Chapter 10

Ophelia

Alex came into the room the next morning after not speaking to me since we finished our game of checkers the night before. He'd given me a blanket to sleep on and one of the stained pillows from his bed so I wouldn't have to rest my head on the dirty hardwood. I'd tried to be grateful and not consider what could have caused the stains. With a frustrated breath, he wiped a hand through his thick hair.

"What's the matter?" I asked, drawing his attention to me. I was trying to reach through to him as one human to another, but it backfired the moment he looked at me and his eyes narrowed. I was better off keeping quiet and not drawing him to me at all.

"Gunnir's pissed I wouldn't play with the whore. Her face is fucking rearranged, and I just..." He shook his head, cutting off the rest of the sentence. He paced, his body trembling with anger.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked. The wood rubbed against my skin through the thin blanket as I sat up on my knees.

"Not when I'm frustrated like this. I'm sick of the goddamn fighting that started when you got here."

Shots fired.

I sat back on my heels. I didn't choose to be here. The fighting had nothing to do with me and everything to do with them. Still, I needed to diffuse this situation before he took out his frustration on me. He continued pacing, the rage growing in his eyes with every step.

"He only wants me to use her so that he can use you," he said through gritted teeth. The veins on his neck stood out like thick wires filled with electricity. He stopped pacing and turned to face me. "Come lay on your back." Alex gestured toward the bed, and I did as I was told.

As I crawled onto the mattress, the time we'd spent together last night seemed like a distant memory. For a moment, we had been two people playing a game of checkers and talking about our pasts. Now I wasn't a person to him anymore. I was a thing to use.

Alex gripped my shoulders and tugged me toward the edge of the mattress until my head dropped over the side. I embraced the sweet dizziness as blood rushed to my brain. If I was lucky, I'd pass out before he even got started. Alex wound his fingers through my hair and cushioned my neck. With one hand, he tugged down his sweatpants and his cock fell in front of my face. He rubbed the tip along my lips and when I didn't open my mouth, he shook me by my hair.

"Don't fuck with me right now, O. I'm not in the mood."

I spread my lips, allowing him inside my mouth. He forced his way to the back of my throat, and I fought back a gag. He groaned and gripped my hair tighter, pushing his hips forward before drawing back and letting me catch my breath. He looked down at me. The rage in his green eyes had dissipated to little more than a flicker. Some other emotion lurked there now, growing until it smothered his anger.

It was his desire.

For me.

Visceral noises left him as he pushed himself into my mouth again. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me steady as he leaned forward and worked my mouth harder.

"Such a good girl," he groaned.

I hated him, but the way he called me a good girl made me swell with unwanted pride. I didn't want to be good for him, but I felt a sick sense of accomplishment for having pleased him.

He pulled out but instead of pushing his cock into my mouth, he slid his shaft up my nose and brought his balls to my lips. I didn't need him to tell me what he wanted me to do. I drew his balls into my mouth and sucked. The urge to bite down on them was a difficult one to fight. I imagined the pain it would cause. What if I ripped them clean off? It would ruin all he was.

A feeling between my legs cut off my violent thoughts. It was a soft touch, something I'd never expected from him. He slipped a hand down the boxers and rubbed me. I wanted to pull his balls from my mouth and ask him why he was touching me. What did he think he was doing?

I tried to ignore his hand between my legs as he rubbed me. I expected the clumsy touch of an inexperienced lover, but his fingers understood my body. I pulled my thighs together to stop him from drawing pleasure out of me, and he removed his balls from my mouth.

"You don't like when I touch you?" he asked, circling my clit with his fingertips.

I shook my head.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like you," I whispered. I half expected him to get angry at my honesty, but he sighed as if he understood.

"You don't have to like me to come," he said, an eerie calmness in his tone. "I know what you did in the bathroom was fake."

How did he know that? How did he know anything about pleasing a woman?

I tried to pull away from his touch again. "Please don't," I said. I didn't want him to touch me, and he didn't need to. He could just use me. That's it.

"Gunnir wouldn't make someone come. He couldn't, not even if he tried." His hand tightened around my neck. "I learned how to make them come, even when they fought it. Don't fight me, Ophelia."

I shivered at the words so laced with subtle threats. He was trying to tell me to be thankful it was him between my legs and not Gunnir. I was already thankful for that.

I pinched my thighs closed and put his cock back in my mouth.

"Suit yourself," he said as he drew his hand from between my legs, dropped his weight onto it, and fucked my face.

I fought back gags as his relentless thrusts pummeled my throat. His hips finally stuttered, and his warm come hit the back of my tongue. He pressed his hips deep into me so I could neither swallow nor breathe. I choked, and his come shot out of my nose and burned my sinuses. I tapped his thigh, trying to get him to pull out of me, but he just kept me there, choking on his dick.

He pulled his cock from my throat, and as I gasped for air, he leaned toward my ear. "Next time I get the urge to please you, fucking let me or I'll drown you in my come," he whispered.

