Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
The old man reaches for me again, but I spring back out of the way, my back slamming against the bars of my cage. He goes to say something when the big burly security guard from the door shoves him back, stepping in front of the cage and blocking my view. “You know the rules,” he grumbles, in a thick accent I can’t place. “Touch the girls before purchase, and you’ll lose your right to bid.”
“She broke my fucking nose,” he argues. “What am I supposed to say to my wife?”
“Tell her you’re a handsy fuck who got his ass beat by some bitch,” he says, shoving him back. “You want to touch, you pay up first.”
“I want her punished,” he insists, making my back stiffen.
“Not my fucking problem,” he growls. “Purchase her first, then do whatever the fuck you want to her. Until then, keep your hands off.”
With that, the security guard gives him another shove, pushing him deeper into the crowd, leaving me to the slew of men who probably have some fucked-up rape fetish. These are the kind of guys who get off on beating women. I know their type from years of working at the bar. Holding down a woman and taking what they want makes them feel big. These are the type of men who play sick games when they think no one is looking, but I’d rather die than be one of their toys.
Another man approaches, maybe mid-fifties, and while he doesn’t look as wicked as the last, there’s definitely something poisonous in his eyes. “You know how to fuck, girl?” he questions, his gaze narrowing as he glances at my body.
I scoff. There’s no way in hell I’m entertaining this line of questioning. “Why don’t you go home and fuck your wife?”
His gaze narrows as he lifts his chin, making some kind of assumption about me. “Virgin then?”
Ah, this man has particular tastes. Why am I not surprised to find men with virgin kinks in here? He’s definitely looking in the wrong place if that’s what he thinks he’ll be getting from me. I like cock. Big ones, small ones, angry, and pierced. But the ones with that slight curve, goddamn, they’re my favorite. I wouldn’t call myself a slut exactly, but I’m not known for being shy when it comes to asking for what I need. Though, there’s no way in hell the men in this room will ever know that.
Glancing away, I let him make up his own mind about me, and when he scoffs in distaste, I find myself looking back. “You’re just a common whore, aren’t you?” he says, almost sounding disappointed. “What about your ass? Ever had someone claim that?”
Realizing he won’t stop until he knows just how many cherries I’ve popped, I step right into the bars, letting my tits squish up against the cold metal. “You’re right. I’m nothing but a common whore, the perfect little slut. I’ve had more cocks buried in my ass than you could imagine,” I tell him. “I’m not the sweet little innocent bitch you’re looking for.”
He watches me for a moment longer, and when he finally steps away, I feel a weight dropping off my shoulders. As he walks away in disappointment, I realize my mistake. I should have played the part of a little angel. He would have purchased me, taken me home, and fucked me until I bled, but then it would have been over. He would have been done with me. I would have been thrown aside and he’d be out searching for the next innocent girl. Instead, one of the other sick men will own me and use me until there’s nothing left to give.
While it would have been the worst moment of my life, it might have been my only chance at freedom.
Glancing around the room, my gaze sweeps past the bar to find the asshole with the broken nose, his lethal stare locked onto mine, and I know without a doubt he’s not going to let this go. He’ll be bidding on me tonight, and he won’t stop until he wins.
Swallowing hard, I try not to let my hands shake, but it’s like asking myself for the impossible. My heart races erratically, pounding in my ears and drowning out the sounds of the underground warehouse.
I need this to be over. I need to get out of here.
Gripping the bars again, I try not to cry. I’ve been doing what I can to fend these assholes off, but in doing that, I’m only forcing their attention on the other girls in the room. The nasty tone and bite in my words aren’t real, and it will only be so long until one of these assholes sees right through my facade to the scared little girl hidden within.