#fab!reader

Ward needed an heir from his only son. It was about time Rafe learned some responsibility. Ward needed to find a family with no authority or power. So, what better decision than to contact an old friend from the cut? Ward managed to pull himself out of there, your father on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. However, by Mr. Cameron's gracious offer, your father had been given a position in his company. Ward would handle the paperwork, while your father handled construction and remodeling.

It was enough to get by, but not enough to get out of the cut. That's why your father made the brash decision. Ward didn't see a problem with the arrangement given your family had no name for themselves. In a way it benefited the Cameron family. To Ward, having a family with no name or status is better than being involved with a tarnished one. It would avoid any unwanted attention for the Cameron family.

All your father wants is to make sure his only child would be taken care of once he's gone. You've only met Rafe during family events/outings, and when you did meet, he'd always tried tormenting you. Growing up, most of your time would be spent clinging to Sarah for safety.

You hadn't known about the arrangement until a week prior. You defiantly hadn't expected Rafe to get on one knee in front of everyone. Your engagement was a nightmare, Rafe had decided to ambush you during the Kook's annual midsummer event. A few months later you married into the Cameron family. The event being of the most lavish, expensive, and largest weddings in the history of the Outer Banks.

Rafe made the decision that your honeymoon would be spent ‘setting up home’. You bid your family and friends a farewell before leaving with your husband. It was awkward enough that he'd been drinking for most of the night. What was supposed to be a beautiful ceremony quickly became a frat party. It was awkward enough when Rafe (who'd been drinking most of the night) tried carrying you across the threshold of what was your new home. He stumbles a few times, almost dropping you on the front steps. All you wanted was to go to bed after a long and eventful day.

In a fit of rage you rush up the stairs and into the master bedroom. You hadn't even changed out of your wedding dress. Deciding that it would be done tomorrow, as would everything else. It was tiring, putting on an act in front of hundreds of people. You were relieved for it to be over with. Until the harsh turning of the doorknob catches your attention. In came a very intoxicated Rafe Cameron, stumbling in with his tie already undone.

His hair was a mess from wrestling his groomsman, his expensive cologne overtaken by the stench of alcohol. All you want now is to sleep after being anxiety ridden for the past few hours. But the shuffling on the end of the bed made your stomach churn. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep he would leave.

Rafe reaches down to brush the back of his hand on your cheek. He couldn't help but chuckle at his fiancee--no, his wife. You're his wife now and he couldn't believe it. He grins from cheek to cheek, hovering over to study your features. You could hear Rafe talking to himself, "You're even prettier up close..."

Rafe was fine with the wedding day being for his wife, but it was the wedding night that belonged to the husband. 

He gets on his knees, preparing to strike. He pulls you but the ankle, dragging you across the bedsheets. He locks his arms around your thighs to pull you in. It was futile trying to fight back. Rafe rips away at the fabric, revealing what was for his eyes only. He doesn't waste time getting to work, suckling, lapping, and teasing at your sex.

When he starts to dip his tongue inside that's when you crumble beneath him. Your thighs shake when coming undone. A gush of arousal splashes his face. Rafe doesn't stop there, instead he keeps going until you're brought to tears cumming for the second time. He retreats with a triumphant look on his face.  

"Hey...." he whispers followed by a harsh grip on your jaw that turns your attention back to him, "Hey," his voice boomed. He held you in place, looking you right in the eyes when he states, "Look at me," a small pause follows, "No one is coming through that door to save you," he readjusts his grip, digging his fingers into your jaw, "No one is coming through that door, we're the only ones here," leaning in, "And if they heard they wouldn't care, they know their place," before lifting your skirt up, "It's about time you did too," Rafe held his cock in one hand, his other held your hip in place. He pumps his shaft a few times before rubbing it against your slick. He moans, "Oh fuck...can't wait to stuff you with it..." Rafe dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips find that sweet spot. He suckles until he's certain there would be bruising.  

"You can scream all you want, no one’s gonna stop me,” he presses his leaking tip against the small opening, pushing it in without hesitation, “Not you…” he just his hips, “Not our families,” thrusting his cock inside, “No one…” fastening his pace. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. You had no idea that Rafe had willingly entered this marriage.

Can’t you see? He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. Yet you kept denying him repeatedly. Now Rafe has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s inherited the Cameron family fortune, gained the trust of his father as well as yours, and now he has you.  

He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth. Reveling in the feeling of you squeezing his member. It was exactly how he’d fantasized about. No more having to spend late nights wondering what you would feel like. He has you right where he wants. Rafe pulls down your top, exposing both breasts. He nips and suckles at them until they’re nice and bruised. He takes pride in being able to do so. Rafe squeezes your mouth open before pressing his lips against them. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. The taste of liquor makes you nauseous. His presence is suffocating.

This wasn’t how you wanted to end the night. In the end you never had a choice. Your entire life revolving around men in power. A lamb sent to be slaughter, given only the right to live. Even if it meant living for someone else. Rafe presses his sweaty forehead against yours. He snarls, "You're my wife until I fucking die, do you hear me? Until death," his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, digging hard enough to break skin.

A howl escapes your body as pain shot through it. Rafe held you close to him until he finally reached his limit and finishes inside. A deep, guttural moan is muffled into the bite mark. For a moment the two of you stay together until finally Rafe draws back. He’s a panting mess. He could practically feel how slick you became. He lets out a satisfying huff of victory. Rafe had won.  

A part of him wants to remember the day he finally got to take you. Then it hits him, “Wait…don’t move,” rummaging through a cabinet. He retreats down the hall. You could hear him searching for something in the unopened boxes. He then returns to you with a Polaroid in hand. He straddles your waist, aiming the lens at you. Rafe smiles, “Something to remember this moment...” he aims it right in your face, “...our first time as husband and wife,” before clicking it.

You could only give a startled look as you stare back at him. Like a deer caught in headlights. Rafe inspects the photo of you. He whistles at the beautifully captured moment. There you were, staring back at him with smudged lipstick and running mascara. You only blink as he stood there, snapping pictures like it was some heartfelt moment. What was supposed to be the most important day of your life, ended in the worst way imaginable.

"Smile for me Mrs. Cameron..."

Rafe was fine with the conditions of inheritance. In order to stay in his father's will, he would have to settle down first. But if there's one thing Ward taught him, it's to negotiate. Rafe remembers striking the deal in his father's office. For the first time ever, the young Cameron man put his foot down,

"No," Rafe states,

Ward looks up at his son, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not getting married, not unless it's her," he's dead serious too. Ward sighs, he leans back in his chair, "Do you really want to marry this girl?" questioning his son's authenticity. Rafe nods, "It's always been her,"

Ward understands now, his son's mind is made up. Not even he could stop it, "Rafe...you have to understand that her father is a very important member of my company..." he starts, "...he's a bit of a... traditionalist," he pushes himself off the desk, approaching his son, "He expects a certain price for her hand, that I’m not worried about…” he held Rafe's shoulder.

Ward looks his son dead in the eyes to show how serious this situation was to both of their families, “Do not fuck this up, you only get one shot and then you're done, do you hear me? Done," he expects an answer. Rafe looks him in the eyes, there’s a spark of determination in the young Cameron man’s eyes, hope, “I won't,” sealing the deal. Ward immediately dials up your father’s number, "My friend, you're needed at the office, it's about time we discuss family matters,"

This wasn't a huge deal for you. Personally, you've never had any luck with guys and would rather get this over with. Growing up you were always the awkward, ugly duckling of the friend group, so a boyfriend was out of the picture. Only sharing an innocent kiss with a childhood friend, but that was a long time ago. It was only after you reached your 20's where you began to bloom.

He'd bought your outfit and covered the cost of everything. He wants you ready and waiting for him, all wrapped up like a pretty present. He's very particular about these things, even making a list of errands to run before the big day. He requested for photos of the hair and makeup you'd be wearing for the evening. Scolding you every time you did something he disliked. He wouldn't even try hiding it. You reread his previous text message: Change the makeup. It makes you look like a cheap whore. You scoff at the response...how rude.

Even before all of this he would try to test your patience. Sending messages like, 'Do you know who I am? You should be more grateful that I'm giving you this much attention," or "Anyone would be lucky to be in your position,' which made you physically roll your eyes. This morning, he had given you a call as a reminder of where you would meet. He send you the hotel address with money for a cab.

He made sure to give you call in the afternoon as a reminder of what to do after arriving, ending it with, "I don't want to hear any complaining when I get there." before hanging up. You grumble a stray of curse words, this had better been worth it...

You couldn't believe your eyes on how luxurious the hotel was. It's entrance had been decorated with marble and brass statues. There wasn't a drop of it that didn't scream 'money'. You sheepishly sign in, allowing a worker to carry your bag to the room. It had taken a while before you could reach the top. Part of you was impressed, he had really gone all out.

As soon as you enter the room there was this sort of romantic ambiance to it. From the lighting, to the breathtaking scenery of the city. It was all so...dreamy. But this was no dream. You were going to have sex for the first time with some old, rich geezer, gross. You take note of a shopping bag left on the bed, opening it to find a lingerie set.

You held the fabric, inspecting the material. White lace, with hints of glitter that shine in the light. At least the old man has good taste. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, humming at the sight of it. Not bad...hell, you looked fantastic.

Suddenly the door knob jingles, then a heavy knock follows. You leapt from the bed, approaching to open the door for him. But before you could reach the knob it slams open. A man enters, sporting a well-tailored suit, dressed to the nines from head-to-toe. His hair is combed back, a few strands dangle against his forehead. As you scan the man's face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

There's a light rosy hue to his cheeks. You first notice the striking blues of his eyes and how long his lashes are. He looks like he'd have no problem at all searching for someone. So what is he doing paying for someone like you? For a moment, you were in awe of his presence. Staring back at the man like a deer caught in headlights.

The meeting today had taken its toll on Robert. He was supposed to meet with you hours ago, but there had been an emergency with the company's shareholders. He could practically feel his blood boiling, to the point where it felt almost difficult to breathe. He tugs his tie off and yanks for his shirt to open, a few buttons go flying. He lets out a huff, scanning the room with his blue orbs for something, more specifically, someone.

"So you're the one I've been talking to eh?" a hint of humor in his voice, "Let me guess, you're a good girl caught up in the wrong crowd? Is that it?" he taunts, "I'm sure you've 'never' done this before," the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sinister grin. His eyes are emotionless. Cold as ice. Yet why did they seem so comforting? As if you've seen them before.

He drops his suitcase at the end of the bed, turning towards you. He eyes you up and down, as if he were deep in thought, "Give me a spin," and of course you follow his orders. He raises a brow, "Come here," he commands. You stare back at him, unsure of what he'd just said. Robert sighs, he doesn't have time for this. He's slightly drunk and exhausted from work. Right now he just wants some hard, animalistic fucking.

He tugs your underwear to the side, examining his prize. He bunches up the waistband of your panties before yanking the fabric down. You held your breath, now riddled with anxiety. This was a bit too...casual for comfort. He fists the fabric, holding it to the side while the other hand held your hip.

His voice is deep, much deeper in person, "Hold it for me," he wants to get a good look at his purchase. His thick fingers slide down your pubic area, grazing against the bare skin, he hums, "Even waxed yourself like I told you to, good girl." he slaps the side of your hip, as if he were examining livestock. Your stomach coils at the realization. Never in your life have you felt so...objectified. Still, now wasn't the time to back down. He pushes you against a desk. Until you were now leaning on the table.

He spreads your folds with his thick digits, examining them closely. He held your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly. You let out a whine from the sensation, bucking your hips from the sudden discomfort. He retreats his hand before flipping you over. His chest now against your back. He pushes you against the table, bending you over for a better view. He was in no rush.

He rubs his fingers over your bare slit. His thumb caresses your bundle of nerves. As soon as he retreats you finally snap the fabric back in place. Now lowering your head with embarrassment. He grips your chin, lifting it until you're face-to-face, "No don't hide from me now..." he plops himself on a chair, tilting his chin up, "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me get this off?"

If you weren't getting paid you would've scoffed at his rudeness. It was obvious he was into power play. Being in total control of everything. Now wasn't the time for letting your emotions emotions get involved. You help him remove his coat and tie, even unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He's still wearing his pants, now unclasped. He stares you down, a smirk now lingering on his cold features, "Take off your clothes,"

When you start to quickly unclasp the garter belt, Robert's voice booms, "Stop." he orders, "Do it slower," he leans back in the recliner, already palming his erection. You shyly unclasp your belt, letting the straps fall off each shoulder. His hand grazes on an exposed breast, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles, "Oh...don't tell me you're that sensitive?" a crude remark. Your brows furrow, why did he have to tease you so? He notices your obvious discomfort, "Don't worry darling, your only job is to fuck," as if that would make things better, "Do you know how to suck cock?" he questions. You give him a hesitant nod, "No...I've never done it before this is my first time--"

"I didn't ask for a whole life story,"

"...No," your lips press in a thin line. He was really pushing it, "So you've never had sex or sucked cock before, tell me, what have you done?" he pulls out his member, already hard and leaking. It's tip was flush pink, the same as his lips. He spits into his palm before working himself up, he knows you're nervous. He wants you to be intimidated by him. He pumps his shafts with slow strokes, "Tell me, what gets you off..." he sighs.

