver. Those blue eyes moved over you with renewed interest.

“Let go,” his voice was strained. Smoothing back the longer locks at the top of his head, he studied you. “You’re a surprise, aren’t you, cupcake?”

You just watched in fear with no idea of what would happen now. Your arms crossed over you chest as you waited.

“You weren’t really part of the plan,” he muttered, pulling himself out of you, “but I admit I like the way this turned out.”

Pulling off the used condom, he dropped it off the side of the desk. Tucking himself back into his slacks, he took the time to tuck in his shirt, made it perfect.

“Now I’ve got to get you out of here.” Then he started chuckling as his gaze moved over you. “I didn’t give that a lot of thought,” he said as he tugged at the skirt of your ruined dress.

Lloyd walked over to the closet where he found you, searching its contents as you trembled on the desk. When he pulled out a huge camel-colored coat, you just stared.

“Up,” he ordered you as he approached the desk with that coat.

You scrambled to do his bidding, one arm trying to cover your breasts, the other trying to hold up the dress. He pulled the soaked papers away from your ass as you rose. To your horror, you saw the stack of papers was wet, the ink smeared.   

Lloyd wrapped the coat around you, and you were grateful for the coverage. But was this just a temporary reprieve? Was he taking you somewhere else to kill you then?

“Let’s go,” he said, grinning back at the mess you’d both made of Ransom Drysdale’s desk.

***

Ransom Drysdale marched into his office an hour later, frustrated with how his day had gone. The board meeting he’d called had run over. He hadn’t even counted on having to deal with his legal team today. And then finding out one of the men who’d been working for him was a plant?

He’d sent Lloyd to deal with that and asked him to make it quick. He was expecting you to be waiting for him when he finally did make it back. He’d been looking forward to that all week.

It didn’t take him long to realize that those well-laid plans had gone straight to hell. The blood stains on the chair pushed out where it wasn’t supposed to be? That was the first clue. Then he saw the bloody pliers on his desk.

Goddamn it, Lloyd. Did you have to do it here?

Where were you? Had you been warned off? Scared away?

Blowing out a sigh, he walked around the desk and that’s when the scent hit him. Sex.

The contracts left on his desk for review, contracts for one of his top authors, were ruined. It didn’t take him long to figure out why his desk in disarray. With a dry laugh, he shook his head.

His phone hummed in his pocket. When he fished it out, he saw it was Lloyd.

“What the fuck?” Ransom demanded, not letting him speak.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Lloyd purred into the phone. “Upset that I ate your cupcake?”

Peering over the edge of his desk into the wastebasket, he saw the condom.

“You did more than that, didn’t you?” Ransom asked bitterly. “Where is she?”

“I brought her back to your house,” Lloyd explained calmly. “Didn’t really have a choice. She was hiding in your closet while I dealt with our friend.”

While it wasn’t ideal having you see what Lloyd had likely done to the fucking plant, having you at his mercy? Now that was appealing.

“Where are you?” Ransom asked, grabbing ruined the stack of contracts and throwing them into the basket.

“Hanging out at your house until you get here,” he explained. “I need to catch you up on the situation today.”

Ransom nodded. There was that.

“Fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said finally.

“And the girl?” Lloyd asked.

“Once we’re done talking business, we’ll have dinner.” Ransom grinned. “Then I’ll have you hold her down for me.”

Tom was finally back inside and went straight into his room. For a second he thought about knocking at Y/n’s door, but stopped himself. She was probably tired and exhausted and asleep by now.

As he stepped inside, he straight went to shower first and then fell on the big soft bed. Tom was just turning around when he heard it.

“DO NOT TRUST THEM.”

Frightened, he sat up and looked around the room, seeing nothing at first. As his eyes hovered around the room he suddenly stopped at the mirror. Slowly, Tom got up and walked over. There was a flicker of someone else in the reflection, but it was gone now. Tom thought for a moment that the man looked exactly like Robert. But that’s not possible. And the mysterious voice? What did he even mean by that? Whom did he try to warn not to trust? Tom suddenly got the urge to look after Y/n. Without thinking much, Tom stepped out of his room in his black PJ’s, walking straight to Y/n’s room. Everyone else was already asleep at that moment.

