Revenge and Consequences

Smiling, the girl settled back in her chair, watching the flatscreen television in what was, otherwise, a very blandly-appointed room. She was a pretty girl, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes, small breasts and petite hips, although at the moment she was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, with no make-up. Her face, if observed closely, showed signs of recent sorrow and a fading bruise.

But now, she was smiling gleefully, even viciously, as she watched the TV.

On the screen was a young man, kneeling on a mat, surrounded by naked men. The young man’s hands reached behind him to spread himself open for the man behind him, as his mouth and throat worked furiously to deal with the cock of the man in front of him. As the man in front of him tensed, the HD screen showed the boy’s throat working to deal with the load, as some spilled past his lips. Then, as the man withdrew himself, she could hear the boy begging, between broken sobs, for more cock. A pleading that became more desperate as he felt a hand tighten around his obviously-abused balls.

Smiling, she pressed a button on the remote, and the channel changed. Now it showed a woman, naked but for a suit jacket, spread obscenely on a board, with a variety of machines working between her legs. So far as the girl could see, they were all designed for pleasure, but the woman’s head thrashed as if she was being subjected to the most unimaginable tortures. As the girl watched the woman began to wail: a high, keening, mindless sound. The sound of a woman broken by what’s already been done to her, with no end in sight.

The girl shivered pleasantly.

“I trust you’re satisfied with our service, then?” The man, dressed for business, had stood in the back of the room as she watched the fruits of her investment.

“Yes!” The girl stood, and turned to him. “I couldn’t believe it when she helped him escape justice, but this… This is so much better.” She paused, considering, then decided to ask. “I know it wasn’t part of the contract, but what will you do with them? After?”

The man gestured for her to follow him, as they walked back to the lobby, where she assumed they would have a car waiting for her. “We already have a buyer lined up for the boy, actually. A long-time client, he was looking for a replacement for a past purchase. I’m afraid he’s a bit rough with his toys.” The man shrugged. “As for the lawyer, we haven’t decided; a lot depends on how much is left of her, once we’ve finished. But there are plenty of people with a grudge against defense attorneys.”

They walked in silence then, as she considered the fates she’d bought for those two. She wondered if she should feel guilty, at least about the woman. Her attacker, he could burn in hell, but she had just been doing a job.

They deserve it, she decided. These people I hired are monsters, too, but those two deserve it.

Finally, they reached the door to the lobby. The man opened it, and gestured her through.

This wasn’t the same lobby as before. In fact, it wasn’t a lobby at all. It was a room with a large mirror on one wall, with a couch and coffee table that looked familiar.

The room held two men, one of them with a gun.

“Wha-” She stammered out the words as she stepped through the door, struggling to understand what was going on.

“Hello, sweetheart.” 

The man without the gun spoke up, and she recognized him: David Colombo, president of her attacker’s fraternity. And then she realized how she knew the furniture, and she recoiled, trying to run back out through the door. She ran into the man behind her, standing in it like a brick wall.

“I hope you like how we did up the place.” David continued talking, falsely genial, as he stepped closer to her. “The university took our frat house away 'due to a history of abusive behavior', because you couldn’t keep your whore mouth shut. But they let us dispose of the furniture ourselves, and I thought it would make this whole thing much more… authentic.” He smiled the smile of a predator, then addressed the man standing in the doorway. “Thank you. I’ll make sure the remainder of the funds are transferred to you.”

The man nodded, then stepped back and shut the door before the girl could react.

“Wait! I paid you too!” She turned, and pounded on the door as it shut, screaming. She could hear the lock click into place. Turning around, she pressed her back against it, and found David standing right in front of her.

“You didn’t really think your pittance was enough to buy them, did you?” David chuckled. It was not a nice chuckle. “Although it was nice of you to provide the down-payment for us.”

“Bu- But, your--”

“What, our ‘frat bro’? Fuck him, he caused this mess as much as you. And fuck his bitch lawyer, too; she tried to shift the blame off of him, and onto our ‘bad influence.’ But really, both of them were just bait.” David smiled, and reached out to stroke her cheek; she flinched away. “You were the prize we wanted. Oh, by the way, say hello to the rest of the guys.”

The mirror on the opposite wall went momentarily translucent, showing a room full of fraternity brothers. Some watched intently, some sat calmly, some were even cheering. Then the mirror went opaque once again.

