Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
“Put down the cleaver first,” Penny said and was surprised at how steady her voice sounded. “Put it down or I’m not coming out.”
“I could just cut you up right where you are,” Skrug pointed out, sending a chill through her. He frowned. “But it’s no fun fuckin’ a corpse.”
God, he sounds like he’s speaking from experience!
Penny felt sick, but she held her ground.
“Put it down and I’ll let you…let you breed me,” she said, her stomach fisting in revulsion at the thought. “But I’m not coming out while you’re holding that thing. It’s dangerous.”
For some reason this seemed to tickle Skrug’s funny bone, because he threw back his head and guffawed.
“Dangerous, right—so it is, girly!” he gasped, holding his stomach as he laughed. “All right then—scared of a little blade, are you? Well, then I’ll set it down as long as you behave.”
And he finally put the cleaver down on the table. Regrettably, he put it on the far end, where Penny couldn’t reach it, but at least the bloody blade was out of his hand.
“All right now…” He beckoned her with one clawed finger. “Come on out, just like you promised.”
“All right—don’t rush me.” Penny stood slowly, still gripping her handfuls of flour. She was waiting…waiting for the right moment…
It came when Skrug leaned over to shove his face into hers.
“Hurry up, girly!” he growled. “A Public Breeding don’t last all fuckin’ d—”
Penny raised her arms and flung both fistfuls of the dark blue flour in his face. She was aiming for his yellow, slitted eyes and judging from the howl he let out and the way he clawed at them, she had succeeded.
“Ow, you little bitch!” Skrug screamed as Penny scrambled out of the huge mixing bowl and started to run.
But a big, clawed hand caught the back of her toga and twisted in the fabric, stopping her forward momentum and yanking her up short.
“Oh no you don’t, you little cunt,” Skrug growled hoarsely. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere until I breed you!”
Penny tried to yank free, but to no avail. Using her toga, Skrug was pulling her in like she was a fish and he was an angler determined to have his prize. Looking over her shoulder, she saw he still had one meaty fist rubbing his reddened eyes, but the flour clearly hadn’t slowed him down much.
Desperately, she looked for a weapon. There was the cleaver but it was out of reach, on the other end of the table. There were sacks of flour, but they were too big and heavy to be used.
Then her eyes lit on the wooden mixing paddle that went with the bowl—the one as big as a boat oar. It was just within her reach.
Acting on instinct, Penny grabbed it with both hands and turned to swing it at Skrug’s head.
The big scaly hand tightened on her toga but for once Skrug’s strength worked against him. Penny leaned hard against the straining fabric and used the momentum of her whole body as she swung the wooden mixing paddle as hard as she could.
It connected with the side of Skrug’s head with a flat smack and she felt the shock of the blow reverberate up both of her arms.
“Ow! Cunt!” Skrug bellowed and finally let go of her toga. But he also reached out and grabbed the paddle with the hand that hadn’t gone to his head and Penny suddenly found herself in a tug-of-war over the wooden weapon with a much stronger opponent.
Part of her wanted to let the mixing paddle go, but if she did, she would be weaponless. And she still couldn’t go out into the Marketplace—though it felt like a hundred years had passed since Skrug had first entered the bakery looking for her, it had actually only been a few minutes and the Public Breeding was still going on.
So Penny tried to keep hold of the paddle…and that was her mistake.
For a moment, it almost seemed like she was winning. She gripped the handle with both hands, so tightly she could feel wooden splinters digging sharply into her palms. Then Skrug gave a tremendous yank that brought both the paddle and Penny flying into his arms.
With a snarl of triumph, he yanked the paddle out of her hands and threw it across the bakery, where it clanged against the butter chiller. Then he gripped her by the arm and spun her around so that she was facing the metal table.
He shoved Penny against the edge of the table so hard it knocked the wind out of her.
“Oof!” she gasped as the metal edge bit into the soft skin at her waist. But the next thing she felt was worse—much worse than the pain.
Because Skrug had lifted the skirt of her toga and something blunt and slimy was pressing against her inner thighs, trying to find its way inside her.