All officers exit their cars with guns trained right at us. “Lie on the ground. Face down,” one orders.
“Can I have my phone call before you take us in?” I joke.
“On the ground. Hands behind your back,” he commands.
“Guess that’s a no.” Sin chuckles.
We both slowly get to our knees, lie down, and do as they say. We’re cuffed and shoved into different cop cars.
I watch the man in uniform pull out his cell as he walks around our bikes.
EVERETT
The two days I spent with Kashton fucked me up. Physically, I’ve got bruises. Mentally, I’m drained and confused.
I’ve tried to talk myself down. Given myself every reason in the book as to why it was okay, but it’s not enough.
It was disgusting how desperate I was. How much I begged to be treated like a dog. I even had a collar and leash to complete the act. All I was missing was a butt plug with a tail and a dog bowl that said Good Girl on it. But I didn’t need that because he hand-fed me.
Degradation is a kink we learned to crave at Dollhouse. No one can understand the extent they went to in order to make us need something so bad we feared we may die without it.
Then the drugs.Fuck, the drugs controlled our thoughts and bodies. There’s no winning against them.
Everything was stacked against us. Stripped of not only our clothes but also our dignity—body and mind. We were no longer ourselves. We were who they wanted us to be—sex slaves.
I sit in my bathtub, sipping on a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Sinatra Century Tennessee Whiskey, trying to recover from Kashton. His hands, his cock, his words…they all controlled me for those forty-eight hours.
He steps out of the mausoleum, holding the door for me. In my bare feet, I walk down the two steps and onto the dead grass littered with small twigs. They dig into my feet, but it’s my throbbing pussy that has me whimpering.
I shiver when the cold wind blows my hair around. He drops his bag and the leash to my collar. I wait patiently like a good, trained pet while he digs through his bag and then stands when he finds what he needs. Stepping behind me, he gathers my hair and ties it at the nape of my neck with a rubber band, getting it out of my face the best he can.
Then he picks up the bag and the leash.
“Kashton.” I lick my lips nervously. “Where are we going?” I never thought of asking where we’re going to spend these next forty-eight hours, but I can’t move my arms, and I’m standing naked outside in the middle of the night. Where could we possibly be going?
“To the cathedral,” he answers. “Lead the way, angel.”
He followed behind me, leash in hand, while I walked through the cemetery, down the hill, and back to the cathedral. He let me lead him like an obedient pet. My head was high, and my clamped nipples pushed out like I was a proud dog whose owner was taking her out for an evening walk. The only thing I didn’t do was squat and piss in the grass.
A single tear runs down my cheek, and I take another swig from the whiskey bottle as my mind reminds me of who I really am. Pathetic.
We enter the cathedral and he leads me up the stairs at the back. My legs still shake, and my arms have gone numb. I can’t feel anything but my throbbing pussy, and it aches for him. I’ll take anything. His mouth, his dick, or his fingers. I just need to come.
He pushes a big wooden door open and allows me to enter first. It’s a bedroom. The only one in the cathedral. It’s massive. Big four-poster bed, old wooden floors, and stained-glass windows.
It’d be beautiful if not for the story behind it. “Are you going to fuck me now?” I ask, unable to hide the longing in my voice.
He drops his bag and turns to face me. Slowly he reaches around and removes the rubber band and lets my hair fall over my back. Hooking his pointer finger into the chain of the nipple clamps, he gently pulls me forward.
I trip over my own feet, hissing in a breath at the sting when I step forward.
“Fuck you?” He frowns, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re amused. He’s silently laughing at me.
My pulse races at the thought of him not letting me get off. Is this a punishment? “Please, Kash. I need?—”
“I told you I was going to play with you, Eve.” He interrupts my pleas. “This isn’t about your needs.” I whimper, and it grants me a smirk that I would do anything for. “It’s about mine. The only hole of yours I’m going to be fucking is your pretty face. Over and over. You will wear as much of my cum as you will swallow.”
I part my lips at the mention of him fucking my throat. It’s still so sore, but I’m ready to go again. To show him how good I can be.
