Dark Nights Boxed Set: The Complete Series Read online

  “I’ll be safe here. I was, you know, before you came along.” I meant that no one had ever messed with me at my apartment, that’s all. Zachary’s mouth tightened and I knew he was thinking of the first time we met, when I’d been abducted, when he’d fucked me.

  “Fine,” he said tightly. “Stay inside with the door locked until I get back. Don’t open the door for anyone, understand?”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  He dressed quickly and left, making sure I came to the door with him to lock it behind him.

  I considered slipping back into bed, but without him there, the bed would feel cold. I showered and dressed in jeans and shirt, picking something green to match my eyes in anticipation of Zachary coming back. I even put on a little makeup, adding color to my pale complexion, and brushed my black hair to a shine. It had been a long time since I had someone to dress up for. Considering my recent experiences, I hadn’t expected to find that for a while.

  The situation with Zachary was far from permanent, I knew. If you looked up “fucked-up starts to a relationship,” ours would be listed as the perfect case study. I wasn’t entirely convinced that I wasn’t just a guilt fuck to him, a passing focus of his lust. I’d take what I could get at this point.

  My parents had passed away in my first year of college. I didn’t have any other family. The money ran out soon, and I didn’t make enough money doing part time work to pay for it myself, so I had to drop out. I’d been working at the bar ever since. I didn’t have a great support system. That hadn’t bothered me, or at least I thought it hadn’t. Ever since I’d gotten back from the hospital, I felt more alone than ever.

  I puttered around my tiny kitchen, putting together a lasagna I could throw in the oven later for dinner. He’d only been there one day, and already I was planning meals for two.

  A knock came at the door.

  I looked through the peephole.

  Two police officers stood there, distorted and looming.

  “Yes?”

  “Ms. Williams? We’re with the police department. Can you please open the door?”

  Well, Zachary had said not to, although surely he hadn’t meant to bar the police. He was the one who wanted me to keep a security detail. “Um. What do you need?”

  “We were sent for your protection, ma’am. We need to confirm your safety and secure the perimeter. After that we can spend the rest of our shift outside the apartment.”

  That made sense. Zachary had gone to the police station, concerned for my safety. I could see him ordering some patrol officers to check on me.

  I opened the door.

  “Hi there,” I said. “Sorry about that. You can’t be too careful.”

  The officer who’d been speaking smiled disarmingly. “I understand completely, ma’am.”

  I glanced at the other office and froze. He was dressed the same as the other, in uniform and clean cut. There was something familiar about his him. His eyes. I recognized that look, that coldness.

  Feeling uneasy, I said, “Would you mind showing me your badges? I just want to verify them with—”

  The first man reached in his jacket. “Sure, no problem.” He pulled out a gun.

  I should have been more surprised, really. I wasn’t a criminal, and until that fateful night I hadn’t had dealings with them. Apparently my luck had gone to shit and hadn’t come back since.

  The man pointing his gun at me waited, letting me appraise the situation. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t fight it. You’ll only get hurt.” Yes, I knew all about getting hurt when fighting it. Although, going along with it didn’t guarantee sunshine and roses either.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “Come with us,” he said in a coaxing voice, as if he wasn’t holding a gun on me.

  Apparently not satisfied with my hesitation, the other man grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the doorway. He spun me around and handcuffed my hands behind my back.

  We didn’t pass anyone on the way down the stairs or in the apartment parking lot, although it would look like I was getting arrested. Well, except for the unmarked white van instead of a police car, but by then it was too late.

  Why me? I mean, the first time it was just lust and violence and convenience. This was specific. Even so, I could guess it would end in something painful for me.

  How do you prepare yourself for pain? I knew it was coming, so there ought to be something I could do in my mind to protect myself, to shield myself. There wasn’t. It would come and it would be agony. Then afterwards, I would be alive, I hoped. Or maybe even that hope would fade with the pain.

