Page 35 of Dirty Tricks

A new palm strokes my arse, sliding between my legs, digging into me, the intrusion painful. I feel it withdraw and then a sucking sound, like the boy’s licking his fingers, relishing the taste.

And his laughter afterwards gives me his identity.

“Do you like that, Todd? Do you like the sloppy seconds after an actual man fucks me? Lap up his spunk like a good boy. Bet your daddy’s favourite at home.”

This time the punch hits directly on my eye socket. I hear a crack a second before the pain of the injury lands, sending a bolt of pure agony sizzling along every nerve in my face. The swelling flesh and bruised skin nothing compared to the sharp splintering of bone.

A howl wrenches from me; not something I can control. Pain and adrenaline fight for control of my nervous system, chemical warriors battling for the prize belt.

“About time you shut her up, isn’t it?” Todd says, embarrassment and anger pulsing in the low tones of his voice. “We’re here to fuck, not to listen to her foul mouth.”

Finn grabs my face, reigniting every nerve ending, my jaw so painful that when he squeezes it, my mouth automatically opens.

Too late, I understand the dangers of that position. Too late as he shoves his cock into my mouth, not even trying to be gentle, so rough it’s like his own anger has dampened his senses so he’s no longer aware of pain.

The head of his cock bounces off my molars, sliding into the gag zone.

“Open wider,” he says, the words straining to escape through his gritted teeth. “Open your fucking mouth or I’ll punch you again.”

And I try. The impetus to obey so deeply ingrained that my jaw strains against the swollen flesh, dragging at the inflamed tendons, the imprint of my younger self trapped in a state of constant terror, desperate to please.

He shoves forward, no longer gagging but choking, the swelling of my nose enough to smother me.

There’s nothing in my head but survival instincts, clashing with each other, defaulting to the baseline as they scramble for a plan.

A slap on my arse sends a new worry spiralling into the morass of stewed emotions. Todd wipes some of my wetness around my hole, forcing his finger inside.

Not that.My wrists burn and ache as I tug them again, fighting a losing battle.

Finn withdraws long enough for me to gulp a breath. My eyes dart from side to side, seeking a path of escape, but all I see is boys standing, watching, voyeurs to the play unwinding in front of them, front row seats to a porno show.

One boy strokes his cock, unbuttoning his fly to grab it in his fist.

Horror floods me.

They’re not watching a show.

They’re waiting their turn.

My eyes dart upwards, catching the window from their periphery, seeing something that could be a shadow, could be a figment of my imagination, could be a dream.

A highlight roll of my evening with Xander plays out, showcasing everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. His attentive eyes, the beautiful twists of his scars. The tenderness of his touch, akin to worship.

A boy who only wants to protect me, to please me.

I want that.

Ideservethat.

Those wishes and dreams spur me on, compel me to fight for myself, to use any weapon I can to return to his side, to find my way back to the perfect night we were making with each other.

The anger rebounds, burning away everything else until I’m left with perfect clarity.

I can’t free my head. I can’t free my hands.

But I have legs.

I clamp my mouth shut and kick behind me, barely connecting but having a rush of savage pleasure at Todd’s yelp. I try again, aiming at a different spot and getting him harder, feeling the crunch of his kneecap under my heavy boot.

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