Page 42 of Slaughter

“I think that all I hear from you are excuses,” I growl, not letting him finish. “I think that if you’d spend half the effort you use to pretend you enjoy helping them, then you could make a difference.”

He glares down at me, breathing heavy. His blue eyes search mine for a few long seconds and just when I think he’s about to argue with me, he pulls away and gives me his back. “Leave, Bunny.”

I turn around and storm out of his room and down the stairs, only to come face to face with my father. The last person I want to see. He gives me a hard look. “I was just about to come look for you.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward him. “Let’s go home. Your mother has called me five times. She’s pissed because your brother isn’t home yet.”

He’s probably out scouting girls for him and Mr. Decker. They leave that job to Preston and Vaughn. They use their good looks and disgusting charm to lure them into the trap.

“Good bye, Presleigh.”

I look over toward the voice and see Vaughn standing in the hallway just as he was earlier, and he winks at me.

I turn, giving him my back, and walk out of the door, trying not to let the angry tears fall. I hate feeling so helpless. And I hate that innocent girls are being taken advantage of just because they were born with a vagina. Men think they are God and can do whatever they want. One day, I’m gonna be able to help the girls who are trapped in this dark madness. And when I can, I’ll make the men pay.

I hear the door open over my cries, and then the light comes on. I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the brightness. “Hello, Bunny.”

I close my eyes at the shame that washes over me. That I allowed him to tie me up like a dog and punish me as if I did something wrong. As if my body isn’t my own anymore.

It’s not. He proved that. And it’s my own damn fault.

I jump when I feel his hand between my legs and let out a sob as relief rushes through me that he is touching me. I arch my back, and my pussy tightens just from that little contact. “Still just as wet,” he muses with satisfaction when he slides a finger into me.

I breathe deeply through my nose, my chest rising and falling. My nipples are hard and craving for his touch. I fucking hate myself! Is this how the girls felt when our fathers tortured them? Did they train them to want them? To need them? My problem is that I’ve always wanted Avery.

He removes his finger, and I cry into the gag.

“I’m going to release your legs. Don’t move them,” he orders.

Now he’s going to test me. And if I fail, I have no doubt he’ll tie me back up. And I can’t take it anymore.

He undoes my right ankle first, and my leg starts to shake, wanting to push it into my other thigh to rub that sweet spot that has been throbbing for I don’t know how long. He undoes my other one, and I dig my heels into the bed.

Don’t do it!

I chant in my head. I’m stronger than he gives me credit for.

My feet start tingling, the blood rushing back to them, and I wiggle my toes.

I feel the bed dip as he crawls between my legs. “Good, Bunny,” he praises me, and I whimper, hoping good Bunny means I get a reward.

“Open your eyes.”

I slowly open them to see him kneeling between my parted legs. He has a white button-down shirt on and black slacks. His dark hair is damp, indicating he just got out of the shower and his face freshly shaven.

Is it morning already?

I still feel drunk. My vision a little blurry, and my limbs heavy.

“I watched you on the camera,” he admits with no shame. His hands run up my ribs, cupping my breasts. They ache for more. “You look so beautiful when you’re helpless.”

I blink, and tears run down the side of my face.

He gives me a sinister smile that makes my already racing heart pound in my chest. He removes his hands from my breasts, and I yank on the ropes that still bind my wrists.

But my eyes go to his slacks when he unzips them and pulls out his hard cock. His hand wraps around the base of it and my aching jaw tightens around the gag. He’s bigger than what I remember. My breath comes quicker and quicker, and I feel I may hyperventilate.

I silently beg him to remove the gag. To allow me to speak. To beg. To do something. He doesn’t.

He spreads my legs wider, and then he’s sliding into me. No foreplay. No kissing. Nothing but his cock in my soaked pussy.

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