As Tom was about to knock at Y/n door, he heard her voice, sobbing quietly and heartbreakingly. Now he was even more worried. What happened to her? Why was she crying? Tom decided to walk in, but stopped when he heard another voice. Shocked, he took a few steps back, as he clearly heard Robert’s voice speaking.

Tom never felt so sick in his whole life, What the hell? Why was Robert in her room and what did he do to her? Tom realized that Robert was about to come out and looked for a hiding place. There was a built-in closet just on the opposite side of Y/n’s room and he went to hide there. Just a few seconds later, Robert stepped out and spoke again. “Are we clear about tomorrow, sweetheart?” “Ye-yes Tony- I mean daddy,” Y/n broken voice was truly destroyed and tired.

Did she just say ‘Tony’ to him? Tom got even more confused, but stayed silent. When Robert (or was it Tony?) was gone, Tom dared to come out. Y/N’s door was already closed again and Tom was worried about her. He wanted to burst inside and hug her till she felt safe again but at the same time he didn’t want to disturb her. Tom decided to go back to his room.

As soon as he stepped inside, a familiar voice was calling for him. Turning around he almost cried out in surprise and horror. There in the mirror he saw Robert. Robert looked devastated and drained. "Robert? What the hell?” Tom spoke and got even more shocked when Chris Evans and Benedict Cumberbatch appeared next to Robert. Both men looked the same as Robert.

“Tom, you have to listen to us! Y/n is in danger, please you have to save her,” Chris begged, literally crying his heart out to Tom.

“Oh my God, is this actually happening? How did you guys get there? Y/n in danger? So wait– If Robert is stuck in there, who the hell is that man pretending to be him?”

“It’s Tony, kid. I know it sounds crazy, but look at us. Trapped inside a mirror with no way out,” Robert said, sighing as he put his hand on his mouth.

“Tell me everything now, we’ll find a way to save you guys.” Benedict nodded in relief and as he began to tell.

Tom was furious and disgusted and swore that he would do everything to protect Y/n from these monsters.

Whatever it takes.

___

You woke up the next morning with aching all over your body. Tony wasn’t gentle with you at all, as he let his frustrations out on you. Bruises covering bruises, Tony made sure to reclaim your body from Stephen. Just thinking about the sorcerer made you feel sick. Tony was obsessed with you and claiming ownership over your body, whereas Stephen enjoyed torturing you and letting his sadistic tendencies out.

And Steve– he loved manhandling you like you were nothing but a puppet for him to play with. You just wished that somebody would help you, but who would and how? No one would believe that you were from another universe to escape your captores from being used and bred. Yes, at one point they also wanted to fucking breed you.

And after that point you planned and executed your escape plan.

Getting up, you took your sweet time to shower and get ready. Somehow you had to hide the bruises from everyone. You thought about what Tony asked you to do. Your stomach twisted at the thought. Pretending to be sick, so that Tony could have his way with you.

___

A few days passed and you were slowly recovering from the ordeal by Stephen and Tony, without being fucked again and again. But that’s only possible because of Tom, who was by your side all the time. Even when you got ‘sick’ the other day (Tony’s idea) Tom was by your side and never left. This pissed Tony off of course. But you didn’t mind, in fact you were relieved to get some kind of ‘safety’, even if Tom did it unconsciously. Or so you thought.

There were only two days before you could go home, which made you happy but also terrified at the same time. You got up early and were on your way to wake Tom up before Tony could interfere and drag you into some empty guestroom. Tom was already waiting for you and you both made your way to the kitchen, where Susan was making breakfast. It astonished you that Susan never noticed her ‘husband’s’ current behavior, or his changed appearance. But then again, you were glad that she didn’t know about it. You couldn’t imagine how she would react.

Tom’s phone suddenly rang and he excused himself from you, telling you that it was his mother and he would be right back. Nodding you walked into Susan’s kitchen to greet her, only to not find her there at all. Instead there was Tony, making coffee for himself. The table was already ready and covered with food.

“Good morning sweetheart,” he greeted you in his deep, calm voice. Too calm, you thought.

“Go-good morning, Ton—daddy,” you answered back, your heart beating faster from the fear inside of you. Tony looked like he was in a really good mood, you thought and immediately gulped. That couldn’t be a good sign. Something was really off. Where were Susan and the kids?

“Oh Susan, Avril and Exton are on their way to her parents, they were really desperate to see their grandkids, you know? And I was like you go, honey. I will stay behind and take care of you both.” He came closer, step by step, his eyes were promising you nothing good.