You look down to your feet, suddenly his voice booms, "No, do not look away," to which you began to tear up. His voice is soft now, "Sweetheart, look at me," he huffs. You look up at him now with tearful eyes, he groans, "Oh...that's it..." stroking his cock faster. A finger points directly at you in a 'come hither' motion. You walk towards him, still eyeing his shaft. How was that going to fit?

You felt warm despite the lack of clothing, there's a pooling sensation between your legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His tongue darts against a breast. He teases the bud with his teeth. He made sure it was swollen and sensitive before giving attention to the other breast.

You never knew it could feel this...good. As soon as your hands reach for his hair he instantly stops, Robert remembers the reason why you're here. It wasn't to see him. You only wanted one thing, and he doesn't have time to play pretend. He just came here to collect what he's owed. At the end of the day, you were just a hired whore. He swats both hands away, giving you the cold shoulder. He lifts himself from the seat, shoving you to the floor. You're confused at the sudden mood swing. It was frightening to see just a shift. Where the hell did that come from?

"It's a shame, you were doing so well," Robert sits up, his leaking cock now presses against his abdomen. He's pissed. He paid you for your time, you were suppose to focus only on his needs. Every word that came from his mouth dripped with anger, "It seems like you need a reminder on whore etiquette," he knows you've probably fucked a few before him, this was all part of your little roleplay act.

"I'm not a whore!" you detest lying, what made him not believe you? Forget it...this wasn't worth an argument, "You know what? You can take your money back asshole! Fuck this and fuck you--" a hand grips around your neck. He'll have to show you a thing or two of what comes with selling yourself out, especially to a complete stranger. You've always knew deep down that you'd regret your first, but this was downright terrifying.

This man, he didn't even see you as a person. As a human being. To him, this was all a transaction that was paid for, "What did you think that website was for? It's a human auction. Not just your cunt. Meaning I own your ass for the next few hours," he leans in, pressing his nose against yours, he growls, "Remember your place..."

Robert pulls you up by the hair, throwing you onto the bed. You scramble to get away but he's much stronger. He began to wrestle you. To which you land a slap on his cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. You pause, now too scared to move. He touches the tender skin, it would surely leave a bruise tomorrow. Which just so happens to be an important meeting, "You little bitch..." he grips your jaw until it aches, forcing your mouth to open.

He takes the opportunity to spit inside, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. You felt like you wanted to gag. Finally, after fighting to hold your breath, you swallow. He grins, "See? even if you try to fight me, I always get what I want..."

You, of all people, should know this about him. Instead you try putting up a fight, "I hate you! I hate you! Let me go!" thrashing around. Both of his hands now pressed against your throat. He scolds, "If you want it to hurt I'll make it hurt like nothing else..." he flips you over, pressing his body against your own, making it harder to breathe.

He lets his pants slide down. Tugging off his boxers. He spits a wad into his hand, that should be enough to get comfortable, for him. But for you? Well, he wants it to hurt you. Otherwise, how will you learn? Whores like you deserve to feel pain. That's what you get for teasing him in your photos. He growls into your ear, "Time to try my pussy..."

He yanks down your panties before pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He muffles your cries in his palm. You couldn't hold back the tears. This man is going to break you! As retaliation you tilt your head to the side and bit into his forearm. He grunts from the pain, it only encourages him to carry out your punishment. He thrusts harder, grinding down his hips to reach as deep as he could go.

You sob from the pain, going limp from shock. All you could do was cry into his hand, bracing yourself against the cushioning below. You turned your head to face the mirror, taking a good look at your own sad, pathetic reflection. You were being dominated by a complete stranger. How did it get to this point? When did you become so pathetic? So desperate to the point where you became a whore for hire?

He held you close to his chest. He knows now you're too tired to fight him off. He kept jutting his hips back and fourth, moaning in your ear with a deep grumble. You could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It repulses you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were of skin-to-skin slapping, Robert's insults, and your muffled cries.

"Fuck....fuck m'gonna cum..." he grunts. He rubs his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume. He drags his face across the soft, supple skin. He can tell by the shimmer that you applied an expensive lotion earlier. Of course you wanted him, what woman wouldn't? He's handsome, rich, successful, he's the entire package.

So why were you begging for him not to finish inside? You were just being stubborn, that's all. He'll have to remind you of who's in charge, "I bought this pussy fair and square. If I want to put a baby in it, then bitch, I will," he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting until the skin breaks. He doesn't stop thrusting his hips. Plunging his cock deep inside to coat your womb. He moans, furrowing his brows from the feeling of your velvety walls.

"You think you're better than me huh? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to get knocked up, yeah fucking right" he huffs, "You just wanted an excuse to be whore..." His voice becomes hoarse, as the pleasure began to increase, "Fuck...fuck I'll buy you a big house just so I can fuck you in it...hm...yeah you'd like that wouldn't you?" he doesn't stop his vigorous thrusts, "I’ll fuck some babies into you hm? You'd like that? I’ll give you a baby with blue eyes…something to remind you of me…" he flips you over, locking an arm around your neck.

All you could do was whine as you wait for the inevitable. Robert licks a stripe against your ear. He grunts with satisfaction, "Want you to remember this for the rest of your life....every time you think about your first time, you'll be thinking of me...." he fastens his pace. All you could do was stare back at your reflection. A tear trickles down your cheek. You couldn't help but agree. It was true, this moment would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Robert knows it. That's what gives him such an ego boost. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world. He growls in your ear, "Remember this, I.Fucking.Own.You." before unloading his spunk deep inside. He muffles a moan in the crook of your neck, bowing his head down to feel the bliss of it all. Fuck, he never came so much in his life. Was it the adrenaline or the pussy? He doesn't care. All he knows is that it's money well spent.

He slowly begins to pull out, hissing from the pleasure your pussy gave. He moans at the sight of his shaft dipped in a crimson tint, "Fuck me...if that isn't a sight for sore eyes..." he's made sure to mark his territory. He flips you over, you're too scared to even look at him.

He slides his hand from your stomach to your pelvis, "Hold on...I want to see it.." giving your lower abdomen a light push, forcing the rest of his seed out. It's mixed with a string of red. His lids are hooded, there's a twitch to his features. He grins, "Fuck...guess you weren't lying about me being your first..." he chuckles, "And here I thought you were just another lying whore..." playing with your emotions.

Robert lifts himself from the bed. He retrieves his belt on the floor, tying your wrists to the bed post. He doesn't want to risk you running away from him. Not while he still had a few hours left. He fixes himself in the mirror, coming his hair back to how it was before. Making sure that there wasn't a single strand out of place. He admires himself in the mirror. He felt like a fucking champ. Like nothing in the world could stop him, and so far there hasn't been.

Robert knew this was a good idea the moment he saw your profile online. He'd been tracking you down for quite some time, it's been a while. His obsession growing with each message sent. He had to own you. Mind, body, and soul. It was a good idea to install the hidden camera in the hotel. He could only stare at you from his office, viewing you changing into the set he'd purchased, admiring yourself in the mirror. He had to wait another agonizing hour before work was finished.

He notices the way you'd tried being presentable, all for him. How you would constantly check your phone just to see what his orders were. Submissive, compliant, needy. So fucking needy. That little pussy of yours needed his cock to break it in. He doesn't want it to end, he tosses a few bills onto the mattress, you don't even flinch. Your mind had already escaped.

Robert leans in, caging your body with his arms, "Why don't I keep you as my little plaything, hm?" he knows you've recently graduated. But what use was a degree compared to what he could give? What greater reward than being his pretty little housewife? You might as well put those looks to use. He plants a kiss against your lips, humming in satisfaction, "Need a good girl to balance me out..." he begins to rant, "And if you ever think of leaving me, I'll send a video of us fucking to your parents,"

But the thing is, you never told him who your parents were. It was then when the pieces began to fall into place. How could you be so stupid? His username was R-Morrow.

This was no other than the owner of Fischer Morrow, the man responsible for your landing parents in deep debt. Of course they trusted him, because he's your childhood friend. You lift yourself up and face him. Your voice in disbelief when you question the identity of the strange man, now with a tearful look, "R-Robbie?" you whisper. He pauses for a moment, head turning to the side as he looks your way, "Did you miss me?"

At first, it started off as a hobby. Rafe was into voyeurism, he found that out at a young age. To dominate someone while everyone else knew. In the beginning of Rafe's livestreaming career, he started off as a solo act. He loved messaging complete strangers online, he especially loved the look on these women's face when he pulls his cock out. How their expression would change, the sudden stuttering at the sight of it. He loves when their eyes would rake up and down his girth, knowing full well they were admiring the sight of it. He'd jerk himself off in front of the camera, rubbing at his thighs while taunting his viewers. Rafe would edge himself off for each tip.

Rafe knows he's well endowed. Him having a pretty face and nice body was the cherry on top. He made himself comfortable with this newfound stardom. Becoming a sex worker was the last thing on Rafe's mind. In a span of a few months, Rafe was one of the biggest online stars. The best part is, no one else knew who he was. He found a luxury apartment by the beachside to live in, that's where he did most of his work. He even invited some of his clients for a solo video.

It was more of a hobby for him, he would secretly record these women and keep it in his inventory. As long as he was getting paid and looked good doing so, he could care less what the other women looked like. To him it was strictly business. Old, young, single or taken, it didn't matter. For him it was a side hustle to get back on his feet. Hell, some of them were his dad's former clients. Rafe earned enough to get him a luxury apartment by the beach with the well-earned income and cushiony life.

If she had a pretty face, then he'd do it in missionary. If not? He'd fuck her doggy-style. He had fucked up one day after failing to pay Barry back. He may have underestimated the Pogue drug dealer when thinking he could get away with not paying him full price. When returning to his home he noticed a window had been broken, the T.V. had been running. When Barry breaks into Rafe's apartment in search of his money owed, the last thing he expects is a built-in porn set. There Rafe found him, currently watching his last performance on his brand new T.V.

It was as if the Pogue knew he was there, "Country Club...where's my credit for giving you that name," he stands up from the recliner. His expression wasn't mad, in fact, it was quite the opposite. It started off with Barry suggesting that he'd pay him back. Whether Rafe was willing to or not. He doesn't have a choice. Barry knew of his dirty little secret. He has enough evidence to ruin the Kook's polished image. So, for the past few months Barry has been his personal pimp. It became a regular routine.

Barry would schedule the meetings with clients to make it easier. A quick suck and fuck to cover rent. Rafe worked hard to get to where he was. This isn't a side hustle. It took skill to get to where he is. Rafe is one of the highest ranking members for a reason. The once proud Kook-king was owned by some Pogue. For the longest time Barry had almost total control over his business. Rafe had to work hard for the past few months in order to gain control again. Even after gaining access to his social media, it was Barry who called the shots.

Rafe would be notified by Barry of a latest client, they would meet up at the country club, where Rafe did most of his dirty work. That, and a motel nearby. For Rafe, the country club was a hunting ground. He'd often go for married older women with neglectful husbands. He would be the face of their business, but Barry would be the backup in case things got ugly (or if an unsuspecting husband were to walk in). Rafe's steaming channel became popular as well. His online alias? Country club. Like the place he'd pickup his clients.

It was the first time Rafe had been this confident in himself. He had finally earned enough to make a living and have liquid income pouring in. He would never have to worry about money again. But it wasn't enough for Barry. He wanted power, control and fear. So, what better way than to start blackmailing their clients? They had the wealthiest women in the palm of their hands. For them, paying off a blackmail would be cheaper than a divorce. Rafe knows he could get away with it too. He knew exactly what these prim and proper women wanted: A good and hard fucking. They wanted to be dominated, controlled and degraded to their heart's contempt.

It was surprising how many women of high society were into the downright nastiest things. Rafe can give them all that and more. Rafe would choke them, slap them around a few times, sometimes even reducing these women into tears. Yet they always came back soaking wet. Their husbands weren't enough. They needed a good fuck to escape the pressures of being a Kook. Call it an act of community service if you will. After getting into a brawl with a married woman's husband, Rafe decides that he doesn't want to take in clients anymore. Barry convinces him of a newer strategy: Live streaming for bids. Soon he was making an easy six figures. Rafe considers himself to be an expensive experience.

