Night came and they still didn’t leave.

I had stopped asking when they would. The question no longer made sense. My apartment had stopped feeling like mine sometime around the third time they bent me over my own kitchen table. By the time the sun went down, it felt like their private collection room—and I was the only thing they collected.

Harlan fucked me first after dark.

He put me on my back on the living room rug, pushed my knees up to my chest, and thrust into me in deep, possessive strokes while the twins watched. My cunt was so used and sensitive that every movement dragged a broken...