The Stolen Girl (14 page)

I was still tensed, waiting for him to turn violent. And it didn’t take long. Slammer released his grip on my chin, and then, just as I drew in a breath, swung his hand and casually backhanded me.

The blow knocked me off my feet, making me fall back onto the couch. As the air was knocked from my lungs, Slammer was on me, grabbing me and scooping me up. A heave of his arms, and I was flying across the room. I hit the edge of an armchair, was spun around, and saw the wall rushing up towards me. I could see it coming, but there was no time to turn away, no time to even put my arms up to protect myself. I slammed hard into the wall, letting out a whimper as I sagged down towards the ground.

Before I could even land, however, Slammer had strode across the room to grab me. His hand reached down, sliding beneath my chin to tighten around my neck. Squeezing almost to the point of cutting off my air supply, he hauled me back up, pinning me against the wall.

“You stupid bitch,” Slammer grunted as I struggled to breathe, fighting in vain against his grip on my throat. “I see what you’re doing. Trying to turn my gang against me. You stupid whore. It isn’t going to work!”

The man was pinning me in place with one hand, seemingly effortlessly. My feet were barely able to reach the floor. I was able to hold myself up just enough to keep from choking, to be able to suck a thin stream of air into my starved lungs, but I couldn’t get enough energy to move, to fight back, to do anything. Slammer’s other hand came around, this time digging into the waistband of the jeans that Flamer had brought me that morning. I felt his big fingers dig in, and with a savage yank, he tore the snap clean off, making the pants sag open.

The gang leader released his grip on my throat as he changed tactics, but I didn’t have any opportunity to enjoy my newly reopened airway. I tried to struggle and fight back, but Slammer was relentlessly tearing off my pants, dragging them down towards my knees and exposing my ass to him.

Tears started to well up in the corners of my eyes, staining my cheeks as I sobbed and struggled. I couldn’t get away, though, and my fists merely bounced uselessly off of my attacker as if he was made of stone. One of Slammer’s hands slid up, tugging my sweater up towards my neck as he roughly grabbed at my tits as they hung down, but most of his attention remained focused on my ass.

He fumbled at his waist, and I heard his own pants unbuttoning and unzipping as well. My sobs came harder, faster. I had a good idea of what was going to come next. More than anything, I just wanted it to be over.

I felt something hard but warm rubbing against the cheeks of my ass. I was still forced down on the ground, unable to turn and look behind me, but what else could that rod be? Slammer had his cock out and was rubbing it up and down on my ass, searching for my hole so that he could take me. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I closed my eyes and waited to feel the pain I knew was coming...

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M
y eyes were shut and my face was wet as I waited for Slammer to rape me, to steal away my virginity. His cock was out, I was naked, and there was nothing left to stop him. I couldn't fight him off. I was helpless.

But instead, I heard the sound of heavy boots coming from outside the house. Someone was running up the stairs! Both Slammer and I froze, and both of our gazes turned towards the door.

It flew open a second later to reveal Roads standing there, panting and looking flushed and out of breath. “The police!” he was shouting as he entered. “The police are headed up towards here-”

His voice cut off abruptly as his brain finally comprehended what his eyes were seeing. I was pinned down on the floor, my sweater shoved roughly up into my armpits and my pants forced down around my ankles. Slammer was crouched on top of me, one hand firmly in between my shoulder blades to hold me down, and his cock flopping out and now resting on my bare and exposed ass. The carpet beneath my face was damp from my crying, and I was certain that there were visible streaks of wetness on my face.

From deep in Roads’ throat rose up a sound that I’d never heard before. He sounded like a wolverine; it was a deep and guttural growl, a sound of pure anger and rage. His hands rose up, not even tightening into fists, but merely constricting and jerking as if he was trying to strangle the air itself. And a moment later, he lunged forward, diving towards us.

Still pinning me, Slammer opened his mouth to speak, but Roads hit him before the words could form. The gang’s second in command slammed into the leader in a flying tackle, knocking them both off of me. As I rolled away, grabbing for my pants to pull them up so I wouldn’t be basically bound at the knees, the two men twisted back and forth on the ground. They were locked together now, and both of them were wordlessly shouting and yelling.

After a moment, Roads managed to gain the upper hand, literally climbing up so that he was on top of Slammer. His hands rose up, and he landed a few powerful punches on the man beneath him. Even from across the room, I heard the sickening sound of his fists thudding into flesh.

“You… you monster!” Roads roared down at Slammer. “You’re a sickening shit stain that doesn’t deserve to live, and I’m going to kill you!”

Unfortunately, Slammer had merely been regaining his breath, and he launched a renewed attack. He leapt up, throwing Roads off of him, and immediately dove back down with his fists balled. “You fucking betrayed us!” he yelled back, landing on top of Roads and grappling with him to try and pin him down. “When I do something, you don’t question it - you do it!”

