Page 41 of Deliria

Alex grabs my head, yanking my hair hard enough that I swear he’s going to rip out an entire chunk of it. I scream out, and Vincent takes the opportunity to push himself right into my open mouth.

I can taste it, tastehim. His sweat, his body odour, his precum as he buries himself down my throat. His pubic hair tickles my face. His hands grasp at me as he forces himself deeper and deeper.

I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.

Every awful breath of air is poisoned, tainted, fucking rancid.

He bucks and he groans, driving his hips into my face and all the while I consider biting down, biting hard – only, I’m too afraid of the consequences to do that.

“That’s it, you whore, suck me good.” He says.

The way he talks, the way both of them move, I can tell that we’ve been here before. They’ve done this before. This isn’t the first time. I know it, I can feel it. These two have clearly gotten very comfortable with abusing me, with manhandling me, with doing whatever they want to me.

Christ, how long have I been here?In this house, enduring this every night and then waking up every morning, ignorant and oblivious to it? How often has my husband smiled at me sweetly, held my hand, soothed me in the morning and then held me down while his father rapes me?

I start to jerk, to fight harder. I can’t do this. I can’t bear this. I can’t face the thought of this being weeks, months even. How have I lived like this?

Alex grabs my arms, pinning them behind my back at an angle that forces my spine to arch and my breasts to be pushed right out.

“Reckon she’s ready for you.” He says.

Vincent slides out, leaving a trail of my saliva to drip down my chin.

With his grubby hands, he pulls my legs apart despite my best attempts to stop him.

“Fuck, I love this view.” He says before he angles himself and thrusts as hard as he can into me.

It feels like a knife, like a dagger, like he’s slicing me up. I don’t want this. I don’t want him. Every bit of my flesh that he claims, every bit of my insides protests. But he forces himself deeper, forces himself as far as he can get, ramming his cockright into my cervix, sending a bolt of white-hot pain through my core.

“I love this cunt.” Vincent says, laughing. “I love how it squeezes me, how it grips me. You’re quite a prize, Scarlett.”

“A prized cunt.” My husband says, leaning down to pinch my nipple. “Though her tits are just as nice.”

Vincent grins up at him. “Yeah, her tits are good too. But this…” He slides out before slamming into me again. “This. Fucking. Cunt.” He emphasises every word with a brutal intrusion. “I love this fucking cunt.”

“Careful,” Alex says in warning. “She’s my wife.”

Vincent lets out a laugh before he picks up pace. “Yeah, and what a wife, what a daughter-in-law.”

I shut my eyes, I try to pretend none of this is happening. That I’m delirious, going fucking crazy. That I’m hallucinating and it’s the drugs making me think all this. I’m the one fucked up, imagining things and none of this is real.

But the grunts, the hands, the feel of his body moving over mine. I know those thingsarereal. I know it.

Vincent’s hand wraps around my throat, squeezing just hard enough to silence my pitiful cries, and then he growls out his release.

And it’s so much worse. So much fucking worse.

I can feel it in me. I can feelhim, the evidence of what he’s doneinsideme.

He slides out, smearing his come over my thighs, and then he swipes two of his fingers through the mess before he holds them up to my face.

“Thirsty, Scarlett?” He asks, “Have a long drink of this…”

I can’t turn my head fast enough, my husband won’t even give me that as Vincent forces his disgusting fingers down my throat.

“Yeah, she fucking loves that, doesn’t she?” Vincent laughs, “Look at the way she’s guzzling it all up.”

My throat locks up and I retch, but it only makes them laugh harder.

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