  The man who’d pulled the gun on me drove while the other sat in back with me. I looked at his face, trying to place him. He noticed me looking and sneered.

  “Remember me? We didn’t get a chance to play last time, but we will this time.”

  Oh God, it was the man who’d fought with Zachary for me. The one who Zachary had said really messed up the women he’d raped. He’d shaved off his beard, so I hadn’t recognized him at first, but those eyes and that voice confirmed his words. Apparently he planned on making up for lost time.

  When we arrived, they hauled me out of the van and brought me inside a house. I was expecting a warehouse like last time, but this place was an upscale residence. It was sort of a fancy farm house, relatively new looking but with lots of land and a big sturdy fence in the distance. No one would hear me, if I screamed. I assumed that it had been tested before. I wondered if the neighbors knew that this house was used for gang activity, the kind that blew up schools and raped women.

  They dragged me through the house. I saw a few men, scary-looking ones, and I knew better than to call out for help. I was pushed into a room with a bed and no windows. The first man mentioned something about checking with the others, then left us there.

  The man smiled at me as he watched me take in the bed and conspicuous lack of anything else. His police uniform was a stark contrast to his black, beady eyes.

  “Yeah. I’m going to fuck you, bitch.”

  “But why me?”

  “You’ve seen us. You were never supposed to live. No reason we can’t have a little fun first.”

  “Please…” I whimpered. It was useless to beg, but that’s all I had.

  He laughed, an ugly sound. “I like that, cunt.”

  I backed away from him, toward the bed.

  “That’s right,” he mocked. “Get yourself ready for me. Loosen up that dirty cunt. I’m going to ram it real hard. You’ll wish you got it ready for me.” He closed the door behind him. I noted that he hadn’t locked it, although I didn’t have any real hope of escape. Even if I made it out of the room, where would I go? There were gang members in this house, and who-knows-what security outside of it.

  Zachary would never find me here. That thought seared through my mind. My stomach clenched at the hopelessness of my situation. I pointlessly wondered if I should have fought more at my apartment. It probably would have just gotten me hurt, like he’d said, and I’d still have ended up here.

  I definitely shouldn’t have opened the damn door though. So this is the price I’d pay for that mistake.

  “Do you want it to hurt a little or a lot?” He smiled. This guy was like a cat—he wanted to play with his prey before eating it. Pain, or rather, avoidance of pain, was a powerful motivator. The only people who didn’t know that hadn’t experienced real pain before.

  “Please,” I said. If fighting didn’t work, I could try a different tact. My pride wasn’t worth the pain, at this point. “I’ll do what you say. Don’t hurt me.”

  “Good. More.” He wanted me to beg him.

  “I’ll be good.” I felt tears prick my eyes and I hated myself for them, even while knowing they’d probably help my case with this fucker. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  “Strip, bitch.”

  I hesitated, in direct contrast to my previous statements. Offering to do anything he said was not the same thing as actual
ly doing it. How could I go along with this? It was almost easier to be forced.

  He thrust his hand into my hair and yanked it back. I cried out with the pain of it. Then he slammed my face into the headboard of the bed. Blinding pain shot through me. I hoped I’d pass out.

  “I said strip, you stupid bitch. Want to bleed?”

  I was pretty sure I was already bleeding from my face, but I didn’t point that out. He released my hair and I wobbled, but caught myself. I quickly removed my green top, jeans, and then my underwear and bra. I stood naked in front of him, the shame and fear warring with the intense pain in my face.

  “That’s nice, bitch. I like those titties. Pale, but big enough.” He reached out his hand and grabbed my breast roughly. He squeezed, hard, and a sob escaped me. Through the haze of my pain, I saw his thick fingers and muscular forearms. I felt his arrogant, powerful presence, and the idea of fighting back felt ludicrous. It would be like a butterfly fighting her way out of a lion’s mouth, painful and ultimately fruitless.

