Gios possession devious.., p.1
Gio’s Possession : Devious Series, page 1
Dedicated to all the Indie authors who have fed my reading addiction over the years and inspired me to write.
Trigger Warning
This book contains sexually explicit language and content and is intended for persons 18 years old or older. Triggers included are forced breeding, kidnapping, sexual assault, human trafficking, drugging, murder, physical violence, torture, lying, bc manipulation, blood, gore, and suicide (briefly mention side character). There are also suicidal thoughts by the main character at one point.
This book is dark! The hero is controlling and unhinged. He is willing to do things in this fictional setting that would never be okay in real life. If these items are triggers for you please avoid this story.
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“If you want something you have never had, you must be willing to do something you have never done.”
-Thomas Jefferson
Foreword
I want to thank my book twin, Jayne Rushton. Jayne and I may not live on the same continent, but we have had thousands of 3 am conversations and venting sessions under our belt. She was the first person who encouraged me to write. Twinee, I love you so much! When we met online in a book group, I never imagined that you would become such an important part of my life. Thank you for being exceptional and always listening to my rants, raves, and sometimes silly outbursts.
I owe a huge thank you to my husband and kids who watched me with a book in my hand constantly for years. They told me hundreds of times that I should write a book. Finally, I got the balls to do it!
My sisters are my best friends and my biggest supporters. I love you, Sarah and Ashley, more than you could know.
Thank you to so many friends, but especially Stephanie White, Anne-Victoria, Jessica Ames, Michelle Yenne, and JM Walker. Love you guys to bits and pieces!
I can’t thank all of you individually, but so many people helped me with all the things and I appreciate each and every one of you!
Acknowledgement
Cover by Just Write Creations HOME | justwritecreations
Everly
As I walk up to the front door of the house that I live in with my father, I hear voices. I hate it when he has friends over. They are usually drunk by the time I get home from work. The people he surrounds himself with are shady, and I don’t feel comfortable around them.
The voice I hear coming from inside is one that I know, and I get a shiver that runs down my spine. It’s my father’s friend Oliver. This guy really gives me the creeps. He’s been hanging around more and more lately. I don’t know what those two are up to, but it’s never good when they are hanging around together.
My father is not a good man. He likes to drink, smoke, and gamble. He doesn’t keep jobs, and when he does, the money gets drunk or gambled away. He has gotten us into some bad situations over the last couple of years. Situations that I usually end up having to pay our way out of.
I graduated high school almost two years ago, and I’m now twenty years old. I wanted to go to college, but my father wouldn’t allow it. I also couldn’t afford it. I have been working since I was old enough, but I don’t get to spend my money on frivolous things like a normal girl my age. My father ends up taking whatever I have after paying the rent and lights. We barely have food in the house most days, but always have his beer.
I’ve worked a double shift over at the local grocery store and have been standing on my feet from sunup to sundown. Now, all I want is to come home and put something in my empty stomach, take a hot shower, and go to bed. My feet hurt, and my muscles are tired. I am exhausted, and I have a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t eaten a bite since I woke up this morning. I am thankful that I saved a pack of instant noodles for me to eat tonight. I put them on the back shelf of the pantry so that my dad and his friends didn’t eat them. Believe me, my dad isn’t in need of calories.
I dread walking through the door, but as I turn the knob, the voices stop. My dad is sitting in his tattered recliner, and he looks as if he hasn’t showered in days. His shirt has grease and sweat stains. His hair is unkempt. His eyes are glazed over, and I can tell that he’s been drinking and is already drunk. He also has a coffee table of empty beer cans sitting in front of him. The putrid smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat hit my nose.
His friend Oliver is sitting on the couch, and as I meet his eyes, he is looking at me as if I am a juicy piece of meat that he can’t wait to sink his teeth into. I can almost feel his eyes roving over my body and landing on my breasts. Just the thought of his touch makes me nauseous.
“Aren’t you going to greet our guest, Everly?” my father sneers.
I know to walk on eggshells when he’s been drinking, which is all the time lately, but I refuse to play into his games with his disgusting friends. Most of them obviously don’t have jobs because they are always here during the day and sometimes during the night. They all seem to look dirty and haggard.
“I am exhausted, Dad.” I sigh as I hurry to leave the room. My legs feel heavy, and I am lethargic, probably from not eating since yesterday.
I walk past the living room, where they are sitting, and continue to the kitchen. I am determined to avoid their drama tonight. As soon as I see the kitchen, my heart falls. The sink has dirty dishes. The table has a couple of empty beer cans and an empty pizza box. I don’t understand how they dirty so many dishes when there is no food in the house to eat. They buy pizza but don’t save a single slice for me. Truth be known, it was probably paid for with my hard-earned money. I scoff but know there is no use in complaining.
That’s fine. I don’t mind eating my pack of ramen noodles. As I slide into the pantry and reach into the back of the shelf where I hid them, I come up empty-handed. They are missing. I walk over to the sink, and there is a bowl full of ramen sitting in it. It has water from the sink in it. There is a smoked cigarette butt in the bowl and ashes on the noodles. It’s inedible now. My stomach lets out a growl, and I get a pain in my center. I guess I’m going to bed hungry another night. I’m already too frail and thin, losing weight in areas that I don’t have the extra weight to lose.
