Page 81 of Baby Duke

"Oh, how I have craved you, Roe," he says. "Since the first moment you walked into my classroom," he chuckles, "you were always going to be mine."

"I amnotyours," I hiss.

He ignores me, his eyes glossing over.

"And then you went and got finger fucked in the hallway. Fuck!" he bites his fist as his eyes roll back. "The number of times I've jerked off to the song of your orgasm…”

My stomach drops, and I want to hurl.

"It was you?" I whisper. "You took the video. You spread those photos around?"

He stands up suddenly, his eyes steel and mouth set. He starts pacing.

"Of course it was me. You looked so fucking stunning in that tiny lingerie piece, your head thrown back in ecstasy. But I was soangry," he seethes. "Sofucking angry that it wasn'tmefucking you to oblivion. Those three boys think they rule the fucking world! I cannot wait to put them in their places tonight."

The sickness curdles in my stomach, and I cannot hold it back anymore. I collapse in front of the toilet and hurl into it. I went to this man, this teacher, this person students are supposed to look up to and confide in; I sobbed in his office and ate his fucking weed brownie while we discussed thephoto, novideo, with each other. Belatedly I realize it was he who had suggested the photograph originated from a video in the first place.

With my stomach empty and skin clammy, I slowly rise to my feet and flush the toilet. I turn. Mr. Foster watches me with his head tilted to the side, like a curious cat observing a mouse it would like to play with.

But I was no mouse.

I clear my throat. "Tell me what this place is. The Den."

Mr. Foster grins as he retakes his seat.

"Vincent Mazzuchelli is a brilliant man," he starts. I roll my eyes because, well yeah, he most definitelyisn’t. "We went to school together, did you know?"

I blink in shock. No, I hadn’t known. West never said anything. Had he also been unaware?

Mr. Foster nods and smiles, his eyes going vacant as he reminisces.

"Yes, we ruled that fucking school. I was not born a Duke, but by the time graduation rolled around, my place in their ranks was firmly instated."

He is a Duke? I guess I should have figured that out on my own when he entered the room with Vincent, all buddied up.

"It was during our schooling years that Vincent came up with the idea of The Den. We loved fucking. The willing were great but it was the unwilling that really got us off.”

I quickly close the lid on the toilet and collapse onto it. He enjoys raping women. They both do. And this place, it must be a place where they can do it without consequence.

"I can see your mind whirling over there, pretty bird," he smirks. "You think you have the Den figured out?" he laughs then, full-bellied and delighted. "The Den is so much more than whatever it is you are thinking.

"After graduation, Vincent had me take care of his father. Shot him in the dick, then stabbed him through the heart. From there on out, Vincent inherited his father's fortune and began the renovations. We were lucky, really, that all the hotels had been fitted with basements underground for laundry purposes. It wasn't much of a hardship to move those features to higher floors.

"While Vincent did this, spreading the word amongst the elite men of Australia while he waited, I began scouting. I started with the hostels that housed asylum seekers. They were too easy to bribe. They handed over the children and teenagers with barely a dent in Vincent's bank account. The parents were told some bullshit story about five-stareducation and the chance to live in Australia as full citizens, so they let their children go so easily.

"And, so, we had our first lot of cubs. Get it? Wild animals live in dens and these pups were in for a long stay."

I swallow the bile in my throat. His story was horrendous. Disgusting. And how easily they reached their goals? I blink back tears as I envision the girls and boys, so full of hope and excitement, being led to the slaughter.

"You are disgusting," I whisper, raising my chin so he can see the repulsion written over my face.

Mr. Foster's eyes flash, and he is on me before I know what is happening. He lifts me by the throat.

"Don't fucking speak to me like that!" he spits in my face before throwing me to the floor.

Unfortunately for me, the toilet is in the way. I feel a couple of my ribs snap as my side hits the porcelain. Sharp pain radiates through my body as I lay for a moment on the cold, hard floor. Slowly, I push myself up into a seated position, whimpering, each movement more painful than the last. Clutching my side, I look up at Mr. Foster as he furiously points in my face, his face crazed. Mad.

"I saved you!” he screamed. “Vincent wanted to kill you; you know? You have poisoned his son with your pretty little pussy. But I argued. You are the perfect specimen forThe Den. Your attitude, fuck it turns me on!" He clutches his cock through his pants, his anger seeping away as quickly as it had come. "The customers love a fighter. Fuck,Ilove a fighter.

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