Letting his fingers work me would have been exponentially better than this. I really needed to rethink my strategy.

* * *

Alexzander

I handled that poorly.I knew I had. It hurt me to look at her, with her lips still puffy and cheeks flaming red. I wanted to make her come. That was all I wanted to do, and she just fought me on it. Kept pushing me until I did what I did. She wasn't like the other women. I made them come because I could, but I wanted to make her come because I wanted her to feel good. I was being selfless, and she fucking poked me about it. So I became even more selfish. I became my fucking brother.

Fuck.

There was no amount of apologizing I could do at that point. I saw it in her eyes. She was more upset about what I'd done than when I fucked her. Maybe I should stick to doing what I knew best, the force and control I grew up learning before I could even read.

I left her in the bedroom and went to the basement. Gunnir was still using his whore, but I knew he was almost done. His hands were digging into the table as his thrusts quickened.

"How was she?" he asked.

"I didn't do anything with her," I lied. I didn't want him to think I brought her to my room to use her. That's not why I wanted her in that room. It was to protect her from him. Using her was just a bonus.

"Then what's that stain on the front of your pants?" he asked.

I looked down and realized she had splashed my come back onto me. Well, shit. "She was being mouthy, so I took her throat."

Gunnir grabbed Sam's mouth, hooking his fingers and tugging on her lips. "But her mouth isn't good enough for you?" Through red, glazed-over eyes, she looked at me with a desperation I'd never noticed before.

"Fuck off, Gunnir. I didn't plan on using Ophelia's mouth either."

Gunnir groaned as he finished. He pulled out his wet dick and wiped himself with a dirty hand before hiking up his overalls. He smacked Sam's face, making her whimper and cover the bloody cuts on her cheeks.

He'd tried to get her to admit to her part in the attack by cutting into her face and chest, nearly skinning her in some areas. She never admitted to anything because she hadn't been the mastermind. I had. She didn't even throw me under the bus. She just took her undeserved punishment with a stoicism I could respect.

In a way, she reminded me of myself. I used to take the blame for Gunnir sometimes, and The Man would whip me until I bled. He'd dip the whip in buckets of water so it would rip through my skin and sting even more. For some reason, I'd felt the need to protect Gunnir, even though his evil surpassed mine. Once he'd surpassed The Man, I let Gunnir take his own beatings.

Gunnir squeezed my shoulder and told me to come upstairs. I followed the sound of his denim scraping together as he walked.

"You know what I was thinking?" he said as he plopped down at the kitchen table with a satiated groan.

"What?"

"I think we should have her fine little ass cook for us. Like Mama used to do. I'd love to watch her bending over to do the dishes."

It made sense. Ophelia needed a job if she was going to be upstairs, but that also meant putting her on display for him if I did what he was asking. But maybe cooking wouldn't be so bad. I'd be here to step in if needed. "I'll bring her to the kitchen and let her cook."

Gunnir's eyes widened. "I've got the perfect outfit for it!" He heaved himself from the table and went toward his room, returning moments later with a maid outfit. He'd picked it up months ago, after a Halloween clearance sale, and planned to make the whore wear it. I'd forgotten all about it until now. I wished he had too. I fought the urge to tell him to fuck off with that, but he was suspicious already, and I couldn't give him more ammo. I just shrugged, and he tossed it to me.

I went to my room and held the skimpy fabric in front of Ophelia. She looked up at me with wide eyes.

"What's this?"

"Gunnir wants you to wear it while you make breakfast."

"You're fucking kidding me," she said, her mouth gaping.

"I'm not."

Her lips tightened and she scooped up the thin material. "Well, can you at least leave me to get dressed?"

I cocked my head at her because she already knew the answer to that. "Go on," I told her.

She stood and started to unbutton her shirt. When she turned away, I growled. "In front of me, O. You know better."

She turned around and continued to undo the buttons until I could see the swells of her breasts. Fuck, she was gorgeous. And she was mine.

She threw the white lacy strap over her neck and tugged the cheap material around her midriff. She turned around and pointed to her bare back. I helped her fasten the lacy strings, tying them like I tied my shoes—real slow, with the rabbit running under the tree.

She replaced my boxers with the black panties that had a cute little apron hanging in the front. Her hands went behind her, trying to cover the cuffs of her ass. She looked good enough to eat, and that made me nervous. If I wanted to lay her out and have her for breakfast, I had no doubt Gunnir would too. She was untouchable, and nothing screamed "touch me" more than something you couldn't.

I unlocked her chain and brought her to the kitchen. Gunnir devoured her body with his eyes, focused and slow, taking her all in. Her cheeks flushed redder than when I made her choke on my dick.

"Make me eggs like you did in the diner," Gunnir commanded.

Ophelia looked at me. "I never made the food," she whispered.

I leaned toward her. "I know that, but he doesn't."

She tried to back toward the kitchen once I released her chain.

"Nuh uh. I want to see you walk away," Gunnir snapped. He spun his large finger in the air, demanding she give him a view of her from every angle.