Now that he had a stable income with his streaming service, he can work from home. Usually for commissions or requests by his clients. So far Rafe had been enjoying his life after retirement. At that point Rafe didn't care what anyone would say. After spending some time in the industry, he had gained a new sense of confidence. Immunity, if you will. For his entire life, Rafe had gotten away with just about anything. He knows he's making almost as much as his father now. On a good day, even more. Barry was on his payroll and kept quiet about it.

There's only one thing Rafe missed about working in the industry: The rush. Rafe was going to miss the thrill of doing whatever he wants to a complete stranger. It made him rock hard just thinking about it. He could do whatever he wanted and they would beg for it. These women would beg for him to ruin them. The best part was, they would always come back for more. More, more, more. Rafe went as far as to sneak into the houses of married women while their husbands were away. He had earned a black eye and fractured rib after being caught. He thankful for not having to worry about that ever again.

Yet still, there's a part of him that yearns for that adrenaline, if only he could balance it with his regular life. Rafe wanted to spend time with his family more than anything. He knows that Ward had been giving him shit for missing his sister's recitals. He'll try to make up for that.

He'd just got off the phone with his sister, promising to show up at her next show. Barry had been messaging his phone nonstop. Rafe groans, what was it this time? Rafe decides to call him, "What's up?" a short and simple statement. Barry sounded a bit muffled on the other side, "I'm coming over, tomorrow, and I've got a deal you won't regret," he sounds confident. Rafe was curious by the humor in Barry's tone, "What is it?" now wondering what had made the dealer so excited.

Barry promised Rafe that he wouldn't bring up films as long as he was getting paid, but this? This was different, "We're about to become millionaires, Country Club," with that he hung up. Rafe groans, rubbing the back of his neck. He was enjoying his retirement while it lasted. Like his father, he would take any opportunity given to him. A chance at receiving a million dollars? Shit, maybe one last time wouldn't hurt. Rafe might just be looking forward to fucking whatever old crone paid for his time.

Rafe had emptied his schedule just to meet up with the Pogue. He set up studio, making a simple bed on the floor nice and pretty. He even added a few pillows for comfort. He then waits for Barry to arrive, to kill the time Rafe would snort a few rounds. He already indulged in his expensive collection of alcohol until his throat went hoarse. Rafe wanted to be as intoxicated as he could possibly be if he wanted to make it bearable.

A buzzing noise from his alert system indicated that Barry was already in the lobby. Rafe had let him pass through. It had taken the dealer a while to get upstairs. In the meantime, Rafe had popped a special pill to keep the party going. There's a loud slam on his door. Rafe opens it to find Barry hauling a large suitcase. He'd a little sweaty from the travel. It wasn't easy sneaking onto Kook territory. Especially if you were as notorious as him.

He watches as his partner hauls the luggage inside, cursing as he finally tosses it onto the living room floor. Rafe looks out to see if there are any onlookers before shutting the door closed. He locks it before walking towards it, "What is that?" to which his friend ignores. Barry hurries to where the camera had been set. As soon as he realizes it was ready, he goes for Rafe's laptop, logging in to prepare for a livestream. Barry is quick with his moves, wasting no time. He kicks off a few prop pillows until the mattress is bare. This confused Rafe as he was told he'd be using props for the video.

Barry orders Rafe to help with setting up the room, "Get this shit off,"

"What?"

"We can't let them know where we are, gotta make this place a little shitty," Barry informed Rafe that the client had a taboo fetish for non-consensual roleplay. He wants this place to resemble an abandoned building. So, both of the men put in the effort to make it look just like that. Rafe places an old worn-out mattress in the center of his room. Anything personal was discarded of.

By the time they were done the room it resembled a scene from a torture porn film. Rafe suddenly jolts to the sound of loud rustling coming from the luggage. Apparently, Barry wasn't specific to what kind of prop would be used either. Rafe turns to it, "What the fuck is in there...?" his voice is in all seriousness, "What the fuck is happening?" his attention is fully on the noise coming from the container.

Barry hurries to the case, his hands are quick to open it, "Our client wants us to use prop," that's when Barry reveals a woman who had been kept inside. He hauls her by the underarms and pulls her out the case. Rafe stares at the woman then back at Barry. He tries to read his face, nothing. In fact, Barry seemed like the only one that was perfectly calm about all this. He effortlessly lifts the woman out of the case, dragging her to the bare mattress. He ignores her muffled crying and returns to the camera. Barry wants the angle to be just right.

Rafe couldn't believe what was happening. He can't keep his eyes off the woman. Her hands and legs had been bound by duct tape. Her face covered with a satchel. She had been wearing a leotard--but it was the ballet shoes that had him in the chokehold. Rafe had a thing for cute, delicate things. A strange fascination of his were Ballerinas. As soon as he spotted those shoes his brain started to malfunction. It gave a sense of femininity that he wanted to protect. It reminded him of a special someone from home.

Barry informs Rafe that the clientele was a very important person on the Island. Their decision to start streaming, was Barry's idea. He made sure to turn on the bidding option to collect some extra cash. It was two birds with one stone. Barry shakes her by the shoulder a few times to give a good scare. He does it just show just how much stronger he was. Barry nods to his accomplice, ushering him to come over. Rafe is hesitant when approaching the two. Barry finally shoves her back down with a 'thud'. Rafe isn't bothered one bit by that.

Was it so wrong that Rafe had been emotionally numb to all of this? Maybe it was the dope or maybe a part of him really didn't care. Either way this would be the last time he would ever need to make another film again. The Kook sighs, "Let's make this quick, I have to get to my sister's recital," he begins to strip himself of all clothing.

"Sarah?" Barry questions,

"No, the other one,"

Barry smirks, "Almost forgot about that one,"

Rafe strips himself of all clothing before approaching the mattress. He circles around her, like a predator stalking its prey. He eyes her like a hawk, yet there isn't a single thought behind those blues. Barry is in charge of the camera work. He made sure hold it steady as Rafe got to work. This had been more than what Rafe was used to taking. He was more buzzed than usual, and he knew it. But did he really care? He felt good, and that's all that matters. Fuck, Barry was getting hard at the thought of it.

He's always had a thing for her, but the bitch thought she was too good for him. One thing he couldn't stand being was a stuck-up Kook bitch. Barry grits his teeth at the memory of her laughing at him. Now he was her only saving grace, “Her family, they're looking for her, and get this: Her daddy is a big-time figure on the Island, the dude is loaded,” he starts feeding Rafe bit by bit of a fantasy, leaving out the most important details.

Barry mentions one last thing: "The client wants you to break her in," he's dead serious too. For a moment Rafe pauses, "You serious?" His brows furrow, "She's never had dick?" He couldn't believe it. Rafe groans at the thought of it. She was a good girl who had gotten into some trouble, and now these bad men were going to ruin her. Rafe could practically feel how heavy his balls were. Fuck, he's never wanted pussy this bad before. There's something about an unused cunt that just gives a man an ego boost. If it's a show the client wants, it's a show he'll get.

Rafe pins her down with his body weight, he chokes her out, admiring the way she would try to fend him off. It was adorable, she really thought she had a chance. He taunts her pathetic attempts, "C'mon...try harder...let's see if you have a chance..." at this point he really was playing with his food, "See? You can't, because I'm stronger than you, I can do whatever the fuck I want," he rips the thin fabric off for a dramatic effect, "Your daddy's not here to save you," knowing that would only make her cry harder. Apparently, her stepfather was a very important businessman. One of the wealthiest in the entire Outer Banks. One who just so happened to have a very pretty stepdaughter. Rafe questions why the old man hasn't fucked her yet. He knows that if it were him, he already would've.

Rafe grinds his hips against her clothed sex. He groans, "How about I be your daddy? Huh?" he taunts, "Say it, say it slut," he grips around her neck again. He could barely hear the gurgled cry that came from underneath. Rafe didn't want to calm her down. It would be more entertaining for the audience if there was a performance. It was the thrill of the chase that excites him the most. Rafe wants her to be sobbing by the time he's done with her. He tears at her top, groping at the exposed flesh. He relishes in the feeling of soft skin. It'd been a while since he's hooked up with anyone. During the past few months, Rafe had only produced solo films. For once, he prefers a tight cunt over his hand.

Barry reassures him that there wouldn't be a thing to worry about, "Just go with the flow," he had already set up the starting prices. As the livestream started his fans began to swarm on. Rafe had been impressed by the number of viewers, had they really missed him that much? He held her against his bare chest. Rafe gropes at her bare chest while reading the comments. He rests his chin on your shoulder blade, taking his sweet time reading each comment. He plays along, “What do you say guys should we fuck her cunt or ass first?” A string of pings goes off from the laptop as it’s being broadcasted. Complete strangers were rooting for him to ruin her.

He chuckles after reading the comment, "C'mon guys vote in the poll ass or cunt first," as if she were a piece of meat. A sinister smile is plastered on his face. He held her by the neck, tilting his face towards her ear, "You're not a person, you hear me?" his fingers add more pressure, "From now on you're mine," his other hand caresses her mound. His digits tease at her clothed core, "This cunt? Mine," another 'ping' came from his laptop. He looks right at the camera, "How much can we get for her cunt? Do I hear $100?"

Rafe enjoyed playing with his prey. He loved to hear their whimpers for mercy. Barry reads a few requests, "The fans want you to slap her," of course, Rafe couldn't let his fans down. He shoves her down. He swats at her rear, admiring the way it ripples with each crack. His hand lands on it again and again, until she was writhing in pain. He then pulls at the remaining fabric. Now exposing her to millions of viewers. Rafe wasn't the least bit shy. He'd gotten comfortable with showing off his body to the world.

He motions for his partner to get closer with the camera. Barry approaches, unbuckling his belt to release his half-hard cock. He pumps it a few until it gets hard enough to stand. His cock now pressed against his abs, already leaking with precum. Rafe wanted full access to her, in order to do so he'll need a little help, "Hold her down, need some room," he held the camera so that Barry could cut some tape off. As soon as her hands were freed, she began smacking around. Both men laugh at the woman's feeble attempts. As if she could actually hurt them.

Rafe is having way too much fun with the struggle. Barry pins her hands under his knees, hard enough so that it would hurt. He hands over the knife to Rafe. He glides it along her thighs as a warning. In a few seconds her legs were freed, but only for a moment. Rafe got to work parting both of her legs. He uses his bodyweight to pin both of her legs down. His fingers already gliding up and down her slit. He presses his finger pads right on her core, rubbing it vigorously. Poor thing hadn't a clue who this stranger was playing with her cunt. He could be anyone, that's the part he loved the most.

Rafe loves getting his clients all worked up, sometimes to the point of tears. Until they're practically begging for him to ruin them. He knows his audience wouldn't say a thing if they thought it was roleplay. Most of his popular videos were darker fantasies. He's had his fair share of fucked up roleplays. His fans wouldn't so much as bat an eye if he were to smack her around. Rafe toys with the woman's exposed slit as Barry pointed the camera at them. Rafe spat at her mound, coating it with his saliva before teasing it again. Barry held her down while Rafe got to work on making her fall apart. He can't take his eyes off of such a pretty slit. Rafe's cock twitches at the sight of her slickened slit. He was transfixed by the sight of her tight cunt puckering at him. As if it were begging to be ruined.

Rafe doesn't waste any time diving him tongue first. He wraps his lips around the entrance, suckling at it like a starved man. Rafe starts with slow, strong licks. He made sure to look at the camera to capture a POV for the audience, before flattening his tongue against her mound. He presses the muscle along her slit, dragging it up and down. Rafe parts for a moment to spit a wad before lapping against her sex. He suckles along the sides, making sure to get her all hot and bothered. If there's something he's good at, it's eating pussy.

For dramatic effect, Rafe rubs his head from side to side, humming so that she could feel just how deep his tongue was inside her. Rafe retrieves for a moment, but only to tease the audience, "Bitches love when you bite it," Rafe jokes. He's had quite the experience as a giver. He knows just the right amount of pressure to bring a woman to climax. His teeth tease at her sensitive pearl. Her thighs quake from the pressure. Barry dares his friend to continue the torment, "Give it a pull, she can take it," and so he does. His thick fingers tug at her poor clit. A frantic cry is all he needed to hear before pressing the first digit inside. Shit, she was tight.

When he tries so curl his finger a howl of pain escapes. A swift kick lands right on his nose, landing with a loud 'crack' sound. Barry couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter. Rafe backs away, retreating to inspect the damage done. That's when Barry mentions something he should've done earlier, "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, this one is still intact," he forces her legs apart, parting her folds to reveal what Rafe hadn't bothered spotting. Before Rafe could pounce on her, Barry pulls her up against him. He tries balancing the camera but eventually lets it rest on a chair nearby. That way he could have more control over her.

