Valentino Twins: Stuck in Between

Chapter 3

Irene’s heart raced, her breath quickened, and a shiver ran down her spine. Fear gripped her, tightening its icy fingers around her trembling body. She finds herself grappling with a profound sense of speechlessness, a consequence of the tumultuous events that unfolded mere moments ago.

The onlookers remained motionless, their faces devoid of any discernible emotion. It was not out of apathy or indifference, but rather a deep-rooted fear that had taken hold of their hearts.

These two men, whose presence commanded respect and trepidation, held an undeniable power within the confines of the auction house. And so, in the face of their formidable reputation, not a single soul dared to react.

The valiant individuals who gallantly saved her from the clutches of captivity, instead of succumbing to the deplorable act of purchasing her, proceeded to eliminate every single male present within the confines of the auction establishment.

They bought her and brought her along. In the stillness of the room, she remained seated, her body quivering with an overwhelming sense of dread. Their hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of her delicate form, their touch lingering with particular intensity in the most intimate recesses of her being.

Her womanhood was constantly subjected to their invasive touch, their fingers relentlessly rubbing and penetrating, causing fear to grip the young girl’s heart. In the depths of her despair, she clung to the flickering hope that salvation would soon be within her grasp. Alas, fate had other plans in store for her fragile existence. Her gaze remained fixated on her lap, unyielding and unwavering.

The young girl, her countenance heavy with despair, meekly lowered her head, a silent acknowledgment of the unspeakable violation she endured at the hands of those who had purchased her.

In addition, a constant chorus of grunts accompanies their actions. She found herself in a state of uncertainty, unaware of the impending fate that awaited her in the clutches of those who now held her captive. She is acutely aware that her existence will be devoid of joy and happiness.

Positioned just aft of the chauffeur, they found themselves in the company of one of their esteemed employees. Positioned between the two, a young maiden finds herself with a pair of identical siblings.

“She is truly a sight to behold, my dear brother,” whispered the individual beside her on the right, his voice filled with an overwhelming enthusiasm that seemed to embrace her exquisite femininity.

Irene found herself reluctant to intervene, for she harbored a deep-seated fear that doing so would inevitably result in her own lifeless body joining the ranks of the frigid corpses that adorned the auction house.

With an astute eye, the young girl possesses the remarkable ability to discern between two individuals who bear an uncanny resemblance to one another.

The individual positioned to her left was the one who tenderly applied pressure, displaying a cautious demeanor as they cradled her. There exists a certain individual whose demeanor exudes an undeniable air of eagerness that is inextricably intertwined with a propensity for violence.

“Indeed, she is Vixen. She definitely is.” A low, guttural growl emanated from the figure positioned to her left, mirroring the unsettling sound that had just escaped her own lips.

The young lady delicately pressed her teeth into her lower lip in a valiant effort to stifle the tears that threatened to spill forth. She yearned to suppress any sound that could potentially provoke their ire.

She had borne witness to the events that transpired some time ago and harbored an ardent desire to prevent their recurrence, particularly when it concerned her own well-being.

In a state of utter distress, she found herself at the mercy of the men who callously pulled her along. At the present moment, she found herself devoid of any inkling as to how to proceed, save to succumb to the overwhelming grip of fear.

She trembled with fear, consumed by the uncertainty of what these individuals might inflict on her. Irene's heart trembled with fear, a sentiment that resonated deeply within her captivating eyes, which now appeared devoid of their usual sparkle and vitality.

A mélange of weariness, hunger, trepidation, and apprehension intertwine within the depths of the young girl’s emotions.

Who among us could possibly remain unafraid when she finds herself purchased and now, her tender form held captive by hands that cling to her with an unyielding grip?

“I’m feeling horny just sitting beside her, Vincent,” muttered the man who rubbed his hardening manhood in his pants.

The young girl cast a nervous glance towards it, her eyes widening with trepidation. A gulp escaped her lips, betraying her anxiety. That coursed through her. They possess an audacious spirit, unafraid to venture into the unknown.

