Waiting in the Throes

Thanks everyone again for your amazing reviews and ratings!  I swear, it may not look like it at all right now, but things will get better for Brennan!

*Song relevant to this chapter located on tumblr

Chapter 6: Strain

“You shouldn’t have said anything earlier,” I heard Phil say impatiently from outside the bathroom door. I was bent over the toilet, dry heaving for the fourth or fifth time, my stomach emptied of all contents earlier in the evening. The room was dark- we’d lost power half an hour ago, and the only light came from a flickering candle on the bathroom vanity.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know this would happen?” Al said angrily. He paused and I saw him duck his head into the bathroom, “Maybe he is sick?” I glanced up at him from my position on the floor of the downstairs bathroom. Mercifully Phil had given me back the scrub pants I had been wearing yesterday- a “reward” for eating more jello- which I promptly threw up twenty minutes later. I wasn’t sick, I was in a space that existed somewhere beyond terror. The last time all three of us had been in a bedroom, had been the worst night of my life. I couldn’t go through it again.

“He’s not sick,” Phil snapped, “you scared the shit out of him.” He pushed past Al into the bathroom and bent down in front of me.

“Brennan come on,” he said firmly, grabbing my uninjured wrist and gently pulling me away from the cool ceramic bowl, I didn’t resist nor did I make it easier for him, just flopped like a ragdoll into a new position beside the bathtub.

“Al- go get the generator and extension cords out of the shed,” Phil he called over his shoulder, “we need to hook up the fridge anyway.” Al glanced at me in my new position, said nothing and pushed off from where he stood lounged against the wall just outside the door. Phil waited until he heard the back door of the house open, the rush of rain, and the slam of the closing door before he spoke again.

“Calm down,” he lectured seriously, “you are making yourself sick.” The way he said it reminded me of my mom. One day when I was really little, maybe four or five, I had thrown a fit in a department store, I’d lost a G.I Joe or something during our errands for the day, and when my mom refused to retrace our steps to every single store we had been too, I had broken down crying like little kids do, uncontrollable sobs that made me wretch and gag, and that’s when my mom had delivered the classic line. I raised my gaze to meet Phil’s and he half smiled.

“Let’s just relax and watch a movie okay?” he offered. I studied Phil’s face. He was lying– I knew he was– but what choice did I have? He would probably drag me out of the bathroom by the hair if I didn’t just get up on my own.

“Okay,” I complied, slowly pulling myself up with the assistance of the edge of the tub. I still felt shaky and sick, but I knew there was nothing in my stomach left to lose and no matter where I was in this house, I would feel the same way. Phil guided me out into the dark hallway and into the living room. The sofa bed remained in couch form, much to my relief.

“Sit down,” Phil said, gesturing to the couch. The only light came from a battery powered camp lantern in the middle of the kitchen table. I stumbled into the living room, and sat nervously in the middle of the sofa while Phil moved around the kitchen comfortably, opening and closing drawers and the refrigerator. Outside I could see Al’s silhouette from the shoulders up against the dark sky, moving slowly across the lawn, shoulders hunched and head down in the rain. Phil closed the space between the kitchen table and me, setting the familiar vanilla meal replacement in front of me on the coffee table.

“Drink up,” he commanded. I took one look at the canned shake on the table and instantly gagged, bringing my hand to my mouth and getting ready to bolt once again for the bathroom, despite the fact that it was now just a reflex only. Phil put one hand on my shoulder to keep me seated. I looked up at him with what I hoped was a pleading expression.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said with the tiniest hint of pity. I could hear Al stomping up the porch steps, a steady thunking sound following him and then the sudden symphony of rain drops landing on the porch as the back door opened and Al stepped inside. I watched him for a moment while he unravelled a bright orange extension cord.

“Hook the television up too,” Phil called over his shoulder, and then turned back to me, staring me down.

“I don’t want it,” I complained.

“I don’t care,” he retorted, shifting on the coffee table to sit right in front of me and handing me the can, “Now are you going to drink it on your own, or am I going to have to have to make you?” I swallowed the impending gag in my throat. I had no doubt he would force me to do what he wanted, so I brought the can to my lips and took a sip. The shake was just as grainy, just as thick and syrupy as yesterday. It made me feel nauseas, but I forced it down, while Al fiddled around with cords behind the television, using the lamp from the table in the kitchen for light. Phil sat in front of me, watching me take a sip, try to swallow, gag, choke the liquid down, and do it all over again. Halfway finished I reached forward to put the can on the table.

“All of it,” Phil ordered firmly and I shakily pulled my arm back towards me.

“I don’t want anymore,” I whimpered, letting the can rest on my knee. I could smell the sickly sweet, fake scent emanating from the can. With the back door still ajar the room was rapidly loosing heat and I was shivering again.

“You didn’t want it in the first place,” Phil retorted, “now drink.” I could feel the liquid rolling around in my stomach and I bent forward, clutching my sides, eyes closed.

“I feel sick,” I whined hoarsely.

