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“Please,” she begged, but it was no use. He would never stop. He wasn’t capable of being anything other than a monster.

“Please what, pretty girl?” he grunted, picking up his movements, thrusting into her harder and faster. Her cries grew louder—as did his grunts of pleasure when he looked down at their joined bodies and saw her virgin blood covering his dick.

Sick bastard.

“Cry for me, baby girl. Show me how pretty you are with tears on your face,” he gasped, reaching between their bodies to play with her clit.

The girl bucked beneath him, and my heart shattered for her. I knew what he was doing. I had been in her position. My body had betrayed me, just as hers was doing. The mind can scream no, to realise it’s wrong, to know we shouldn’t be having that reaction to our rapists… but push the right buttons, and the body will play along—whether we like it or not.

Knowing better than to take my eyes off them, I watched as he squeezed her clit and gently rolled it between his fingers, the delicate action a complete contrast to the violating act.

She moaned and cried, hating herself, just as I had hated myself.

“Fuck,” Nico breathed. “That’s it, baby. Tighten that pussy for Daddy. You want to cum on my cock, don’t you? You want this, I fucking know you do.” His movements picked up, slamming into her harder.

“No,” she sobbed, despite her nipples hardening and the sounds of her wet pussy filling the air.

“You don’t need to be shy,” he chuckled down at her, licking her face once more. “Cum for me, princess. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

Closing her eyes tight, she tried to block out what Nico was doing to her, but it didn’t work. His fingers continued playing with her clit, his cock thrusting into her, and it wasn’t long until her back was arching, the moans spilling from her lips.

Her orgasm was the exact reward Nico was seeking.

Her body had betrayed her, and as far as he was concerned, that meant she wanted it.

His movements became frenzied after that, violating her with a speed I knew was intended to cause nothing but pain. The sound of his body slapping against hers filled my ears, over andover, until it was replaced with his victory roar as he came inside her.

“What do you think, Gabby?” he asked, climbing off her body and slapping her tits as he did so. “Do you think she’s broken in good enough yet?”

“Yes, Nico,” I agreed, making sure there was no emotion in my voice. The last time he asked me this, I was on the verge of tears. The guilt I felt had prevented me from masking my emotions, and he knew it instantly. He had called me a sick, sadistic liar. And then he brought out the toys.

The woman hadn’t lived to see the end of the night, and I had been forced to watch each and every painful minute of her demise and his sexual satisfaction.

He was a twisted fucker. More than twisted. But that wasn’t new. Nico had always been a monster. One who had once been the lead suspect in the rape and murder of his own sister. When faced with his crimes, he had challenged his own father to a fight to the death—becoming president in waiting upon his victory.

The second my father and brother lost their lives to the Devil’s Disciples, he claimed his place as head of the Rough Riders and wasted not a single second claiming me as his own.

And now this was my reality, and these events were becoming more and more frequent.

He would bring a virgin to me and force me to watch as he “broke her in” for the rest of the men here. The lucky ones made it and joined the others as certified club whores.

The unlucky ones were brutalised, tormented, and raped until their young bodies couldn’t take it anymore.

How sad that you were consideredluckyif you passed the rape initiation. But that’s just the way things worked here.

I had once believed this would be me. That I would pass my initiation and become another club bunny.

Instead, my reality was much worse. I was their leader, their trafficker, and Nico’s own personal toy.

I was broken, inside and out. And Nico had made it my job to break others in return.

The girl on the bed cried out, looking my way. I refused to make eye contact with her. She would hate me for it. Just like all the others. But any help from me would make this worse for her.

“Please,” she whispered, twisting her head to look my way, her eyes pleading with me. I could feel them on me, drilling into me, imploring me to notice her, to see what she was enduring.

She sounded so broken. So fuckingruined.My heart ached for her, but I had to be cruel to be kind. Visions of the woman before her flashed behind my eyes, reminding me of the consequences of my intervention.

She screamed while she begged for mercy.