Page 20 of Dangerously Deceptive

“What did you say, whore? Tell the room how much of a dirty little slut you are!” my father, now just my President, roars. He doesn’t deserve the title of Father. He never really has, but this is just one step too far.

Before I even have a chance to respond, he slaps me across the face. My head is smashed to the side, and my cheek begins to ache, and just as the ringing in my ears starts and my vision begins to go spotty from the impact, I see Pres nod. Straight away the belts began to rain down, only this time it isn’t just across my already aching back, they cover my ass too. Every so often the metal from the belt would catch my skin, no doubt on purpose, and my howl would fill the room. I can feel the soft trickle of blood running down my back.

Pres must indicate for everything to stop because there’s no other explanation. They won’t ever stop unless he tells them to, or I die. Right now, I am praying for the latter. There’s no doubt in my mind that this isn’t the worst of it, and I don’t want to live through what comes next. Too bad, Pres fully intends on me being present.

“Bane, what do you think? Is she enjoying it? Is she a whore, just like her mum?”

I want to scream that I’m not a whore, and that I’m nothing like that fucking pathetic excuse for a mother, but all rational thought goes out the window when I feel Bane push two fingers into my pussy, harshly. Of course my body isn’t ready. Nor will it ever be while they are beating the shit out of it. All I can concentrate on is how ripped up I feel.

Bane begins to piston two of his big fingers in and out of my pussy at a horrible speed. The feel of skin on skin, as he drags his fingers through my dry pussy, feels like the worst kind of chafing. I cry out in pain, but these assholes misunderstand my cries of pain as the sound of pleasure!

“Oh yeah, there’s no denying she is a whore. But, fuck me, she is tight. She might not be a virgin, but this hole hasn’t been used a lot. Or the guy she has been fucking has a pencil dick. Because this little pussy has never been stretched properly…yet. I fully intend on putting that right!” Bane replies as he continues his assault on my pussy.

The men around have slowly begun moving forward again, looking over at Pres, awaiting his instructions, like a pack of zombies who can’t operate without instructions from their leader. “What's the correct answer, Princess? Does the guy you have been fucking have a pencil dick? Or have you just been saving yourself for a real man?”

This time he actually waits for my response. I don’t really know what to say. No good can come out of this. I could call Jamieson a pencil dick. Hell, I could name him and see what they do, but that’s just not me. So, begrudgingly I settle with the truth. Not really sure fighting back is the best option anyway! “I have only had sex once. I don’t remember much about the guy because I was drunk. I guess that does make me a whore,” I say, wanting to add on that with parents like mine, is it any wonder. They hardly encourage me to make something of my life. I’m not even sure they know what grades I got at school, that I was clever enough to go to university. That I had the grades to get into any university that I want, yet I can’t because I’m not allowed to leave the MC without their consent, which so far they have never granted me. So, instead I am stuck here.

“Well, I can promise you that your second time will be a whole lot more memorable, won't it, boys?” he bellows, and the shouts of confirmations and cat-calls begin.

That must have been the only encouragement they needed because before I know it, hands are everywhere. Two cocks are placed in each hand, and as uncoordinated hands encourage me to begin wanking them, I try to block out what is happening, but it feels like they are everywhere. Not a single part of me isn’t being assaulted. Fingers and mouths are on my nipples, hands kneading at my breasts like they are making bread. Hands forcing my own hands to wank two very different-sized cocks as I can feel the pre-cum leaking from the tips. Then there is Bane’s fingers continuing their assault on my pussy, as someone else, who must be in a very fucking uncomfortable position on the floor, begins licking my clit with their warm, wet tongue. My body shivers, and had everything else not have been going on, I might have liked the feeling. I have never experienced a man lick me there before. I heard from the girls at school that it was a good experience, and I can see why it might be, but nothing about this is good.

Just as I think that, I feel Bane add a third finger into my pussy, spreading me further, feeling as though he’s tearing apart my vaginal walls. I screamed loudly, begging for them all to stop, to let me go, but I doubt they would be able to hear my pleas over their cries and moans of pleasure. Each one of these assholes are getting off on my pain, and I don’t want to even look at the Pres. It makes me sick that he is even in the room for this.

“Whiskey, get in there. You’re the one that wants to take her as an Old Lady. Take her for a test drive first. Bane will get her nice and ready for you, but for fuck’s sake, stick your dick into her mouth and shut her up until Bane is ready for you to take her pussy.”

Upon hearing the words, my eyes snap up to meet Jamieson’s. He looks just as terrified as I feel, but he has a choice. He could walk away, he could say no. I know logically that if he did that, he would be in a shit load of trouble, but right now, I don’t care. He roughly grabs hold of my hair, and pulls my head towards his. To everyone else it looks like he is biting or kissing along my neck, but under the cover of my hair, he whispers in my ear, “I’m sorry, Shay. Please believe me. Wet my dick as much as you can and it will hurt less. I will try not to hurt you as much as possible. I promise. I’m sorry.” He looks in my eyes, pain and regret obvious, but I can’t give him the absolution I know he is craving.

Leaning in, making it look like I am encouraging him, I whisper my response in his ear. “Keep your meaningless words and promises. They mean nothing to me, just like you. If you let this happen, I will never forgive you.” My words don’t even shake as I say them, and as Jamieson stares into my stoic eyes, he knows I’m telling the truth. But we both know he has made his decision. As he guides the tip of his penis past my lips, the last of my hope floats away.

