Page 113 of Babalon

“Who said you get to go first?” A different voice, a bit higher pitched—maybe a younger guy.

Is this an initiation for them? This is the AB’s MO but ho checks are for inmate beatdowns, not staff. Fucking hell, it doesn’t matter. Why am I thinking this over? Prison etiquette went out the window when I hit the damn alarm. It’s my fault I am here; it’s my fault a lot of my co-workers are dead.

Tilting my head back, a pain radiates through my skull when it touches the bars. I can feel the blood trickling down the back of my neck from the blunt force trauma. If I make it out of this, I am going to need one hell of a hospital stay—which is terrifying knowing that I am returning to daily life without anyone.

A sharp inhale burns my throat at that understanding.

Leaving this prison and never coming back, never seeing Kace again. My friends will never comprehend what I have gone through here, what I did to survive in this place. My mother left when I was little, I cut ties with my dad—which he deserves.

I’m alone… just like I wanted.

“Kyle, finish taking her clothes off, I don’t want that shitty officer uniform touching me when I take her cunt.”

“Take them off yourself, I’m not your bitch,” Kyle replies.

“Do you want to end up chained next to her getting your ass blown out? Strip her!” Nate snaps.

I feel my body jolt when he starts to rip the remaining fabric away from me. Earlier, after knocking me out in the lecture room, they pulled my tactical vest off, disarming me, not that we are well armed to begin with. They even took my boots off, anything to dehumanize me I suppose, not that they give a damn about animals either.

With my arms cuffed to the bars, they’re not as spread out wide like Kace had me that day, giving me some room to move a little. So, when he bends over, beginning to drag my pants down my legs, I rocketed a knee up and clock him in the face.

Kyle howls in pain, stumbling back away from me holding his nose, blood welling at the ends of his nostrils. Serves him right, even if I can only be a nuisance while they have their way with me, I’m going to do just that. My mouth, I’m biting. My hands, I’m digging my nails into their flesh. I’m going to kick and fight until they put me out of my misery.

“She’s a fighter, I love it.” Nate groans pleasurably.

I think I hear a stupid smile on his face.

I can feel the weight of their eyes on me, even if the remaining men stand just out of focus. All I can really make out is shapes, shadows, and sounds. Someone comes up to my left, hands darting out where they grip what remained of my shirt and rip it away from me. Whoever it is, he snags the band of my bra and wrench it up my body, pinning my arms to the side of my head with the strong elastic. Part of the fabric covering my mouth and chin; leaving my tits bared to their hungry gazes.

“Well, would you look at that, princess is pierced. I knew you liked shit rough, Nadia,” Nate huffs, chuckling to the other men.

They are taking forever, but as much as I want this shit to be over, the longer they take, the sooner I will be found alive.

Please fucking hurry.

“Paul, Vance, turn her around. Ass out, face against the bars.” Nate again, he’s a bossy prick.

One pair of hands grabs my ankles and pulls me, dragging me out of the sitting position I was in, then tosses me over onto my stomach. I screech when the handcuffs bite my wrists from how I now hang from them, struggling to my knees to relieve the pain on the devastated flesh.

The filth of the floor feels like a mix of sludge under me, gritty and slick at the same time. Probably someone else’s body fluids since this is where they like to leave inmates for days on end without the simple commodity of a toilet.

Oh Jesus, stop thinking Nadia.

My arms twist, keeping me close to the bars. Taking the chance, I lean forward and kick back at whoever is the closest. I don’t care if I hit them or not, as long as they stay away. Before my knee can land back on the floor, more hands grab my hips and jerk them up, landing a harsh smack down on my right cheek. The cold metal of a shank glides across the right globe of my ass until it splits the skin and I cry out.

“Look, Lucien, she bleeds.”

Lucien?? Lucien is here!?

I turn my head, desperately trying to locate him, but to no avail; if he is here, he is quiet in his observation. A part of me hates him for that. To him, I probably deserve this and everything that comes along with being assaulted by these pathetic fucks.

Whoever sits behind me now keeps swiping the shiv over my ass, slicing into the skin over and over. The hot and sticky blood trails down the back of my thighs in rivulets, pooling at the ditch of my knees before welling over the side and spilling on the floor—my skin on fire.

“Warm her up for me, Vance.”

“With pleasure.”

His mouth is on me in an instant. His lips sucking my labia into his mouth, allowing the tender flesh to scrape through his jagged teeth. The slick feel of his tongue swiping through me, over my clit first, then shoving into my cunt. Repeating the motion once, twice, three times until he wells saliva in his mouth and spits it against me. The thick, hot mass gliding down between my ass cheeks until it rolls through my lips.

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