“You’ll have a chance to apologize to each of them, don’t worry. But first, let me explain how this works. The man with the gun, his name is Andrei. Andrei is only here in case you don’t do something we tell you to. For example, kiss me.” David pursed his lips and moved in for a kiss; clamping her own shut, she turned her face away.

David stepped back, and before she could react, Andrei was in front of her. Roughly, he slammed her head back against the door, his hand squeezing her jaw until she felt like it would shatter. Giving in, she opened her mouth to scream; he took the opportunity to push his gun into her mouth. She froze instantly, tasting gunmetal, gagging as he continued to push the barrel further, until it was at the back of her throat. Then Andrei cocked the hammer of the gun.

“You see? A useful example.” David was standing back, watching calmly. “So what do you say, sweety, want to give me that kiss now? Or do you want to see how far Andrei will take this?”

Her every limb was frozen in terror, her eyes wide. She could feel her heart beating through her chest. Shuddering, she managed a single, jerky nod, knowing that she was lost. She couldn’t fight this. With that, Andrei removed the gun, and returned to his corner. David came in and, with her still frozen against the door in terror, planted a peck on her still-open lips.

“Good. Now go sit on the couch, we’ll have a little chat.”

Still terrified, she looked at the couch. Remembered what had happened on it.

“I- I-” Her voice took several starts before she got out the words. “Please, I don’t want to. I don’t deserve-- Don’t make me, please.”

David just lifted an eyebrow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andrei start to move. With a squeak, she fled across to room, perching on the edge of the couch, her knees pressed tightly together. She felt the first tears start to spill from her eyes.

“So tell me, sweetheart, what were you wearing that night?” David tried to make his voice sound calm, but she could hear the cruelty beneath it.

She shuddered. She knew what was coming. “What- what night do you mean?”

“You know the night.” David leaned against the wall opposite her, clearly enjoying controlling her with words alone. “I doubt you looked like this, all frumpy in sweatpants. So what were you wearing?”

“No… not sweatpants.” She bit back a sob. “I don’t know… a skirt and t-shirt? Something casual, for the party.”

“Well then, you should take off all this clothes, shouldn’t you? It’s not… accurate.” He smiled as her shocked eyes flew up to meet his for the first time since she’d sat on the couch. Her head flew to look at Andrei, as if for support; finding none, she turned back to him. He just smiled.

“Now. Or Andrei will help you.”

Eyes wide, she reached down to grab the bottom of her baggy sweatshirt, one she’d chosen specifically to hide her body, and slowly pulled it up over her head. Then, without standing, she twitched out of the sweatpants, shifting her hips to let them pool at her ankles.

“I doubt you were wearing a sport bra and plain panties, love. And stand when you take them off.” David rolled his eyes, and twirled his finger in the air.

Taking a deep breath, she quickly stood, and pulled the sports bra over her head. To remove the panties, she had to bend over dropping, them to her ankles; she heard a cheer from behind the glass as she did. Naked, she sat back on the couch, shuddering, her thighs pressed together, her arms covering her chest. Then she started to sob openly.

“Why? Please, he attacked me, you know he did.” She sobbed out the words. “I was a victim, I don’t deserve this. Why are you doing this to me?”

David just shrugged. “We’re not allowed to have parties any more; it’s something to do for a weekend.” He seemed entirely unconcerned with the idea of what she ‘deserved’. “Now, we were discussing what you were wearing, and I know you remember. So tell me. Hands at your side. Look me in the eye.”

Shaking, she did as he instructed, gripping the cushion of the couch with white knuckles as she exposed her modest breasts, nipples hard in the cold air. “I… an off-white, lacy skirt-- where did you get that?!?” She broke off, shocked, as he pulled the exact skirt from a bag on the floor next to him.

“It wasn’t hard for an organization like this to access the evidence on a closed case. This is getting tiresome, so yes: We have the skirt. And the make-up. The sheer black top. No bra, though and…” He paused, then dangled a skimpy piece of red fabric from a finger. “A red thong? You little slut.” 

He laughed, then walked over to her at the couch. Dropping the clothes next to her, he gathered her sweatclothes and tossed them to Andrei before settling on the couch next to her. “Don’t let me stop you. Go get dressed; there’s a mirror on the wall. Oh, and do your make-up before you put on any clothes, the boys deserve a show."

He reached out, cupping he left breast. She flinched at the touch, but didn't dare to try and push him away.

"Even if it is just barely a handful, in your case.”