Just when you were about to say something, Tom rushed in, his face was distressed and worried. But when he looked at Tony, his face became even paler and you saw how much he was holding himself back.

“Tom? Everything alright? Something happened?” You asked, worried about him.

“Y/n, my brother, Harry, he’s gotten into an accident!”

“What?!” You cried out, your hand pressed over your mouth in shock.

“He’s fine, they say but I’ve to go…come with me Y/n!” Tom looked at you pleadingly and you were about to answer him, when Tony/Robert suddenly interfered.

“I’m so sorry to hear that Tom but I’m afraid that Y/n won’t be able to go with you anywhere,” he said nonchalantly, stepping closer to Y/n as he spoke. Tom tensed and asked why and you saw something in his eyes. Something like… hate? Disgust?

Did Tom know what was going on? Is that why he was so protective over you the last few days? Your head was spinning from the revelation.

“And why is that so, Robert?“

The way Tom said his name, just confirmed your doubts and you gulped, fearing for him and what was about to come.

“In case you forgot, Tom, Y/n, Benedict, Chris and I have a little rehearsal at home, for our upcoming movie. We need some practice before the real thing, right Y/n? And besides, why would she have to come with you all the way back to England just to see you hurt brother? Come on Tom, don’t be silly. Go now, your family needs you.” Robert was walking past you and to Tom, grabbing his shoulder as he slowly turned him around to give him his bags and to walk him out. Too stunned by the call, Tom gave you a look that said ‘I will come back and save you’ before following Robert. Said man gave you a warning look to stay in the kitchen and you obeyed him. It wasn’t like you could just flee. Not when Strange could easily find you and pull you back.

When Tony came back, there was a rage and fury in his eyes that you unfortunately knew all too well. He was on you in seconds, pressing you against the fridge with his hand around your throat, restricting your airways.

“Did you tell him, Y/N?” He asked in a dangerously calm and slow voice, waiting for an answer.

“No! No, I-I did not tell him. I swear daddy, I didn’t tell him!” Shaking your head you looked at him with desperation and hope, begging him to believe you.

“See Y/n, the thing is, I don’t believe you. I’ve seen how he’s looked at you the past few days — how he always disturbs my plans with you. I know that he at least suspects something. So tell me, did you say something to Tom?”

“I di–did not tell him anything, I swear daddy.” You said, your voice painfully restricted by his hand around your throat.

Tony shook his head before he leaned down next to your ear.

"I really want to believe you, sweetheart, but I do not trust him. I needed to get him away. You know, stop him from interfering with my plans," he chuckled as you realised what he meant.

"Harry– did you hurt him?" You asked, tears falling down your cheeks. Tony licked them away with a gleeful expression, before he turned his head back.

"Oh, it wasn't Stark, darling. It was me."

Your eyes shot over to the door frame, widening as you saw Stephen Strange and Steve Rogers grinning at you with hungry, dark smiles.

Tag list:

You quickly set down his breakfast on the desk as he stares out the window. It’s been a week and he hasn’t mentioned it. As usual, you keep to your usual rapport; yes, sir; as you please, Mr. Hansen. It’s better like that, less humiliating.

“Sir,” you say, only to let him know his breakfast is there.

He nods as his eyes remain on the yard below. You turn and go to the door.

“Ah,” he stops you with the sharp interjection. You glance back and he bends two fingers in a come hither gesture, back still to you, “I want to put my feet up.”

He finally turns and pulls back the chair. He sits heavily on the quilted leather and cracks his neck as he settles in. You don’t understand as you frown.

“Of course, sir, I’ll go grab–”

“Here,” he points in front of him as he swivels sideways.

You hesitate but only for a second. You go to him and stop cluelessly before him. He jabs his finger towards the floor. You still don’t get it.

“Down, buttercup,” he demands.

You restrain the strike of disgust, with him, with yourself knowing that you’ll do it. Your mother needs the money, your siblings too. They have nothing without you and no other household pays as well as him.

You get down on your knees and steel yourself as you put your hands to the floor. You hold yourself like a dog, feeling like one as he lifts his feet and crosses them over your back. The chair squeaks as he leans back and reaches for the tall mug of coffee.

“Ah, this is the life, buttercup,” he snickers, “you got a strong back, don’t you?” he wiggles his feet and your arms shake, his heel poking into your side.

