Page 21 of Forbidden Deviant Games

11

HALEY

I know I’m sleeping,but that doesn’t stop the panic. The fear. It eats at me as long, tentacle-like hands creep out of the darkness. They grab at my ankles and legs, dragging me down onto dirty floors. They wrap around my neck, squeezing tight so I can’t scream or cry out for help.

Tears streak my face, panic making the whole thing seem that much more real despite knowing it’s not.It’s not, right?

I half expect someone to jump out of the darkness—the memory of an old friend, or an acquaintance, someone who’s at least somewhat familiar with me—and yell ‘got ya!’ It doesn’t happen. The hands continue to pull at me, dragging me across the ground as they rip at my clothes.

Dirty nails dig into my flesh, parting my thighs. I blink and finally, something other than darkness comes into view. It’s walls—four very sparse walls only lined with metal shelving and boxes upon boxes. I stare up at them in confusion, and somewhere nearby a door slams shut.

My head jerks in the direction of the sound and I realize that the hands are gone and there’s a man standing over me now. Unfortunately, it is someone I recognize. I scramble backward, practically crab walking away in an effort to escape. The man from the club—with his gray ponytail, weathered face, and mismatched eyes reaches out and latches onto one of my ankles.

His strength is shocking. Had he been this strong before? I wonder briefly as he completely stops my backward movements with only one hand. I shake my head. No, this can’t be happening. It can’t be real. It’s not.

My mind rebels at the thought as he gets to his knees before me, spreading my legs wider. “There ya go, girl,” he says, rasping as his hands go to the front of his pants.

Panic clogs my throat. Where’s Viks? Viks wouldn’t let this happen. He was there. He stopped it. He called. Something …someonestop this!

Thick fingers shove up between my legs and I jerk my gaze downward, realizing the hands from before had completely divested me of my clothes. I lay naked before this man, everything on display. Vomit threatens to come up my throat as he licks his lips and shoves his forefinger right between the lips of my pussy.

I clamp down, pulling away. His free hand shoots out, tightening around my neck as I try to scream. Once again, no sound comes out. I’m completely helpless. Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes.

I shake my head back and forth. No. No, this isn’t happening. This didn’t happen. I was fine. I swear I was fine. So, why am I dreaming this now? Even at the hospital…no one even mentioned a rape kit because it hadn’t happened. Nothing happened.

“So good,” the man rasps as he continues shoving his fingers in and out of me, keeping my knees spread with both of his.

I fight and struggle against his grip, not caring that I can’t breathe as his hold around my trachea becomes impossibly harder. My mind fogs over with the sheer horror of the event.

His hands bruise my skin. His touch makes me feel sick—like there are a million tiny fire ants dancing beneath my skin. It’s not necessarily what he’s doing that’s causing it all, but the fact that I don’t want it. The fact that I can’t stop him no matter how hard I try. My limbs become lethargic. My head swims with the lack of oxygen.

If you die in a dream,I wonder.Do you die in real life too?

What kind of sickness is inside of me that this is the kind of dream I have after what happened? Does my mind want to torture me? I got away.

I got away!I scream that sentence inside my mind since my lips can’t move or form words. I have to remind myself that this isn’t reality because it feels so very… real.

“That’s the way, sweetheart,” the dealer says, panting above me. He pulls his hand from my throat and I gasp for breath, panting and coughing as fresh oxygen rushes into my lungs. He delves into his pants and pulls out what looks like an inchworm of a cock—at least I didn’t make him well-endowed in my imagination. Serves him right.

That still doesn’t make the sight of it any less repulsive, though. He jerks his little dick as he pushes his fingers into me, readying himself. How much longer do I have to wait? I wonder. For my body to wake up. I can’t let this go on.

I stiffen as the dealer leans forward and kisses me—shoving his fishy lips against mine. His tongue shoves past my defenses. Something small slips between my teeth, a pill.

No! Not again!

It’s just a nightmare,I tell myself.It’s just a nightmare. All I need to do is wake up.

“Haley!” A familiar baritone intrudes on my mind. “Haley, wake the fuck up!”

My eyes shoot open and the first thing I realize is that I’m soaked in sweat and being shaken. My lips part and I gasp, sucking down breath after breath as Viks hovers over me on the bed on his knees. He’s shirtless—the wide expanse of his chest filling my vision as I tremble and cry.

Cry? Oh, I’m crying.Tears streaming down my face as I sob on every exhale. Shaking, I reach upward, clutching at him. My hands lock around his shoulders, moving up to latch together around his neck, needing something—anything—to ground me back to reality when it feels like my mind is sucking me back into the nightmare. Viks’ hands slowly lower down to his sides as I move up, pressing myself against him.

The disgusting sticky sensation of the dealer’s hands on me—his flesh against mine—lingers like an awful disease, clinging and making my mind sick with the memory. I want to vomit. I want to get in a shower and scrub myself until my skin falls off. I want to erase it.

“Please.” The plea comes out on a whisper. I burrow my face into Viks’ chest. “Please.”

“Shhhh.” His wide palm finds the back of my head, the heat of it encompassing my skull as he holds me against him. “You’re okay.” He strokes my hair in soft, gentle movements—odd for a man like him. He doesn’t look like a man who even understands what it’s like to comfort someone. How can he be so fucking good at it? “You’re fine. It was just a dream. A nightmare.”

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