“Because you’re dehydrated,” Phil said flatly, he was losing patience quickly, “now quit being such a child and drink the fucking shake.” I gagged again and put the can on the table so I wouldn’t drop it on the floor– and likely get the shit kicked out of me.

“I can’t,” I moaned miserably. Phil sighed, reached forward and grabbed a handful of my hair, jerking my head towards him and then backwards, my neck at an uncomfortable angle. With his other hand, he grabbed the half-finished can and held it over my lips.

“If you make me spill a drop,” he threatened, “I’ll make sure this is the only thing you ever get to eat.” Then he tipped the can towards my mouth.

“Stop- okay- I’ll do it,” I said frantically, and he let go of my hair just as quickly as he had grabbed me and handed me back the can. Behind the television, Al chuckled and stood up.

“Okay, we’re just about ready, what are we watching?” he asked. Phil kept his eyes on me, watching as I forced myself to drink what was left in the can. My scalp prickled and my neck ached.

“You can pick- you went out to get the generator,” Phil replied. Gulping down the last of the shake, I thrust the empty can back at Phil and he took it, giving it a slight jiggle to make sure it was empty.

“Good boy,” he praised and waltzed into the dim kitchen, putting the can on the counter beside the sink. Beside me, Al was looking at movies on the shelf. I sank back into the sofa, coiling myself at the end furthest from Al’s reach.

“Hey, do me a favour- I forgot to hit the switch,” he called over his shoulder to Phil. His eyes raked down my body on the way back to the movie shelf and I shuddered, pulling myself into an even tighter ball on the worn tweed.

“Sure,” Phil responded, ducking out the back door. The sudden vibrating sound of the generator roaring to life caused me to start and Al to laugh.

“Jesus, you are tweaked,” he tormented. I lay my head on the arm of the sofa and closed my eyes, breathing through my nose and counting to ten over and over again, trying not to pay attention to the slushing contents of my stomach. The sound of the generator was quickly muffled to a low hum as Phil came back inside and shut the door behind him.

“So what are we watching?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” Al said with a smirk. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and his hand emerged with a small tin as he stepped around the coffee table to sit in the easy chair across from the couch. Phil stepped into the living room and glanced down at Al, who was now prying off the lid of the tin open above the table. He snorted.

“Well, that ought to help us all relax,” he said, strolling over to the movie shelf, “So what am I putting in?”

 "What else would we get stoned and watch?” Al asked, lips curling into a mischievous grin, the lid of the tin finally popping off in his hands. A distinctively musky, green scent subtly permeated the hair. Phil plucked a case from the shelf of DVD’s and Blu-rays and went to the television. It seemed to stutter to life before filling the room with its cool glow while Phil fiddled with the controls on player. Finally a picture sprang up on the television and the first trailer began. Phil sat down on the end of the couch opposite me and I recoiled against my end, tucking my legs up close to me, moving my body as far as I could from him. He was not having any of that. Phil crawled towards me.

“Come here,” he coaxed, while offering me no choice in the matter. He grabbed me by my one good arm and my waist and pulled me back towards him, my legs and hips folding painfully under me, forcing me to comply until both of us were in a lounging position, legs up on the remaining cushions of the couch, my head leaned back against Phil’s chest. His t-shirt was slightly damp from the violent storm outside. Through the fabric I could feel the heat rolling off his skin, but I was still shivering.

“You cold?” Phil asked. He didn’t wait for my answer and just reached behind him and pulled the throw blanket that was draped over the back of the couch over us before wrapping one of his arms around me possessively.

While the movie trailers played, I watched Al’s long, nimble fingers roll a thick joint then put the small tin away in the side table next to him. He leaned back in the chair and there was a momentary flicker, as the flame jumped from the lighter cupped in his hand to light the end of the joint. The smell of burning weed spread through the room, green and pungent in the small space. I used to like that smell. Al leaned forward and passed the joint to Phil, who had to lean forward so much, had it not been for his arm, I would have spilled from the couch. The end smoldered as Phil took a long drag before offering the joint to me. When I didn’t take it he exhaled the smoke from his mouth in rings.

“Come on, it’ll help you relax– and with the nausea” he coaxed hoarsely. He ran his fingers through my hair with his freehand, pulling just enough to let me know who was in charge and I reluctantly reached up and took the smoldering joint from him. When I inhaled Al chuckled from across the room. The minute the smoke passed into my lungs I felt the insatiable urge to get fucked up. Whatever these men were going to do to me tonight I didn’t want to feel. I wanted to just pass out and wake up in the morning, the ache in my body the only clue to what had happened to me. The moment the joint left my lips I knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Easy now,” Phil teased, pinching the joint from between my fingers. He took another drag and passed it back across the table to Al. The movie started to play and I recognized it– Inception– Sam and I had gone to see that when it was in theatres. I closed my eyes and reluctantly leaned back against Phil, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t about to let me go anywhere and that at least for now he wasn’t hurting me. He kept his fingers threaded in my hair, pulling at the strands casually while the movie played. His other hand played lightly at my side, fingers brushing gently against my ribcage. Both fidgeting gestures made me uncomfortable, my body tense against his even after the joint passed several times between us. The pot made me drowsy and despite the tension in my limbs, I drifted into a restless half-sleep, the light from the television screen dancing in front of my closed eyelids like the northern lights, the sounds of the movie foggy in my ears, like I was underwater. Underwater was right, maybe I was dreaming but my face felt… wet.

