Page 141 of Dance of Ruin

I pour myself a heavy drink, slug back half of it, then take a seat at the desk. My hands shake as I plug the drive into the laptop. The folder pops up.

I double-click the file named “Naomi”.

The very first part I’ve already seen, the night I got it from Mario.

Naomi’s lying on a bed in a tutu and tights. Two men climb onto it with her, chuckling. Her eyes open, a faraway, sloppy smile on her face.

My heart drops.

The first time I saw this, I thought she was drunk.

Now I know she was drugged.

“Ready to have a good time, Naomi?” the older of the two men chuckles.

“Yeaaaah….” Naomi sighs, her eyes closing.

They pull her practice tutu down and off. Then her leotard. Then her tights.

”Fuck, man. You want to go first or me?”

“Remember what the boss said. No fucking,” the older guy grunts as they both take their dicks out.

“Such bullshit,” the younger guy sighs sadly.

My fist crashes onto the desk as he starts to stroke her thigh.

“Orders are orders,” the older guy mutters, stroking his pathetic, limp dick. “This one’s a virgin, so no fuckin’ her, okay?”

My heart twists painfully as I stare haggardly at the screen.

Yes, she was a virgin.

And I took that.

Roughly. Callously. Without a shred of tenderness.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

“How about her mouth?”

“Tempting,” the older guy groans. “But we can’t. You can do whatever else you want, though.”

“Fuck, yeah,” the other guy grins. “What a hot body.”

He gropes her tits. The other one jams his hand between her thighs.

I want to douse the world in kerosene and light it on fire.

I want to maim.

Destroy.

Kill.

But I force myself to watch every horrible second. To fight back the vomit that threatens to erupt from my stomach.

By the time I close the laptop, I can’t even see straight.

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