Dynasty (Boys of Winter 1) - Page 60

The men ignore every word that comes out of my mouth and continue working on me. I’m dried off and for just a moment, I’m thankful for the damp towel that’s thrown over my body, but it doesn’t last long until I become their doll to dress up.

Expensive black lace lingerie is pulled from a bag and I watch in confusion as the men force my body into it, strapping me into whorish suspenders and clipping all the little bits together. A pair of sheer thigh-high stockings are drawn up my legs and despite the expensive lace donning my body, I’ve never felt so cheap.

The men finish dressing me and just when I think they’re about to drag me out of here, they release their hold on me and I go crumbling back to the ground. The cramped, dirty cell fades back into darkness, the loud bang of the door is echoed through the cell, and I’m left alone once again.

A blinding light is shone upon my face, startling me awake and I instantly hate myself for falling asleep. I should have been ready. I knew something was coming but with a clean body, my wrists and ankles freed, and my old torn clothes to rest my head against, sleep claimed me just like my captors did.

A man grips my arm tightly as he pulls me to my feet, dragging me from the damp cell. Yet somehow, the persistent drip, drip, drip, sound remains trapped in my mind.

The metal door of my cell slams behind me, and I look around, only now just getting the first look at where I am.

A long hallway looms before me with metal doors lining each side and my gut tells me that every single cell is filled with girls just like me.

Puddles of dirty water line the hallway as I do everything I can to not let the other girls' cries of protest get to me. Their sounds have already crippled me, and if I let them affect me any longer, I won’t have what it takes to get myself out of here.

It’s darker than normal, so my guess is that I’m on my third night. I must have slept for a while, and because of that, I’ve found a renewed energy, but I’m not about to waste it here. I need to be careful. I need to play it smart.

Hope is a dangerous thing, but right now, it’s all I’ve got.

The men on either side of me drag me along and I stumble while trying to keep my feet underneath me, but after not eating or drinking in three days, I’m weaker than I’ve ever been before. Not only does my body hurt, but my mind and heart do too.

We make it to the end of the hallway and the man on the left releases his grip on me and I instantly fall into the other guy who lets me crumble to the ground, scratching up my knees. The guy on the left reaches for a door and unwinds a heavy chain before pushing the door open wide.

The noise hits me first.

I hear a room full of chatter—murmurs, whispers, wolf-whistles. I’m grabbed off the dirty ground, my knees bleeding, and thrown headfirst into the room with a bright spotlight coming down over me, instantly blinding me.

The noises only get louder. Cat-calls and murmurs of appreciation sound all around the room as my aching wrists are gripped and I’m tugged right through the door. It slams with a loud bang behind me, and as the man holding my wrists drags me through the room, I’m put on display.

Random men grab at me, feeling my body, touching what’s not theirs to touch, and I can’t help but wonder if these are the men who are going to buy me. My fingers curl into fists but the familiar feel of my brass knuckles isn’t there. I’m pushed through the crowd, stumbling and running into things as the blinding lights remain on my face, the only bonus being that the chill in the air seems to have vanished in this big room.

I’m put on parade as I’m dragged through the rest of the room, every inch of my body put on show. Men pull at the cups of my lace bra, peeking at what’s hidden below as hands slip between my legs, grabbing my pussy, squeezing my thighs and ass.

Running out of Carver’s bed three nights ago, I felt like a mouse in a lion’s den, but it turns out that I had absolutely no idea what that saying truly meant until this very moment.

“Fuck yeah,” a voice murmurs right by my ear, the man’s hot breath brushing over my cheek. “You want to come home to daddy? I’ll fuck that tight pussy every night, my little whore.”

Tags: Sheridan Anne Boys of Winter Erotic
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