Slowly, like swimming to the surface from the deepest lake, I came to consciousness, first recognizing the tastes of pot and beer, then the feeling of lips on my mouth, a tongue persistently massaging mine.

“Unngh,” my protest came out muffled into Phil’s mouth. When I tried to pull away, his fingers, still entwined in my hair, held my head in place, his lips pressing more eagerly against mine. I twisted in his arms, and he wrapped his other arm around my torso to keep me still. The panicked fluttering feeling I had felt far too much of in the past two days jumped to life inside of me again and all I could do was squirm and whimper while Phil explored my mouth with his tongue. This wasn’t the same skull exploring kiss I had experienced before, it was just as insistent but this time gentle and torturously slow– which made me feel more violated.

Finally Phil pulled away and I twisted my head in the direction of the television, panting for air. I jumped when I realized Al was sitting on the coffee table almost directly in front of me and that was when I knew I was in for another night in hell. Phil ran his fingers through my hair gently, sensing the tension returning to my body.

“Shhh,” he soothed right next to my ear when a choked sob tumbled from my lips when Al rose from the table.

“Don’t,” I complained, my voice coming out choked and small as Al slowly climbed onto the couch on top of me. Phil manoeuvred his body and mine so that Al could comfortably straddle both of us. Al’s weight on my legs hurt and I squirmed in discomfort, tears burning in the corners of my eyes. I started hyperventilating as Al leaned closer to me.

“My turn,” he declared lowly. I twisted my head to look at the movie- as if somehow the actors on the screen would jump out and help me. Ariadne and Arthur were lip-locked on the screen. I expected to be guided back into position by my hair, but seconds passed and I actually felt Phil’s grip on me loosen and drop. I cautiously turned my head and was shocked to see Phil and Al engaged in a heated kiss. I felt a mixture of sick, shocked and embarrassed at the spectacle. Neither man was taking the lead, both moved together, light smacking sounds echoing as their lips separated and re-joined until finally Phil broke the kiss. After a few breaths Phil issued an order;

“Now, kiss him,” he directed Al, voice even and commanding. Al turned his face towards me and I squirmed in Phil’s arms. This was a different Al than the one I knew and shrank from. This Al scared me even more. His eyes burned with want, a million dirty images not doubt playing in his mind’s eye.

Surprisingly gently, he used the hand not bracing himself over me, to guide my face to his so that he could cover my lips. I let out the smallest whine of protest before his lips; moist from Phil’s, pressed into mine. As he did so, I realized with a combination of horror and morbid fascination that this was the first time Al had kissed me– on the lips. His tongue gently ran a line over my closed lips before forcefully prying them apart. He tasted like pot and something faintly sweet that I couldn’t figure out. His tongue tentatively explored between my lips before he deepened the kiss, pulling my face towards his so that he could get closer. His hips ground into mine and I squirmed in both discomfort and outright pain, raising my hands to push his body away but because of Phil’s grasp on my arms, my fingertips just barely brushed against Al’s denim clad hips. Still his lips locked on mine, his tongue forcing mine into action. Finally sensing the suffocating sensation as I ran out of oxygen Al eased his grip on the side of my face enough that I could rip my lips from his, gasping for air. He let out a frustrated moan.

“You taste so good,” he panted. My skin crawled at the remark and Al refocused on Phil; “Can we please go upstairs now?”

“No,” Phil barked firmly, “Remember what I said- take it slow.” Al grunted in both frustration and acknowledgement and lowered his face to mine again. I jerked my head away from him. Phil responded by reaching up with one of his arms to tangle his fingers in my hair, pulling my head back firmly, but not roughly.

“Play nice,” he murmured in my ear. His breath was heated and that was it made me skin crawl, made me shiver involuntarily made me angry.

“Fuck you,” I spat, with more venom than I would have ever thought myself capable of. Phil jerked back on my hair, my neck snapping back to follow his hand.

“That’s rude,” he snarled. Al seemed completely unaffected by my clear displeasure and grabbed at the throw in between us, tossing it across the room to the empty chair he had been seated in earlier. His hands pressed into my ribcage lightly, moving with the rise and fall of my chest as I struggled to breathe evenly. For several seconds all three of us were suspended in the pornographic tableau before Phil released his grip on my hair and bent his head to my neck. I arched my back trying to get away from him- which only pleased Al, his fingers flicking over my nipples as my torso lifted into his eager, groping hands. I sank back into Phil, shrinking away from Al, only to be grabbed by the hips and firmly held in position between my captors. Phil sank his teeth into my collarbone over the mark he had made yesterday.