He grips the back of her knees, exposing her full to a very pissed off Rafe. He knows that the Kook always held a grudge. Once his mind is set, there's no stopping him. Barry decides to twist the knife, “They want you to break her in,” he lets her go, raising his hands in the air so that Rafe is free to perform. He pulls her in by the ankles, dragging her across the mattress. He flips her over, pulling his belt from his waist before swatting it at her a few times. He ignores her crying, only using more force when she tries to run away. He doesn't stop, not until she's screaming at the top of her lungs. But it's not enough for Rafe's bruised ego. She embarrassed him in front of his fanbase. He needs to make sure that never happens again.

Rafe presses his fat tip along her folds. He collects whatever slick is there, still glaring at the masked woman as if she were the scum on earth, "God I can't wait to rape this bitch," he uses his entire body weight to thrust forward. A howl of agony is heard underneath the mask as it starts to soak with tears. Rafe's nails dig into her hips, hard enough to break skin. He pounds deep into her tight cunt. Rafe groans, "Shit...that's some good fucking pussy," as he fucks her into the mattress. Rafe had trouble making her stay still. He keeps having to pull her back in. Barry, being the friend that he is decides to help Rafe out. His shoe lands on her back, pinning her to the mattress below. He held it right against the back of her neck, mushing it down every time she squirms.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin has Barry hard as a rock “Shit country club…I can hear you in her guts,” if that didn’t give Rafe the biggest ego boost he needed to continue. Rafe huffs at Barry, “Oh yeah?” His voice sounding cockier from the statement. He wraps his strong arms around her waist before lifting her against his chest. Rafe fell back with a 'thud', revealing to the audience a full view of his cock burred balls-deep inside. Barry held the camera carefully, he hovers the device over the woman's slit, pointing it to where Rafe's cock sunk in. He captures Rafe's thick cock deep inside her weeping cunt. His balls slapping against her skin as he fucked her like a feral animal. He’s had a good fucking before but not like this. This time he has full free range to do whatever he wants.

Barry nears the two, he wants a closer look at his pretty little victim. He pulls and tugs at her tits until a muffled sob escapes. He then starts to smack them around, letting them bounce as Rafe abuses her cunt. Rafe moans at the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock with each slap. When Barry releases them, Rafe is quick to take over, his hands grip at them as hard as he can. He groans at the feeling of her cunt pumping him. Barry’s eyes rake over her naked body. He could see the indent of Rafe’s cock inside her cunt, palming at his own growing erection. He takes his sweet time examining their pretty little victim. Barry presses his hand against the indent of Rafe’s cock, “Oh fuck…can you feel that?” His palm presses harder until a squeal is heard from under the mask.

Barry chuckles, “Shit, Country Club is fucking your guts out,” a crude remark. Rafe couldn’t help but grin at that remark. He’s always been well endowed, but hearing that his cock’s imprint could be seen? It went straight to his head. Then an idea hits him. Barry spits a thick wad in his palm, his hand reaches in between her legs. He starts to massage her slit, his fingers tracing that sensitive button right above her stuffed cunt. As soon as her toes start to curl he stops, giving her a moment to prepare for an orgasm. Then he slaps her sensitive bundle of nerves as hard as he can. He watches as her mound bounces from the impact. A howl of agony pours out from under the satchel as she tries her best to close her legs.

Barry isn’t having it. He forces her legs open while Rafe fucks up and into her channel. Barry encourages him to keep going, “You gonna get her nice and pregnant huh Country Club?" he taunts, knowing damn well what he was doing. Rafe growls into her ear, letting him primal instincts take over, "'M’gonna fucking breed you, you hear me? This cunt is gonna give me a baby,” he juts his hips faster. Sweat collects on his forehead, “Gonna show you off to the whole town, let them know that it’s my baby in there…oh fuck!” His breathing became erratic as he began to pick up pace. Rafe growls as his cock sunk back into her warm channel. He squeezes her tits, "Can't wait for these to get full,"

Barry huffs, now jerking off to the sight of it, “You gonna make her a single mom, Country club?” Barry jerks his cock at the sight of it. He groans at the sight of her abused cunt filled with Rafe’s spunk. He lets out a faint sigh, “Damn country club, didn’t know you were this pent up,” to which Rafe nears her ear, "Imagine that, you getting knocked up by a complete stranger," he huffs, "Can you even hear me?" Rafe reaches for the cloth, but before he could remove it, Barry swats his hand away, "No, not until we're finished," that was part of the deal, "Her stepdad is an important Kook," never stating who he was. Rafe hums with delight. If only he could see the look on the stranger's face after finding out his stepdaughter had been absolutely ruined for any other man.

Rafe came, hard. He made sure to drain his balls deep inside her pussy. He sunk his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder blade, ignoring the wail from underneath the satchel. Rafe let's out a deep, gutteral moan, finally coming down from his high. He throws her limp figure onto the mattress so that he could catch his breath. He reads the comments section of his stream. Each fan would send a bid higher than the previous one.

This was the most bank he's made in a while. He reads the requests, making sure to take a mental note. Rafe returns to her, lying limp on the mattress. Her abused cunt leaking thick wads of spunk. Rafe couldn't help it, he just loved to shove his fingers in there. He'd play with her pussy, despite her whines. Rafe loves inspecting it, like some sort of toy he could use and abuse.

He flips her over, rubbing at her slit again. He bites his bottom lip, "C'mon....give me another one..." his fingers began to pick up speed. He waited to see the signs. When her thighs would quake before crumbling apart. He knew exactly what he was doing, "Ohh did I hit that sweet spot princess?" he taunts, "If you didn't like that, then you're gonna hate this..." Rafe wasn't done with her punishment, he wasn't even close to finishing. Rafe made sure to duct tape a vibrator to her inner thigh.

He parts her folds, pressing the round tip of the toy against her bundle of nerves. He then held her thighs together, using fresh tape to keep them closed. With the vibrator now pressed snugly against her pussy. He leaves the living room to grab a drink, asking if Barry wanted anything in the fridge. But the Pogue would rather jerk off to the pretty Kook trying to fend off an orgasm. Rafe returns with a cold beer in hand, he hands it over to the Pogue as the two men clink their drinks, saluting a 'cheers' to the fans watching.

They could hear her sobbing as her hips swayed for release. Both men mock the sounds that came from their victim. Barry and Rafe mimic her voice. Rafe was actually laughing at what he’d done. There was a smug look on his face as he re-watched part of the video. He's visibly smiling in it. A part of him wonders why Barry hasn’t joined in. A chance to break a virgin in? He doesn't know a single man that wouldn't take the chance. Barry lets him know, "The clientele wanted to see the best of the best, Country Club," he shrugs it off. Rafe doesn't think twice about it. He's too high to use his brain right now.

Rafe returns to where they left her. He reaches in between her legs, his thick fingers part her folds, letting his cum leak out. He whistles, "Shit....I really did a number on you," he could tell she was close and decides to help the poor thing out. What Barry says next came off as a challenge, "Bet you she's a squirter," only one thing can determine that. Rafe nods to the camera, "Get closer," he wants the audience to get a better look at how a professional does it. Rafe's fingers digits start stretching her drenched cunt again. Soon, they rapidly pumping in and out of her core. Then a gush of arousal pours out. Barry whistles at the sight of it, cheering on his partner.

Rafe hums, "Such a pretty pussy...." he moans, swiping his thumb at it. He collects the juices from her leaking hole, "I don't think she's ever came this hard," bringing his now slick digits to his mouth to taste, "Hmm...so fucking sweet," he purses his lips, "Little coppery," he could taste the tinge of blood on his tongue. It excites him, "I've gotta fill you up baby...gonna make sure you're nice and full," he squeezes at her breasts, pulling and tugging at the sensitive skin, “These are gonna fill in too," he latches his lips to a free breast, suckling at it like a starving man.

Rafe pops his mouth off for a moment. He swats at her tits, gripping them as hard as he can. A yelp escapes her lips before she's crying again. Rafe coos, "Shhh...shh...you 'needa calm down baby," he talks to her as if she were a child. Then an idea hits him, "We needa put some in her," which confuses Barry for a moment, "Her what?"

"Put some in her pussy, then she'll calm down," Rafe couldn't tell if it was because of the adrenaline or drugs. He doesn't care though, he’s in pure bliss right now. He wants to keep chasing that feeling. An idea hits him. Rafe retrieves an LSD tab from his pant pocket. He looks up at the camera. He sticks out his to tongue for the viewers to see, placing the drug on it. He lets it dissolve a bit before delving it deep inside her. His lips wrap around her slit as he suckles at the nerves. He knew those sick fucks wanted to see something with absolute filth in it. Why not go all out?

Rafe watches as she slowly starts to go slack. Her limbs flail for a moment before finally going limp. Barry couldn't help but laugh at her reaction. Rafe joins in, grinning from ear to ear at the now demobilized woman. Barry jokes, “She’s too doped up to know where the fuck she's at," causing Rafe to laugh ever harder. Both of them not realizing her feeble attempt to crawl away.

Rafe shakes Barry's shoulder, "Look at that..." he nears, crouching down at her, "So fucking cute..." for a moment he just watches her. Rafe tilts his head, "There's nowhere to run," he doesn't understand why she was still trying. He stands up, his leg pushes against her rib, shoving her to the floor. When she tries to pull herself back up again, he does the same thing only harder. Which brings him to the question: What would it take to really break her?

He flips her over, pressing his body against hers on the floor. She starts crying again when he sinks his cock in her. She's dizzy, scared and confused. Rafe is starting to get annoyed by the dramatics. He wraps both hands around her throat and gives a squeeze to shut her up. It does the exact opposite. She starts to cry even harder this time. Rafe grits his teeth, "Stop, stop crying," Rafe squeezes harder this time, intending to choke her out until she complies. Rafe shakes her a few times just to hear her cry harder. He could feel her walls pulsing from the lack of air. Rafe moans, thrusting his hips at the feeling of her squeezing his cock. He rolls his hips from the sensation. A deep, guttural moan escapes his throat. Fuck...she felt heavenly.

It had been four hours since then. Barry and Rafe would draw little tally marks on her skin every time they came. Soon the few lines turned into small groupings along her thighs and breasts. Barry had written a few words across her skin for the kick of it. Rafe had added some words himself just for the sake of it. ‘Suck me’ had been written on both breasts, ‘Cock sleeve’ was scribbled on her bare mound, ‘Cum dumpster’ had been scribbled on her rear. A few more tally marks could only be seen on her inner thighs. By the end of it the poor thing was brain dead. Her voice had gone hoarse from the hours of screaming.

Rafe felt sorry for missing his sister's recital. He'll have to make up for it. Right now he was just too fucked up to do anything. Rafe was drained, his balls are empty but hey, at least he's way richer. He shares a blunt with Barry. Both of them taking short puffs from the bud. Rafe was still cockwarming his new pet. Every now and then rolling his hips. It's not like she was there anymore.

They broke her, mind and body. As the prices began to rise, so did the poor woman's torment. Barry passes over the blunt. Rafe takes a few huffs. It was getting late and by then he was more than satisfied with the money they accumulated. Rafe closes his eyes, turning his head to his companion, "What do you think we should call it?" suggesting a name for the video. Barry pauses for a while. He turns to the Kook and grins, "How about....sibling bonding?"

Rafe pauses for a moment, turning to his accomplice, "What do you mean by that?" Barry only smiles back, "I think you know," "Know what?" a feeling of dread starts to consume him. There's a gut feeling that something was terribly wrong. All color drains from his face as Rafe releases the woman. He scrambles away from her. He's never sobered up so fast in his life. Rafe quickly changes into his clothes. He checks his phone to read the last few messages.

-Promise me you won't miss it Rafe! I'll message you when I get back home, ok? Love you ❤ 1:15pm -Where are you? I don't want to be late :( 2:49pm -You promised me you'd make it in time. 3:08pm -Never mind, your friend offered me a ride. 3:25pm

Rafe read the text messages over and over again. His hands can't stop shaking as he almost drops the phone. He doesn't look back, afraid of the unenviable truth, "I'm uh...I'm gonna head out, my sister she--she's waiting for me," just as Rafe was about to leave he hears Barry, "Sarah?" his face is expressionless, only his brows were raised. Yet his eyes were cold and calculated. Barry only ever gave that look right before fucking them over. The hell is he planning now?

"No..." Rafe answers. Barry purses his lips, "Is it...Wheezy?" as if he didn't know anything, "Oh...that's right, there's another one," as if he never spoke with her. Rafe turns to him now, obviously annoyed, "She's waiting for me at home," now demanding to leave. Barry raises a brow, "You think so?"

"I know so,"

"Sure?"

"Dude, why are you so interested in my sister?"