I have no idea how long the night lasts. But they each take their turn fucking me, making sure all my holes are thoroughly used and abused. My pussy is sore and gaping, while my asshole is stretched and torn. Both are no doubt covered in blood. My lips are cut and my jaw aches from the rough face fuckings they gave me. My whole body is covered in sweat and cum. I feel the most disgusting that I ever have. As my naked, broken body, that has been beaten and abused in the worst possible ways, is dumped in front of my father, he simply laughs.

“Now you look like the slut we all knew you to be. But, before we let you go, I have one more present for you,” he states, and instantly three men pounce on me. Bane wrestles me to the ground, sitting on the top of my thighs, pinning the lower half of my body to the ground, and he reaches back to press down on my wriggling legs. His half-mast cock flops and sits where my pubes would be, if I was allowed to actually grow some. As soon as he has me pinned down. Little Bit grabs one arm, pulling it high above my head, and a beefy Prospect whose name I don’t know does the same with the other arm.

Laying there, pinned to the cold floor, my broken body feeling just a little grateful for the cold feeling against my tender, slashed skin, I look around frantically wondering what more they can do to me. I try to convince myself that after being gang-raped, the bottom of the barrel can hardly get any lower. But, I should have known if anyone is capable of making the situation worse, it is my father.

Bell-Bottoms begins walking towards me, with something in his hand, his flaccid dick flopping and leading the way. I’m not sure if this cold room is not doing the Reapers any favours, or if their manhoods just reflect the type of men they really are, but their cocks really are not all that much. With the exception of Bane, who has a fucking tree trunk instead of a cock, and Smithy, who is also rather big. Oh, and Jamieson, but that prick doesn’t deserve any compliments, even if he does have a rather decent-looking and sized cock.

Fuck, maybe I really have taken one too many blows to the head to be thinking about flapping cocks and their sizes right about now. I almost laugh out loud at the hilarity of my thoughts, but I decide against it. Don’t wanna make this shitshow any worse.

I hear a strange whirring sound, it pulls me out of my own head, and as a sting and the feeling of a million needle pricks begin to assault my lower abdomen, I quickly look down. Just as I suspected when I felt the needle sensation, Bell-Bottoms, the Reapers’ resident tattooist, has started inking me just above my bikini line.

I call out, begging for them to stop, but as usual, nobody listens. So I try to wiggle free. I can’t get far because of the hold they have on me, yet that doesn’t stop Bell-Bottoms from backhanding me across the cheek. After everything I’ve experienced today, I barely feel it, but if he was trying to shock me then it worked. “Hold fucking still, Shayla. I am inking you, whether you like it or not. But I’m sure as fuck not going to let you ruin a piece of my artwork. Now hold still and be a good little canvas, or you will regret it.” I think they are the only words that Bell-Bottoms has ever spoken to me. He doesn’t sound evil or threatening. If anything, he sounds like a prepubescent boy whose balls have not yet dropped. Now I know why he doesn’t speak all that much. As much as I hate the fact that he is etching something permanently onto my skin, he’s right, I’m not going to make it worse by fidgeting, making the design look shittier.

I don’t know how long he works on me. I do know that a couple of sick perverts come all over my tits in the time it takes for him to finish the design. Apparently, seeing naked tits laid out in front of them is just too much. Their hot, sticky cum literally drips off my naked skin and is in various stages of drying. Some has even crusted up, making my stomach physically revolt.

“Done,” Bell-Bottoms announces the end of the tattoo, or so I thought. “Pres, wanna come and put the finishing touches? I have drawn the outline, you just have to go over the words, like we discussed.”

These sick fucks had been planning this. This was what my father wanted all along. Me, broken, both in mind and spirit, so he could brand me. I wanted to look down, but he instructed Joker to cover my eyes. Apparently, he wanted the design to be a surprise.

As Pres begins to finish the words of my tattoo, I try to focus on the sensation to work out what words he is etching onto my skin. Nothing good I'm sure. It’s as though Bane reads my mind because not two seconds later, he opens my legs and begins rubbing my clit, hard. No matter how much I want to hate it, to ignore him, my body responds. My brain shouts, making it clear I played no part at all in this, but it’s like my body isn’t listening. It is just reacting on instinct alone. Moans ripped from my lips and the laughs from the men in the room make me feel totally humiliated.

“Oh, it sounds like she likes that, Bane. Do you think you can make the dirty bitch come before Pres finishes the tattoo?” asks Patch.

Voices ring out around me egging Bane on, saying of course I will come, just like the dirty whore I really am. Horrible words I never thought I would hear myself being called echo around the room, and I can’t help the tears that fall. They don’t get far, instead just falling into Joker’s hands as he continues to cover my eyes.

“Of course, this horny cunt is desperate to come. Aren’t you, bitch?” Bane presses down on my clit hard, pulling a guttural moan out of me that I can’t stop. Everyone laughs, but it isn’t the response Bane’s looking for.

Grabbing hold of my clit between my thumb and forefinger, he begins simultaneously pulling and squeezing my sensitive nub. I can’t hold back my screams, as I pull on my hips as much as possible, desperately screaming for him to stop. My movement earns me another backhand from Bell-Bottoms, but given the excruciating pain in my clit, that’s the least of my problems.

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