“Aahhnn,” I hissed in pain before a smothering tightness in my chest took over. I felt light-headed and weak. I thought back to my Psych class this year and I knew what was happening– I was having a panic attack. Al repositioned himself on top of me, dipping his head to meet my lips again and I moved my head away from him. He insistently pressed his weight into me, no longer bracing himself as firmly against the arm of the couch. His free hand cupped the side of my face, forcing me to look up at him again. As he neared, I closed my eyes, panting for air before his lips closed over mine again.

It was all too much for me to stand. His lips on mine, Phil’s lips on my neck, my hips crushed between both men, the heat of their skin, the smells of pot, beer, sweat, aftershave and rain– it was all crushing me. Finally I shoved Al, raising both hands and pushing him away by the shoulders, bucking my body into his and twisting myself towards the scant few inches between the coffee table and the floor. Phil tried to grab at me, but my repositioned weight rested on his elbow, keeping his arm straight and immobile. His other arm was sandwiched between our bodies and the couch. Al leaned down to grab my flailing arms and I seized the window of opportunity I had, viciously ramming my left elbow into his face. Both of us recoiled in pain- Al gripping his nose, me cradling my now aching broken arm to my chest momentarily before I grabbed the coffee table, pulling hard to free myself from between the two men.

“You little bitch,” Al grunted as I wriggled out from under him, landing in a heap on the floor beside the couch, my shoulder striking the sharp edge of the coffee table. My arm screamed in pain as it was forced to support some of my weight as I tried to scramble away from the couch. I had just started to pull myself to my knees when I was slammed into the floor. I clawed at the carpet, let go and wailed at the top of my lungs. The person on top of me flipped me over onto my back harshly and my howl was cut short as my shoulder blades smacked into the floor, my arms pinned at my sides by the elbows. I was staring up into Al’s face, a smear of crimson mottling the stubble on his upper lip. Good, the fucker deserved it. He raised one arm to swing, but Phil caught it.

“No,” he issued the word resolutely, “pick him up.” Al lowered his arm and settled for aggressively grabbing me just above the elbows, roughly depositing me back on the couch with Phil, who immediately wrapped his arms around my torso again, pinning my unbroken arm to my side. I squirmed, clawing at the couch with my crippled arm, trying to free myself.

“Go clean yourself up, I got him,” Phil directed Al, who looked sceptical as he backed out of the room through the kitchen and into the hall. Phil’s other arm snapped up and wrapped around me, forcing me down again.

“What do you want from me?” I whimpered, the tight, panicked feeling growing worse at the uncertainty of what the night held.

“I want you to relax and behave yourself,” Phil ordered evenly, skirting the question he knew I was really asking. His grip loosened on me slightly, one hand rubbing light circles on my stomach just under my navel. The scrub pants I was wearing had slipped on my hips ever so slightly in my struggles and the extra inch of skin they revealed suddenly felt like a mile. I immediately tensed, arching my body away from his as far as I could.

“Stop,” I whined desperately at the violation. After what had already been done to me, I couldn’t believe that this made me feel more degraded, more disgusting than anything I had been through yet.

“Why do you do this?” Phil asked, the warmth of his breath rushing past my ear. He firmly pulled my body back down to his and I gave up, sagging in defeat against him.

Phil sighed, “You know what I want?” he finally said, his voice changing from calm and light to low and serious “I want you to realize that you are in the middle of nowhere. We have no neighbours for miles. Nobody can hear you screaming. Nobody– and I mean nobody– knows you are here. Your family and friends will look for you, but in time, they will give up hope of finding you alive, and then they will stop looking, and then you belong to us.” His words acted like a funhouse mirror, distorting and magnifying my greatest fears, minimizing any sense of logic I had left in my head.

“So what I want is you to just give in, stop fighting and let us have you,” he finally breathed into my ear. I shuddered as Al stepped into the room from the hallway, the blood cleaned from his face. He smirked, watching me, clearly relishing seeing the colour drain from my face as I realized that they were never going to let me go. I felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over me.

“I think it’s time to go upstairs, what do you think, hmm?” Phil said, addressing both me and Al, saying the words into my ear while looking at his co-conspirator. I shook my head and started struggling again to free myself from Phil’s arms.

“Please don’t do this,” I begged. My pleas fell on deaf ears. Phil sat up with me pushing me into Al’s waiting arms. The second he hauled me from the couch I dropped all of my weight, sinking to the floor. Both men bent, dragging me to my feet. I refused to stand. Even if nobody could hear me, I wasn’t going to make this easy for them. Both men clumsily dragged me through the living room to the hallway. I bucked violently in their arms, trying to pull my weight down so that they would literally have to drag me up the stairs to get me to the upper level of the house. The closer we got to the staircase, the harder it was to breathe.

“I suggest you stop,” Phil said when we got to the foot of the stairs, his tone one of warning. I slumped still, looking at the stairs towering in front of me. I winced, remembering first my wrist and then this morning’s incident.

“Now are you going to co-operate?” Phil asked. An image of his face, twisted into a cruel expression floated into my mind. The lesson he imparted on me that morning still painfully fresh.

“Yes,” I mumbled in defeat.