“Sir,” you grunt as you stare at the carpet. 

You should’ve known. Lloyd isn’t the type to drop the bone. No, he’ll gnaw and gnaw to the marrow. He will break the camel’s back.

“You better,” he muses.

You hold your breath as you listen to his fork clink and his shameless smacking of his lips as he eats with delight. Your eyes burn, the sensation reminds you of the bathroom, the tears that clogged your nose and suffocated you as he invaded your throat. 

Your shoulder and spine ache the longer you stay there. He moves as if you are nothing more than a piece of furniture, digging in his heel as he adjusts. You hold in a yelp and bite your tongue.

“Done,” he finally pulls his feet off of you and turns to plant them under his desk, overpriced loafers meeting the just as expensive carpet. “You can take all this.”

You get up with a ‘yes, Mr. Hansen’ from your tight jaw and take the tray. As you turn, he slaps your ass and the cream pot overturns, spilling over the edge onto the carpet.

You stare down at the puddle between your shoes. Not good.

“You clumsy fucking bitch,” he snarls.

“Sorry, sir,” you utter, “I’ll clean it up.”

“Better get on it or you’ll be paying for this carpet.”

You nod and quickly flit out. You hurry down the hall, then the wide staircase. You say nothing to Elaine as you leave the tray without clearing it and rush for some rags and the steam cleaner. 

You carry the steamer by the plastic handle as you trip up the stairs, almost forgetting to knock before you enter. You go in and quickly get to work, knees chafing as you sop up the excess and do your best to sop up the cream. He’s watching you as he paces around.

“I have a meeting soon,” he warns.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I’ll be quick–”

“Stop talking and do your work then,” he snaps then grumbles to himself, “quick…”

You turn on the steamer and drag the flat nozzle over the carpet. You think you’ve got to it quick enough that there shouldn’t be any to sour and cause a stench. You shut off the machine and get your feet under you, securing the hose in the plastic ring as you stand.

“It’ll be a bit wet but should be fine once it’s dry–”

“Did I ask for the details? If you do your job right, you don’t need an explanation.”

“Yes, sir,” you affirm, “sorry.”

You take a step away, eager to be away, but he catches your hand. You look him in the eye as he smirks.

“You really think that back can hold up,” he takes the steam from your hand and drops it carelessly.

You blink at him as he squeezes your hand tight. You don’t know what he wants but his eyes are smoky again, sinister. Your heart races in terror. Not again.

“Come on,” he lifts his hand to your arm and angles you towards the desk. 

He pushes you ahead of him so you stumble and catch yourself against the marble top. He’s close behind as he grips your shoulders and kicks your feet apart. You gasp as he pushes you down until you're bent over it, chest to the surface.

“You always got that ass up in the air,” he taunts as his fingers flutter down your back and tugs up your skirt.

“Sir, please–” you beg.

“Please?” He slaps your ass, your tights offering little protection from the strike.

“I–” you puff and seal your lips. He doesn’t care. Whatever you can say will only make him worse. “Sorry, sir.”

“You will be,” he scoffs.

He drags his fingers down the seam of your black pantyhoses. He pokes one through, then another, then more, tearing them open. You turn your face down and shut your eyes. He steps closer and shifts as your temples pound, deafening you as places his hand on the small of your back.

“Let’s see if you got a good back after all,” he chuckles and tugs your panties aside.

He leans against you, pinning you down as your leather shoes scuff on the carpet. He rubs his tip along your folds as you hold your breath. He presses against your cunt and you let out an unthinking ‘please don’t’.

He pauses. You’re not even sure you really said it. 

He slams into you in a single thrust. You cry out and lift your head as he rattles your spine. You slap your hand to the desk and whine as he rams into you again. He grabs the back of your head and forces it back down as he ruts, flesh clapping loudly as your skirt rumbles over your hips.

“You like that, don’t you, buttercup. Tell me you like it.”

You sniffle as your nerves thrum, storming with disbelief and horror.

“Say it!” he growls.

“I like it, sir. I like it… so much,” you lie, face crushed to the marble as he leans his weight onto you.

“Tell me to fuck you harder. You want me to fuck you harder, don’t you?”

“Y-Y-Yes,” you shudder, “Fuck me harder, sir.”

Your inside roil with hatred as you recite the words. It’ll be over, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help.

