As a sound penetrated the silence of the car, I peeled my eyes open. My body, too worn out to jerk from the noise, I stayed as I was. Even if I wanted to move, the drugs were too far into my system to let me do anything but just be a limp mess.
“Hello?” the man’s voice wasn’t as stern as before, or maybe I was just out of it enough not to know the difference.
“Got your text. How far out are you?” The male voice was softer, and there was movement on his end.
“Ten, twenty tops.” The car slowed as a turn signal was sounded.
“Okay. I should be there in thirty. Anything other than the normal?” The car turned, and if it weren’t for the seatbelt, I’d have fallen over towards the man
“No.” The man gently pushed my shoulder back against the door. “I do want a drug test run. Full work up.”
“Sure thing.”
There was no end greeting, just silence as the man drove. I could have sworn he sped up, but as my eyes refused to stay open, I’d never be able to tell.
Chapter 4
Dakota
The silky material covering my body was soft. Whatever I was lying on was like a cloud, caging me in.
I knew this comfort wasn’t going to last once I woke up, so I stayed as still as I possibly could. Nothing for me was ever good, and if it happened to be so, it was always taken out from under me in a matter of seconds.
There would be a price to pay for this tiny bit of comfort.
It didn’t matter how I got to be here. Who knows if this man used my body like so many others while I was passed out and unaware of what was going on around me? I assumed he had, just like others have before him.
Breathing in deep, I tried to take better stock of my body without moving more than needed. Everything hurt, which wasn’t unexpected. Shifting just the tiniest bit, my pelvis ached the most, and Ihad to grit my teeth to keep the pained sound from forming. It didn’t feel like anything was leaking out of me, and that bit alone gave me the tiniest bit of relief.
I’d rather take bruises and fractures over a hurting ass and dick any time. A man could only deal with such type of pain for so long.
Settling still against the covers, I refused to move again.
Maybe my dick was broken this time. That had to explain why it stung so badly. What other reason was there for it to feel like it was on fire, even when I was soft as ever?
Sniffing back tears that wouldn’t fall anyway, I slowly moved my fingers and toes. All ten of each were there. Yet, there was something that pulled against the back of my hand.
It took too much work to try to open my eyes. I briefly wondered if they had been glued shut but then thought better of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone did, in fact, glue or tape them.
My brain was too sluggish to worry about it, though. With my breathing mostly even, my bodyslack against the bed, I took a deep breath in, letting clean air fill my lungs.
Wiggling a foot, I knew I wasn’t drugged at the exact moment. Or maybe I was. There had to be other drugs that other men used. The drugs that the older men loved to use mainly were to keep me hard for hours on end. Sometimes, the drugs were just to relax me. Or a mix of both.
“…not fit for company. I told you that.” Even though the voice was growly, I didn’t move other than to breathe. Maybe if I stayed where I was, I could hold off on the pain and punishments that would be coming my way. I wasn’t sure if my body could hold up under any more of anything right this second.
I was so freaking tired in a way I could never explain.
“I already sent my report. And pictures. That’s all I have right now.” Another pause as footsteps came closer. “Collin will be back, and I’ll ask him to write up his medical report. But I refuse-“ another pause. This one is longer. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t tell you.”
A few seconds later, when I thought the man may have left the room I was in, the bed dipped slightly. Then, a finger or two touched against my throat, where my heartbeat had to be easily seen.
Just as quickly, the touch left along with the form on the bed.
Whatever mixture of drugs that had to be in my system stopped me from jerking at the unexpected crunch against a wall or door.
I was just glad it wasn’t directed at me. Being a punching bag was never fun, but it was a role: part of being a slave.
I forced my dry eyes to open. My lashes peeled away like dried mud. Everything was blurry as I blinked over and over.