“Good boy,” Phil praised, planting a kiss on my collarbone before he let me go. Al pulled me along by the elbow, Phil stepping behind me to push me up the first couple of steps. My feet felt encased in concrete, my heart pounded in my ears. Part way up the stairs my head spun and my feet slipped from under me, both men catching me before I fell. This was worse than the first night because I didn’t just suspect what was coming, I knew. As we approached the landing at the top of the stairs, Al turned and looked over his shoulder to Phil, who had his hand pressed into the small of my back.

“Which room?” he asked the man behind me.

“Mine has the biggest bed…” Phil suggested.

“You’re just saying that because you have all your freaky-ass toys in there,” Al scoffed. I stumbled up the last step thinking of that horrible ball-gag and what Phil probably had that was undoubtedly much worse.

“So are you saying your room then?” Phil asked. I dropped to my knees at the top of the stairs. If they were going to make me do this, they were going to have to drag me to my fate.

“Mmm, yeah… I want to watch,” Al said lowly. I thought of the mirror on the ceiling above the bed and twitched as both men resumed their grip on me, pulling me down the hallway. Once we crossed the threshold, both men dragged me to the middle of the room and dropped me there, Phil shutting the door behind him, Al skirting around the bed to shut the bathroom door. On my hands and knees I scrambled back from the bed to the wall with the window, the storm still raging outside. The room was almost completely dark except for the occasional flash of lightning. It created a strobe effect, with each flash the two men took up a different position in the room.

“Keep an eye on him, I’m going to get some candles,” Phil instructed to Al. I cowered in a ball in the space between the easy chair and the wall, my eyes gradually adjusting to the dark room, watching Al move closer and closer to me. His height was even more exaggerated from my position on the floor where I felt like a kid hiding from the monster in his closet. When he reached for me he grabbed one of my ankles, yanking me away from the wall so hard that my head snapped back and hit the window sill. I shielded my head as Al pulled me the rest of the way to the floor, the carpet burning my back as

I was dragged towards the bed. I kicked hard, but that was a mistake- it only served to make it easier for Al to pull me closer to the place in the room I was most terrified of.

“Get up,” Al ordered. When I didn’t immediately jump at his order, he reached down, grabbed me and heaved me onto the mattress. He paused for only a moment at the foot of the bed before pouncing on me.

“Think we have time for a quickie before Phil gets back?” he teased, pinning my arms up beside my head. I felt dazed- like my brain was one step behind everything that was happening. I couldn’t breathe, so I just shook my head furiously.

“You know, you are pretty fuckin’ cute,” he said, studying my face. I gulped down the lump of panic in my throat. Through the cast I could feel the painful pressure of Al’s weight holding me down. When he noticed me wince, he dropped his hand to my waist, thumb brushing over my last rib, and slowly brought my other arm down to my side.

“I think I can forgive you for elbowing me in the face,” he said quietly. I looked away from him and caught my reflection in the mirror above me. My own pale, terrified face stared back at me as Al’s hand traced down my torso to the front of my second-hand hospital pants. What happened next burned into my memory and would haunt my nightmares for months to come. Al dipped his head to my collarbones, nipping across them. I grimaced in discomfort and shame as I watched his body in the mirror above us as it slithered down mine, kissing and biting a trail from my Adam’s apple, down to my navel. His index finger gently pulled the front of my pants down into a “v” just under my navel, revealing the dusting of hair between my legs. I ripped my eyes away from the mirror, my panic attack peaking.

“Stop,” I whined hoarsely. Al bent his head and pressed his lips to my skin just above the hair and I thought I would scream.“Hey,” a voice barked from the doorway. I jumped and Al pulled his lips from my skin and slowly sat up, releasing my arm in the process. I couldn’t move, my limbs felt made out of lead. I just stared up at my reflection, panting for air. Phil stood with two lit pillar candles, one in either hand. He kicked the door closed behind him and put one candle on the bedside table.

"What did I tell you?” he scolded Al, “Move slowly.” He placed the other candle on the bedside table on the other side of the bed as Al slowly released the waistband of my pants, raking his hands down my thighs in the process.

“And going below the waist is not moving slowly,” Phil clarified. He slid into the bed next to me and I tensed.

“Come here,” he coaxed. I stayed frozen even as Al lifted his weight off of me and turned to face me. I numbly let Phil pull me into a spooning position, with me facing Al. I glanced up at the mirror self-consciously. I was shaking so hard you would have thought I was laying naked in a freezer. Two pairs of hands rubbed my sides, two sets of lips explored my skin torturously slowly, but neither man moved so much as a finger below the waistband of my pants. It felt like hours of heated kissing, touching and grinding before Phil’s fingers groped across my hip, rubbing my inner thigh. I immediately tensed and tried to get up, but both men pushed me back into the mattress as they had every other time I had tried to get away. Al’s lips muffled my moan of protest as Phil’s hand groped my unresponsive length.

