Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2)

Chapter 10

Chelsea

Light and sounds filterthrough my awareness, even more disorienting than the strobe light from earlier. I try desperately to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel stuck together. I can feel everything, but it's like it's happening to someone else and not me - as if I could open my eyes and look down to see me lying there. My pants are wrenched from my thighs. I want to call out and beg for the violent actions to stop, but my mouth won't open either. Blood pulses loud and thick in my ears, matching the throbbing headache threatening to split my skull open.

Those same hands travel up my ribcage, ripping my shirt from my body. From the inside, I feel vulnerable and exposed. The scattered thoughts I'm able to have tell me way too late that it's not Master Grigori's fingers mauling at my breasts. These fingers are rougher, callused, cruel. Even when punishing me, Master Grigori wasn't cruel. I desperately want to cry. I want to scream. I want all of this to stop.

I saw him. He was looking right at me. Why isn't he stopping this? Those brief days when I felt so very much abandoned by Professor Richards pale in light of the maelstrom of feelings whirling deep inside me. Bone-crushing pain fills my heart until I fear I'll suffocate from how hard it's squeezing my lungs. Those same fingers pluck at my nipples in an unrefined grasp. Finally, what feels like a tear slides down my cheek.

Russian words flit about my ears. My muddled brain is convinced that it can translate what's being said if I just concentrate hard enough. Both voices are crude and guttural, but I don't recognize either of them. Where is Master Grigori? Where is Mr. Ivan? Surely they must know about this. Why aren't they stopping it? Tugs on my collar wrench my neck up as the metal slides around fast enough to burn, but still, my mouth is silent. I feel everything, but I can't do anything about it. I never knew what helpless truly was until this moment. As the metal loosens from my neck, my head falls back with a thud, cranking up the pain in my head.

My legs are spread wide open to the point where my hips creak in protest. Please, I beg them, screaming at them in my brain. Please don't tear me apart. They stop but keep them open, sending shooting pains along my pelvis and into my glutes. Unknown hands prod at my entrance, poking deep inside. More wetness slides down my cheeks. Tugging at my clit sends any awareness I can possess down to that one spot.

The piercing rocks back and forth as beefy fingers pry at it. With it as healed as it is, the physical discomfort is minor. Emotionally, I'm shattering with every slide of his fingers against me. I feel the metal dragging against my clit as he pulls it out, breaking the last bit of me. With that, every trace of Master Grigori’s ownership is gone. I am lost and alone with no one to call Master.

The fingers at my entrance are soon replaced with something large and cold that applies steady pressure to my channel, opening me up, spreading me out in the most intimate of ways. The fingers return, sliding through the enlarged opening to prod some more at various areas. What he's doing, I can't even fathom. All I want to do is crawl inside myself and die. Skin brushing across the wet expanse of my cheek fills me with dread. Now they know I'm somewhat conscious. How much worse is this going to get for me?

Another sharp pinch and everything drifts back into nothingness. Sighing, I let it take me deep down. There's nothing else for me out where I can feel and grieve. Nothing is so much better.