“Later, brother, later.” Vincent, with a measured and thoughtful response, replied to his dear brother. Her complexion transformed, draining of color as if all life had been sucked from her.

The moment the sound reached her ears, she possessed an innate understanding of the impending fate that awaited him. With a graceful motion, the Vixen delicately ran her fingers through her lustrous mane, as if caressing the very essence of her identity.

“Good girl, you’ll be rewarded for being a good girl kitten,” he said huskily, making her shiver with fear.

Her lips, parched and cracked, mirrored the aridity of her emotions at that very moment. In the depths of Irene’s being, only a select few emotions now stir. In those bygone days, she possessed an air of grace and poise that now eludes her. Her once nimble legs, akin to flickering candles, now bear the weight of exhaustion.

The car stops in front of a black mansion. The young girl’s eyes caught only a fleeting glimpse, for she found herself paralyzed in her seat and consumed by an overwhelming sense of fear. As the men’s hands relinquished their hold on her, she experienced a sense of liberation coursing through her being.

She, too, experienced a sense of their disillusionment, for they had not caressed every inch of her being despite their brief time together. They left by opening the door.

“Get out, kitten.” Vixen, with an air of authority, addressed her interlocutor.

Startled, the young girl leapt into the air, her heart pounding in her chest. The utterances that escaped his lips possessed a newfound acerbity, surpassing even their previous severity.

With a trembling breath, she swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air as she summoned the courage to shut her eyes, shutting out the world around her.

Irene yearned for her current circumstances to be nothing more than a figment of her imagination, a mere dream that would dissipate upon waking. She longed to find herself back within the confines of the orphanage, rather than having fled from its sheltered walls.

“Don’t make me repeat my words, kitten. You won’t like the punishment you’ll get from me,” the man spat.

Seated in stillness, she maintained her composure as a colossal hand seized her, forcefully extracting her from the confines of the vehicle.

A high-pitched yelp escaped the girl's lips. Her heart pounded in her chest in a wild rhythm that matched the rapid pace of her thoughts. Fear gripped her like icy fingers. Every nerve in her body tingled with a sense of impending doom. She felt as she appeared to resemble a forlorn kitten, adrift and uncertain of her path.

“Be quiet, kitten, or I’ll tie you up!” It was the other twin who exclaimed, her voice carrying a sense of urgency and surprise.

The girl’s delicate lips quivered with trepidation as she found herself caught between the grasps of two distinct hands. The girl’s delicate footsteps faltered under the weight of her tears, as if the very ground beneath her trembled in sympathy.

Two men, their grip unyielding, tugged at her, their forceful actions leaving her with little choice but to follow their lead.

They entered the mansion. With haste consuming her every step, the girl found herself bereft of the luxury of casting her gaze upon the place she was on the verge of entering. With a firm grip, they pulled her up the staircase.

Tears streamed down the girl's face as her foot collided with the unforgiving steps, eliciting a pained sob. However, her distress went unnoticed by the two people who remained oblivious to her anguish, their attention fixed elsewhere.

She was left in a state of perplexity, her mind grappling with the enigma of their whereabouts. Her gaze fixated on the door, her vision consumed by its slow, deliberate opening.

In perfect synchrony, the twins made their entrance, their presence filling the room with an air of mystery and intrigue. Her hand remained firmly ensconced within their grasp, unyielding to any attempt at release.

With each fleeting desire to withdraw her hand from their grasp, an invisible force seemed to seize hold, constricting with an unyielding tenacity. The vice-like grip, unrelenting in its determination, gradually constricted her delicate appendage, impeding the natural flow of life-giving blood.

The girl, her body slightly hunched, deliberately averted her gaze from the room that surrounded her.

“Look up kitten,” Vixen ordered. The girl’s natural inclination was to heed the beckoning call of the twins, causing her gaze to

ascend.

As her gaze fell upon the contents of the room, a profound astonishment overcame her, causing her jaw to descend in a literal sense. Her complexion grew pale, and a nervous gulp escaped her lips.

The girl instinctively retreated, her steps faltering, but Vixen and Vincent, ever vigilant, swiftly closed the distance, denying her the opportunity to escape. They drew her yet again. With a forceful shove, they propelled her into the room.

A mischievous glint danced in the twins’ eyes as they exchanged a knowing look, their lips curling into smirks before they uttered their words.

“Welcome to our harem, little kitten; you will later please your masters.”

Irene awoke abruptly, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, her heart pounding in her chest. The memories, so vivid and alive within her, possessed an uncanny freshness, as if they had transpired mere moments ago. Her gaze wandered, exploring the surroundings and taking in the scene before her.

As her eyes fell upon the familiar confines of her room, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. Not her dream, at the very least. With a graceful motion, the woman rose from her seat and embarked on a purposeful journey towards the heart of the home—the kitchen. Her steps were swift, a testament to her determination.

She reached into the cool depths of the refrigerator, her delicate fingers curling around the handle of a crystal-clear jug. The condensation on the container glistened in the soft light, a testament to the refreshing contents within.

Without hesitation, she brought the jug to her lips, eschewing the need for a vessel to contain the liquid. As the water cascaded into her mouth, a sense of pure satisfaction washed over her, quenching her thirst and invigorating her senses.

Unbeknownst to her, the icy water had soaked through her delicate negligee, leaving her chest damp and chilled. Irene found herself plagued by the persistent presence of that haunting nightmare. The room exuded a tranquil stillness as it settled into the plush armchair, positioned gracefully across from the elegant mahogany table.

In the depths of her being, she held steadfast to the conviction that what she had come to know was nothing short of the truth. Once more, she found herself assuming that it had occurred, just as it had in the past.

Tremors coursed through his hand as he gingerly rested it on the table's smooth surface. She feigned strength. She maintained a facade of composure, concealing her inner turmoil, until she finally arrived home and sank into the solace of her bed.

Irene, once a formidable force, had vanished, leaving in her wake a fragile and vulnerable young woman. Each evening, her nightmares unfold like a captivating teleserye, intricately weaving together fragments of her past that she fervently wishes to leave behind.

Irene, with an air of nonchalance, took the jug to her lips and took a long, satisfying sip, bypassing the need for a glass. The weary young woman appeared parched, her thirst evident from the arduous journey she had undertaken and the futile exertions she had made in her pursuit.

‘Why does it have to be me?’ She pondered the question in the depths of her own mind.

Had she not intervened to preserve her own existence, it is quite likely that she would have succumbed to the depths of insanity. With keen awareness, she understood the inevitable consequences that awaited her should she fail to rescue herself.

The somber ambiance of the room enveloped her, intensifying the depths of her melancholy. In the tranquil embrace of slumber or amidst the cloak of darkness, she harbors an aversion to any semblance of luminosity.

The gentle glow of the light serves as a persistent reminder, ceaselessly evoking memories of days long gone. The young maiden’s throat tightened as she swallowed.

The lingering wound within her heart remains unhealed, a constant ache that refuses to subside. As the tendrils of her nightmare wove through the fabric of her consciousness, a haunting reminder of the past, she found herself grappling with the realization that her wounded heart and weary mind may never find solace.

Irene yearned to widen her gaze and fully take in the world that enveloped her. Without a hint of concern, she chose not to rouse her manager from his slumber. No matter the frequency with which she implored her to rouse her from the clutches of her nocturnal terrors,

She didn’t want it because she was tired. Mame Lenie is the only person who cares about her. Under her name, the townhouse was acquired. She didn’t want to be alone here because she felt afraid every night. She neglected the notion of acquiring her own abode.

A significant portion of her hard-earned savings has been diligently earmarked for the noble purpose of settling her outstanding debt.

The weight of her debt shall not go unaddressed; she shall bear the burden of p*****t. In an effort to avoid any indebtedness to those individuals, she will undertake the task at hand.

She harbors no desire to engage with them once more. Rekindling any association with them is akin to embarking upon a perilous journey where one’s fate is sealed in the depths of a grave.