Page 38 of Shame

My mouth turns dry as I start following him on all fours, stark naked. Party. Again. I clench my teeth and try to get my heartbeat back under control. What can I do anyway? Gape and swallow. That’s all I’m good for.

My knees soon get sore on the hard floors. I glance up at Ivan as we pass the hallway. This time his gaze does travel along my body. I just want to cry. I wish there was one single person in this house who was even remotely human.

We move through one lavish room after the other, until we end up in what looks like a pub, dark wood paneling, a long bar, a pool table, brown leather couches.

The room is filled with men. I recognize several of them from earlier, when they sat in meetings with the monster next to me.

“Welcome, everybody. I’m thrilled to have you in my house. Some of us have done some great deals tonight—” Salvatore glances at a group to the far right, standing with beer bottles in their hands, saluting him, “and some not so much.” He stares at a man sitting nearby. The man pales under the hard gaze. I remember him whimpering and pleading. I don’t remember what it was about.

“Enjoy my hospitality, my beer, the games. And my pet!” He grips my nape and pulls me up by my hair so I stand on my knees, turning me from side to side for everybody to see. I grab his hands to try to relieve the pain in my scalp, but he shoves me back to the floor. “You may touch her wherever, come all over her if that pleases you, but I’ll cut off your dicks or hands if you try to shove any of them in her. Tonight, all her holes are mine.”

I don’t know if I should be relieved or horrified. Relieved in the moment, I guess. Horrified for later. ‘All her holes’. I’m not ready. My ass is not ready!

Ten minutes later finds me on my back, surrounded by hooting men, spread eagle on the bar. I flinch when the first string of cum hits my chest, some drops ending up on my cheek. It won’t be the last.

I seek the monster’s gaze. He sits with a tumbler of whisky in his hand, talking to a balding, heavy-set man. It’s as if he feels me looking, because he turns his cold black eyes on me, and there’s nothing in them, no lust, no loathing, no wickedness. Just nothing. I wonder what makes a person so emotionless, so uncaring for others’ needs and hurt.

I don’t know how much time has passed, two hours, four hours, could be anything, when Salvatore stands. I sit like a rag-doll next to an empty armchair, hugging my chest. The men have lost their interest in me. Most of the cum has dried. It makes my skin feel tight. I’m cold and empty, bruised from where they’ve pinched and grabbed.

“The night continues for anyone so inclined. Enjoy my hospitality for as long as you like. I’m in a good mood tonight. Great deals were made.” Salvatore’s voice booms through the room, making everyone go quiet. Several of the remaining guests raise their glasses and hoot their approval.

“Pet! Come.”

I flinch, my heart sinking. I don’t want to be alone with him. At least these men haven’t made me feel like my life was on the line, only degraded me until I’ve felt as if I have no human worth left. I get on hands and knees and crawl through the whole room until I’m next to him, staring at his shiny black shoes. Leering comments hail over me, but I don’t care. They aren’t my focus.

“My turn, Miss Moreno,” he says in a voice so low only I hear it. I want to die. I want to get on my feet and run as far as I can get. I shake as I crawl next to him through room after room, naked, covered in other men’s filth. How does he get off on this? He’s so sick that I lack words to describe it. Suddenly he pushes open a door, revealing the same bathroom I took a shower in last time.

“Clean up. You got five.”

Salvatore stands in the door opening with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s observing me the whole time as I do quick work with the shower. I’m dabbing my soaked hair, now back to a curly mess, when he rips the towel out of my hands.

“You’re dry enough.” He pats his thigh and I fall on hands and knees again.

His bedroom is the next door down the corridor. I fight the panic as he closes the door behind us. I want to plead with him to not hurt me, but I have a feeling he’d enjoy that even more, that the hurt would be even worse.

“Up on the bed! Lie on your belly, arms and legs spread out for me.”

My chin trembles as I climb up and follow his instructions. Lucas’ face appears before me and I try to seek comfort in it, in the memory of our days together, but then I remember my last words, and his hurt. I force him out of my mind. I’d only keep hurting him if he’d have to pick up the remains of me every time something like this happens.

Salvatore walks up to a curtain and pulls it to the side, revealing a set of canes. At first my mind thinks pool sticks, and then I realize these are nothing like that. There are short ones, long ones, thicker, thinner. My stomach churns. I’ve never been beaten by one, but I’ve heard enough to know that a belt has nothing on these.

I wasn’t supposed to talk, I know pleading will only fuel him, but my brain isn’t connected to my every instinct screaming at me.

I scramble off the bed on the other side. “No, please. Don’t do this! What have I ever done to you?”

He grabs a cane, medium length, not very thick. “Get back on the bed.” His voice is low, measured, lethal.

His calm tone frightens me more than if he would have been agitated. When I don’t move, he reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out a gun. My knees fold in shock, and it feels as if my insides liquefy.

“On the bed, Carmen.”

Filled with dread, I climb back up and lie down per his instructions. He pulls out leather straps from a drawer and starts tying my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. My heart is pounding so hard I bet he hears it when he settles on the bed, between my legs, still fully dressed. His hand is soft as he touches my ass cheek, stroking up along my back. He leans in close and smells my neck before he kisses it. All I feel is thick, syrupy dread. These caresses are nice, but I know it won’t last. He’s only toying with me.

“You smell so good, pretty Carmen. I’m happy you came.”

“You’re sick,” I grit out.

I squeal as he grabs my hair.

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