"Step-sister,"

"Listen man, I've gotta go, she's waiting for me," but before he could leave, Barry starts to laugh, "I think you know where she is, Country Club," and for a moment, Rafe pauses, he thinks about what Barry just said. Rafe faces Barry. He looks him dead in the eyes, "What the fuck are you saying?" he approaches the mattress, "What the fuck do you mean--" almost choking on his words, "...What do you mean by that...?" there's a strong feeling of despair that takes over his senses. Rafe felt like he was going to puke. Barry couldn’t help it, he knows he should’ve told him. But if Rafe knew he was fucking his own stepsister, well, he’d stop right there.

Rafe starts to hyperventilate. He fell to his knees, realizing the weight of what he had done. In the past few hours, the two men had put you through the most abusive experience of your life. Rafe used to be excited hearing the ‘ping’ that came from his comment section. To him, that meant money was being sent to directly into his account. Hearing them now made his stomach turn. Tears form in the corners of his eyes as he stares back at you, “That…that’s my stepsister--“

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Barry cradles her in his arms, as if they were a doting couple. Rafe couldn’t believe this was happening, “You’re sick…” he stumbles backwards. Barry glares at him, “You were balls deep inside her, but I’m the one who's sick?” he doesn’t give Rafe a second glance.

Money was tight and Barry needed to create the most depraved film yet. Something that was so hot yet so fucking wrong. Barry never mentioned who the buyer had been. The brother of Rafe's last affair. A married woman who had been blackmailed by the two men. After taking her own life, her brother wanted revenge. So, he waited, planned, and plotted while Rafe thrived while living in figure eight. He hired Barry as a part of his sick revenge scheme.

Barry of course complied. After all, it was mainly Rafe's fault for sneaking out to see said client. After losing one of their most valuable customers, Barry had to pin the blame on someone. Who knew it would produce one of the greatest film's he's ever made? It has an equal amount of shock and lust, combined into a four-hour long video. Barry lifts her up and into his arms. He cradles her against his chest, carefully removing the sack. For a moment, Rafe is in a state of shock. Only staring at them.

Barry gently cradles her face, he holds her up to Rafe, “C’mon Country Club, give her a lil kiss,”

Rafe felt sick to his stomach. He fell to his knees and Barry was capturing it all. His final end of the deal was being completed: Film Rafe Cameron having a break down in front of millions of viewers. His fans watched as Rafe started to scream at the top of his lungs. He held the sides of his temples. Refusing to believe what he had done. What he did to you.

Since you were a little girl, your parents always warned you to stay away from gangsters. Your entire life being shielded away from any possible dangers. Being part of a clan but residing in the city. Your father had built an incredible wealth for himself. He made sure to shield you from any possible dangers the world had. But nothing would prepare you for this.

You were taken on a Sunday evening, just after church. The men who took you were ordered by their gang leader, Thomas Michael Shelby. Peaky Blinders, they were called. A group of criminals who were only up to no good. You were the first to leave mass, not wanting to partake in conversation with anyone. You decided to sit on the steps of the church, until your mother finishes conversating with the other women. You sigh, already yearning to return home. Knowing your mother, this would take a while.

You look up at the winter sky, hoping it would snow in time for Christmas. A car drives by, and two men step out. You move to the side to let them pass. They approach you, both of them standing on each of your sides. It was at that moment when you knew, they were sent by someone. Because over here, gangsters would only come for someone if they were given the orders to. A scream escapes your lips as you fought them off.

His partner muffles your cries with a rag. You scream at the top of your lungs and cry out, "Somebody help me! Help!" sobbing for them not to take you. What business did they have with you? Nothing good. Your mother is the first to notice your absence. As soon as she hears screaming from outside, she rushes out the church. To her horror she sees you being hauled into a stranger's car. She chases the vehicle now driving off, falling to the ground with a wail. Onlookers of the church try their best to console her.

The peaky men drag you to an abandoned building, the one reserved only for their worst enemies. Where numerous men have met their maker. You're tied to a metal chair, with both wrists and ankles secured. A satchel had been placed on your head. You have no idea where they'd taken you. Tommy doesn’t know if he can contain his anger any longer. It had taken them a while to find your location. A long trail of bloodshed led them directly to the church's doorsteps.

Tommy's men inform him of your parents involvement, how they had spoken of the cursed necklace to Madame. His Ruby was gone now because of it. When he heard of you he became excited. You were their only child. Their prized possession. Tommy's wedding ring feels heavy, and for once, he takes it off before getting started.

The covering is swiftly removed, a man now stands right in front of you. He takes a good look at your petrified expression. Almost as if he were admiring it. A grabs a chair to sit right in across from yours. It's cold inside the building. You could see your breath from the freezing air. He leans in, "Do you know who I am?" he questions. You shook your head. He doesn't like that, "Use your words,"

"N-no..." shrinking into the seat. Tommy doesn't buy it, "You're a liar, y'know? And a lousy one at that," because everyone knows who Tommy Shelby is.

"M-not--" you whine as he squeezes your jaw with a gloved hand. It hurts. He growls in your face, "You will speak when spoken to," he squeezes harder, "Do you understand?" he waits for what you had to say. You look up at him with a tearful look, "P-please this has to be a mistake! I've done nothing wrong!" because of that, he begins to choke you. He voice is deep, sharp, "My daughter had done nothing wrong, yet she was taken from me," he tilts his head, "Did she not deserve to live?"

You don't know what to say. How could you to a man hellbent on revenge? The real question is, what did you do to provoke him? He lets go, leaving the skin raw with visible bruising. Tommy retreats to a desk where assorted torture devices await. He careful inspects each one, examining which tool would be used. He retrieves a scalpel, one used to slice skin and gouge the flesh, "Which part of you do I cut away first, hm?"

You shook your head, now sobbing uncontrollably, "Nononono! P-please!" looking down to your lap to cry. Tommy isn't satisfied, "Look at me," he orders, "Look at me," he doesn't like repeating himself. You hesitantly rise your gaze, now looking up at the man. There's a bewildered look in his eyes. You notice the corners of his lips were up in a faint grin. He whispers, "This is the end...this is the end of your life, yeah?" he drags the blade the side of your jaw. He enjoys watching you squirm.

Tommy looks up at the men standing behind you. He orders them to leave. Now it was just the two of you. What did he have in store? He made sure you get a good look at the blade. It shines in the dim lighting, “You’re pretty, I’ll give you that much,” he brings the knife to your face, “but for how long?” he brings it down to your neck, teasing the collar. He whispers, "From now on, you are my property," he grips your jaw to open, sliding a finger inside, "It was a tongue that gave the order," his other hand digs into the sides of your jaw, forcing your mouth to open.

Tommy brings the knife to it, "Should I cut it out first?" he digs his fingers deep inside, reaching for the muscle. You try stopping him from doing so, even attempting to clamp your jaw shut, to which he began pushing them deeper in. He mimics the way you gagged around them in a mocking manner. You sputter into a sob, begging for him not to.

Tommy then stops, "No...I can't do that...then you won't explain it to me, and I want you to explain," He grips the back of your head to face him. His features are contorted with anger, "I want you to fucking explain!" he spat. Your bottom lip trembles as you say something. Tommy removes his hand to hear what you had to say, "Please...have mercy..."

“Mercy?” He scoffs, "Is that what you want?" it was almost humorous to him, the entitlement you and your family had, “Where was mercy when they took my little girl?” he brings the knife to your neck, it lightly nicks the skin. You don't say a word, too afraid of deepening the cut. He gave you a look of disgust. As if you’d done something terrible to anger him. Like you wronged him before this.

But what? Everyone in town knew there would be nothing to worry about when a blinder would arrive. No one would ever be worried of being targeted, unless they'd actually done something. So what did you, of all people, possibly do to anger a man like Tommy Shelby? You hadn't a clue.

His leans in, his forehead now pressing against yours, "I'm not going to kill you, no..." his mood swings changes, like fire and ice, "I am going to keep you alive for a very, very long time..." He flicks the button of your blouse open with the knife, "I'll have you praying for death," a promise he'll make sure comes true.

You began to plead with him, "No please! Don't do this!" tears began to form, spilling down both cheeks. You knew what happens to people who've crossed the Peaky Blinders. What they did to their victims. Sometimes not even a body was left. The thought of you being cut into a million pieces downright terrifies you, "Help! Someone! Please! Help me!"

Tommy isn't phased, he's dealt with people in denial before, “You can scream all you want, nobody will hear you,” he promises. He finishes flicking off the last button, revealing the swell of your breasts, you panic, "Mr. Shelby please! You're making a big mistake--" Both of his hands shoot for your neck. He held them in place, squeezing as hard as he can. His face nears your petrified one. There's a hint of gravel in his voice, "A lying whore is what you are," he squeezes harder, taking joy in watching you suffer.

Never in a million years would he imagine stooping this low. But this wasn't just any case, it was personal. He loosens his grip allowing you to breathe for a moment. He sighs, clearly annoyed with your behavior. Whatever games you wanted to play, he doesn't have time for, "What did I say about lying?!" Tommy yells at the top of his lungs.

"M'not lying! I swear! Ow!" you whine from his grip on your hair. He leans in and calmly states, "Fine, have it your way," Tommy didn't plan on going easy on you. But after hearing you lie right to his face? Well, he wants to make this hurt, bad. Tommy drags the sharpened tool along the fabric of your skirt. He tears your brand-new church clothes to shreds. Until you were left only in undergarments. Goosebumps began to form on your skin.

Tommy feasts his eyes on the sight of your unblemished flesh. He rakes them up and down, mentally capturing the moment. You looked soft, supple in all the right places. His tongue pokes out to lick his lips. His lids hooded from thinking about the things he would do.

Oh...this was going to be fun.

Tommy Shelby is dead set on one thing and one thing only: Revenge. There is no room for sympathy in his heart. Not after losing his wife, then his daughter. There is no other pain comparable to that. At this point, there's nothing in this world that could change his mind. What happened to Ruby changed something inside him. He would never be the same again.

"There are a few rules," he wants you to know, "Do not fight me, yeah? Or I'll break every last one of your fucking bones," he knows he's strong enough to, "Do not speak unless you're spoken to," the last thing he wants to hear is an excuse, "You are my property, what I say is law," both of his hands cradle the sides of your head. He makes sure you know, he's dead serious, "Am I understood?"

Your teeth can't stop clattering as you shiver a faint, "Y-yes,"

"What will I do with you? Hm? Should I start cuttin you up piece by piece? No...no one would waste their hard-earned money on you," he starts to mumble, "Maybe hire you as one of my whores? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts. Tommy can't help but smile at the way you frantically shook your head.

He bit his lip, as if he were in deep thought, "No, you wouldn't make it, I know your type," he knows your kind very well, bunch of prim and proper pansies, "I should break you in first, mold you, so that you won't think of anything else other than cock," Tommy always had a way to make people squirm with only a few words.

He finds their weaknesses and uses it against them. He thrusts a few fingers deep inside your mouth, enjoying the sounds of your gargled cries. He pumps the gloved digits in and out. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth. Then an idea hits him, "How about I make you my personal whore?" he taunts, "How does the title of 'cock-sleeve' sound?" poking your forehead, "Tat it right...there," twisting a finger into the skin.

All you could do was cry. A deep wail pours from your lungs. Why? Why was he doing this? You haven't done anything wrong! "P-please, if you just listen to me--" a scream escapes your lips as he pulls at your hair. There's a burning sensation on the crown of your scalp. He's done playing games, "What did I say about speaking?" his voice booms.

Tommy's hand hovers over the tray of tools. He retrieves a gag, forcing the straps around your head. He pinches your nose shut, forcing you to part your lips. He secures the metal hooks inside your mouth, forcing it to open wide. A trail of drool leaks out. It's impossible to close it without hurting. He secures the buckles located on the back of your head.

Tommy still held onto your hair, so that you would face him. There's a scowl on his sharp features. His teeth are barred. Just looking at you pisses him off. He spits inside your mouth, watching as you squirm from the act. Your tongue swirls inside as an attempt to get rid of it. He does it again, this time right at your face, then again and again. He wants this to be as humiliating as possible for you. Bound and gagged, like an animal.

Tommy zips opens his fly, he pulls out his semi-hardened cock. He gives it a few lazy tugs before finding the right grip. Then he starts to pump his shaft while keeping eye contact with you. His cold blues stare down yours. Like a predator stalking its prey. He huffs, quickening his pace.

Tommy then grabs the back of your head and forces you to take his cock. He thrusts it as far as he could go. He bucks his hips a few times, groaning at the welcoming feeling of a warm hole. You were like a present wrapped around him. His eyelids shut, his lashes fluttering from the pleasure. He pauses for a moment to catch his breath. His hands are rough, gripping the sides of your head as he starts fucking your mouth.

You have no choice but to take it. He then plunges his member as deep as it could go, stifling your sobs. There are only squelching noises coming from your mouth, just how he likes it. He gives another deep thrust, holding it for a moment as you struggle to breathe. Your nose brushes against his pubic hair. A huge trail of drool and cum dribbles down your chin. Tommy moans, "Fuck yeah...let me fuck your throat..." he throws his head back in pleasure before looking back down at your pathetic form.