With closed eyes and tight lips, she turned and dropped her hands from her ass. Gunnir hooted and hollered, and I was certain he'd get out of the chair and pounce on her. But he didn't. He just licked his lips and rubbed the crotch of his overalls.

Ophelia obediently went to the fridge and grabbed a carton of eggs and began to break them into a pan on the stove. Gunnir liked them over easy, and I liked them soft scrambled. I wasn't sure if she'd remember, but I hoped she would. I sat at the table and watched her cook, keeping one eye on my brother.

Gunnir unclipped the strap of his overalls, and the denim fell past the swollen gut hanging below his dirty white shirt. His eyes darted over her body as she worked. Each time she stirred the eggs, her breasts jiggled. Each time she switched from one leg to the other, her hips shifted in a way that made her ass poke out. Gunnir stroked absentmindedly as he sat at the table with me, his stubby cock disappearing with the slightest movement of his hand. If there was a god, he'd graced both Gunnir and The Man with tiny dicks so they did less damage to the women. I'd gotten lucky in that department. I could hurt them so much more if I wasn't as gentle as I was. I wasn't always so in control of how I took them, and I'd done my fair share of damage in my younger days, when sex was still so new and exciting.

It ate away at me, the way he rubbed himself and drooled over Ophelia, but what could I do? If I made a fuss, he'd want her back in the basement, and I couldn't protect her there. It wasn't that I was afraid of him. He might have been bigger, but I had more muscle. And brains. I didn't want it to come to that, though. We were all we had in the world, and when Ophelia and the whore were gone, we'd still be here. Together.

My stomach tightened. The thought of a day when Ophelia wouldn't be here anymore didn't sit well with me, but what else would I do with her? I thought of my mother, chained to the bedroom, frail and miserable. I didn't want that for Ophelia.

What did I want for her?

Skin rubbed skin as Ophelia bent over to scrape the eggs onto a plate. He masturbated faster and harder, and I worried he'd rip the damn thing off in his excitement. Ophelia's eyes widened when she turned around and saw him beating off to her, and I thought she'd surely drop the plates of food. That would have been a mistake. Gunnir only liked one thing more than the girls, and it was food.

I threw Ophelia a quick shake of my head, trying to tell her not to acknowledge him. She did her best to ignore him, setting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me and runny, yolk-covered eggs in front of Gunnir. She even grabbed the bottle of ranch from the fridge and set it beside my plate.

His eyes left hers as they went to the food. His tongue popped out of his mouth and his strokes slowed. "Look in the fridge," Gunnir said, grasping her forearm before she could move away from him. "There's a mayo jar on the bottom shelf. Bring it over here."

I knew where Gunnir was going with this, and I didn't like it.

She did as he instructed and pulled the jar from the fridge with a grimace. The slightly yellowed mixture in that jar wasn't mayonnaise.

"Get on your knees," he said, beginning to stroke himself again.

She shook her head and I had to intercept before she escalated the situation. Gunnir would do something far worse if she said no, and what he had planned was better than him taking her mouth or pussy. I kicked out her knees and she fell to the ground, still gripping the jar.

Gunnir licked his lips. "Open the jar and hold it between your tits."

Ophelia looked at me, using her eyes to plead for help. She didn't realize I was saving her by encouraging her to go along with this. I looked away until I heard the lid come off the jar. When I looked back, she was gagging and holding the jar between her breasts.

He stroked his dick faster, his glassy eyes alternating between her chest and the eggs on the plate. With a heavy groan, he came, squirting his load into the jar. Her throat clenched and bobbed. I thought she'd lose her stomach contents this time, but she managed to soften her expression and settle.

"Put that back in the fridge and get started on the dishes while the men eat," Gunnir commanded after he'd fastened his overalls in place.

She nodded and rose to her feet, scurrying to the fridge to rid herself of the come collection. At the sink, she washed her hands as if she'd touched raw sewage. In a way, I guess she had. She grabbed the pan and scrubbed, fighting back gloss in her eyes with every stroke of the sponge. I ate my breakfast, done perfectly, just as I liked it.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" she asked me as she dried her hands on the ripped towel we kept by the sink.

I nodded and led her down the hall. There was little hesitation as she raced to the toilet and when she was done, her eyes bore into mine. "Why'd you let him do that?"

I shook my head. "Don't question me, O. I know my brother better than you do. If you'd fought him on it, he'd have made you pay. He'd have taken more."

A shiver ran down her spine. "How long has he been collecting his..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"A few months now," I said with a shrug. "He wanted me to do it too, and I did for a while, but I stopped after a few weeks because I didn't see the point in it. Just don't drink from the Coke bottle by the ranch dressing in the fridge."

She washed her hands, and I dragged her back to the bedroom and locked her chain. "Thank you for breakfast," I told her as I pushed her clothes toward her.

She pulled them closer and clutched them to her chest. As I walked away, her soft voice drifted to me from across the room. "Thank you for helping me."