“Not when that thing is rape! You sick asshole!” Roads was on the defensive, but he clearly wasn’t giving up.

At this moment, my ears caught another sound, in the background but steadily growing louder. I could hear a wailing sound, and the steady rise and fall of its pitch could only be one thing. Police sirens. Just as Roads had been starting to say when he had come in, the police were on their way to this house.

My mind was awash in panic. I struggled up to my feet, but wasn’t sure what to do. I stared around the room wildly. From upstairs, I could hear the thud of more footsteps; the other bikers, up in their rooms, must also be hearing the sirens. As the sounds drew closer, I could distinguish that there were multiple wails, not quite in sync with each other. Several cars must all be coming. But what was I supposed to do?

My eyes were flashing around the room, looking for some way that I could help break up the fight between Roads and Slammer. They were still rolling back and forth, a whirlwind of kicks, punches, yells, and curses, and I knew that I would be smashed to a pulp if I tried to physically interject. Could I find some sort of weapon? Something to use on Slammer, maybe to put him out long enough for Roads to recover?

I spun around in a circle, searching around the room. A lamp? A glass bottle? Something on the table was glinting in the light, catching my eye. I took a step towards it, and then felt my heart leap up into my throat as I realized what it was. The gun that Slammer had drawn from his waistband was still sitting on the coffee table, unguarded!

In a sudden rush of motion, I bolted around the furniture, between the chairs and towards that pistol on the table. As I ran, my eyes caught movement from the stairs on the far side of the room, and I saw that Flamer and Chainz were both coming down, looking confused. Their eyes went to me as I ran, and it only took a moment for them to connect the dots and realize what I was after.

But even as the other couple bikers started forward, they were too late. I skidded to a stop at the table, my hand outstretched, and my fingers closed around the butt of the pistol. The metal was cool to the touch, and the weapon was surprisingly heavy as I lifted it up.

This wasn’t my first time with a gun, and despite my fear and panic filling my mind, some element of the training my father had forced me to endure was still present. My right hand slipped around the grip of the pistol, finger off the trigger, and my left hand also came up to wrap around and steady my grip. My thumb clicked the safety off; the weapon was now hot and ready to fire. I could tell by its weight that it was loaded.

Flamer and Chainz had started forward, but now that I was holding the gun, they stopped. Chainz’s eyes widened, while Flamer put her hands up slightly in an instinctive sign of surrender. But I didn’t care about them. I spun around, gun out at arms’ length, pointing it at Roads and Slammer as they fought back and forth on the ground.

“Stop.” My voice was oddly calm, devoid of all emotion. Something in my tone must have sunk through the men’s thick skulls, as they both paused in their attacks and turned towards me.

At that moment, Slammer happened to have the upper hand; he was crouching on top of Roads, his fist upraised. His eyes went first to me, and then focused on the weapon in my hands. He paused, fist still up in the air and clenched.

“Get up.” I gestured with the barrel of the gun at the gang leader.

The man slowly rose up to his feet, climbing off of his opponent. He was moving slowly, carefully, but those devious eyes of his were still locked on me. When I briefly made contact with them, I saw that they were still filled with burning, simmering fury, enough to make me shiver. Now standing, he took a small step towards me.

“No! Stay where you are!” I shouted at him. Despite my words, however, the barrel of the weapon trembled slightly in my hands. Slammer’s eyes flicked down to it, and then back up to my face. He could read my fear, could sense my hesitation. He took another small step forward.

“What are you going to do?” the man said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you really going to shoot me, little kitty?” Another step closer to me. He was only a few feet away. “Do you really have the guts to pull that trigger?”

By now, the gun was shaking as I struggled to hold it up, and I could feel the tears once again welling up at the corners of my eyes. “Please, stop,” I begged, not sure whether I was trying to convince the monster approaching me or myself. “Don’t make me have to do this.”

“
Oh, you won’t do it,” Slammer replied, his voice still low and quiet. “I know you, kitty. I can see inside your head. And deep down, you want to be submissive. You want someone else to take control. You’re not going to shoot me.”

A tiny corner of my mind was still listening to the other sounds, trickling in from outside the room. Those sirens had been drawing closer and closer, but now they seemed to have stopped. Some sort of bright light was flickering outside the windows, on the other side of the drawn window shades. But that was all secondary to the big man in black slowly closing in on me. “Please,” I eked out, one last time.

Slammer took yet another step forward. His face had been calm as he had approached me, but now his mouth began to twist around into a snarl, his lip curling back. “Gimme the gun, you little bitch,” he spat out. One of his hands reached forward, towards me.

I could feel a chair behind me, preventing me from backing up. There was nowhere else that I could run, no place I could hide. I had no other option.

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I
pulled the trigger.