"What do you mean?" The words are softly spoken as I refuse to believe what he means to do.
"What do I mean, Y/n?" He takes a step towards me, his thumb under my chin as he tips it up. "Since you're such a horny little bitch, I thought I'd give you a present. Of course. The best thing about presents is the element of surprise," he grits right as he brings me to him, my back to his front as he keeps me flush against his body.
"Look and memorize their faces," he whispers in my ear. "Any one of them could be your lover for the night. Isn't that what you wanted? Why you threw yourself at me?" His chilling voice makes me shudder, terror engulfing me as I realize he's not joking.
"No, no," I shake my head.
"Yes, yes," he mocks, and out of nowhere, he places a blindfold over my eyes, the material obstructing my view and making me blind to the world.
"You think you're such a seductress, well…" he trails off, amusement infusing every words. "Seduce away," he laughs.
Panic overtakes me and I start flailing my arms around in an effort to get away from him and get rid of the blindfold.
But I don't get to do anything as he has my wrists secure, a handcuff clicking into place.
"Let the game begin," he chuckles. "And don't worry. I'll be here to give them instructions," he says as he throws me over his shoulder. I keep struggling, but it's in vain as he places me on the chair I'd seen in the middle of the room.
And before I can think to stand up and run, he has my feet bound too, ensuring I have no freedom of movement.
"Jungkook, please no. Please don't," I beg him, the desperation in my voice clear. "Anything but this, please."
"Tsk, tsk, Y/n," his tongue clicks with the sound. "Not so brave now, are you?" his laugh becomes more and more distant as I realize he's moved away from me.
"Too late, little liar," he says from afar, and my anxiety skyrockets.
Suddenly, music starts blasting in the room, the sound masking any other noise around and making sure I don't know what's going on around me.
And then there's his voice. In the speakers. "Number 1. It's your turn."
My eyes widen behind my blindfold, my heart drumming in my chest. The music is so loud I can't hear anything—not steps on the floor indicating movement, nor breathing next to me, a sign that someone is near.
I'm completely in the dark.
But that's what he wanted, didn't he?
He wanted my terror. He wanted to push me beyond mere fear.
The absence of all my senses is already messing with me, and when I feel a hand touch me, I jump up, startled.
But the hand is not deterred. If anything, it becomes even more insistent as it glides all over my body.
I scream.
Or I think I do.
I can't even hear myself above the deafening sound of the music. My throat vibrates, but my ears don't pick up anything.
The pressure of the hands increases as they settle over my breasts, prodding, pinching and poking.
"Please, stop," I utter the useless words, tears burning at the back of my eyes.
But my cry for help is in vain.
The hands continue to assault my body, and I feel them everywhere. My neck.
My breasts.
And lower.
"Number 2. Let's spice things up a little," Jungkook's voice blares through the speakers, and I have a small reprieve from the roving hands—enough to draw breath again.
But that is short lived as I find myself out of the chair and laid on the floor on my stomach.
I struggle against my bounds, though I know it to be useless, all the while, Jungkook's chuckle reverberates through the room, the sound of his derisive laugh the only thing making it past the barrier of sound.
My dress is pushed up my ass, and that's when my true terror begins.
The cold air hits my skin, goosebumps appearing all over. And it's then that I feel them again—foreign hands that roam all over my flesh.
My cries become more urgent, all in hopes he will be able to hear me and stop this madness—stop it before it goes too far.
But that's not his goal.
No, his goal is to humiliate me and strip me of any bit of human decency I have left. Isn't that what he said? That he would make me rue the day I ever crossed his path?
On the sidelines, Jungkook encourages the man to continue, become bolder.
And he does.
Gripping my panties to the side, he rips them from my body, my most intimate place exposed in the most degrading way possible.
"No, no," I keep shaking my head, hoping this isn't true. That it's just a bad dream. That it's not actually happening to me.
"Number 3. Your turn."
I gasp, breathing deeply as I try to focus on this moment of reprieve. My hands are bound behind my back, but I don't let that stop me. Not as I keep bashing my wrists against the cuffs, thinking that broken bones are preferrable to being raped.
I push and I pull, everything in an attempt to get myself free of them.
And though my flesh bruises and my joints twist, I realize it's all in vain.
