Insatiably You | l.s.

Chapter 10

Thank you to @ObVioUslEh_28 for always voting and commenting, your comments made me smile <3

Semi-graphic chapter due to continuation of previous one. Old triggers, as well as new ones, may possibly be contained.

"No...no...please don't...please stop-" I whimpered after every abusive thrust I received from them, as the feeling of their filthy disgusting hands, groping my most private areas, overran my senses.

"...I-I promise... I-please just stop, you're hurting me...please don't, please no more..." I begged while thrashing on the floor, with a constant stream of burning tears rolling down my battered face.

"Please just stop..." I whispered with every breach I felt at my oversensitive rim. Yet they never did.

They never stopped, not even when I let out silent screams of pain and agony, not even when they saw the blood dripping down my thighs.

At every abusive thrust, I felt. At every laugh, I heard. And every naked body, I saw. At every deceptively slow drag of their fingers along my skin as though they were centipedes and I was their prey, I just wanted it to stop. 

I wanted them to stop, to leave me alone, yet that never happened.

Axel was by far the worst. He was relentless with every thrust. He never stopped, and when he did I was exchanged and passed around like a rag doll. Like I was just a body to be used and abused.

I could feel every painful tug at my curls and every bloody mark made on my skin. I can smell the blood, the urine and the shame surrounding me. I can feel the soreness and oversensitivity in my lower regions. I can feel the blood dripping down my inner thighs, and I can feel that very shame from before, clinging to my skin, just wishing it could be ripped off, due to their actions. 

I never wanted to be me again.

I was Axel's body to use, Ryan's bitch to pee on and Jackson's punching bag. 

By now, my body belonged not to me, but to someone else. 

Someone who knew not, nor cared to treat me as human. Someone who didn't care about the countless wounds being made to my sensitive skin, or the blood surrounding me. Above all, someone who didn't care about my physical or mental wellbeing.

However, soon after the multiple rounds, I faced with them, I began to finally not care. If I was weak enough to allow them to do as they pleased the first time, in no way did I deserve to fight them now.

I didn't deserve to fight, so nor should I care about what happened to me.

This is why I began to not care about the mental pain, the shame and the disgrace I felt in myself. Nor did I care about the humiliation, as I was too weak even to push them off now. I didn't care about the disgrace in myself for allowing them to have their way with me. I found no reason to. 

But as much as I tried to shut off my mind and not care, I couldn't when I felt the vulnerability, as my body now hurts in the most degrading way possible.

I didn't remember who or when it started again. But sure enough, it was happening once more, just a thousand times worse this round.

I thought I finally was safe. Thought I was finally free from them after that familiar yet distant voice rescued me, but it's all happening again. Every thrust into my abused body, every harsh grip and tug, it's the same while simultaneously being a hundred times worse.

I can feel everything and I hate it. 

I wished for the numbness to overtake my body again, just like it did in the alleyway. I can't wait to not feel anything again. If the numbness came, I wouldn't feel their filthy hands and how wrong they felt. I wouldn't feel every thrust they make and for some reason, a cool substance on my forehead accompanied by a firm yet gentle grip on my body. I wouldn't feel anything and I craved that long-awaited high.