He indulges in the sight of you crying out. He could practically feel the scream trapped in the back of your throat, "M'gonna paint you with it..." His breath starts to shorten, "...mark what's mine," Tommy shuts his lids, his nose scrunches as he was close. Your throat was burning from the abuse. Soon enough he came, in hard waves. He shoots a load down your throat, painting the inside to his liking.

Tommy waits for a moment to catch breath. Some of his hair sticks to his forehead from the sweat. He brushes it back with a free hand, catching his breath. His cock was still buried deep inside your mouth. He hisses, baring his teeth while pulling it out. His cum trails from the tip of his cock to your now swollen lips. There's something so sinister about the act that he just can't seem to get enough of. He actually starts to laugh, "You'd let anyone use you, hm?" If he were in a romantic mood, he'd kiss you, make it all nice and sloppy.

But it just wasn't enough. He wants more of you. He cuts the ropes that bounded your hands to the chair, pulling you out of it. One of the first things you do is make a run for it. He groans with annoyance, what a stupid thing to do. Before you could reach the door Tommy plants a few bullets in it. You fall to the ground, shielding your head from the strays.

Tommy sighs, "You shouldn't have done that..." he places his gun back in into its holster, before approaching your quivering form still on the floor. If looks could kill, you would be dead on the spot. You're too scared to even move, trapped under his piercing gaze. Tommy's expression is purely livid. He strides over, his cock still half hard. He curls a finger, giving a nonverbal command. When you dare not to move, it only worsens his mood.

You shook your head, "Please...you don't have to do this..."

"I know, I want to," he confesses, "I want to break you,"

If you didn't want to comply, fine. He'll have to come over there. Tommy's shoe lands on your shoulder, sending you falling to the ground with a thud. He has a leg to each of your sides, now wrestling into submission. His strength is unlike anyone you've met. He forces you on your stomach. You try your best to fend off the gangster.

You land an elbow on Tommy's rib, before he ultimately wins the upper hand. He uses his belt to bind both your wrists together. As you twist and turn, Tommy lands a few hard cracks against your rear. A chain of curses escapes your lips. He doesn't stop, not even after your skin is raw. He'll make sure to leave bruises. When he hears your mumbled, pleas turn into full-on screaming, it was music to his ears. He wonders what it would sound like breaking you in.

Tommy doesn’t bother prepping, he wants this to hurt. He slides his leaking tip up and down, gliding it against your cunt. It takes him a moment to find it. Soon enough, he's pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He held your head still against the ground. His gloved hand spreads across the side of your face. His other held his cock, guiding it to your opening. As soon as he thrusts it in, you scream at the top of your lungs. Fuck did his ears hurt.

A hand shoots to muffle your cries. Tommy scowls, "Fucks sake would you keep quiet?!" he looks you in the eyes, "This isn't your first time," when he says it you only cry harder. That's when it clicked. Tommy grins, "So it is..." there's a hint of glee in his voice. He sounds smug, knowing that he'd taken something from you that no other man will, "Then I might as well take every last one..." he purrs, thrusting his hips faster.

There was something about being a woman's first that does something to a man. Tommy wanted to fuck that innocence away. He's going to train you really well, have you begging for his cock. He'll make sure to ruin you for any other man. He spits on his gloved palm, reaching down to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves. He can feel your walls fluttering everything he rubs small circles against your clit. He can feel that you were close and quickens his pace.

He grunts, "You keep saying no..." he collects the growing slick from your folds, "But the body never lies..." he juts his hips. A stray of curses escapes his lips as changes pace. He presses his sturdy body against yours. His embrace was suffocating. Tommy only seemed to care for his own comfort, reveling in the feeling of a tight cunt. He tilts his head to face your ear, "When your husband finds out you've already been used..." he has a way to torment with words alone, "You will always remember this...remember me..." he slows his pace, now thrusting deep and slow. He's focused on making you come undone. He wants to be your first everything.

Tommy whispers, "...You’ll remember your first time, being taken by a filthy gangster,” he rasps, licking a stripe against the shell, "First fuck..." he forces your mouth to part, delving his tongue deep inside. He swirls the muscle around, taking his sweet time tasting the corners of your mouth. He muffles your whimpers in the kiss, parting with a smack, "First kiss..." his hand now rubs your sensitive nerves in short, hard circles, "First time coming undone..." he doesn't stop, not even after the waves of pleasure hits you, "All mine..."

Although you were the enemy, you have a snatch that could drain his balls dry. Tommy juts his hips back and forth, feeling for a good rhythm. He grunts against your neck, dipping his tongue out to taste those sweet tears. He moans, "You're going to take every, fucking, drop," thrusting his hips with each word. Just how he likes it, "'Gonna make you pay me back yeah?" he whispers.

Tommy fastens his pace. His breathing becomes ragged, to the point where he can only speak in short curses. He bites down on your shoulder, enough to draw blood. When he finishes inside, part of you felt almost grateful he was finally done. That spark of hope quickly dies out when he starts pressing his tip against your ring.

You've never screamed so hard in your life. You almost feel dizzy from how much pain you were in. Almost passing out a few times. Your comfort doesn't matter to him. After all, you're his property. Tommy locks an arm around your neck, squeezing hard enough to make you faint. You went limp as he began pummeling your channel. It was euphoric to him, seeing the enemy suffering.

Usually, he wouldn't feel this satisfied, not even with a killing, it was more of a chore for him. But this? There was no other pleasure like it, and Tommy Shelby has had a lot of sex. He leaves your bruised and battered body on the cold floor. Blood and spunk oozes from both holes. Tommy begins to dress himself. He doesn't even bother to look at you.

Only when he retrieves a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiping it against your mound. He presses the fabric against the abused holes, scooping out its contents before pocketing it. He'll need this for later. Tommy doesn't feel any shame or remorse, he can't seem to feel anything. He takes a drag after a fuck like that. It helps him think. What to do, what to do, his options are endless.

There you are, his pet, still panting from earlier like some bitch in heat. He's still riding that adrenaline rush. You on the other hand, were out of it. Mentally and physically. Unable to even whimper because you had lost your voice a while ago.

Tommy crouches down, peering at your expressionless face. He mentally captures this moment, enjoying that foggy look in your eyes. He hums, "Let's get you cleaned up," he splashes a bucket of ice-cold water on you. He leaves you now soaking from head-to-toe. Your undergarments now cling onto your skin, leaving little to the imagination. Tommy forces you to stand. He held you up by the back of your neck with a firm grip, leading the way outside.

A group of onlookers see what's happening. Tommy Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders, parading a poor woman who had been stripped of her modesty. He doesn't bother covering your face. He wants people to recognize you. They don’t speak up, afraid of would happen if they would. He hands the bloodied napkin to one of his men, "For the parents," perhaps this will send a message.

Tommy clicks open the trunk, shoving you inside. He slams it shut before driving off to a new location. He knows that word will spread. Soon enough, it'll reach your family's ears. If it's a war they want, then it's a war they'll get. He's not worried at all about what would happen, he knows he has the high ground. He's going to enjoy watching your clan die out.

But for now, he needs to smuggle his new pet out of the city.

"No it's just...do you really think she could take them all down in hand-to-hand combat?" out of everything the movie had, that was his biggest concern? Your brows furrow, "Are you saying you could take her on?" now sitting up. Neil tilts his head, "Well, I mean yeah? She's a twig, it'd be hard not to win," he's dead serious about it too. You don't take his remarks seriously. It's not like he meant it, right?

That's when you felt the need to speak up, "Neil it's just a movie, and besides, size doesn't matter in a fight," when you turn your attention back to the screen Neil looks away, "Size doesn't matter?" he's taken aback. He pauses the movie, "Let me get this straight: You're confident that size doesn't matter?" he wants to test this hypothesis out, "Because I'm a lot stronger than you," it's not that Neil thinks he is, it's that he knows so, "I don't mean to sound insensitive but, there's also a biological factor,"

You turn towards Neil and raise a brow, "You're that confident you'll win?" previously, you've won the last several fights against him. But then again, you were both nine years old. He nears, "I bet I could pin you down in less than ten seconds," he wants to test out that theory. So, You decide to test it out, getting into position, "Three...two...one-" but before you've had a chance to even find solid grounding, Neil already has you pinned to the couch.

It stuns you, for a moment you were left in disbelief. How did he? When did he? It was so fast you hadn't even seen it coming. You try lifting yourself up but Neil shoves you down with a light 'thud'. When you try to sit, he does it again, only harder. This was nothing to him. He didn't even seem tired. For a moment you question yourself. Had Neil been holding back the entire time? It was almost surprising how strong he was. "C'mon...fight back, I said fight back..." Neil hovers over you. Both of his legs now straddling your sides.

He manages to trap both your wrists together in one of his hands. You try to pulling them free but his grip is unbreakable. You've never noticed how strong he actually was. Sure, he'd let you sit on his shoulders during concerts, or even lift you up in a hug, but this was the first time you've really noticed his concentrated strength. It took little to no effort pinning you down. He leans in, now face-to-face, "Do you give up?" he taunts, "Just admit that I'm stronger than you...there's no use fighting it..."

You didn't want to lose that easily. You kept twisting and turning in an attempt to escape. It was futile. Neil had won fair and square. His hands began to roam under your shirt, playfully caressing your rib cage. He brushes his fingers against the bare skin. You couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish feeling, "O-ok ok! You win!" a burst of laughter erupts from you. After a moment, Neil finally stops. He takes in the sight of you, staring at the peaks forming on both breasts. He licks his lips, ducking his head down. He places a few kisses on your jawline, then down the side of your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

They quickly turn into wet kisses, then suckling. It felt ticklish. Neil had always been overly handsy around you. Even sharing a first kiss in grade school. His hands grip your hips in a tight grasp. You grab his wrists and start to pull, but it was like trying to move metal bars. His brows furrow, obviously annoyed now. He pulls both your arms above your head before tugging at your shirt. It didn't take much for him to drag it up. He knows you detest wearing a bra indoors. He doesn't mind that at all.

You gasp, "Neil! What the hell?! S-stop!" At that moment you did something you never thought would happen. Never in a million years would you have imagined putting your hands on him. You slap Neil across the face. His hair falls down to his forehead. There's a visible red mark on his cheek. His jaw clenches. For the first time ever, Neil Lewis is at a loss for words. You scramble to the other side of the couch, attempting to fix your disheveled clothes. You look back at your best friend in disbelief.

His pupils are blown with lust. His cheeks are a flushed pink as he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, "Let's make a bet, if you can break free, I'll let you go," he captures your ankle, pulling you across the couch towards him, "But if I manage to keep you pinned..." he cups your mound, digging his finger into the slit, "I get to tryout this pussy..." he's dead serious too.

You couldn't believe it. This isn't him. This isn't the same Neil who would comfort you after a nasty breakup. Or be the first one to wipe away those tears away whenever someone tried to hurt you. This wasn't just anyone saying it, this was your best friend. He may have a reputation of being a notorious prankster, but this was taking it too far. You start tearing up, "Neil, you're scaring me..."

He snickers, playfully swiping at your tears with his tongue, "C'mon, keep fighting," he shook your shoulders, "Fight back if you don't want it," his expression changes. It contorts into a snarl as he starts tugging at the fabric of your clothes. You try to fight him off. Neil grins with delight. This was all a game to him.

It was entertaining to Neil, watching your feeble attempt to stop him. He rubs his hard on against your mound, bucking his hips a few times with a moan, "Yeah keep struggling, no matter what you do...I'm bigger than you...stronger than you..." he juts his hips again, only harder this time, "Fuck you have no idea how much this is turning me on..." his voice is much deeper. There's just something about the thrill of it that turns him on. No matter how much you twist and turn, or how hard you try, it was nothing compared to his strength.

Neil may be on the leaner side but he could manage in a fight. His free hand reaches under the waistband of your panties. He lets out a gasp, "Oh fuck..." rubbing his digits up and down your slit to collect any slickness. He yanks down the fabric with ease, taking in the sight of your folds. Neil moans, "Already so wet, yet I haven't even touched you" he clicks his tongue, inspecting your now glistening folds. His eyelids are hooded as he examines the slickness sticking to his fingers, "My, my, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted this..."

Neil lowers his head to your mound. He whispers, "Lemme just..." he flattens his tongue against your core. He gives a long stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, wrapping his lips around it with a moan, "Mmm..." his eyes are blissfully shut. His lashes flutter with pleasure as his brows furrow in delight. Fuck...you taste so good. Everything about you is so fucking perfect. Neil never saw a flaw in you. All those ex's were dumb as shit for dumping you. But no worries, he's here to make up for it.