Anger shoots through my veins as I throw the trash from the counters and table away and wash the dishes in the sink. I wipe off the counters and table, then fill a glass full of ice-cold tap water. I drink as much as I can chug down to stop the hunger pains that are hitting my stomach.
I have to walk back by the living room to get to my room, and as I do, the two men have their heads close together, whispering. They both stop and eye me as I hurriedly scuttle past them.
Once I’m in my room, I let out a breath. Now, if I can just get my hot shower and get some rest, I can put this day behind me. The one blessing I have is that we do have hot water. After a tiring day and sore muscles, it’s a luxury for me to be able to take a long shower. I have some expensive shower gel stashed away that I found on clearance and decided since I’m going to be hungry again, I will give myself a treat. I found a brand that smelled like cherry blossoms. It’s my favorite scent.
As the hot water beats down on my shoulders and tired muscles, I tilt my head back to wet my hair. I don’t splurge on myself a lot, but my shampoo is a sweet but light cherry fragrance that I love. I hurry and rinse my long, dark brown hair. It’s one of the features I have that I actually like. Otherwise, I am very plain-looking. That’s not a bad thing because it helps me blend in and become invisible.
I condition my hair and finish washing off before wrapping a threadbare towel around my body and returning to my room. I startle at the sight of Oliver sitting on my bed.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room?”
I put on more bravery than I actually feel at the moment because I know Oliver is a dangerous man. Not only that, but he’s also made it clear from his needy looks what he wants from me.
Oliver Frank is a short man a bit older than my father. They hang out and drink together as well as bet at the horse track. He’s got a beer gut, chubby cheeks, and a red nose, probably from consuming a diet of alcohol and cigarettes. There is nothing pretty about this man, but what’s most important is that he’s not a nice man. You can feel the vileness seeping from his pores.
“I said, why the fuck are you on my bed, Oliver? If you need to pass out, stay on the couch.”
“Princess, you need to start paying up. Paying your way around here.” He looks at me hungrily as water drips down my body around the towel I’m wrapped in.
My nausea comes back in full swing as I can feel the bile rise in my throat. I understand exactly what he expects me to do.
“Paying my way? Paying my way? I pay for my father to sit at home on his ass and drink beer with you and the other trash he hangs around with. I pay for the beer that you drink when you are here.”
“Little girl, don’t get loud with me. You owe me, and I’m going to get my payment.”
He starts to move toward me, and for every step that he takes, I take a step back toward the door. He continues to spew his vile words at me.
“You prance around here like the little whore that you are, and now I am going to take what I’m owed.”
I notice that I am no longer able to move, and my body is flat against the bedroom door. Now his spittle is splashing me in the face. His breath is putrid and smells of alcohol and decay.
Oliver reaches down to the top of my towel to pull it from around my body. Taking a step back I avoid losing the towel. I decide my best bet is to yell for my dad.
“Dad, help! Help me, Daddy.”
I am desperate for him to come and wrangle Oliver. I knew this day was coming, but I didn’t expect him to be this forward.
His eyes are wide with hunger and foul thoughts.
I manage to turn around to face the door and turn the doorknob, but my door doesn’t open. My door doesn’t have a lock on it, so why isn’t it opening? I scream desperately in hopes that my father isn’t passed out somewhere again.
Still no response. I try my doorknob again. How can it be locked when I don’t have a lock on my door?
Oliver now has his front pressed to my back, and I feel his hardness against my ass.
“Daddy isn’t going to help you, Princess. Who do you think changed the doorknob to one that locks from the outside?”
Tears are burning my eyes. I keep beating on the door, still hoping and praying that my father will bust in and save me.
I feel his lips on my shoulder. “Who do you think sold you to me to use in any way that I please for as long as I please?”
“You are lying. My dad wouldn’t do that. You are a fucking creep.”
I jerk around, facing him, and manage to get my knee up to kick him in the balls. As he doubles over with pain and hatred written across his face, I beat on the door with all of my might.
My head gets jerked back so hard that my neck is throbbing, and my scalp burns. Oliver has me by my hair.
“Look, you cunt, you are going to give me what I paid for.”
Oliver jerks my towel off and mashes his body against mine up against the bedroom door. I’m struggling and fighting against him, but he outweighs me by like eighty pounds at least.
“The harder you struggle, Princess, the harder my cock gets. Fight me.”
He isn’t angry anymore. He’s so turned on that he’s almost euphoric. He’s getting off on me struggling. He picks me up and throws me on top of the bed, takes a running jump, and lands on top of me.
I continue to fight and grab onto his face and gouge my nails into his cheek, screaming as loud as I can, hoping anyone will come in and help me.
He pries my legs apart as I struggle to hold them together. I will never leave the bathroom without being dressed again. That was one of my biggest mistakes. I feel fat sweaty fingers as they slide along my slit and almost enter me.
