Shadows XXII

Shadows XXII

Disclaimer: All characters and situations of the brilliant “Shadows” series belongs to writin4tnight, not me and I am not making any money from this.

Author’s Note: This story takes place just after Shadows XXI left off. Please read and review!

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I squat outside a filthy basement window. I know I should leave before someone investigates the gunshots, but my feet are rooted to the ground. I listen for any sound but there isn’t any. All I can hear is the sound of my own breathing and my mind goes back time and again to the look on Trevor’s face. He is lying less than ten feet from where I am crouching, dying in the dark from a gunshot wound.

The last time I saw his face, I could see his eyes were full of hope, hope that I would take him with me and out of that dank and dingy basement. One of Leroy’s nameless goons shot him. Not on purpose but it didn’t matter. I saw his shirt stained with blood and I knew that he would die if he didn’t get to a hospital. For a moment, I forgot about the hell he’d put me through since that day in the gymnasium when he and his friends raped me for the first time.

Trevor was a man of complete contrasts, a modern day Jekyll and Hyde but far more sinister. When he wanted to, he could be tender and gentle and stand between Leroy’s men and me. But those times were too far and too few in between. Most of the time, he would stand leaning against a door or wall and watch as I was raped in front of his eyes and he said nothing. More often than not, he’d be holding me down. He did that when I had my nipples pierced.

Other times, he would join in, giving the other men an in-depth play-by-play of what would get me off. Those were the moments that I hated the most; I’d be in excruciating pain but Trevor knew exactly what my body wanted. He would turn my broken and bleeding body against me, touching me in the places that I liked to be touched. I was no better than Pavlov’s dog—Trevor would tell me to come and I would, almost on cue.

My mind would scream at me not to respond, not to enjoy what was happening to me, but I always did. Trevor was a master at manipulating my body.

Despite being fucked by the business end of a gun and feeling it being rammed into my pussy over and over again, the only thing I can feel now is anger. Anger at Trevor. Anger at Leroy. But most of all, I am angry with myself. I find myself burning with shame when I remember how many times I’d begged and pleaded them to stop, but they never listened. They only laughed in my face.

I should have fought back; any other woman in that situation would have reached a point where enough was enough and to hell with the consequences. Any other woman would have shown a backbone. But I never did.

Instead, I’d whimper and snivel and beg. But where did that get me? Nowhere. I only endured more of the same. If I had fought back and been killed because of it, I would have been released from the pain and shame and torment that was forced on me every day. I was always told that if I didn’t give in, they would only make it worse. It is only now that I realize that there was no possible way they could have made it worse.

At all hours of the day and night, I was expected to satisfy the appetites of the deviant and twisted men who came to my bed. I’d be fucked as many as six times in a day. Sometimes I would have several men in my room. They’d be standing around and laughing, their hands were around their cocks, trying to make them hard as they waited their turn to take me in whatever orifice of their choosing. The gang bang that Trevor witnessed wasn’t my first.

To those men, I was not a woman—I was a hole. Well, three holes, actually: A cunt. A mouth. An ass. And that’s all I would ever be to them.

But eventually it all came to an end. A brutal and bloody end in a basement. I can still remember Dominic advancing on me, promising me that we could work it out, that we could come to some kind of understanding. I remember the gun shaking in my hand as I raised it at his smug, hateful face. Like all victims of abuse, I desperately wanted to believe him when he told me that he wouldn’t hurt me again.

“That’s good, Alisa, take your time,” he crooned. Listening to his voice made me snap back to reality. The only way I would ever be free is if he was dead.

I knew exactly what I was doing when I shot him in the groin. My only regret now is that I shot him in the head, killing him instantly. He should have lain on the floor with Trevor, dying slowly and in unimaginable pain. Payback for the unimaginable pain that they’d given me on a daily basis. It would have been fair. But at least he did feel some pain.

I remember looking back at Trevor and seeing the spreading bloodstain on his shirt. For a moment, I had been tempted to go back and save him. Then I remembered that he and he alone had been responsible for putting me in the clutches of Leroy and Dominic and the others in the first place.

For a moment, I was tempted to save him. But my need to escape was greater.

At long last, I heard him cry out for someone to help him and I couldn’t help but laugh. I clapped my hand over my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me. Now Trevor knew what it felt like to feel the desperate hopelessness that had been my life for far too long. My body was finally my own and no one would tell me what to do with it ever again.

Stiffly, I got to my feet and ran. I felt blood rush from my pussy but I did not dare stop. I had to put as much distance between what had been my prison and myself as soon as I could….

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A/N: Shall I continue?