Especially as a cold touch sears itself into my skin, fingers trailing lower down my ass before dipping between my legs.
A strangled sound escapes me, but it's muffled by all the noise around. Though I scream and scream, nothing works.
A finger probes between my legs, gliding over my folds before pushing inside.
My body freezes, my throat clogged with revulsion.
"Please no," the silent plea escapes my lips, but there's no one to hear it —much less listen to it.
I buck against the person, trying to push the hand away. But one firm grip on my hip and he has me in place, playing with me to his heart's content.
My breath is coming in short spurts, my anxiety already at its peak point as I realize everything I do is useless. Whether I want or not I will be raped.
And Jungkook is undoubtedly gloating by the sides, watching me get assaulted by the random men he hired.
Sobs rack my body, a low tremor engulfing me and making me shake uncontrollably.
"Number 4. Let's take this to the next level," his voice resounds, full of amusement.
This time, however, not even the break between the switches is enough to help me calm down. Instead, I'm hyperventilating because I know what's coming. I know what the next level is, and my mind is already dying on me as it tries to make me block everything out.
But how can I, when the next time I'm touched it's to feel something hard against my ass.
My mouth opens, but this time nothing will come out.
He straddles me, his erection between my ass cheeks and that's when I know I'm fighting a losing battle.
It's only a matter of time now.
And as he separates my cheeks, gliding the hard length between them before positioning the head at my entrance, I squeeze my eyes shut.
"I want to die," I whisper to myself, a prayer to a void that won't talk back.
"Stop." JK's voice booms.
"I have a deal for you, Y/n. Number 4 can continue. Or," he pauses, and the anticipation is killing me—already willing to do anything to escape this.
My blindfold is already soaked from my tears, my throat sore and painful.
"Submit to me," he continues. "Crawl to me and beg me to spare you and I will," his malefic laugh echoes above the music.
He doesn't let me ponder his offer as he adds. "Lift your hands if you agree. You have three seconds."
One humiliation or the other. In the end, I'm not walking away unscathed.
But there is no choice as I immediately lift my hands up. And just like that, the man is off me.
My cuffs give way as I move my hands and I realize my feet have been freed too.
Scrambling to put myself together, I pull my dress over my legs, quickly removing my blindfold.
I blink.
The sudden change makes it hard for my eyes to accommodate to the new light. But as I blink some clarity into my eyes, it's to see there's no one else in the room but me and JK.
There are no men.
Not one soul.
He's sitting on the chair, his legs apart, his hands on his knees as he stares at me intently.
One hand turns, palm up, as two fingers beckon me to him.
He wants me to crawl.
I swallow hard, every cell in my body rebelling at the thought.
But the threat is still looming over my head, and if there's one thing I've learned in my twenty-two years of life it's that you should know when to pick your battles.
And this is already a lost one.
Positioning myself on my knees, I drag myself towards him.
His eyes narrow at me as he looks at me with an air of condescension. There's no doubt that he wanted me to crawl on my hands and knees, not just like this. This one small act of rebellion is the only way I can still keep a piece of myself, and so I am not willing to compromise.
Moving towards him, I lay at his feet when I reach him, waiting for his decree. It's when I'm by his side that I notice something. His pants are unbuckled, his zipper lowered, and I note the hard outline of his cock.
My gaze whips back to his, the question written all over my face.
He merely smirks, placing his two fingers under my jaw and bringing me closer. Using his other hand, he produces a small remote. And as he clicks on one button, his voice resounds in the speakers.
"Number 1. It's your turn."
My eyes widen as I realize what he'd done. Everything had been pre- recorded.
But why?
"You're mine to torture," he says cruelly. "Mine to torment," his mouth tugs up in a twisted smile. "And now mine to own," he chuckles.
"You're a bastard," I spit at him, trying to wrench myself from his grasp.
"And you're caught, little liar. This was just to show you you're at my mercy."
He lowers his face to mine.
"I can end you anywhere. Anytime," he rasps against my lips. "So think twice before you try your wiles on me, Y/n. Because next time," his nostrils flare. "It might not end with this."
He flings me away from him, and I fall to my ass. I stare at him unblinking, somehow unable to react.
Adrenaline keeps pumping in my veins, the scare from before still strong in my mind.