“Louder!” He commands.

“Fuck me harder, sir!” You obey.

“‘Mr. Hansen, I love your dick’,” he sneers.

“Mr.--Han-sennnn,” you yipes as he rams into you particularly hard, slapping punctuating his throaty snarls, “I– lo-o-ove your…. Dick!” You nearly scream the last word as you reach back, fingertips brushing his undone pants as you try to slow him, “owwwww, it hurts.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grips your head and grouns your face into the desk, “ruin the fucking mood, buttercup.”

He huffs as he fucks you, your hips knocking against the sharp edge as you curl your fingers around it. He has your feet nearly off the floor as he pounds into you with all his strength. 

There’s a knock at the door. You barely hear it but it comes again, louder. He exhales but doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter.

“Come in,” he calls over his shoulder, keeping his motion rapid.

The door clicks and opens. You hear the tut.

“Really, Lloyd,” the man says, “you could’ve said you're busy.”

“I’m almost done,” Lloyd insists, “tight fucking snatch about to finish it.”

“I think I’ll wait in the hall.”

“Like you never saw my ass before, Carmichael,” Lloyd guffaws, “or maybe it’s that you never saw a pussy up close.”

“Jesus,” the disgust carries across the room as the man’s footsteps fade away.

“Fucking asshole always ruins the mood,” he puts his arm across your shoulders as he bends over you and speeds up, “ah, shit, buttercup, ask me nicely and I’ll cum on your ass, how about that?”

You swallow and lift your head as much as you can. Your tongue is dry and thick with imminent tears, “please, sir, will you…” you try to wet your mouth, “cum on my ass?”

“Aw, so sweet,” he mocks and impales you completely as he stops.

He stands and slowly slides out of you. He slaps his tip against your ass and strokes himself, rubbing against your skin as he groans and grunts towards his climax. He smacks your ass and kneads it as he cums over the other cheek, quaking as hot ribbons coat your flesh and seep into the torn edges of your tights.

He lets you go and you stay as you are. You peek back as he wipes himself off on your skirt and backs away. He zips up your pants and you stand, legs wobbly and bag rigid. You bat away tears with your lashes and fix your skirt.

“Sir,” you slowly cross the room to retrieve the steam cleaner, “is there anything else?”

your mouth was full of him, chrollo stared down at you, a small smile on his pretty lips as he pressed your head down, forcing his cock deep into your throat.

you swore that his cock was bulging through your tight throat, it was hard to take him, and he knew that, but he kept your head pressed down flushed against his pubic bone making it hard to not gag.

your senses were overwhelmed, your hands were tied up behind your back, you were bend over on your knees, your mouth was stuffed with chrollo's thick cock while feitan fucked your cunt from behind, holding your bonded wrists tightly so you would stay up right.

what even got you into this situation?

your attitude, of course. refusing to be near them, trying to fight off chrollo while he tried to hold you, avoiding to eat as rebellion for your captivity causing feitan to have to force feed you so you didn't die of starvation. your rebellion wasn't appreciated by your two captors, they just wanted what was best for you, and it was hard to give you the best while you kicked and screamed whenever they tried to touch you.

it was irritating! they just wanted you to love them, or at least, stop screaming whenever they reached for you. but, alas, if you weren't to submit by yourself, you'd have to be forced into submission.

feitan was pounding in your cunt roughly, taking out his frustration out on your gummy walls, but even if you hated these two men for all that they've put your through, you couldn't deny the shots of pleasure that fluttered through your body with every rough thrust.

your whiny moans were muffled by chrollo's thick cock. his grip on your hair was firm, he finally pulled back, letting your breathe. greedily taking up oxygen into your lungs, but after a few seconds, chrollo pushed his cock back into your pretty mouth, a soft groan of pleasure leaving his lips.

part of you wanted to bite down on him, make him feel a small amount of pain from all the things he did to you, but right now, you were powerless. he could easily go harsher on you, and not to mention that feitan was still fucking himself into you, so just because you managed to escape chrollo for a bit didn't mean you'd be free, feitan was another obstacle.

but.. you couldn't lie to yourself, something about this situation made your cunt flutter, maybe it was the pleasure of getting fucked that was making you feel like this or maybe it was your body unconsciously submitting to them both, just how they wanted.