His fingers slide in with little to no resistance. He began to pump them vigorously in and out your channel. Your toes began to curl from the angel he hit, throwing back your head in pleasure. Neil releases your clit for only a moment, "Fuck...you're enjoying me using you huh?" he teases, then returns to tasting you. He adds more pressure to that sweet, spongey spot inside.

You came, hard. A gush of arousal hits Neil's face as he sucks in your bud. He's having the time of his life, moaning through your climax. He parts, now licking his lips, "Who knew you were such a slut?" he chuckles. His cock twitches at the sight of your tuckered-out form. He's eager to finish what he's started.

Neil frantically unbuckles his belt. He lets his pants slide off, reaching into his boxers to pull out his semi-hard cock. He gives it a few tugs before aiming the leaking tip at your entrance. Neil had never been more desperate in his life to feel a woman. He's only ever imagined this moment while lying in bed late at night. But now? He's not going to waste another second. He buries his cock deep inside, muffling his moans into your shoulder, "M'yeah...just stay still and be my cocksleeve, yeah?" Neil thrusts his hips at a more rapid pace.

You could hear him choke out, "Fuck...fuck...fuck..fuck!" Neil was right. He is too strong. All you could do was lay there as he took what he wanted, staring blankly at the ceiling as he chases his high. He suckles and kisses against your skin to mark what was his. He sighs, "So good...so good for me..." he playfully licks against your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue. His hands held your head in place as he dips it inside.

After he's finishes inside Neil doesn't let you go, no. Instead he manhandles you onto his lap. You're still pierced by his cock. You could practically feel it still twitching inside. Neil catches his breath, he has an arm wrapped around your waist. He leans back against the sofa, pulling you in with him. He reaches for the remote to play the movie. Unbothered by what just happened. You're splayed across his chest with your shirt still on.

It wasn't until you revealed to him the long kept secret, you had stalker. That's when everything started to make sense. For the past two years you've had to deal with said stalker. When you began receiving calls from him, that's when you made the decision to move a town over, landing a job at a local video store. Where you eventually met your now boyfriend Neil Lewis, and the rest was history. Sure, he had his immature antics, but you loved him, nonetheless.

After a long shift at work, you decide to call it a day. Neil assures you he'll be fine alone, since it was slow on afternoons. When you arrive home to find a bouquet of flowers, you assume they're from him. You smile, picking up the beautiful assortment. But it quickly fades when after reading the note: You will never get rid of me.

You don't know how it was possible, but somehow, he had found out where you lived. You dreaded this day would come. The first thing you do is call Neil. As soon as he hears you crying from the other side, he rushed home. You didn't feel safe alone anymore, not with a stalker lurking around. It got to the point where you'd have Neil inspect the house before going to bed.

Neil felt bad about being the only person you could trust. On the other hand, he indulged in you relying on him for safety. He felt like your very own knight in shining armor. He suggested you stay at home while he worked. Everything was fine during the first few days, weeks, but as soon as it became months your relationship began to strain. You were going insane with Neil around 24/7. Sure, he's a great guy, but he was also the only other human interaction you've had in months. You needed some time for yourself.

But whenever you were alone, another incident would occur. Which led you crying straight into Neil's arms. He would try his best to console you, wiping away the tears and promising to keep you safe. Soon enough, his company felt almost suffocating. He could tell right away that the spark between you had faded.

At first, he'd try distracting you with sex, but it got to the point where you lost interest in that as well. He once caught you faking it. That was the final straw. Neil sat you down in the living room to have a talk. Your big mistake was telling him how you really felt, "I just think it's taking a toll on our relationship, I feel like I'm being suffocated!"

"What are you talking about?! Do I not give you enough space?!" his brows furrow. What were you saying right now? According to him he's given you a little too much. You scoff, "Yeah, down the hall," crossing your arms in a fit. Neil couldn't believe what was coming out of your mouth right now. He genuinely believed things were going well between the two of you.

But the look on your face says otherwise. There are tears in your eyes. You're fed up with Neil's excuses to keep you inside all day long. It was starting to make you go crazy. Constantly looking over your shoulders for safety. Of course, he'd never understand, always so damn immature. Maybe it was best the two of you parted ways, "I just don't feel like there's anything left between us, not like before," it took a lot for you to say the truth.

Neil's eyes widen with disbelief, "What are you saying?" he couldn't believe it, the words coming out of your mouth, "What I'm saying is, maybe it's best we'd take a break," Only for a while, but who knows, maybe this was it. Neil's fists ball up, his jaw clenches. There's no way in hell you're breaking up with him. You don't even know how crazy he is about you.

"What do you want me to do?" breaking the ice. You give him a look of disappointment, "It's more complicated than that--"

"Then tell me! Please!" he goes on a list of things that may have led to this moment. Your answers were short and simple. When he tries to find out the source, you reply again with, "It's more complicated than that,"

"If it's not my personality, or looks, then what is it? What do I need to change?!" there's a long pause after, you then speak up, "Well..." raking your eyes below his belt. It bruises his ego. Was he really that bad? His mind began to race, thinking of the worst possibilities. He was sure now that you were dead set on leaving him. He sighs, "You want space? Fine," he twists the knife, "Don't come back to me crying wolf," with that he leaves, returning to the store.

Out of all people, Neil was the last person you'd expect to say something so insensitive. You crumble to the floor with a sob. How could he?! After everything you've been through! You locked yourself in the bedroom, mourning the loss of your relationship. You didn't want it to end like this, but it seems like Neil had no problem with it.

You drag yourself out of bed, making your way to the kitchen downstairs. As you descend down the stairs you notice a slight breeze on the first floor. Had Neil left a window open? Then an eerie feeling begins to swarm your mind. You rush down the hall to make sure the front door had been left closed. There, standing right in front of the entrance, was a masked stranger. Attempting to pick open the lock.

You stumble, falling back. You're frozen with fear, as you stare at the intruder. Hoping, praying that he wouldn't see you. He's still trying to open the front door. You make a run for it, rushing towards the living room for the phone. It rings, you answer it hoping that it's Neil. A raspy voice on the other side answers, “Ready to be my pretty little victim?”

"H-how did you find me?!" you choke back a sob. Why? Why you? Out of all people. How did this even happen?!

"I told you before, you're never getting rid of me," a reminder, of the years you've spent living in fear. You don't even notice that you've started crying, "M-my boyfriend is upstairs!" bluffing in hopes that he'd stop. Instead, a chuckle can be heard on the other side, "If that's true then I'll cut him to pieces," he threatens. Your bottom lip shakes, "Please...what do you want from me?!"

"I wanna hear you scream..." the sound of a window shatters. You cry out, turning to where it came from. There he is. The man responsible for making your life a living hell. You cry out loud, "St-stay back!" eyeing the large carving knife, "P-please...put that knife down...I'll come with you..." you were actually trying to negotiate with him. But he doesn't want that, no, he wants you to at least put up a good fight, "Run,"

And so, you did, rushing up the stairs as fast as you could. He's hot on your trail. He then decides slows down. What was the rush? It's not like there was a phone upstairs. He wants to take his time enjoying your little game of cat and mouse. He whistles a tune, visiting each room in search of a familiar petrified face. Finally, he enters the master bedroom.

He approaches the wardrobe and rips the doors open, you weren't there, then came the closet, shoving some clothes out of the way, not there either. That could only mean one thing: You were hiding under the bed. He walks around it a few times. Right before making his way to the door to leave. You try your best to muffle a cry. He made it this far, there's no telling what he'll do next.

Suddenly a pair of hands grab both your ankles, dragging you out from underneath the bed. You scream, kicking at the assailant. He brings his knife to your neck. His voice sounds almost amused, "Your boyfriend can't save you now..." that's when the waterworks begin. If Neil were here, he'd protect you with his life. You begin to cry, "Neil...Neil..." sobbing out his name.

The man in the mask mimics you, "Neil...Neil...." he taunts, "Neil! Save me Neil!" to him, it's all amusing, "Seriously, listen to yourself, dumb bitch," his gloved hand digs into your neck. He enjoys watching you squirm beneath him. He grins his crotch against your mound, groaning at the sensation, "M'gonna fuck you stupid..." he's waited for this moment for a long, long time, "Imagine how he'd feel knowing that his girl got fucked," He held the knife to your throat, thrusting his hips forward just to see you squirm. He leans in, "You're going to let me use this pussy, yeah?" only nodding harder when you shake your head. It was funny to him, how you still thought you had any say in this.

He starts to cut away, careful not to nick flesh. You could hear his breathing becoming heavier by the second. He grips each breast in hand, squeezing until it hurt. He slaps the flesh, watching in admiration as it bounced back. Fuck he's horny. He can't stop grinding his crotch against yours. Finally grabbing you by the neck he growls, "Where did you put the lube?"

"We don't have any--" choking as his grip became tighter. He tuts, "Liar, I know you keep it here," it sounded as though he were clenching his teeth. You're at a loss for words. How the hell does he know that? Your eyes widen, "H-how did you...?"

"Do you know how many times I've jerked off outside your window?" he's been a fan of yours for a while. Usually, he'd take his time indulging in that sweet cunt of yours. He loves it when you sit on his face, feeling your tight pussy squeeze on his tongue. He needs to fuck you right now like he needs air to breathe. He lets you retrieve it at the nightstand, twirling a knife in hand.

He jerks himself off a few times before adding a dollop of lube on his girth. He doesn't realize it's affect until after it kicks in. His hips buck in the air, "Fuck..." He groans. So you grabbed that bottle. He's not complaining. He makes sure to lather it all over your pussy, circling the nub a few times. That's when you really felt it kick in. You grab the bottle, only then realizing your mistake.

See, this bottle was different compared to your regular lube. It gave the user a tingling sensation. He lathers it on both breasts. You mewl from the sensation. Fuck, it made you feel like some sort of bitch in heat. You throw your head back when he starts pushing in, fighting the urge to moan. Neil groans, this was way better than in his head.

Although Neil wouldn't admit it, he's gone through some of your belongings. He's noticed your habit of browsing on your phone before getting in the mood. What was it that made you this riled up? So, him being as curious as was, decided to look through your phone. What he found surprised him, and it takes a lot to do that.

He discovered numerous erotic fantasy books, some of them were downright dark and graphic. He can't help but stifle a moan, palming his crotch as he read through them. So, this is what you were talking about? Well, if it's a fantasy that you want, it's a fantasy you'll get. He should've seen the signs a long time ago. How could he be so blind?

Neil notices the way you'd clench your thighs during horror movie. Watching as the helpless final girl gets captured by the villain. It was your favorite storyline, and you didn't even know it. But Neil does. He notices how you were always a horny mess after a real scary movie. How you'd pull the waist band of his pants down before the ending credits. He knew everything about you as a doting boyfriend should.

Neil has been there for you since the beginning, watching over you. Making sure you were safe. He keeps fucking you at a rapid pace. He slides down the mask down just enough so that his mouth could capture a nipple. He could taste the cherry lube on his tongue, swirling it around a few times before releasing it with a 'pop'. His hand reaches down to pinch and pull on your sensitive nub. He then uses the other to press down against your abdomen.

He loves it when you cry out for him. It gave him a huge ego boost. You still believe that he's a total stranger. His poor, sweet angel. Don't worry, you've never betrayed him. But see how easy it was? Anyone could just break in and you'd be helpless to defend yourself. That's why you needed him, as much as he needs you. Don't you see? He's head over heels for you.

Neil would always make sure you'd make it home safe. He even sent flowers to your door as a romantic gesture. You on the other hand, didn't take it so well. It hurt seeing you throw them away. Neil tried numerous times to court you in his own, special way. But instead, you called the cops on him. How could you?

On the day you moved away, his entire world fell apart. He thought it was finally over. Until one day you stumbled straight into his store. Neil took it as a second chance to make things right. But as each day passed by, he felt like his grip on you started to fade. He had to make sure you would always come back running to him. He didn't mean to take it this far. He just wants you see things differently, his way.

As much as Neil wanted to cum inside, he couldn't leave any evidence behind. He yanks the rest of your shorts off, emptying a load right on them. He has to wait a moment and catch his breath. That really took a toll on him. You always got him this excited. He spreads your pussy wide open, admiring the way it twitches. As if it were begging to be filled again. He snickers behind the mask as you turn your head to the side, now embarrassed.

His fingers sink deep into your pussy. He pumps them in and out at a rapid pace, his other hand vigorously rubs your bundle of nerves. You came, hard, squirting on his hand and the carpet below. Your body went limp from the intense orgasm. He chuckles at your reaction. How adorable. He carries you bridal style to the bed, tossing you on it.

