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Now the thugs who kidnapped me step close, both of them grinning like they hit the jackpot. Kazi’s Russian henchmen also gather around until I’m surrounded by a throng of gaping men, all waiting to see my precious pussy like it’s one of the seven wonders of the world.
“Get back, you animals,” Kazi orders with a twisted grin. He flashes me a toothy smile, showing off two solid-gold teeth. Again his nostrils flare like he’s searching for my scent, and when he raises his head and gestures for everyone to step back, there’s a strange glint in his savage eyes that sends a dark tremor through my flesh. “Come, baby. Lift that dress and show me.”
That tremor spreads to my entire core as the other men back away like wolves in a pack all stepping back from the alpha beast. The fear is like a solid lump in my throat, my thighs squeezed together like they’re glued so tight the skin will come off if I try to pull them apart.
Marybeth is making eyes at me from over by the door. Suddenly I remember I was about to be executed against this bloodstained wall, and my survival instincts kick in, my brain urgently ordering me to play this sick game because it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
“All right,” I say, my voice barely a whisper, the fear constricting my throat so tight I can hardly breathe. I hesitantly lift the hem of my yellow sundress, then gasp when Kazi goes down to his knees in front of me, grabs the waistband of my panties, and yanks them down my thighs, holding me against the wall as he pulls the underwear all the way off my legs.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath from down near my crotch. “You smell good, baby. Not like a whore’s cunt. Maybe this pussy is virgin after all. Come. Spread for Kazi. Let me see how tight you are.”
His big hands slide around to the back of my thighs, moving up and groping my bare ass as I almost choke from the sick feeling of this monster touching my body. But that survival instinct burns fierce in me, and I close my eyes and swallow the revulsion, bury it someplace deep in my consciousness, tell myself that the only goal right now is to stay alive, to do whatever it takes to fucking stay alive.
“Stay still, baby,” Kazi murmurs from near my mound. He brings his hands around to my front, then parts my slit with his big ugly thumbs, spreading my folds and gaping hungrily at my hole. “Fuck, your friend is right. You are virgin. So tight. Good price I will get for you. Maybe I sell you tonight at the auction.”
Kazi lingers there for a long, sickening moment, his hot breath blowing through my delicate curls and making my skin crawl. He glances up at me, and even though I’m staring blankly out into space, trying to leave my body and go far away from here, I can feel that glint in his eyes, sense that he’s this fucking close to pushing his face in there.
The dark moment lasts a dangerously long time. Then Kazi sighs against my pussy, takes his thumbs away from my slit, reaches around and smacks my bottom hard before standing up and grinning. When he turns away from me I catch a glimpse of his grotesquely peaked crotch, a massive bulging erection that almost makes me vomit.
“Ona nedolgo budet devstvennitsey,” mutters one of Kazi’s men in Russian. “Kazi nravitsya yeye pizda.”
The other Russians laugh, and Kazi glances down at his own peaked trousers, then licks his lips and grunts out a response which draws another round of throaty laughs from his goons. One of the Russians goes out to the van, returns a moment later with another black bag. Kazi takes the bag, unzips it, reaches inside and pulls out a brick-sized bundle of hundred-dollar bills that must be several thousand dollars, maybe ten thousand, perhaps even more. He holds up the brick of cash so I can see what my pussy is worth, then tosses it to one of my grinning kidnappers.
“You know what my men were saying, baby?” Kazi whispers against my neck as he prods me towards the door from behind. “They say I better sell you quick or else that pussy will not stay virgin much longer. And I told them yes, I must sell you tonight itself, before the temptation becomes too strong to resist. After all, my dick will stretch you so big that you will be useless to any other man. Then your only use will be as Kazi’s fuck-hole.”
Revulsion surges through me in waves of sickness. I almost retch, but I’m out the door now and the fresh night air reminds me that I’m still breathing, still living, still surviving.
The blue van’s engine starts as I head towards its open back doors. But before I get there one of Kazi’s men slams the doors shut and pounds his fist twice on the tinted back window. The van roars off, leaving me in the dusty driveway with Kazi and one of his goons.
Immediately I scream for help, hoping that someone hears and calls the police, calls the U.S. Embassy, calls the damn White House. I try to make a dash for the rickety gate of the trash-covered yard of this shack that seems to be far from the lights of the city, the sounds of traffic. Kazi’s goon easily catches me, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me towards a shiny silver Range Rover where Kazi’s pulled open the back door.
Kazi’s thug slams me against the side of the car, knocking the wind out of me. He roughly binds my wrists behind my back with a plastic tie, pulls it so tight I cry out in pain. Then Kazi steps close, grabs my face, squeezing the sides of my mouth until I’m forced to open up.
“Your buyer is paying for your pussy, not your tongue,” he whispers with savage coldness. “You make another sound and I will rip that tongue out of your mouth. This is not joke. I have done it many times. Do you understand?”
Still holding my face, he nods my head for me like I’m a doll. Then he runs a filthy thumb over my lips, his gaze flicking down the top of my sundress, those nostrils flaring for a moment again as his eyes flash with something dark and primal.
Then a strip of duct-tape goes over my mouth and I’m shoved roughly into the backseat. My wrists are already bound tight, and now another plastic tie goes around my ankles until I’m lying on the backseat, tied and gagged, totally helpless as Kazi and his guy get into the front, start the Range Rover’s loud engine, rumble away from the shack.
And as I’m bounced and jostled like a sack of corn on the way to market, I feel the wired energy drain as the adrenaline leaves my system, my heart sinking back to that dark place of overwhelming despair.
I can’t run from these guys.
I can’t fight these guys.
I can’t do anything but wait.
Wait for my filthy fate.
Wait for my dark destiny.
Wait for the perverted asshole who buys me.
2
BROCK
“Perverted assholes,” I growl under my breath as my bike rumbles down the main drag of Juarez. The targets of my current state of disgruntled grumpiness are a bunch of middle-aged American dudes in cargo shorts and tee shirts, wasted off their asses, all of them heading to one of the Juarez whorehouses. Some of the guys haven’t even bothered to take off their wedding rings. Bet they’ve all got pictures of their kids in their wallets. Some of them probably have teenage daughters the same age as the poor heroin-addicted whores they’re going to attempt to fuck with their limp dicks. “Get the fuck out of my way.”