She didn’t even try to protest. Tears running down her face, she stood and walked to the two-way mirror, clothes bundled in her arms. The clothes from the night she was attacked.

She did her make-up, having to restart more than once because of the tears. Every time she lifted her arms, she heard a cheer from the other side of the glass. Again, when she tugged the thong over the curve of her hips. And again, as she stepped into the skirt, and the low-cut blouse with no bra.

Finally, she was dressed. She just stood there, staring at herself dully, recognizing the person in the mirror. Someone she’d promised herself she would never be, not ever again.

“Well, come sit next to me, then.” David’s voice rang out behind her. She turned, and went to sit on the couch. He pressed up close to her, forcing her against him.

“So what were you doing with him? Leading him on?”

“We were-” Her voice broke, but she kept the tears contained. “We were kissing.”

“Then kiss me. Like a lover, this time.” David leaned over her, pressing her head back into the couch cushions. He kissed her. And she, God help her, she kissed him back. Enthusiastically, albeit driven by terror rather than passion.

“Did he have his hand up your skirt?” David moved a hand up her leg, pushing up her skirt. She shifted, trying to push him off, unable to speak. “He did, didn’t he? Just like this, reaching up for that sweet little honey pot you’re hiding.”

“Please, stop. Please. Stop. Stop!” She shrieked the word out, just like last time. She started crying again. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but relive--

“You told him to stop. But he didn’t. He reached up to that little thong of yours, and you--”

She lost it. She fought, struggling like a wildcat, clawing and biting, trying to push him away, trying to kick him, anything. Just like last time, she fought. And just like last time, he won, by simple virtue of weight and being on top of her, holding her down against the couch until she was exhausted.

Then, just like last time, he flipped her onto her stomach, laying her onto the couch cushions, her face in the arm, his weight on top of her. He reached down, tugging aside the all-too-skimpy thong. And he--

She gave out one last, desperate scream. Then she just sobbed.

He ignored her, pushing into her, and he groaned. “Christ, I can understand why he did it. You have one. Tight. Pussy.” He punctuated each word with a rough thrust, drawing himself nearly out before pushing back in, his weight holding her down.

“Please! Not so rough, please, you’re hurting me! He wasn’t as big as you!” She sobbed out the words, hoping to please him, but they only seemed to egg him on to be rougher. Desperately, she reached back, trying to push him away. Roughly, he grabbed her hands, trapping them behind her back with his hand, holding them there as he used her and she sobbed.

She remembered the shock, that night. The pain. The horror. It all came flooding back. And David, unlike her first attacker, took his time. He savored the pleasure of using her, as shudders ran through her body and she sobbed. And he didn’t care how it hurt her. Finally, though…

“God, slut, I’m going to…”

His words shocked her back to the present. “No. Please! Not inside me! He didn’t finish inside me, he--!” She felt David’s cock twitch inside her, felt the explosion of wet warmth, as he came inside her. She screamed, sobbed, fully breaking down.

“Lying whore, I read the police report.” David whispered the words in his ear, resting his weight on top of her, breathing heavily. “So I know that we’re not done. Are we?”

She just sobbed under him, not responding. So he stood up, and picked her up, tossing her onto the wooden coffee table, on her stomach, he hips hanging off the edge.

“I know he pushed you onto the coffee table. Isn’t that right?”

Sobbing, she nodded.

“So he had you over the coffee table, like the whore you are. What did he do?” David’s voice took a hard edge, and he brought his hand down on her ass, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin. “Use your words, you filthy little slut! What did he do?”

“He…” She had to fight to speak through the sobs. “He used his fingers. He moved them inside me, and found the…” She gasped, as he roughly pressed two fingers into her, and immediately found the slightly-different spot. “He found it. And he, he, he made me…”

David didn’t need any more words. He roughly moved his fingers in a beckoning motion. And, as always, her body responded. There was nothing she could do to stop it. After moments, she let out a soul-deep groan as she came around his fingers, tears falling from her face onto the coffee table.

“Fucking whore.” David wiped his hand on her balled-up skirt, then let her fall to the floor, curling into a ball on the floor at the feet of the coffee table and sobbing. Just like last time.

David stood over her for a minute, then nudged her with his shoe until she looked up at him from the floor.

“Get up and fix your make-up. The next guy will be in in a minute.”

Turning, David walked from the room. She could hear cheering and high fives as he walked into the room with the waiting frat brothers. And she could see Andrei, watching to see if she would obey.

Crying, she stood up, and went to fix her make-up.