Chapter 2

I made my way upstairs, each step an effort, and sank into the bath, the hot water a futile balm against the deep, bone-aching soreness. Sam called when I was in the bath; I hesitated, my hand hovering over the screen before I forced myself to answer. The conversation was a tightrope walk over a chasm, every word a lie. He asked about my day, and I said it was fine. He couldn’t know. I asked him when he was coming home, my voice carefully neutral. Sunday night, he said. I told him I loved him, the words tasting like ash in my mouth, and ended the call.

The next morning, my body was a map of the previous day’s violation, a dull, persistent throb in muscles I hadn’t known existed. I went to check on Andy and found him still in bed. I knocked on his door, and his voice, small and distant, invited me in. He was just sitting there, staring at the wall. I told him he had to go to school, that we had to act normal. I told him to call me if he needed anything. I told him Sam would be home Sunday night. After a long, stilted conversation that went nowhere, he finally agreed, moving like an old man as he got ready.

Andy was late getting home from school I hoped Kevin had not hurt him. I watched from the window, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach, as a strange car pulled into the driveway. A heavy-set Black girl with a surprisingly cute face and enormous breasts got out, followed by Andy. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he sprinted for the door. He burst inside, his eyes wide with a frantic light I didn’t recognize, and grabbed my face, kissing me hard on the lips. “Best day of my life,” he panted, his breath smelling of something unfamiliar. “Got homework,” he muttered, and disappeared up the stairs before I could ask another question. “Dinner?” I called after him. “Already ate,” was the faint reply. Later that night, my phone buzzed with a text. There were no pleasantries. “I will see you Friday after school. Have food and drinks ready for this weekend. You’re going to have some guests.” The phone slipped from my trembling fingers. My heart sank. Andy must have told Kevin when Sam gets back.

The rest of the week settled into a grotesque parody of normalcy. The only disruption to our quiet suburban routine was Andy’s new, jarring enthusiasm for school. Every afternoon, I’d watch from the window as the same car dropped him off, the same heavy-set Black girl with the startlingly pretty face leaning out to give him a quick, possessive kiss on the cheek before he scrambled for the door. It was a performance of teenage joy, and it made my skin crawl.

Thursday, he burst through the door, his face alight with a frantic energy that seemed too big for his body. “I have a girlfriend!” he announced, his voice cracking with excitement. I asked if it was the girl I’d seen kissing him, and he confirmed it, her name was Ashly. She had asked him to be her boyfriend. I pasted on a smile, the muscles in my face aching with the effort. “That’s great, honey,” I managed, the words feeling like stones in my throat. He didn’t seem to notice my hollow tone, already running up the stairs to his room, leaving me alone in the echoing silence of the foyer.

At night, Sam’s calls became a form of torture. I would press the phone to my ear, his voice a warm, distant reminder of a life that no longer felt like mine. I wanted to tell him everything—the stench of that apartment, Kevin’s hands, the way my body had betrayed me. But the words would die in my throat, suffocated by the cold, hard proof Kevin held. The photos he’d sent were a constant, sickening presence in my mind: crystal clear images of Andy’s face pressed between my thighs, his tear-streaked cheeks and wide, horrified eyes immortalized. And then me, my own face a mask of broken surrender as I performed the ultimate degradation on my own son. Kevin hadn’t just taken our bodies; he’d stolen our future and was holding it for ransom.

Friday came. I woke before dawn, the dread already coiling in my stomach, a physical presence that made my heart pound against my ribs like a trapped bird. All day long, that frantic rhythm was my only company. In a haze of dissociation, I found myself shopping for the party. I did not purchase things I would buy for a teenage party; I bought alcohol—liquor, beer, and wine. But for food, I figured pizza would work.

I was on edge all day, a live wire of anxiety. Andy came in the house after school, followed by Ashley. Ashley greeted me, her voice syrupy sweet. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Davidson! I’m so excited about your party.” “Good, sweetie,” I said, the words scraping my throat, trying to act like this was normal, like my son and I weren’t being blackmailed into this. “Oh, Mrs. Davidson,” Ashley added, “Kevin wanted me to tell you the guest list. It’s me, Kevin, Marcus, Craig, Latisha, and Trevor. Oh, and it’s a themed pajama party.” Her smile was a predatory slash across her face. “I got to go get ready,” she said, and followed Andy up to his room.

My stomach turned at the theme. I knew that meant no one would be wearing much clothing. I went to my room and found a matching set of pajama shorts and a button-up top. I left my bra and panties on. I cooperated in everything, my mind a blank slate of submission, thinking about what Kevin might do if I didn’t.

I was in the kitchen when Andy and Ashley came downstairs. Andy was wearing a T-shirt and boxers. Ashley was wearing a short, loose-fitting satin nightdress with thin spaghetti straps, a low neckline, and a high hemline that fell just below the hips. The dark satin clung to her curves, her heavy, round breasts straining against the fabric, the points of her nipples clearly visible. The hem was so high that with every movement, the bottom curve of her ass cheeks would peek out, leaving no doubt she was completely bare underneath. “Kevin said everyone should be here in ten minutes,” Ashley announced. She walked over to me, grabbed the top button of my pajamas, and unbuttoned it. “I’m sure you don’t wear a bra to bed,” she said, her eyes glinting. Then she started fixing drinks.

