Manwhore 3 (A Ferro Family Short Story) Read Online Free Page A

wasn’t David or anyone else. I took this case because I wanted everyone to hate you as much as I did.”
    As I speak, he continues to hold his head in his hands, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. A moment of silence passes between us and when Sean stands I’m truly afraid. The way he looks at me makes my body react. My fight or flight instinct kicks in and my feet want to run, but I lock my knees in place.
    “You did that? You were the one who told those lies?” His eyes narrow to thin slits and I know I’ve given him enough reasons to leave his morals behind.
    “Yes.” I say it proudly and smile at him. “All of it was my idea, and whatever you want to do now, I’m saying yes. Cane me, whip me, tie me up and use me. Do whatever it is you imagined.”
    Sean leans in close to my ear and grabs the hair at the nape of my neck. He jerks my head back and hisses in my ear. “I’m going to take you to the edge and hold you there until you scream for me to stop, but I won’t. That’s what you’ve done to me with your lies. You wanted a monster, Miss Driskill—well, here he is.”
    It’s part of the game, part of the play. I know it is, but I’m shaking so hard I can’t stop. I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. Before I can scream, Sean twists me around, ripping off my blouse and tearing the fabric as he goes. He takes it in his hands and tears it down the middle, twice, making one strip of cloth and then another. Gasping, I stand frozen, watching. He reaches for me again and rips off my skirt, and tosses it aside. I’m left standing in a pair of white undies and a nude colored bra.
    He looks at me, his eyes seeing something else, something to come. He rips off my bra and then while I’m still screaming from that, he grabs my panties with both hands, tearing them off my body.
    No. Oh, God, no! Trembling, I back away from him. I know what he’s doing, and I’m panicking—I can’t submit to what he wants. Hands up, palms toward him, I shake my head and plead. “Please, don’t. Not this.”
    He doesn’t listen, nor does he stop. He takes my wrists and pulls them behind my back, tying them together with the scraps from my panties. After that, he pushes me down on the bed, face-first, holding me there until I can barely breathe. When he pulls my hair, my head tips back and my mouth hangs wide open, gasping for air. Suddenly a strip of cloth—my shirt—is gagging me. He stuffs the fabric into my mouth then ties a second layer across it and behind my head.
    Every movement is executed precisely—as if he'd been there, as if he'd seen the files of how my mother was raped and stabbed. They used her clothes to tie her up and gag her. They forced her onto the bed, and then dragged her onto the floor in the kitchen and stabbed her in the side after drawing on her arms and legs with the tip of the blade.
    He can’t. I pull at my bindings, but they’re becoming tighter. My wrists ache, and I struggle to breathe. He holds me on the bed, leaning on my back, as I fight against him, but there’s no point. He’s too strong.
    When I feel the cold cloth around my ankles, I lose it. I try to kick, feeling my mind slip too far into panic. My heart is ready to burst through my chest, and my mind can’t process that this is real. I feel something within me wither and back away. It slips from place, like a fallen ribbon.
    Sean pushes me to the floor and binds my feet behind my back. They raped her before they did this. Sean didn’t rape me. He didn’t touch me like that, but the rest is the same, accurate. Using my clothes, ripping them, throwing me on the floor and tying me like this. Everything is identical, except the rape. My face presses against the carpet, and I’m helpless. I lay on my belly, tied up like an animal. Sean walks past me and turns off the lights one by one, plummeting us into darkness.
    The weight of my body in this position makes my breasts ache. I never lay like this; I never want to