"s-so wet..-" feitan groaned, his cock still bullied itself deep inside you, he was right though, even if he didn't voice it - the squelching that came with every thrust was enough to tell both men how wet you were.

chrollo kept thrusting up against your mouth, though, his pace was a hit lazy, almost as if he was trying to give your throat a break. his hand that once had a firm grip on your hair was now a bit gentle, chrollo stop thrusting for a few moments, his hand gently held your cheek, his thumb gently caressed your cheek. "she's being so good for us, don't you think?" he asked feitan, but his gaze was on your messy face.

his touch was so gentle, if you didn't have memory of all the things he had done to you before you would believe he actually loved you, instead of obsessing over you.

his hand moved, patting the top of your head before gently easing his cock down your throat, a wild contrast from a few minutes prior. feitan grunted, his hold on your wrists was still tight, "yes,-" he replied curtly, he was never a man of many words, so his lack of reply to chrollo's question was normal.

chrollo hummed softly, his hips pressing up against your face.

the sound of skin slapping was loud, feitan's cock rubbed your warm walls too well, it was hard to hold back your moans, especially as you got closer and closer, you could tell feitan was getting close too - his pace was messy and unorganized, his grunts got heavier, almost as if he was trying to hold his climax.

chrollo on the other hand had his head leaned to the side slightly, his eyes shut in a bliss, his grin on your hair tightened slightly, he was getting close too, how could he not? with that pretty mouth of yours, taking him in so well, he couldn't help it when your throat struggled to take him, and your occasional gags mixed with your muffled moans - the vibrations that were sent to his shaft, fuuuck, so good.

you were struggling, you wanted to hold onto something, just to have some balance, but the restraints didn't let you. your moans got louder and louder, even while they were still muffled, the pitch was hard to ignore.

chrollo couldn't take it anymore, his soft moans were so pretty and smooth, yet strained slightly, "im cumming..!" he warned, not soon after, his bitter yet thick cum filled your mouth, his cock nestled deep down your throat, forcing you to take all of his cum, his hand pressed you flush against his hips, gentle thrusts coming from him as he emptied his load in your pretty mouth.

"hold my cum, dear." chrollo commanded, even with a soft tone, you did as told, holding the thick liquid in your mouth waiting to be told something else, but you didn't hear another command, instead, you felt his lips press against yours.

he had leaned down, his hand angled your chin up before he kissed you, his large hands held your face. you were bewildered by this action, but you could only moan as you two kissed. it didn't take long for the kiss to get messy, his tongue slipped past your lips, letting his cum travel from your mouth to his, intermixing his seed with yours and his saliva.

cum and saliva drippled down your throat, the same for chrollo, he didn't care about his cum, he just focused on feverishly making out with you, like he was starved.

eventually, he had to pull away for air, but before he did, all of the cum that went into his mouth was gathered up. his thumb kept your mouth open, you were a bit confused on his reason, but your questions were quickly answered as chrollo spat it back into your mouth, making sure you don't miss a drop.

after your mouth shut, his fingers slipped down your throat, aiding you to swallow the cum mixed with saliva.

"how pretty." chrollo commented, his thumb wiping away a small bit of saliva as he stared down at you.

you didn't know what it was, but that whole situation made you get closer and closer.

now that your mouth wasn't full of chrollo, feitan took a handful of your hair before forcing your head back, making your back arch, a gasp of surprise left your lips as your scalp burned.

chrollo aided your climax, he adjusted his position, using his fingers to rub your clit, that being the last motivation you needed before a broken cry of pleasure left your lips, your body jolted at the sudden orgasm, your walls fluttered, making feitan get closer and closer, but he didn't warn you, he just shoved his cock deep inside you before his cock throbbed and in small spurts his cum came out, painting your gummy walls with him.

after dropping from his high, feitan pulled out of your sopping cunt, his gaze fixated on your cunt as his cum slowly oozed out of your hole. feitan's hand came to your sensitive cunny, he used his thumb to push your folds so he can fully see his cum dripping out of you, small globs falling onto the floor.

after it all calmed down, the two worked on untying you, feitan working on your wrists whole chrollo removed the blindfold.

soon enough, their hands found themselves on your body once more, greedy hands touching every part of your sensitive body. you felt feitan rub your thigh and tummy while chrollo just held your waist, be leaned into your ear.

"next time you disobey us, we'll make sure it hurts."