I shouldn’t be surprised. The first time I saw Istvan Gabor, I knew something was off, and when I found the note on the table, I knew he was the third man. I just couldn’t come to terms with it.
Pressing his index finger to my lower lip, he coaxes me to release the air I’m holding in, and I let out a long, ragged exhale as I stare helplessly up at him.
“Such a pretty new toy.” He traces the same finger across my face, admiring the forms and contours. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again,” he whispers, as if the words are meant for my ears alone.
He waves the man on top of me off, who moves to sit beside me on the bed. I don’t dare to move a finger as Gabor roams his gaze over my body with eyes so sharp they seem to penetrate my clothes, caressing my every curve.
“Strip her,” Gabor orders, summoning the man behind him with a motion of his hand.
Grabbing me under the arms, the man beside me pulls me up to sit between his legs and starts removing my jacket. I don’t protest. I just keep staring into the dangerous depths of Gabor’s eyes as he takes a step back to enjoy the show.
A few buttons on my waitress’s shirt pop over my chest, and I still don’t move.
It’s not until a scrawny man with eyes like a hungry hyena and a repulsive sneer steps in front of me and grabs my feet that the trance snaps.
Suddenly, my eyes are no longer on Gabor. They’reeverywhere. I try to pull my legs to me, but the scrawny man digs his fingers into my calves as he yanks at my shoe.
I cry out and try to kick him as I shove at the hands working on my shirt. But it’s useless. The scrawny man digs his fingers deeper into my skin, and a thick arm bands around me like a piece of steel welding me to the ridged wall of muscle behind me.
“No, stop,” I squeal, shoving at the arm, but it’s no use. Using his other hand, he grabs the white fabric and rips. Buttons fly over the bed, and I stop flailing to hug the fabric in place. But I’m like a kitten in the claws of a mighty lion. Massive hands simply pull my arms loose and rip the shirt off in a matter of seconds.
I stare down and see my pants disappear down my thighs. I kick my legs, but all I achieve is receiving more brutality and fabric burning across my skin. Even so, I keep struggling, wearing myself down as I lose all my clothes.
My T-shirt. My panties. My bra.
“No!” I cry, but no one answers, and I whip my head back and forth until I stare down and see my naked body. Defeat slams into me, and when the men release me, I just hug my knees to my chest as tears pool in my eyes.
The man behind me rustles with his own clothes as Gabor climbs up on the mattress, grabs my ankles, and straightens my legs on each side of him.
I catch a glimpse of an olive-toned arm covered in black tattoos before I slap my hands to my face, needing to hide my distraught expression since I can’t hide anything else.
A defeated whimper slips past my lips as Gabor slides his fingers over my pussy and positions them at my opening. I feel the brutality rolling off him in waves just before he slams straight in.
I buck against the man behind me and scream, but the sound dies in a massive hand as the man behind me predicts my reaction. He pulls my head back into his shoulder as he clamps his hand tight over my mouth, and I go absolutely frantic. I pushand pull at his arms, and when nothing happens, I dig my nails in until I can’t stand the feeling of breaking skin anymore.
Gabor drags his fingers in and out, slowly but forcefully, scratching at my dry walls. When a bit of moisture gathers down there, he adds a third digit and picks up speed. I jerk my hips against the painful intrusion, but he pins me with a hand on my mound.
I scratch at that hand instead, and the man behind me is about to grab it when Gabor says something that makes him stop. I don’t get it, but I don’t think as I keep flailing, scratching, and shoving.
With his fingers seated deep inside me, Gabor leans forward and fists my hair to grab my attention. “What can you do about it?”
“Mmh, mmh,” I protest behind the hand as I stare into Gabor’s cruel eyes.
“Huh?” he goads.
I shove my palms into his chest as he leans closer, but he remains right in front of me, and that’s when I get it. He wants me to feel the hopelessness of it all. He wants to taunt me with my weakness as he bores his hard eyes into me, chipping away at my will little by little.
“Nothing,” he sneers and slaps my jaw before leaning back.
My hands lose strength, and my fight is weak and more symbolic than anything from there on. I wish they would have tied my hands. That way, I wouldn’t feel this devastating weakness of being able to fight and not achieving a thing.
Gabor returns to fingerfucking me. He is merciless as he rams his fingers deep into me, over and over. When one hand tires, he just uses the other. My only consolation is that my inner walls grow more wet as he goes. I try to convince myself that the moisture is a defense mechanism, but when Gabor rubs his thumb around my clit, my nerves spark to life, shooting boltsof sensation through my pelvis. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force my focus away from my pussy, but sensations keep exploding in my nerve endings, and I become so wet there’s a constant slippery sound coming from between my legs.
“You like this?” Gabor mocks.
When my eyes land on his, the triumph I find there extinguishes the last remnants of my fight. I slump in the arms holding me, becoming as useless and weak as I feel.
My screams morph into quiet sobs, and the man behind me releases my mouth to curve his hand around my cheek. He touches me with the gentleness of a lover. But that’s not what’s happening here. I know it, yet I can’t resist the illusion. I desperately need it. So I turn to my side and bury my face against the warm shoulder, not caring who it belongs to.