She won’t last long enough for it to matter.
They never do.
He likes them young, docile, and fertile.
Once she’s pregnant, he’ll ship her off to the baby farm.
When the child is born, it will be adopted, be trained to be a future soldier, or go to the Lamb Society. None of these futures are promising.
Hector promises that my child is being cared for in an orphanage and that when I’ve earned out my contract, he’ll give me custody.
I don’t truly believe that, but I keep doing anything he asks of me. Anything to get closer to the truth of where my baby is.
“You sent for me?” I ignore the woman. I know better than to acknowledge her or offer her any comfort.
“Seems this one is lacking.” He licks his lips as he fists his dick. “Come. Show her how it’s done.”
Twisting the hair tie off my wrist, I wrap it around my hair, making a ponytail. Sadly, I know Hector’s preferences. I go to my knees and spit on the bulbous head, then lick my palm.
I close my eyes and take him into my mouth, hating the bitter taste of his flesh on my tongue. In my head, I’m imagining sinking my teeth into him and biting, ripping his appendage from his body like a feral beast. I don’t do that though.
I can’t.
Not yet.
Not until I know where my kid is.
I perform like a good slut. Moaning on cue. Praising the man like he’s some sort of God when we all know he’s not even close.
I stroke and pump as I lick and suck.
His grip on my ponytail tightens.
I take him to the back of my throat and play with his balls.
“Fuck, pequeña flor. Fuck.” He groans, spurting hot ropes of semen onto my tongue while his little bitch watches. At least her tears have stopped. I hate it when they cry.
The tears won’t save her.
Only condemn her. He gets off on the pain.
He grabs her forcefully, digging his fingers into her chin. “Open your mouth,” he tells her, then looks at me. “Spit,” he orders.
I do as he says. I spit his cum into her mouth like a bird feeding her baby. It’s vile. Disgusting. The act makes me want to vomit, and I will. Just not in front of him.
“Now swallow,” he commands.
I know what’s coming. I go sideways as she throws up all over his shoes.
His hand flies back, then whips across her cheek. “¿Qué le pasa a esa perra estúpida?”
What’s wrong with that stupid bitch, he questions, but I don’t answer.
“My precious flower,” Javi coos, pinching my chin, his rancid breath washing over my face. “You better watch your back with the Kings. They’ll pluck every petal from your pretty little stem.”
I roll my eyes at the asshole. The Kings I can handle. Having to smell his breath, however…
“You know.” His fingers dance along my shoulder. His touch makes my skin crawl. “I could make a request to keep you here.”
