Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“You can see how hard a job these guys have,” the guard said, turning around in the passenger seat to look at me. “Industrial wildlife interface they call it, but for firefighters it’s like the worst—wildfires and industrial fires. That’s why they get fuck toys like you, I guess, girly.”
I had made the mistake of meeting his eyes when he had turned around. I could see his satisfaction as he registered my reaction to his words.
“Just remember when they’re fucking you raw, that you’re not here to enjoy yourself,” he said, his face cruel. “That’ll help you behave, so you don’t get your ass beat on top of the hate-fucking, when you whine about their cocks being too big for your little asshole, or how you don’t want to swallow their loads.”
“And the little girl shit,” the driver contributed, unexpectedly. “I hear that’s the hardest part for girls like you.”
The what? I almost said it. I could see in the eyes of the one looking at me that he wanted me to say it—he wanted to gag me, maybe even to punish me. The thought sent an unwelcome wave of heat through me, but I bit my lip.
The awful nurse had hinted at whatever little girl shit meant too, and yes, I felt nearly desperate to know what the fuck it might actually mean, but at least I kept myself from giving the asshole guard that satisfaction. The doctor’s good girl came back into my mind, as well as all the nurse’s references to Daddies.
I moved my eyes to the windshield, looking at the little slice of forest I could see through it, and kept my mouth shut. My eyes suddenly felt like they needed to close, and I wondered if they had given me some kind of tranquilizer or sedative in the burger, or the drink. I decided to lower my eyelids just for a moment.
A big hand shook me awake. My whole body jerked as I emerged from sleep into what felt like a completely different world—even though I was still in the same place, in the van, my hands still bound in front of me in plastic cuffs. The light was different: because someone had opened the door of the van, letting the sun come directly onto my face, except where he—a massive, masculine form—loomed against it.
I blinked, trying to see his face. A deep voice spoke, confusing me because it didn’t seem to come from the man who had just reached into the van and woken me up, but rather from another man, whom I realized I hadn’t noticed because of the way the bright sunlight made everything hard to look at.
“Welcome to your new home, honey,” the voice said.
I swallowed hard. Something about the way the man had said honey had made my heart rate go up what felt like fifty beats a minute. The word carried a little of the warmth a girl would usually expect from a man who called her honey, but it also had another note, one I found very hard to define.
Menacing? As if he wanted to make certain I understood that I had no choice but to accept the hard, masculine authority softly gloved in the word honey. As if my “new home” would probably not be to my liking, but I would have to live there anyway, accepting its terms and conditions.
I didn’t remember until that moment what the doctor and the nurse had told me about my “new home.”
My lips parted, as my eyes adjusted to the light a little bit and I could make them both out, both of the men who stood looking in at me, occupying practically all the space left open by the sliding back of the big van door.
Huge. Enormous. Tall. Big. Muscular. All the adjectives I had ever heard anyone use for men’s size and strength seemed to flood into my mind. Then I blushed hot as another one added itself to the list.
Hard.
My new life as… the doctor and the nurse… they had said…
Sexual servant. They had told me I was going to a place where I would be a sex toy for firefighters. I swallowed hard. I didn’t think I had ever seen two men who looked more like firefighters than the ones looking at me now, who had woken me up and welcomed me to my new home.
“I’m Daddy Jacob,” said the one who had spoken before, the one who had welcomed me. He stood to my right. My brain, still emerging from sleep, struggled to understand. The first word… daddy, though it had kind of sounded like it should have a capital letter.
Daddy.
Oh, hell no.
“What the—”
“Don’t,” the other one said, his voice a little lighter, a little higher in pitch. “You’re already going to be punished every day, Marianne. Don’t make it worse by swearing.”