“What’s the matter? Are you not having fun?” Phil asked, sounding offended at my lack of arousal. Al’s lips left mine long enough for me to answer. I didn’t. Any time I protested, neither man cared. I had given up hope of stopping them. He pulled his hand back momentarily and I took a deep, rattling breath. It was cut short when Phil’s hand slid briefly up my side before slipping under the waistband of my pants, grabbing me and stroking me with almost a painful amount of force. I squeezed my eyes closed and the x-rated movie of yesterday’s events with him played against my closed eyelids. My eyes snapped open in time to see Al move in to capture my lips again.

“Come on baby,” Phil breathed into my ear, stroking me persistently, “I know just which buttons to push and you know it.” I tore my lips away from Al’s and turned my hips towards the mattress, trying to evade Phil’s touch. Sighing, he dipped his head and pulled my earlobe between his teeth. I shuddered when I felt my disobedient body start to stir. He toyed with me, clearly enjoying the war between body and mind that he was causing. I was disgusted with myself, bewildered at how my own body could do this to me.

“Stop,” I finally squeaked. My voice was hoarse from grief and lack of use. I sounded like a pubescent boy. Beside me, Al chuckled.

“So I guess this means we are hitting the gas?” he asked Phil, one eyebrow raised. I couldn’t see Phil’s response, but I could only guess what it was when Al sat up and stripped off his t-shirt, tossing it into a corner. Phil withdrew this hand from the hospital scrubs and I watched his shirt sail to the floor near the foot of the bed.

“Mmm, yes,” he said in agreement, “keep him warmed up- I am going to get some supplies.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, not at all. Phil got up and I suddenly felt the relief one feels when they put their head on a cool pillow, his body now gone. I watched him leave through the bathroom and then turned back to face Al. There was a short moment of reprieve, before he closed the space between us, pushing me back into the mattress.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered into my ear, hands sliding over mine, directing my fingers to my waist. I shook my head in refusal and he mimicked Phil’s trickery, pulling my earlobe in between his teeth. When I whimpered he stopped momentarily. His hands guided mine into place again and he bit down harder on my ear, toying with the sensitive flesh between his teeth. He was unstable enough I wouldn’t have been surprised if he bit down hard enough to sever the flesh from its home. Shaking, my fingers fumbled with the waist of my pants and Al sat back, watching me as I did as I was told. Once the scrub pants were off of my hips, Al pulled them the rest of the way down my legs, tossing them behind him. The way he looked at me made me feel dirty. His eyes raked up my frame, until they met mine for only a second before I looked away. That’s when Phil came back in the room.

“Well this is progress,” he commented happily. He strolled over to the chair in the corner by the window and dropped a few items, and stripped off his own jeans. When he turned around with his hands still occupied with a couple of random objects, including a length of nylon rope.

“N-n-no,” I protested, my voice high and panicked, “Please don’t tie me up.” If I was tied up there would be no chance of running– a chance I would take no matter what the consequence at this point because it couldn’t be worse than what was about to happen. I tried to scramble to the edge of the bed but both men were too fast. Phil slipped behind me, abandoning the items on the mattress in favour of grabbing my arms.

“I won’t, as long as you are good,” he assured, wrapping both arms around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides. I glanced down at the bed spread and my stomach clenched when I saw the black bottle of lubricant Al had been throwing around earlier that afternoon. When my eyes traveled back up, the blonde man was unfastening his belt. I recoiled violently and unintentionally into Phil, and when I felt his erection pushing into my back I yelped at the top of my lungs. The man behind me clamped a hand over my mouth. My jaw ached at the sudden slap.

“Shhhh,” he attempted to soothe, “I don’t want to gag you.” I glanced at the red glowing ball on the seat of the chair and immediately hushed, not wanting to endure that again. Satisfied that I wasn’t going to make any more noise Phil eased his hand away from my face. Al stripped his jeans off slowly, eyes on me the entire time. I took in a deep, rattling breath, readying myself for the pain, but unable to mentally prepare myself for what was about to happen.

“Remember what I said, slow and easy,” Phil lectured from behind me. Al nodded and crawled towards me. I clamped my legs together and curled my knees up to my chest. Phil made a clucking sound with his tongue.

“None of that,” he ordered firmly, “spread your legs.” I shook my head and Phil grabbed my knees, forcing them apart before raising his own knees to pin mine back, spread uncomfortably wide. I struggled briefly before he regained his grip on my arms. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head dropping back against Phil’s chest. Al’s hands grabbed my ankles, slowly traveling up to my knees, then the middle of my thigh, stopping just short of my erection. Then I felt his lips press against the inside of one of my thighs. I jumped away like he had shocked me, my eyes springing open in surprise. I didn’t trust the man not to bite me, especially considering what I had done to him.“Relax, I’m not going to bite– unlike some people I know,” he chuckled as if reading my mind. His lips moved further up my thigh and my entire body tensed. He continued to move closer and closer to his goal until I could feel his breath on me. This was real torture– worse than any physical punishment that could have been doled out; manipulating my poor confused body into responding, while my brain screamed at it to stop.

