Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
I look like I’ve been stung by a bee. My upper lip is so swollen. I’ve got multiple cuts on my bloody face. I’m not sure if they’re from the car wreck or him.
Tears sting my eyes, and I have to look away from the phone, so I don’t get upset. Now is not the time. I can cry about it later when I’m alive and free from this psycho.
Looking around, I see him standing in the kitchen. His hands are on the table. There are a lot of power tools, along with tape and ropes, covering the surface. I’m sure I can use something on there to fight him off with. I just need my hands free.
Rolling more onto my chest, I move my wrists, twisting them back and forth, trying to loosen the tape. There’s more give than there was when I woke up, and it gives me hope.
My adrenaline is pumping, making my breathing pick up. It’s up to me. No one is coming to save me. I refuse to let Nate kill me and feed me to the animals. Who knows how long he’ll drag this on? He’s already proven that he’s going to torture me for the hell of it. Have his fun like I’m a toy.
And Colt? He’s not going to be out looking for me. He thinks I’m mad at him. Hate him. He won’t send out a search party when I don’t come home tonight.
“They humiliated me,” Nate says to himself. “Fuck them!” Then lets out a scream, leaning over and shoving everything off the table and onto the floor. “Son of a bitch!”
I sit up, pressing my back into the front of the couch to hide my arms from his view. Not wanting him to see what I’m doing. I’ve only got an hour before Mike returns. He wasn’t on Nate’s side, but he also wasn’t on mine. There’s no way I can get free from both of them.
“They jerked off all over me. Those sick bastards covered me in their cum.” He keeps mumbling to himself. “Fucking humiliated me because of you.” His eyes lock on mine, and I freeze, praying he can’t tell that I have a plan. Pushing away from the table, he walks over to me but pauses, his eyes on the floor. My throat tightens when I see what he’s looking at. I try to take in a calming breath.
No. Please, God. No.
Bending down, he picks up the roll of duct tape and continues to walk the short distance over to me. “They fucking gagged me. I’ll do the same to you.”
I lift my chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my fear. “You also got turned on. What’s that say about you?” I don’t remember what happened, but Colt had told me that this morning. And by the way his face morphs into rage, I hit a nerve. Good. I want him irrational. I can control the situation better.
He grips the back of my neck and shoves my face into the floor while he straddles my back, cramming my restrained arms between me and his body. I grit my teeth at the pain. Gripping my hair, he picks it up off the floor and starts wrapping the tape around my entire face. I fight him with all I have, but I’m just too weak. Some gets in my mouth, and I taste my hair. He wraps it over and over until I’m afraid he’s going to place it over my nose too, suffocating me. But he stops and stands up off me.
My head falls to the floor, and I suck in a breath through my nose, reminding myself to stay calm. The last thing I want to do is have a panic attack. I’ve never had one before, but I know if I do, it won’t be good. My air is already restricted.
He grabs my ankles and pulls me across the floor back toward the kitchen, and then he’s ripping my shorts and underwear off. I cry into the tape, unable to stop myself because I know what’s coming.
Rolling onto my back, I kick my feet out and buck my hips, trying to harm him in any way. But he drops to his knees, straddling me, and wraps both hands around my neck, cutting off my air. Tears run down the corners of my eyes, and I fight harder. Refusing to give up and let him win.
“Beg him now!” he screams in my face, spit flying from his mouth. “Huh, you fucking whore. Beg Colt to fuck you now.”
I arch my neck, trying to get my face away from his, but he starts shaking me, and dots cover my vision, and that pounding in my face intensifies. My body starts to convulse while my chest heaves, and my attempt to fight back grows weaker. My eyes grow heavy, rolling back.
He lets go, and the blood rushes to my head. I’m wheezing, face pounding, and throat burning. I blink the tears out of my eyes, trying to get my bearings back. My body is too heavy to move, which gives him enough time to unzip his pants. He readjusts himself between my legs, spreading them wide, and he spits on my pussy.
I arch my back as a sob wracks my body at how weak he’s made me. I don’t have any strength left right now.
“Fucking bitch,” he mumbles to himself. “I’ll show you all who is in charge here.” When he pushes his cock into me, my body stiffens, and he slaps my face.
The force has me looking underneath the coffee table, and that damn phone is still propped up, still filming. I just stare at it as my body rocks back and forth on the floor.
“Whose slut are you now, Raylee?” he asks. “Mine.”
I let my eyes fall closed. Maybe if he thinks I’m dead, he’ll stop. But I’m not giving up yet. No. I just need a few more seconds to recover. To have a little more strength.
“Look at me when I’m fucking you.” He grips my cheeks and rips the side of my face up from the floor. “Look at me. I want to see you cry for me, baby.” I feel him spit on my face, making me flinch.
