1. Orla

CHAPTER 1

The noise was something that I knew I would never get used to. The creaking of the mattress as he fucked him in the bed above me. They kept me safely tucked away in an oak wooden coffin he had built out of before I arrived, and whenever they felt like using me, I could see daylight.

"Welcome to your new home," he said with a sadistic smile. "When we say this is over, we already have a cozy place picked out for you. And as you can see, I was thoughtful enough to build your little death box ahead of time."

The sentiment came crashing back over me as he let out a loud moan. I always thought that he sounded like a dying horse when he fucked him, but I had yet to say it out loud. I sighed as I heard flesh slapping against flesh intensify and turned my thoughts away from the debauchery above me. Of course, this wasn't always where he put me, only when he saw it fit to crawl into that hole of his for as long as he could stand it would I have the privilege of being beneath them.

He told me that's where I belonged the first time; he put me there because I was nothing like him and he'd never love a whore like me. I think that jealousy made him the crueler of the pair because he could choose to be gentle whenever he wanted to, but he always treated me like nothing more than a stray bitch that he used to get his rocks off with when he felt like using someone that wasn't him. A different mouth to suck his cock. Different holes for him to fuck.

I took a breath and did my best to exhale silently. The rope around my wrists, ankles, and neck felt tighter today for some reason. Drawing attention to myself would remind them that I was here, and I found solace in the days that they would forget about me. Even though I would be ravenous with hunger, have the stench of sweat caking my skin, and have suffered more infections from holding onto my piss for as long as I could manage, it wasn't as bad being alone.

It was just the sound of him howling as he plowed into him that made my teeth itch. He was putting on a show for him, and I always thought that these were his attempts to make me remember who the head bitch of this house was and always would be.

Until I change his mind, I thought as I turned my head slightly to the right and closed my eyes. Or at the very least, until I died.