“Don’t,” I whined, just as Al dropped his head his tongue drawing a searing line up the underside of my half-erect penis before he drew me between his lips. Startled I jumped, bucking my hips into him. Both men mistook the movement as a sign of pleasure and from there everything started to move unbearably fast. I’d had oral sex before, but consensually and with girls, this was a lot different. There was no inane fumbling into a rhythm, no wanton curiosity, just efficient, all too effective technique. There were lips on mine, fingers everywhere, groping and pinching me, flesh grinding against flesh. I tried to think of anything and everything that would make my treacherous body behave but Phil and Al were relentless in their desire to see me suffer. Gradually my breath came in pants as I struggled to control myself. It was like swimming upstream in rapids with piranhas at your heels. Thankfully Al finally pulled away and I breathed a shuddering sigh of relief too soon. I heard the distinctive pop of a cap. My eyes snapped open. I didn’t even realize I had scrunched them closed, nor did I realize I had goose bumps or was covered in sweat. Al was sitting on his knees before me, tipping the tube of lubricant over one hand. The room filled with the smell of strawberries and I struggled against Phil to bring my legs together and shield myself against what I knew was happening next.

“One at a time remember,” Phil lectured, sliding down the headboard with me, tipping my body into an unbearably open position. Al nodded and I looked away, confronted yet again with my doppelganger on the ceiling, equally frozen in terror. Even in the dim light from the candles, I could see that my face and chest were red. New bite marks and hickies decorated my chest like constellations in the night sky. I felt the warm smear of lube at my entrance and a strange choking sound fell from my lips. My heart was beating so fast it felt like I was vibrating. My legs were shaking from the strain of being held apart for so long. Slowly, one slick finger pressed inside of me and I yelped, muscles clenching, my body finally obeying my brain by trying to move away from the intrusion. Al’s free hand grabbed my side, brushing his thumb gently over my hip.

“Relax,” he ordered calmly, persistently pressing against me. My body was no match for the oil based lube on Al’s finger, and as he pulled me into him it gave in. Phil’s lips smothered my moan of anguish, and mistakenly released my arms, which immediately sprang up and violently shoved an unsuspecting Al away from me. I winced in pain as his finger wrenched awkwardly inside of me before it slipped free. Phil quickly recaptured my arms.

“Second warning,” he hissed in my ear, “You push one of us away again and I am going to tie you up.” Before I could answer, Al grabbed my hip again and forcefully pressed not only the offending digit back inside of me, but one more with bruising force, his face betraying no sympathy when he watched mine contort in pain.

“Oh come on, you’ve had bigger in there before,” he said cruelly as his fingers scissored and twisted inside me. He removed his hand from my hip so that he could stroke himself while he brutally fucked me with his hand, adding another finger. Phil tried to muffle my protests with his lips, but I twisted my face away from him every time he got close. Finally Al ripped his hand free of me and looked at Phil.

“I want him now, and I want him on top,” he demanded. My thighs shook as Phil lowered his own knees, releasing mine. It felt like I’d run for miles without stopping. Al moved up beside Phil, and in one fluid movement, Phil shoved me into Al’s lap, facing him, then took up the space Al had previously occupied closer to the foot of the bed. To regain balance, my hands had had sprung out to grab Al’s shoulders, I dug my nails in and he tilted his head back in a moan. I jumped away from him in surprise, his erection brushing against me, uncomfortably close to my entrance. Phil’s hands gripped my thighs, forcing me into straddling Al’s lap. Phil sat directly behind me, preventing my escape with his hands on my hips. I had no way out. I couldn’t run or struggle, or scream my way out of this. I started to cry. I pressed my hands against Al’s shoulders, straightening my arms to distance myself from him.

“Please,” I garbled, “please stop, I’ll do anything else.” What was I saying? One of Al’s arms wrapped around the small of my back between me and Phil, his other hand positioned his erection underneath me. He pulled down on my back and I resisted, legs and arms shaking as I strained to hold my body away from his.

“Relax,” Phil ordered in my ear, “or you are really going to hurt yourself.” He kissed just below my ear, lips following an invisible trail across my collarbone to my shoulder. My brain was in a fog of dread, terror and confusion. My legs fought to keep my body elevated, but at the same time I was- at least physically- aroused. I felt my thighs weaken their stance, Al’s erection pressed at my entrance. Under the combined force of both men’s hands on my hips, my legs gave out suddenly impaling me on Al’s waiting cock. I shrieked in pain and collapsed forward as he stabbed into me, effortlessly slipping past the tight ring of muscle that, had it not been for the lube, would have more effectively fought him.

“Oh fuck!” Al half groaned, half shouted. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. My head snapped forward and I bit hard into Al’s shoulder, sobbing in agony and shame. Phil and Al jointly held me down, forcibly keeping me still with Al buried inside of me to the hilt. They didn’t need to. The slightest movement made my body spasm in protest. My teeth released Al’s neck when I realized I wasn’t breathing, but I kept my forehead pressed into his shoulder. If I moved I’d be staring him in the face. Phil’s lips fluttered across the back of my neck gently, his hands kneading my lower back. Both Al and I were panting, his lips in my ear, mine exhaling into the space between us. My face was wet with tears and cold sweat. My entire body was sweaty actually, and shaking so hard that it hurt. For several minutes Al stayed completely still, the only movement in the room came the shadows of the flickering candles, the occasional flash of lightening, and Phil as he kissed a line down my spine, across my shoulders, across my jaw line, nuzzling at my neck until I lifted my head. His hands slowly lifted my hips up, Al’s length sliding almost completely out of me. I moaned and struggled before Al pulled me into him again, my moan abruptly cutting to a strangled yelp.