Swallowing the bile that rises so I don’t choke on it, I look up at him and spread my legs wider for him.
He pauses, his cock pushed inside me. Tilting his head, he gives my neck a little squeeze. “See, I knew you’d like it, you fucking whore.” Leaning down, he runs his tongue across the tape that keeps me from telling him to go to hell. When he pulls away, he removes his hand from my face. And I realize this is my chance. “I’m going to fuck this cunt.” He kisses my taped lips. “Then I’m going to fuck that ass-“
I lean up, ramming my face into his, causing my already busted face to bleed more.
“Fuck.” He sits up, his hands flying to his face. “Bitch.” He pulls his hands away to see they’re now bloody.
I rise to a sitting position and do it again. My forehead hitting right on the bridge of his nose this time.
His cock slips out of me when he falls backward onto his ass.
My heart is racing, but this is it. My only chance. If I don’t make it, he’ll for sure kill me. But I refuse to go without a fight. I slam my foot into his neck, knocking him to the floor, and he starts coughing.
I stand on shaky legs and bend over. I slide my arms down over my ass and the back of my legs. Sitting on the edge of the couch, bent over, I slide them out from under my feet. They’re still tied, but at least they’re in front of me now. Jumping up from the couch, I run toward the kitchen. The bastard didn’t tie my legs together. It’s hard to rape a woman with her legs closed.
He reaches out and grabs my ankle, tripping me. A scream erupts from my taped lips as I land on my face.
“Fucking bitch!” he growls, yanking me back to him. My naked body slides across the cold tiled floor. “I’m going to keep you alive while I feed you to the fucking animals.”
I reach out in front of me, trying to grab one of the power tools he knocked off the table, but they’re too far away. I cry into the tape when his fingers dig into my skin. I can feel his nails clawing at my legs.
Turning over, I kick at him and manage to land a few to his face, and he lets go.
I crawl across the floor the best I can and reach what I need just as he flips me over. I lift the heavy orange nail gun and pull the trigger, but nothing happens.
He laughs at me. A deep rich laugh that makes his body shake, and my stomach sinks. “Really, Ray?” Falling to his knees, he straddles my hips, slapping my tied arms above my head. I hear the nail gun clank to the floor as his hands wrap around my throat once again. “You think that’s going to save you?”
Panic grips my chest, and I do the only think I can think to do. Feeling around, I touch the nail gun and grab a hold of it and bring it up with all I have, slamming it into his already bloody face. Hard enough to knock him off me. I blink rapidly to clear my watery eyes and look at it in my hands once again. A green light blinks on the side. It has to work. I need …
“Fucking bitch!” He goes to yank it from my hands, but I press the trigger again, and he jumps back, screaming when it makes contact with his arm. “What the fuck?” Pulling his hand away, it’s bloody.
Hope soars that I did it, and I take the opportunity to get to my feet. What did I do different? His wide eyes meet mine, and he charges me. I shove it into his chest and push it again. He stumbles back. His head drops while his hands feel around his chest. Fresh blood slowly starts to seep into his white T-shirt. “Bitch-“
I shove it into the side of his face and press again. He falls to his knees, screaming. If I could smile, I would. Standing behind him, I kick his back, shoving him facedown, and I bend over, pushing it into the back of his head and press the trigger five more times.
There’s a loud sound coming from the gun, resembling a fan. I can barely hear it over the blood rushing in my ears. Taking a second, I stumble back and fall to my shaky knees, tears running down my face along with snot and sweat. He lies there motionless, and I hold my fingers over the trigger, ready to shoot him again if I need to.
I just need a second to regroup. To catch my breath. I’m suffocating with this duct tape on my face.
The front door opens, and I push myself up against the side of the couch as Mike enters.
“Holy shit.” His wide eyes look over his house before they land on me.
I can’t speak. The tape is too thick around my mouth for me to remove, and I’m not letting go of my only weapon. I’m still not even sure how to use it.
“You’re okay,” he says gently, his eyes falling to what I pray is a dead body that lays next to me. Swallowing, he blinks a few times. “I’ll help you.” I allow him to walk over to me. He reaches down to grab my arm, and I shove the end of the nail gun into his and press the trigger.
“Fuucckkkk.” He retreats toward the kitchen. “Motherfucker,” he mumbles, watching a thin line of blood run down his arm.
I pull my legs up to my chest, trying to cover my naked body from him while sniffling.
“I’ll call Colt.” He pulls his cell from his pocket. “Is that okay?” he asks me through gritted teeth.
I don’t nod or shake my head because I can’t. All that matters is that I keep the one weapon I have to survive. He’s going to have to pry it from my restrained hands. And if I have to pull the trigger again, I won’t stop until it’s empty.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN