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I’m going to kill them all!
In my fit of rage, my hearing fades, and my vision turns almost red as I continue to fight against the bindings that hold me there. A scream rips from my throat the moment Master shoves his stumpy dick in my arse, not even using any lube. I fucking hope he grazed his dick.
Brock moves to the side of the bench up near my head, and Julie moves to the other side, gripping my head, her nails digging into my temple as she turns my head towards Brock.
Brock's dick presses against my lips, and I hold them shut, refusing his entry. It’s such a pity that he is involved in this. He has a pretty cock and all. I’ve had it down my throat before, and I didn’t hate it, but that’s because I consented. This I don’t consent to.
“Open your pretty mouth, Kitten,” Brock growls, and I shoot a dagger up at him, clenching my teeth tight.
Master keeps fucking my arse, the pain there building, but it’s the feeling of him trying to push his fucking fist into Kitty that makes me gasp. As soon as my lips part, Brock shoves his cock in my mouth to the hilt, inducing a gag.
Fuck these arseholes. My gagging belongs to my guys. To Ty and Garrett. Not these pricks. Brock’s mistake is thinking I won’t use my teeth. There’s no turning back for me now. They can kill me before I’ll let them destroy me.
I close my jaw tighter, pressing my teeth into the hard flesh of Brock's cock and bite. He yelps, and an explosion of pain rattles through my face as his fist connects. A wave of nausea rolls through me from the pain and disorientation, but his dick isn’t in my mouth now, so I call that a win.
I close myself off, sending my thoughts to the things that make me happy, but the pain of Master’s fist trying to breach me is too much, and I scream.
Something hot starts to splash on my face, and the smell of urine engulfs me. I have no control over my body’s reaction, my stomach lurching as I begin to vomit.
Julie screeches, and through the blur of my vision, I see her standing over me and trying to leap away as I projectile in her direction.
She fucking pissed on me.
She’s scared of my vom, but that will be the least of her problems when I get free.
The pressure in my Kitty and arse vanishes, and I hear Master bellowing to open the door right before he gags.
I fucking hate vomit. Like legit, hate it. But right now, it’s my saving grace. It’s what’s repelling them from me, and note to fucking self, if I have to keep hurling my guts to keep them at bay, then that’s what I’ll fucking do.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Tyler
“Tell me she’s with you!” The panicked scream of Cynthia Rogan on the other end of the line makes me freeze.
“What?”
“Tyler, please tell me she’s with you, and I’m not overreacting at what I’ve come home to?” She cries, and I’m on my feet, running towards the door.
“I don’t know what you mean, but I’m on my way. Talk to me. Tell me what’s happening.”
“Oh my God. She’s not with you. She’s not with her boyfriends. She’s not with her other friends. Please tell me this isn’t happening!”
“Cynthia! Calm down and tell me what exactly is going on.” I jump into my car, gunning the engine and kicking up dirt as I speed down my driveway.
“She’s not here. Her phone is here, but she’s not. She doesn’t go anywhere without her phone. Tillie said she was meant to meet Rhys here earlier, but when she got there, Rhys never answered the door. She assumed Rhys had ditched her to hang with her boyfriends.”
“Have you called the police?” I bark, and she whimpers.
“Yes. William is on the phone with them now.”
“I’m on my way. We will find her, Cynthia. I promise.”
I end the call and dial Fuckboy.
“Is she with you?” Shaun asks the moment he answers.
“No. Tell me what you know.”
