Bounty Hunter

Zinnia

Cold water splashes against my bruised naked body, making me jolt from the floor. I screamed and shivered, folding my hands over my trembling naked body. Cold hands aggressively seized me, jerking me forward.

“No, please. I’m tired,” I cried out, my swollen eyes filling up with tears. My entire body hurt. My thighs and my ass too, from repeatedly being impaled with inanimate objects and dozens of men at a time.

For nights, I’ve been locked up in this small cubic room with little to no ventilation, using my breathing to track the time pass as they each took turns in using my body as they see fit.

I was exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally too. Bethel was right when she’d said Roman knew how to torture. I no longer wanted to leave this place. I no longer had hopes that my devil of an angel would save me. I no longer wanted to live.

I wanted to end it all.

Roman had succeeded in taking the only thing that kept me sane in this place. My body no longer belonged to me. My soul had long left my body.

“Shut up you bitch! I’m not done with you,” an angry voice uttered in the cold room. I didn’t recognise this voice. He had to be new.

A hard slap flew across my face, knocking me off my wriggly feet and landing me on the cold concrete floor. The room was dark and I couldn’t make out his face, but his brown eyes glistened in the dark, silently promising me more hell than I have already lived so far.

I crippled backwards until my back landed against the wall. The figure took slow, calculated steps towards me.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

The door to the room opened and closed, footsteps drawing closer to me. Then all of a sudden, a blinding light shone through the room, making me squint my eyes. Laughter roared through the room. Tears ran down my cheeks.

“Look at me you little slut,” the new voice ordered. I buried my face into my hands, refusing to meet his gaze. A growl escaped his lips before he grabbed my hair and yanked my head backwards, bringing the flashlight closer to my face.

“Take off your pants. This bitch is so messed up,” he said.

The light wasn’t from a torch, but rather from a phone. He was recording me. As if taking me by force wasn’t enough, the bloody asshole wanted a video to share with his friends, or for whatever fucked up reason he has.

“I said take off your pants you stupid slut!” He yelled, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling it backwards. I yelled out. He pulled his pants downwards, making his cock shoot free and I immediately closed my mouth, muffling the pain.

“Be a good girl and open up,” he coerced. With tears profusely running down my cheeks, I shook my head.

“Open up, bitch!” The one with the camera yelled, jump scaring me. When I didn’t abide, he sighed in anger and passed his phone to the other man.

Then his one hand was pulling my hair backwards while the other was on my mouth, forcing it open. When he succeeded, his fingers landed in between my teeth. I took that as an opportunity to bite hard on it, so much so that he was forced to stay put whilst whining like a little boy.

“Hey, let go of him you dirty bitch!” His friend yelled.

“I’ll make you pay for this bitch,” the one whose finger was between my teeth warned.

But, I never freed his fingers. I already knew what awaited me, might as well bite off his finger as a souvenir. The asshole struggled, yelling at the top of his lungs like a little bitch. He made the mistake of wriggling his finger in my mouth, but I only tightened my teeth.

“Ah! It hurts! Stop fucking recording and get her to stop Westley,” he yelled out.

“I don’t know how Weston, the bitch has a tight grip,” the other replied.

Westley and Weston. Those names I will never forget.

Weston forcefully pulled his hands out of my mouth. I tightened my teeth. The more he pulled, the more he cried out in pain. And then suddenly, I could no longer feel the pressure of him pulling away, however, the result of our struggle hung between my teeth. I beat off his finger. Good! Now I could take whatever punishment they had in store for me.

“Weston, are you okay?” Westley asked. The room was quiet for a while except for Weston’s sobs.

“No, of course I’m not okay! That stupid bitch bit off my finger,” Weston yelled. “Get her! Hold that bitch in place. Let me teach her how sluts like her deserve to be treated,” Weston spat. Before I knew it, hands were gripping my hair firmly and dragging my naked body against the concrete floor, bruising me further.

“Pick up the phone and record this shit,” he ordered.

I heard the clamp of his belt as I struggled to regain my composure. Weston flips my bruised body on the ground, pressing my stomach on the cold floor.

“Bring the camera closer. Immortalise this instant as I teach this slutty bitch a lesson,” he fired after Westley, slamming into my behind. I didn’t cry out in pain. That was what Weston expected of me. He wanted me to beg him not to take me. I have been gang-raped and humiliated by Roman’s men, what is two more to the list?

As Westley took from me, I let out silent sobs. Not because he was invading my body without my permission, but because I no longer wanted to live.

“That’s it! You good little slut! Take my cock! Take every inch of it,” Weston growled above me, pressing my head into the concrete floor.

Despite being rough in his thrust and grip, a surge of hope spirals through my body. Maybe, just maybe, I would not have to live another day to witness this torture. All I had to do was provoke him. Get on his last nerve.

“Record the bitch’s face so everyone can see how much she loves taking it in her ass,” Weston spoke through gritted teeth, pressing my head further into the ground.

He impaled me one last time before groaning and filling his cum in me. As he continued pounding aggressively in me whilst pressing my head against the floor, my breathing slowed and my eyes shut. He got off me and I barely heard him whisper something to Westley before I took my last breath.

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