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Unwanted craving filled me when his fingers slid further in. Already, his manhood had fully hardened behind me, and by the way his breath quickened, I knew what he wanted. Should I do it without order? Would that make him want to keep me more? Or would it be the beginning of him wanting to be kind to me?
Daft fingers curled and began their steady back and forth in my cunt, taking his time as his free hand reached around to unbutton the shirt I wore. "Ride my cock," he ordered.
I obeyed, raising up to accept his length that went too deep and pressed against my cervix.
At my wince, he whispered, "Don't hurt yourself, Sweet." He scooted outward so I could lower without discomfort. His actions suggested kindness and concern for me, but it was nothing more than an act. A tormenting abuse of his power over me.
His slow rub continued as I raised and lowered, both loving and hating the feel. I knew this to be part of a game, but I was desperate for the way he made my body react. It shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t have desired his touch after the murder of my family, yet here I was, hopeful for any scrap of satisfaction I might receive from the bastard.
When I came close to release, he ordered, "Stop."
I obeyed and waited, stilling my body. Denial of my gratification would keep him entertained, but he didn't release himself either. His lips trailed my back above where the shirt still rested from having been lowered down my arms. Firm but gentle hands caressed my breasts in a way that had all my hatred of him vanish. They were no more than a B cup, but enough it seemed to have him humming his praises of me all the more.
The click of the doors had men shuffle in and fill the seats. When I attempted to get up, Armon held me in place. The man who'd been passenger the previous night crammed back beside Armon. Aside from the driver and other man seated in the front, the three arrivals' eyes were on us.
"Continue, Sweet One,” he purred. “They want to watch."
My punishment. Worse punishment. He'd mentioned this earlier.
But I couldn't move.
He began, "If you can't cum for me…"
I knew the choice—someone else would do it. I forced myself to continue, but with my eyes closed and mouth set tight to hide any expression.
"Moan the way you were earlier."
Another order I weakly obeyed. Until his hand worked my nub, and his hips pumped to hit the spot that had me losing myself minutes ago. Faster, deeper, hungrier. Why did he have to make it feel so good? I couldn't hold back, and he knew my release was close. Both his hands went to my sides, controlling me as he thrust upward deep and fast. My teeth held my lips to hinder expression, eyes squeezed tight, legs tense until my walls clenched to drink in every drop of his seed.
"I'm going to love watching the way you just fucked me." His horrifying words had my eyes jolt open. He'd even recorded it.
"Are you done with me now?" I asked. Whatever it was he did to give me the highs to forget everything that had happened was followed by the lows to remind me of the misery.
"I promised to take you home." His grip on my sides tightened, massaging with a comfort I wanted to ignore. "But once we're there, we can discuss your options." In a country where I was an enemy to be imprisoned, or worse—abused like Katya had been.
"I hate you." I adjusted the bra to cover my chest again before I pulled the shirt up and buttoned it.
He chuckled, still clinging tight. "I have a feeling you will choose to stay with me if given the option to leave."
There were no genuine choices with Armon. Something would always be worse than accepting him, and that would be the onlyoptionhe would ever give me. The enemy of me, of my family, of my country. That was who had claimed me. That was who I willingly agreed to go home with.
He let me off his lap then switched seats, so I sat in the middle, sandwiched between him and the other man. I found myself leaning toward Armon, who eventually wrapped an arm over my shoulder. The majority of the trip he spent texting someone, but it wasn’t a language I understood when I snuck a peek. I had to wonder if he was giving orders regarding where to dispose of my family. Countless questions came to mind—and then guilt. I could have saved someone. I could have had someone who cared for me. This nightmare would have been over with.
"Where's my mom?" I asked.
Silence.
"Where is she?" When I repeated the question, Armon lowered his phone to his lap.
"Exactly where she should be. Don't ask again, or I will assume you want to be gagged."
And so, I didn't speak for the remaining hours in the vehicle. Not even as we reached a wealthy neighborhood and stopped in front of a large mansion.
Armon stretched and let out a refreshed sigh as everyone exited the vehicle. "You're going to love this, Sweet One."
Chapter Ten
Ilooked at the large two-story home that was well lit in every window. I would be going in there dressed in a lacy, red lingerie bra and crotchless panties. Whoever waited would see me—practically all of me.
