Forty-two
SNOW
Christmas Eve
I hear the key in the door and I run to it. Standing on tiptoes, ‘I,’ I say, and kiss his forehead, ‘love’ I say, and kiss his nose, ‘you,’ I say, and I kiss his right eye, ‘Shane,’ I say, and kiss his left eye, ‘Eden,’ I say and kiss his lips. It was meant to be a peck, but he deepens it and kisses me passionately. I pull away and look at him in surprise.
‘Is that the I-want-to-take-you-to-bed kiss?’ I ask with a smile.
‘It wasn’t a bedroom kiss. I have something for you,’ he says very seriously.
My eyebrows rise. ‘What is it?’
He takes my hand and leads me to his study. He sits me down at his desk and opens his laptop screen. He turns the machine towards him and taps a few keys, then rotates it back to face me.
‘What is it?’ I ask curiously.
‘Your Christmas present,’ he says quietly, and walks out.
There is an arrow pointing to the left in the middle of the screen. I click on it and my eyes widen and my hands fly up to cover my open mouth.
In a panic I hit the arrow, the video stops playing, and I close my eyes. My heart is pounding and my breath is coming out sharp and fast. For a few seconds I do nothing, just stare at the frozen screen.
The frame shows a man, his eyes horrified and his mouth open wide in a scream of white hot pain. He has been tied up to some kind of wooden contraption, and behind him a black man with the biggest penis I have ever seen in my life is sodomizing him. To their right there is another man standing by and watching impassively. My eyes return to the man screaming. I recognize you. He was not screaming then. He was laughing, taunting … lusty. ‘Give it to her, give the bitch some cock.’
To my surprise a smile comes to my lips. Give the bitch some cock.
My hand moves seemingly of its own accord and my finger presses the arrow.
The images start moving. My smile stays, then widens cruelly. Now you know what it feels like to be totally helpless.
I watch the coward slobber and scream and beg. Snot runs down into his mouth.
Tsk, tsk, even I didn’t cry like that.
When the black man is finished, the other man takes over. He doesn’t use his cock though. He uses a frighteningly big dildo. I peer closer. The dildo is studded. A mad giggle escapes my lips.
The man shakes his head and begs for mercy. Well, well.
They untie him and make him sign a letter. I cannot see what he is putting his scribble to, but he signs it with a sh
aking hand.
Then they beat him so mercilessly I hear the sound of bone crunching.
Ah well, Karma. It’s a bitch.
I sit through another five little clips. Two of the faces I cannot remember, and that bothers me. Just imagine if I had been in a shop or some other public place and they had come in, I would have had no idea they were rapists. I would have spoken to the bastards normally. Why, they even looked like decent blokes.
At the end there is a template copy of the letters all the men have signed.
Dear Friends and Family,
Last summer, five other sickening perverts and I met in London to gang rape a drugged, innocent nineteen-year old girl in a hotel room.
I am sending you this letter so you know the real me.
Yours sincerely,