“Uuughhh, you feel so good,” Al groaned beside my ear, “Why didn’t I use this stuff the first time?” Phil leaned over me, his face on the other side of my head.

“Relax, it feels so much nicer when you just relax,” he lectured, “don’t fight it.” I couldn’t relax. I squeezed my eyes closed, and held my breath, praying that I could deprive myself of oxygen long enough that I would pass out. I would have slammed my head into the wall or headboard, hoping to knock myself out if either had been close enough. Then both men started moving.  Every second passed like a full minute, the pain tearing through my entire body. Al rocked his hips into me, Phil kissing, licking and nipping at my skin.

When Phil started tracing the vertebrae of my spine I shivered. Al was fucking me mercilessly and at first, only confusion registered as the smell of fake strawberries filled the air at almost the same time that I heard the cap of the lubricant pop open again. Then I felt it. Al stopped moving as two fingers slipped inside of me beside his erection. I squealed in pain, digging my nails hard into the headboard behind Al, jerking my body away from the intrusion.

One of Al’s hands slid up and down my spine slowly, mimicking what Phil had been doing moments ago, attempting to soothe me.

“You’re hurting me,” I whimpered miserably. Al turned his head and kissed my cheek.

“I know,” he said lowly, and I felt his fingers wrap into a fist around my waning erection. Phil’s free hand was pushed firmly into the middle of my back, holding me down against Al’s body as he slid another finger inside of me. Al’s lips on mine swallowed my cry of pain. His hand started to move. I felt sick and actually gagged as the smell of strawberries became overwhelming in the room. Then I felt it- Phil’s fingers left my body and I actually relaxed for a few seconds in relief- before I felt him trying to force something much bigger inside.

“Al please,” I whimpered desperately to the man in front of me, hoping that seeing how scared I was would make him put a stop everything “don’t let him–”

My mouth fell open into a silent scream before any sound came out- and when it did my cry was so loud, Phil actually clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle it despite his previous assertions that nobody would hear me. Al actually looked shocked at my outburst. My opening felt on fire as my body strained to accommodate both men. My body was not built for this, how could anyone’s be? My back and hips felt like they were breaking, my thighs were shaking uncontrollably which only made the pain inside of me worse. Phil slid out and I immediately tensed, trying to keep him out, but he grabbed my hips and forced them further open before pushing back into me forcefully and I felt it– my body lost the battle and I felt my flesh tearing from the strain.

At first I thought one of them had applied more lube, trying to ease my suffering, but I quickly realized the warm liquid was not lube– it was blood. Al grabbed one side of my hips, Phil the other and both men barrelled into me, out of control. I screamed- I tried to kick my numb legs, I bucked and squirmed in between them. I had never felt so much pain in my entire life. Through it all their hands roamed, fingers pinching, nails scratching; lips, tongues, teeth torturing my skin, Al’s hand persistently stroking me- refusing to let my erection die despite the unbelievable amount of pain I was in. I closed my eyes, and waited for it to be over, feeling the sting and burn of flesh on mine, my ears filled with warm breath, heated pants, cajoling for me to relax alternating with strings of obscenities. Al’s thrusts grew more erratic and forceful and I gritted my teeth, sobbing in pain. My throat hurt from screaming, moaning and begging the men to stop.

“Come on Brennan,” Al was panting, “cum for me.” His words sent a shudder of disgust through my body, renewing my strength enough for me to attempt to shove the hand that was stroking me away. Phil reached between us and knocked my hand aside.

“Behave yourself, make your lover happy, ” he panted in my ear, biting and sucking at the lobe. I shuddered involuntarily and felt it- the flood of warmth creep across the back of my neck, my cheeks. I scrunched my eyes closed and buried my face into Al’s shoulder, resisting against my own and my captor’s bodies, moaning raspingly in pain as both men slammed into me. One of them reached their climax and then the other, and I cringed as their seed stung my insides painfully.

When I finally opened my eyes they burned. Phil and Al had vacated my body, rolling me onto my side between them. The thunder and lightning outside had stopped, but it was still raining. The lights were on; the only sounds in the room were my strangled efforts to breath, and both men, heatedly making out above me, lips meeting lips, hands groping flesh, both mine each other’s. I felt disgusted, my body covered in sweat, semen and blood. Al’s stomach brushed against mine, it was cool and wet, I jumped away.  He was covered in my… fluids. The sheets were stained with blood and lube. Way too late to save me, my vision started to blur and spin and the undertow of blackness grabbed and pulled me away from the conscious world.