Page 65 of Twice as Twisted

Shaking, she drags herself up, buckling the clasps above her bony knees. She has to spread them as wide as they’ll go, and then she kneels on the unforgiving floor, whimpering as she bends to take her punishment again.

“Loathsome, disgusting dog,” I mutter. “On your knees like an animal, begging for my dick. Like I’d fuck that ripped up, deformed cunt.”

I shove the enema back into her without care, clamping my hands around it to force the water into her as fast as it will go. I heard once that forcing air into a woman’s uterus would kill her, and I consider it briefly. I’m ready to be done with Jane. But I’m not sure if that fact was accurate, or how fast she’d die. It could be my do-over though, since I didn’t get to see the man’s life leave his eyes when I killed him.

Jane screams out in pain, but before she can even think about trying to roll away again, I set my foot on the spreader bar between her knees and shift my weight onto it. She shrieks again, her knees grinding into the cement floor as I bear down.

“Now your stomach pain doesn’t seem so bad, does it, little bird?” I taunt as her body writhes below me.

I barely hear the squeak over her pathetic screams and sobs and pleas for mercy. It takes a second to register thatthe door to the basement opened. Duke’s never interrupted me when I’m with Jane before, and I swing my head around to snap at him, only to see Mabel standing on the shoddy wooden stairs, grey-blue eyes wide, pretty pink lips open in a gasp. She’s the exact opposite of Jane—freshly showered, her wet hair wound up into a ballerina bun, her smooth skin clean and glowing with health, her body clad in a tiny cardigan that matches her eyes over a tan camisole and slim-cut white jeans, her toes hidden in a pair of dainty white slippers.

She looks like a summer on the Cape. Jane looks like Arkansas roadkill.

I turn away and finish emptying the enema bag into a keening Jane before I drop it on the floor between her feet and step back.

“What do you want, Mabel?”

She stares at me a second, then shifts her gaze to Jane.

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Jane,” I say, bending to pat her ass. “My new project.”

Mabel works her jaw back and forth. “Do you fuck her?”

“Of course I fuck her,” I say. “She’s your replacement.”

Mabel’s lips tighten, and she crosses her arms. “Then why am I here?”

I chuckle and raise a brow at her. “Jealous?”

“No,” she says, scowling.

“Then why do you care?”

“Because… Because I thought…”

“You thought you were special?” I ask. “That we loved you?”

“Do you?” she challenges.

I shrug. “You know the answer to that.”

“Actually, I don’t,” she says. “Duke says you do, but I haven’t seen it. You still treat me like you did before. So what’s to stop me from doing what I did before?”

“You want to try it?” I ask. “Go ahead. See what happens.”

Her gaze cuts to Jane, then back.

“Why should I believe anything will change? You still like to hurt me. You’re still fucking other girls.”

“You are jealous,” I marvel, shaking my head.

“I’m confused,” she admits. “If you have her, why bother coming to find me? You already destroyed me. Now you’ve replaced me. So what is my purpose here, exactly?”

I know she’s forcing my hand, but I decide to allow it. Mabel’s always been direct. She doesn’t see the point in games. I like them, but sometimes, to keep her playing, I have to let her capture a pawn.

“We need you,” I admit.

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