  “Get on the bed,” he ordered. As I turned to climb on, he hit my ass, hard. It wasn’t a slap. It reverberated through my body, and I knew it was only a taste of what would happen to me here.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled it above my head, pulling a rope out of his pocket to tie me there. He did this with my other hand and both my feet, so that I was lying face up, spread-eagled on the bed. The entire time he did this, I lay there in pain trying to breathe, trying not to panic. I wasn’t sure why he had tied me up, when I’d offered to do what he said. Clearly he could physically dominate me anyways.

  He undid his belt, which I’d expected. He didn’t drop it to the floor. Instead he folded it in half, holding both ends in his hand.

  My heartbeat raced. Dread was like a vice around my throat, keeping me from making a bigger fool of myself with useless pleas. I pushed my body into the bed, trying to curl into myself, but of course it didn’t make any difference. I was tied open, helpless.

  He noticed my fear, and smiled.

  “Yes, little slut. You know what I’m going to do to you. You’re going to scream for me.”

  He flipped his wrist, rapping the belt against my stomach. It didn’t hurt that badly, more like a sting, but it served to show me how much worse it could get—how much worse it would get. This wasn’t a threat, or even a punishment; this was just for the pain, because he would get off on it.

  “Beg me, bitch.”

  I looked at him, honestly unsure whether he wanted me to beg for it or beg to be spared.

  “Come on, fuckslut. You want this, don’t you?”

  I knew what he expected. “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Well, tell me, then. Beg your master and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

  “Please, I …” And then it was like a floodgate was opened inside me, and all my fear poured out into my words. “Please, don’t kill me. Oh God. Please. I’ll do anything you want. Please… master.”

  Whap. The belt smacked me across my stomach, hard. I cried out.

  “Do better,” he snarled.

  “No, please. I mean, I want it. Please, I’m begging you.”

  Whap, whap, whap. Another blow to stomach, then one on each breast. My skin burned where he hit me, feeling like it was being torn off, even though I could see that it wasn’t.

  “That’s not good enough, slut. This is what you deserve, it’s all you’re good for.”

  He beat me all up and down my body, along the tops of my thighs, a few on my shins, more on my stomach, my breasts, my arms. The whole time I sobbed and pleaded to his pleasure. I didn’t think it would ever end. I thought I would die before it would end, but I knew I wouldn’t be that lucky.

  I thought of Zachary coming back to my apartment and finding me gone. Had they even closed the door behind us? Either way, he would find the door unlocked and the apartment empty. He would know something was wrong, even without a sign of struggle.

  But he wouldn’t know where to find me.

  Chapter Seven

  “That’s good, bitch. You know what to do.”

  I heard the clang as he dropped the belt to the floor. I barely felt relief with the pain still clawing my body and the fear of what would come next. He’d left his clothes on, and now he undressed, removing his shirt and pants to reveal a coarse, strong body and raging erection.

  He climbed onto the bed and ran his hands along my body. I shivered as his hands covered the welts and bruises all along me, and tried to wriggle away to no avail. He stroked a few of the raised welts, with a look of pleasure, almost pride on his face. When I cried out, he laughed softly.

  “This is how you should always look, cunt.”

  He straddled my body and put his cock between my breasts. He rolled them towards his cock, engulfing it.

  “Just like I said, a good size. And I already took care of the paleness.” They were bright red and bruised from the beating.

  He rolled his cock slowly in and out of the cushion of my breasts. I couldn’t help but gasp from the pain of his hands on my sore, used breasts.

  Then he scooted his knees forward so that his cock was against my mouth. I knew what he wanted, and I knew I would give it to him. I parted my lips and he thrust inside.

  “Tongue me.”

  I tentatively pressed my tongue up to the underside of his cock.

  He reached back and twisted my nipple, and I gasped. He kept his fingers clenched tight on my nipple.

  “I said, tongue me, you stupid cow. Keep holding out on me, and I’ll cut off your nipples. How are you going to be a good fuckslut without nipples?”