I know this is it. This is my last chance. I slam my head into his face, hitting his nose and hearing a crunch. Oliver screams. I roll his large body off of me and jump up and grab my towel off of the floor.
“You fucking broke my nose, you cunt. Wesley, let me the fuck out of here.” Oliver screams at my father while holding his nose and catching the blood that is running out of his nose.
My bedroom door flies open, and my father comes in. Thank God. He will get this monster away from me now. To my shock and horror, my father approaches me and slaps me across the cheek. My face is burning hot, and pain streaks across my face.
“You dumb whore. Why can’t you just do what you are told.”
Dad grabs me by the throat and slams me against the wall. My head bounces off the wall, and I am struggling for air. Clawing at his hand that is around my throat and tightening as he screams more obscenities at me.
“Wes, she broke my fucking nose. No pussy is worth this much trouble. You told me she was a slut and would suck my cock and make it worth my while. You said I could have her virgin pussy, and I didn’t even need to wear a condom since she was clean. I was counting on that tight cunt tonight. She needs to be disciplined and shown who the boss is.”
I start to see spots and nearly lose consciousness as I slide down the wall.
My father swings his leg back and kicks me in the ribs, striking me several times. It knocks the air out of me, and a lone tear rolls down my cheek.
“I want my money, Wes. Get me my fucking money, or get your daughter in line so I can have what you owe me. I need a good fuck. I’m going to pick up some willing pussy and get my nose patched up.”
With that, Oliver leaves the room, and my father goes on a tirade. Telling me how I’m a good-for-nothing whore. An ungrateful bitch. That he’s done taking care of my useless ass. My mother would be disgusted by me.
Each word felt worse than the kicks and punches he was giving me. My dad has never been a great father, but I thought he would save me from Oliver. I never thought he would allow and encourage his friend to rape me. The pain and hurt that I felt were worse in my heart than the bruises he was leaving behind.
My body was exhausted and torn down by life. I had lived the life of an old lady before I was twenty years old. I had taken care of myself and my dad since my mother had died. I had paid his debts and put a roof over his head. I thought somewhere under the filthy and atrocious person that he has become that there was some sort of love for me in him.
Now I know there is nothing. Nothing but a wicked and repulsive man left who cares for no one but himself.
Everly
As I pick my body up off the floor, I feel like a bus has hit me. My father really did a number on me. Between the roughing-up that Oliver gave me and then the beating that Dad unleashed on me, I can barely move my sore body. I’m already growing stiff.
Oliver almost raped me, prying my legs open and putting his hands all over my body. His fingers were on the edge of my pussy. I gag as acid rises in my throat.
As much pain as I’m in and I’m hurting badly, I have to get back to the shower. I slowly move toward my bathroom and turn the hot shower back on. As I sit down on the floor and let the scalding water flow over me, I allow my tears to flow.
I feel helpless and hopeless. Where do I go from here? My father traded me to his friend for money like a common whore. I can’t continue living here because it’s not safe. I also refuse to keep working myself to the bone for a man who has no love or respect for his own flesh and blood. Looking back, I can’t figure out why I’ve stayed this long, aside from the fact that he leaves me with no money. Everything I make goes to rent, lights, or into his pocket. Never once has he bought food for me or asked if I needed anything. I have nothing left to live on.
Before my mother died, when I was sixteen years old, my dad worked but was lazy at home. He yelled and fussed at her, and I’ve seen him drunk a few times, where I know he slapped her across the cheek before storming out of the house. I’ve never known him to beat her as severely as he just did me. Mom was a timid woman who tried to make a home for us. She took care of me, cleaned the house, and made a huge dinner on Sundays. She wanted the ideal family life, but my dad just wouldn’t conform. Once they had their fights and he returned home, he would apologize the next day and promise to do better. That would last a week or two, and then he would start drinking again. Mom started having terrible headaches and eventually ended up in the hospital, where they told us she had terminal brain cancer. The last few months, she was bedridden and in a lot of pain. I did what I could to take care of her, but I was still young, and I was terrified. My mother was the only person I had in this world.
My father couldn’t watch her dwindle away and used it as an excuse to drink heavier and to gamble. They repossessed everything we owned, and by that point, Mom was unaware of anything going on. She passed away, and my father acted like it was a regular day. When I called him, he was out at a bar and told me it was for the best that she was gone. I believed him because I didn’t want my mother to suffer, but I also knew I was now well and truly alone. I was a sixteen-year-old kid alone at home when I had to call and report my mother was dead to the police. They had the morgue come and pick up the body. As they left me there in the house alone, I realized I had to take care of myself because my father would not do it. The water running out of the shower head has turned cold, and my teeth chatter as I shiver.
I reach up, turn the water off, and wrap a clean towel around my body. I’m afraid to enter my room after what happened with Oliver, but I don’t have any clean clothes. I noticed my work clothes on the bathroom floor and reach over to pick them up as a dollar bill falls from the pocket. I reach in and grab the wad of money.