A few minutes later, the doorbell chimed, a sharp, metallic sound that cut through my thin veneer of calm. Ashley ran to the door, a picture of eagerness. Kevin was the first to enter, wearing only a T-shirt and boxers. Ashley threw her arms around his neck, the motion causing her short satin nightdress to ride up, exposing the full, round globes of her ass and giving a brief, tantalizing glimpse of her smooth pussy lips. Kevin hugged her back, his large hands cupping her bare ass cheeks possessively before he walked in. Marcus followed, dressed similarly, also claiming a hug and a grope of Ashley’s ass. Craig was next. Then Latisha entered; she was tall and athletic, her body a stark contrast to Ashley’s soft curves. She wore a delicate, semi-transparent lace camisole with a plunging neckline, her dark nipples clearly visible through the fabric, paired with very short matching sleep shorts that did little to hide the shape of what lay beneath. Finally, Trevor. Again, Ashley hugged him, but this time, Trevor reached down and grabbed a handful of her ass cheek, holding on. “Damn, girl, you’re fucking hot tonight,” he growled. Ashley just smiled, reaching down to openly palm the thick bulge in his shorts. “Maybe you can show me more later,” she purred. I glanced at Andy; his face was pale, his eyes wide with a horrified disbelief as he saw it all. They all greeted me with a sickeningly polite chorus of hellos.

Kevin walked over to the large TV in the living room and inserted a USB drive. The screen flickered to life, filling with graphic porn, the bodies moving in time to a heavy dance beat that vibrated through the floor. Latisha immediately started dancing with Marcus, their bodies grinding together. Ashley grabbed Andy’s hand, pulling him into a clumsy dance. Trevor moved around the room, dimming the lights until the room was bathed in a lurid, pulsing glow from the screen. One by one, the guys all pulled their shirts over their heads, tossing them aside. “We don’t sleep with shirts on,” Kevin said by way of explanation. Kevin fixed himself a drink, then handed one to me. “This is nice,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You did good.” His hand slid down to squeeze my ass. “Your costume needs work, though,” he added, his tone hardening. “Go remove your bra and panties.” I hesitated for a fraction of a second, but the look on his face was not a request; it was a threat, cold and absolute.

I retreated to my bedroom, the silence a crushing weight, and did as he commanded. My fingers fumbled with the clasp of my bra, my hands trembling as I slid my panties down my legs. The cool air on my bare skin felt like a violation before I even returned to the living room. When I did, the furniture had been pushed back, creating a makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. I was immediately pulled into the writhing mass of bodies, a sea of anonymous hands that groped and fondled me. Kevin, Marcus, Craig, and Trevor all took their turns, their hands roaming everywhere, but the most shocking violation came from Latisha and Ashley, their touches just as possessive and invasive as the men’s. After a couple of hours of drinking and dancing, I noticed Ashley, Andy, and Trevor were missing. Latisha was now on the couch, a tangle of limbs with Marcus and Craig, their hands all over her athletic body. Kevin grabbed my hand, his grip like a manacle. “Show me to your bedroom,” he commanded. My heart sank into my stomach.

As we walked upstairs, a raw, rhythmic sound grew louder, punctuated by a voice crying out, “Oh fuck, oh fuck! That’s it, give me that big dick, fuck the shit out of me!” It was Ashley. We reached Andy’s room, and his door was wide open. The scene was burned into my eyes in an instant: Ashley was on her back on Andy’s bed, her legs spread wide, her pussy lips red and swollen as Trevor drove into her, his thick cock stretching her open. With every brutal thrust, Ashley cried out in pleasure. “This pussy is mine!” Trevor grunted. “Oh fuck yes, that’s it! Cum in me, Trevor! Shoot your load deep inside of me!” I tried to keep moving, but Kevin’s hand on my arm was like iron, forcing me to watch. Ashley grabbed her own large tits, squeezing them. “That’s it!” she screamed. Her body arched off the bed, her fingers pinching her own nipples as she shrieked, “Oh fuck yes!” A powerful orgasm seized her. Trevor gave one final, deep thrust and buried himself inside her, groaning as he came. I could see his cum leaking out of her, running down her thighs. Kevin still held me there as Ashley rose, unsteady on her feet, and walked over to a shell-shocked Andy, who was standing just inside the doorway. She kissed him, her lips wet and swollen. “You’re such a good boyfriend for letting me fuck Trevor’s big dick,” she purred. “I still love you, Andy.” That’s when Kevin finally pulled me away, and we continued down the hall to the master bedroom.

When we got to my bedroom, the shock on my face must have been a neon sign of my horror. Kevin said, “What did you expect? Did you think Andy would be anything more than a cuckold bitch?” His words were a physical blow. “Ashley likes Andy, but sexually, he can’t compete with a real man.”