He rummages through your nightstand to retrieve something. He turns to you with the device in hand. Your eyes widen at what he was holding, shaking your head vigorously, "N-no...w-wait! Please!" twisting your legs shut in protest. If you think you're going to get off that easily, think again. He's going to take his sweet time pulling out each orgasm from that sweet pussy.

It's been a few hours since then. You were left tied to the bed, mumbling in incoherent sobs, laid out in a puddle of your own arousal. A faint buzzing sound from the vibrator still going on. You were gagged and bound, heaving through a now wet fabric. Neil 'arrives' home to find the window broken. He rushes upstairs to your room. When he sees you tied to the bed, he springs into action, "Baby?!" he removes the fabric, "What happened?!" sounding as sincere as he possibly could.

It was hard fighting the urge to smile.

Your bottom lip trembles, soon a loud wail escapes, "N-Neeilll!" bursting into tears. As soon as he unties the restraints your arms shoot up and wrap around his neck. You held him close as if he would disappear any moment. You try not to choke on each breath, "I-I w-was so scared..." weeping into his shoulder. His arms wrap around your body, "Baby! Baby please don't cry...I'm here, I'm always here," He is. Whether you wanted him to or not. Neil made you a promise years ago.

A search party is held the next morning and following nights after. Rafe is the only one who doesn't attend. Only returning after spending the weekend probably partying. Ward scolds his son for being so careless, but Rafe didn't seem to care. No matter what he does, his father always seems to find another flaw in him. He shows more affection towards his daughter's best friend than his own flesh and blood. He'll be damned if he's second best to some Pogue.

It's been months since your disappearance. So when the police inform the Camerons that your investigation had been labeled a cold case, Ward had to be the one to break the news. After the last and final search party, Ward consoles his daughters. Rafe on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

Typical, unreliable Rafe. In fact, none of it even bothered him. Someone who he's been responsible for the past year suddenly goes missing and there isn't even the slightest bit of concern. Nothing. If it weren't for Topper's party, he would've been a prime suspect. Ward knew of your friendship with Sarah, that’s why he agreed to hire you in the first place. You were a good kid. Until the day his son informs him that you ran off with some merchandise. Ward ignored all of Sarah's pleas and files a police report, from then on the rest was history.

Ward had kept himself cooped up in his office. Tonight had been a thunderstorm warning he could hear the heavy rain pattering against the windows. He listens to the strong, sharp wind. It resembles a faint cry, no...plea. It sounded almost like you. Like he could hear your cries from down the halls. As if you were still here. Calling, pleading for help. This wouldn't be the first time he's felt a presence in their house. He swore he heard it first coming from the vents. Surely it would go away the next morning. An hour had passed and it was still there.

A faint, ghost-like howling. Ward knows he isn't alone. Wheezie was out for a slumber party, and Sarah was at a friend's place. He could've sworn he saw Rafe stepping foot inside right before the storm hit. But nowadays it was hard to tell. His son barely set foot inside the house. Not unless he was rummaging for supplies or extra cash. To the point where even his father grew suspicious of his activities. He wasn't on Pogue territory, and none of his Kook friends had seen him recently. His jeep was still parked out front, so where the hell was he?

Ward searches for his son upstairs. He makes his way inside Rafe's room. His son wasn't there, the only clue being left is his phone tossed aside on the bed. Knowing Rafe, he'd never step outside the house without it. This time there's another shrill cry, more audible is heard coming from behind Rafe's bed. It sends shivers down his spine. Ward pulls it back, revealing the vent connected to it. He knows where it leads to.

See, the Cameron estate held a few secret rooms. One of them had been in his office. Another in the library, and the last room being an underground storage unit, built years ago by the first owners. He makes his way to the basement, where the entrance to the bunker was. To his surprise, there was a faint light at the end of the staircase. Finally, the voice halts. Whoever this intruder was, they're certainly not welcomed to squat in his house.

Ward picks up a lamp left at the end of the stairs. He follows the faint noise until he reaches the source. For a moment, they sound like Sarah's until he listens more closely, no, he was sure they were yours. But how? You'd been missing for months. He shines the light at the silhouette. His burning question finally being answered. That night their family joined your search party, everyone had been there. All except one.

Ward knew he should've spotted the signs. He knew something wasn’t right when his son of all people suggested that you, his old classmate, work with them. It wasn’t like his son to help hire employees. Let alone a housekeeper. He should've kept more distance between the two of you. That night, Rafe was supposed to pick you upand he did. The housekeepers who had left for the night. So there was no one who saw him dragging you down the basement stairs. During all these months he'd been cooped up down here. All this time, Rafe knew.

Ward didn't want to admit it. If he could just sweep this whole incident under the rug, then maybe it would fade within time. But there you were, sobbing, rocking yourself back and fourth. He notices you were holding something. A bundled blanket. It starts moving. That's when he realizes there was no turning back from the damage Rafe had done.

A small fist raises in the air as the babe cried out for its mother. You were nearly drained, your face losing color as each minute passes. Drenched in sweat and still sore from the after birth. There was no time to spare. Ward had to think, and he had to think fast. Out of all the things Rafe could get himself in, why? Why did he bother someone like you of all people?

You were a good kid. You made everything around you better, and in a way, more complete. Ward noticed the way his son used to look at you. He should've stopped this sick obsession before it could take root. Never in his life would he predict such an outcome. You look up at him with pleading eyes, “P-please…please help us!” A small cry came from the covers. At that moment Ward realizes his son had gotten himself into something he couldn’t reverse.

What you had suffered was unfortunate, but he couldn’t risk losing everything he’d worked hard for. "P-please Mr. Cameron h-help me you have to hurry before he comes...!"

He throws on an act, "Honey, who?" Approaching you with fake concern.

"I'm so sorry I should've stayed far away--I should've never gone in his room if I knew he would--" you can't help but get choked up. Ward gently held your shoulders as he pulls you in for a hug. After a moment you gather enough courage to look him in the eyes, "It was Rafe. All along it was him!"

Ward felt horrible for what he was about to do, "Oh sweetheart..." he picks up the lantern and takes a step back, "I can't risk losing my family because of one mistake,"

That's when your entire world came crashing down. As if your heart had broken into a million pieces. This was the man who had watched you grow up with his children. Who you thought embraced you as one of his own. He sighs, "It's a small sacrifice to protect my family, I hope you'll understand now that you have one of your own," He makes his way up the stairs, ignoring the echoes that bounce off the walls as you plead, scream for mercy.

You let out a final shrill cry, "I hope this follows you for the rest of your life! Like a curse, I hope this haunts you for the rest of your life!" It was the last thing Ward hears from you before leaving. He meets Rafe at the entrance. His son drops the medical supplies in hand. He had had been sporting a fresh bruise on his face. One of the many you'd given him during these past months. Even now at your at your most vulnerable form.

Rafe had the audacity to look at him as if he'd just killed someone. Ward sighs, "Care to explain?" giving his son a moment to find the right words. Rafe isn't phased, not even in the slightest. He's not upset that he'd got caught. He's more nervous that his father found out about a the kid he had behind his back.

Rafe looks his father dead in the eyes, "I love her," smiling at his proclamation of 'love'. it was at that moment when Ward felt pity for his son. He should've known better when Rafe decided to go under the radar. Nothing good ever came from it.

As mad as he was, Ward couldn't blame the child born from such circumstances. So, the Cameron men decide to hatch a plan. Later that summer, the Camerons decide to hold a grand solstice celebration at their manor, inviting almost every single Kook in the area.

They decide to hold the event at their house. It was a coverup plan. An excuse to show off their newest renovations, which indirectly helped cover their tracks. A perfect distraction for the Cameron ladies of the house. Ward let them redecorate the inside in preparation for the party. It gave Ward and Rafe time to rearrange the old vents away from the noisy basement. All while Rose and the girls were kept busy with the décor.

During the event, Rafe took his time introducing his son to each and every last member of Kook society. The whereabouts of his mother seemingly out of the picture, abandoning her own child and leaving Rafe a single father. They took pity on him and the situation he'd been forced in. Rumors spreading that he'd been seduced by some lowly Pogue. He decides to step up into the role and embrace fatherhood, playing hero for safe face. Of course the Kooks ate his story up. Who doesn't love a happy ending?

You were grateful the moment Tommy finally let you out that dreadful basement. You hadn’t forgotten the promise made a few weeks ago to Finn. To bake him a signature custard from your bakery. He’d been dying to try. Soon, it became common for the youngest Shelby brother to stop by. He would either have a letter or message from Tommy. Most of them were if your husband would be late or earlier from work.

You’d pack Finn some lunch before bidding him a farewell. Most of the time it was just you and Charlie in one big, empty house. To say that he was a sweet child was an understatement. He had the power to make anyone’s cold heart melt. How could such a charming child come from a man like Tommy? You hadn’t a clue.

Of course, you could never replace Grace. You weren’t the one who’d given birth to him. But Charlie was your son in every single way that mattered. There were even a few special moments you’d spend with the other Shelby family members. You especially enjoyed bonding with the women of the family. Teatime with Polly was a particular favorite. She would give you as much advice as a wise woman could. In a way, Polly became your second mother.

As you were setting up the table Polly had been bouncing Charlie on her lap. Finn decided to stop by since today’s work was slower than usual, he choose to stay a little longer. Polly examines her finished tea. Her expression was confused at first, then startled. She shows Finn the cup, and it was as if he'd read something from it.

Polly let’s out a small sigh, “Tell me my dear…” she places her cup on the table, “…has my nephew been treating you well?”

You’re at a loss for words. How could you answer to her? Should you tell her the truth? How would she react? You made up your mind to keep it short and subtle, “Tommy provides me with everything a wife may need. What more could a woman want?” you try your best to force a smile, hoping that it was a good enough answer.

But Polly was suspicious that something wrong within your marriage. She could sense it, “You didn’t answer my question dear, has he been treating you well?” her voice is sterner this time. You tense. Your heart races, “I-I’m not sure what you mean...” you play off. Polly could tell that over the period of time since you've been married, the flicker of light in your eyes had disappeared. Blown out by the cold blues that followed into your nightmares.

At that point, Finn has had it. As soon as Polly leaves, he tells you of his plan, “Tommy’s going to some event next week, and he won’t be back until the morning,”

“Finn…” you warn. It wouldn’t be a good idea breaking your husband's trust. A man like Tommy never forgets. Finn grumbles, “I’m sick and tired of seeing him treat you like--like the dirt on his shoes! The bloke!” his hands ball into fists. You don’t think twice about his statement, in fact you understood completely why your new brother had the right to react like this. You sigh, reaching for his hands to hold, “Could you do me a favor?”

You were kept busy for the next few days, planning on yet another escape. Hopefully the last. Finn would send letters to your sister who lived in the next town. It had been quite a while since the two of you would communicate. Her and her husband had been busy since delivering their new baby.

So, it would take time to pack up their belongings before moving in with your parents. Finn would stop by the postal, on the way to wherever he was heading in order to avoid suspicion. For once it felt like everything was going your way.

As each day went by, you grew more excited to leave this place, once and for all. You let out your hair, made yourself more presentable, you even started smiling again. Tommy took note of how the corners of your lips would curl upwards on their own as you hummed a tune while making supper.

He’d been silently observing you adjusting to your new life. After putting away the dishes, you hoist Charlie on a hip before leaving the kitchen. Tommy listens carefully to your footsteps leading up the stairs before following them. He stops in front of his bedroom door, reaching for the knob.

But before he’s had a chance to twist it open a faint sound of laughter erupts. He opens the door to spot you and Charlie on the bed. Your hands reaching to tickle the boy’s sides. Seemingly unknowing that your husband is witnessing the display of affection.

You hoist the toddler into the air. Tommy notices your expression. For the first time in months, you're actually smiling. It was like some sort of trance. He leans against the door frame. Seeing you with his boy felt, in a strange way, right. As if you both were meant to be. His son loves you. You drop Charlie onto your bosom to catch your breath.

Soft giggles manage to slip out of every exhale. Charlie’s hair tickles your chin so you tilt it to the side. That’s when you notice Tommy standing at the doorway. His posture is more relaxed than usual. For how long had he been standing there?

You look away from his gaze. It always did make you nervous. His fingers twitch, curling into his palms, “I uh...” he slides them into his pockets, “I want you to be my guest for an event,” Tommy looks up, waiting for an answer. You raise a brow and sit up, still holding the boy in your arms, “Who’ll watch over Charlie?”

“Finn offered to keep an eye on him.” of course.

“Alright,” you agreed, already knowing how it would play out. Tommy nods, “I’ll be back, ‘bout three hours from now.” he checks his pocket watch. Double taking the time. You hadn’t planned for him to take you anywhere. It’ll only delay your plans. But you couldn’t risk him questioning his decision, “Sure thing.” you return. Tommy looks as though he had one last thing to say, “And uh...wear something nice,” He turns away, leaving as soon as he came. Now that was odd.