Page 73 of Property of Kevlar

Fingers peeled her eyelids back. She screamed.

No one cared. Like mindless zombies, they were entranced by what was happening to Carrie.

Mike stood at the front of the pool table. Carrie’s chin blocked Kelsey’s view, but Kelsey understood what went on. His cock was shoved in her throat. Rocking his hips, he thrust it in and out while two men pinched and pulled at Carrie’s nipples.

“Stop,” Kelsey cried, tears streaming down her face.

Carrie would never agree to this. She had never been the sharing type. She was a one-man kind of woman. Monogamous to her core.

Pete lowered the blade. It cut through the fabric of Kelsey’s blouse like butter. Sliding it beneath the joint of her bra, Pete thrust it forward. The knife sliced shallowly into her sternum. She squirmed futilely. A bulge ground against her ass, and her stomach threatened to spill its contents.

This nightmare couldn’t be real life.

The bra spread open, and her breasts sprang free. With her heart hammering in her chest, Pete and the older president jostled her. Her ankles crossed, but she attempted to fight and wriggle as more hands held her. There were too many blades poking at her skin, she had to be careful in attempting her escape, lest she accidentally, or purposely, get stabbed.

As she struggled futilely, the men holding her captive managed to switch possession of her. Pete was at her back now, holding her in place with the knife beneath her chin. The point skittered against her skin. The president lowered his head and sucked one of her nipples between his teeth. He bit down, and she screamed.

Powerlessness consumed her. She couldn’t stop this without dying. There was no way to help Carrie. They’d gone into the bowels of hell and danced with devils. They’d never escape.

Pete thrust his hand into the waistband of her now-open jeans. His thick fingers stroked her folds. Clamping her thighs together, she did her best to wiggle away as though she could evade his unwanted touch.

“Watch our new house whore,” Pete taunted. “Do you want that too? It could be you, if you keep being a fucking bitch.”

Trembling, Kelsey wept but couldn’t take her eyes off the display in front of her. Men lifted a sobbing Carrie so that the now naked Machete, who’d given her the pill earlier, could position himself beneath her. He fisted his cock, which stood proudly from his pelvis.

“How many dicks can you handle?” Pete asked as he roughly jammed a finger into her. “Fucking tight right now. We can change that.”

The men controlling Carrie turned her, made her straddle him, and lowered her down on his stiff erection. Her back was to Kelsey. She couldn’t see Carrie’s face. If she could, the vision would kill her.

Kelsey couldn’t count the hands that were covering Carrie’s body.

“Do you think you can handle me?” Pete continued describing his rape fantasy. “Or do you want to be a cock-hungry whore like your friend? Bitch is never satisfied.”

As though to remind Kelsey that Carrie wasn’t the only one being taken against her will, three of Pete’s fingers plunged into her sex.

She screamed again.

The knife at her chin dragged across her skin and cut into her. More blood trickled down her exposed body.

“Is that what you like?” Pete asked, ignoring her protests. “How about two dicks, one hole?” He laughed. “Stretch your fat ass, your cunt, so it’s sloppy.”

As Pete finger-fucked her roughly, the older president bit the flesh of her breasts. She didn’t have it in her to react with anything more than whimpers. His fingers slid in the blood coming from her neck as he continued to grope her.

“Cum-hungry bitch. We’re going to fill you up next,” Pete groaned.

Mike, naked as the day he was born, climbed onto the pool table, stroking his cock. When he lifted his fist in the air, as though in triumph, the crowd cheered in support of Carrie’s humiliation.

As they hooted, hollered, and urged him to continue, he pushed Carrie over Machete and knelt behind her.

He took hold of Carrie’s hips, and Kelsey winced. She didn’t want to watch anymore. Squeezing her eyes shut, she refused to be a witness to her friend’s rape.

“He’s fucking her in the ass,” Pete taunted. “Just like I’m going to do to you. I own you. All your holes are mine. Unless you want to be like your friend. I guess I can give you the choice. I’m not a bad guy. Do you want to be mine or a house whore?”

Before she could answer with the curse still in her throat, a thumb slid past her lips and pressed down on her tongue. She gagged. Spittle exploded from her face as her stomach lurched, threatening to spill every meal she’d consumed that week onto her attackers.

The men roared with laughter.

“You can’t keep her to yourself,” the president groaned as he withdrew his thumb. “A mouth like this is meant for dick.”