At least the men in this house have rules and limitations on what they can do to us. Mainly mutilating or causing permanent damage. Men on the streets or the ones who buy us at an auction—they don't have rules.
“So that’s it,” I say. “You’re going to continue to terrorize me because you want to cheat the system when none of us will get that option. Maybe it's you who thinks they're special when you're not.”
She giggles a high-pitched sound that grinds my nerves to dust. And then she turns and walks away without a word, casting an indecipherable look over her shoulder.
Who we’re fighting over would rather see us shipped off to the highest bidder, and she’s not just causing me to fail a test, she’s actively inflicting trauma on me.
Abuse. Rape. Things that no human being should ever have to suffer through—especially in the name of jealousy or pettiness.
“You sabotaged me, Sydney,” I call out, causing her to stop in her tracks. “I won’t forget that.”
Keeping her back turned, she swivels her head to the side, and her hand drifts up and down the doorjamb airily, as if she’s toying with the thought as her fingers are with the wood.
Finally, she glances over her shoulder at me, a grin on her thin lips.
“You’re going to be a lot of fun, diamond.” She winks at me and then leaves, sashaying down the hall before she disappears into a room at the end.
I glare at her the entire way, and I know damn well she can feel the heat of it burning into her back.
The cunt is probably getting off on it, and the vindictive side of me will be happy to fuck her in the worst of ways any chance I can get.
Raucous laughter booms from downstairs, nearly vibrating the floor beneath my knees. Francesca and Rocco are the only two who actually live here, but he likes to invite his rapist friends over every day to shoot copious amounts of drugs in their veins and have their way with the girls when permitted.
Though, I suppose Rio and Rick have been practically living here now that they can’t be seen in public. I've been praying Rick makes it easy on me and leaves the house anyway, but the bozo is too fucking lazy and high off his rocker now that he has an endless stream of drugs coming in. He's got the money to get his junk hand-delivered.
Regardless, they’re all fucking obnoxious, incapable of keeping their mouths shut and not making disgusting remarks anytime we’re in their vicinity.
Damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck that tight ass.
Do you see the way it bounces? Imagine how it would look railing her from behind.
Jesus, her tits are to fucking die for. I can’t wait to fuck them.
Each word twists my stomach further and further, wringing my insides like a wet rag until it’s coiled into a knotted rope. Sydney’s words are the only thing keeping my teeth glued together.
Francesca has high hopes for me, and I need to do everything in my power to stay in that light, even if it means cracking my molars from the force of keeping my mouth shut.
Sleep still clings to my eyes while Francesca paces before us. Yesterday was the Culling practice, and I spent the entire night waiting for our punishment, but it never came. So, when she barged in my room at the ass crack of dawn, I hadn’t even closed my eyes yet.
“Etiquette is important,” Francesca begins, walking back and forth down the line, her five-inch heels matching the pounding of my heart.
She’s always ready to walk down a runway, and I wonder if she puts so much effort into making the outside look pretty because her insides are a cemetery of bones and decay. She should’ve looked into becoming a mortician with the way she’s so good at dressing up a corpse.
She stops before me, and I keep my eyes casted down at her feet. The tip of her shoe is scuffed a little. Wonder how much that bothers her.
“Look at me.”
My eyes instantly find hers, with no hesitation.
“Kiss my foot,” she orders, tipping out her shoe with the mark. Part of me wonders if she could hear my thoughts and is punishing me for it. Nevertheless, I decide it’s probably the She-Devil above. Now She just loves to punish me.
My immediate reaction is pure fire. My mouth works to gather saliva, ready to spit on her shoe instead, but I manage to refrain. Barely.
Hesitation races down my spine, and it takes physical force to bend my spine forward and do as she says, placing my lips gently on her dirty shoe.
"Now lick it."
My lips twitch, threatening to curl into a snarl, but I do as she says and quickly lick it, dirt and lord knows what else gathering on my tongue.