  His threats worked, and my tongue sprang into action. I rolled it up under his cock and then all around the head. I pushed it into his slit, tasting the acrid, salty semen.

  He pushed his cock in deeper and I gagged. He pulled out and I dragged in a breath before he pushed back in. I tried to suppress my gag reflex, but he wasn’t giving me enough time or any break in the rhythm. I kept gagging and choking, and soon I figured out that he preferred it that way. If I managed to relax myself enough into the rhythm, he would change it and make me gag again. He liked seeing me struggle for air, the panic in my eyes when I couldn’t breathe.

  “If you bite me, I’ll rape your ass without lube.”

  Then he shoved his cock in and used his fingers to close my nose. My eyes widened and in just a second I could feel the oxygen deprivation start. I felt frantic with the need to breathe. I had to force my jaws open to keep from biting down, to keep my mouth from trying to eject the blockage. Then he released his fingers, and I sucked in lungfuls of air through my nose.

  “Good, slut. You’re getting the hang of this.”

  He pulled out of my mouth, but used his cock to slap my cheek. It didn’t hurt. Not really, and not at all compared to the earlier beating with his belt. It was a blow to my pride, to my dignity—when I didn’t even know I had any left. He held it in his fist and slapped my other cheek with his cock, leaving behind a wet smear. I felt humiliated.

  “Dirty sluts like cocks in their face,” he said.

  He continued slapping my face with his cock, on my cheeks, my nose, my chin, my forehead. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the cum and saliva.

  Finally, he moved down my body. He was going to fuck me now, but it was a relief, really. Getting fucked had to be better than getting beaten or getting choked. That brought me one step closer to the end of this. Even if it was one step closer to my death, I welcomed it.

  The door opened. It was the other man, the one who had dressed as a cop and pulled a gun on me. He looked first to the man between my legs and said something rapidly in Spanish that I couldn’t make out. The man crouching above me, about to rape me, answered back just as fast.

  Then the man at the door looked at me. I saw something flash in his eyes. Pity, maybe even sympathy, as he took in my beaten body and cum-covered face. Then he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  From above me, I heard
, “You’re lucky, little slut. I’ve got to go so we’ll have to play later. For now, open up.”

  He tapped my lips with his cock and I opened my mouth obediently. It took only a few flicks of his cock with his fist before he sprayed across my parted lips.

  He got off the bed and dressed, all the while not looking at me. He’d had his fun, and now I was a useless thing in the room, like the bed, something he no longer needed.

  I almost thought he’d forgotten about me, but he turned back. His eyes crinkled, and it was almost a smile.

  “You did good, slut.”

  I felt a strange sense of pride at his words. I hated him, so why was I happy to please him?

  “You’re going to wait here for a minute while I check on things. Do you want to be untied?”

  Was that a trick question? “Yes. Yes, please…. master.”

  He laughed, but he untied me. Then he left the room, and I heard the doorknob rattle and click as he locked it. I got up and dressed, then slunk into a corner of the room on the floor. The bed was more comfortable, but I had been violated there, hurt there, and, stupidly, I felt safer in the corner.

  In what seemed like only a few minutes’ time, he came back and opened the door.

  “Come, bitch.”

  I got up and staggered over to him, still weak from the pain and the shock. He grabbed my arm and propelled me out of the room. We went back down the hallway from where we had come from and then turned off into another room.

  A group of men were already there, shouting at each other. I glanced around furtively, trying to be inconspicuous, when I noticed him. Zachary. He’s here! My heart raced, but I struggled to keep my face impassive.

  He must have come for me. They had called him to consult in the gang, so he must have found out where this place was. Or maybe he already knew about the safe house from when he was undercover with them. When he noticed me missing, he came here to get me out.

  Maybe he would claim me again, like before. The thought of having sex in front of these people didn’t appeal to me, especially in light of what had happened to me, but I’d do anything to get out.