Page 82 of Baby Duke

"That is why we had to step up our game. Although we transferred the cubs from hotel to hotel, so clients wouldn't get bored of having the same few cubs to choose from, they all lost their fight too quickly. They were boring. Placid and limp. So, Vincent sent me out into the world again. We raided homeless shelters, sweet-talked the troubled kids who walked the streets at night, and then we went to schools. I became a teacher, and my position as a Duke helped me obtain the qualifications without the years of study. I floated from school to school, picking out my prey, luring them with my good looks and sweet nothings that I whispered in their ears. I fucking loved the chase.

"But Vincent called me back when West and his friends started high school. I fucking loathed him for it. I had to watch over his son and his friends. Make sure they were worthy of their titles. Trent was never going to make it. He was too soft, too smart. When he fell for sweet and innocent little Easterly, I knew his time as a Duke was wearing thin.

"Lawson, now he is great with the ladies, but he is too carefree, too lazy, to make it far with the Dukes. But so is his father. He will follow in his footsteps nicely. Brett," Mr. Foster laughs, his eyes gleaming as if he knows something I do not. "Nothing to worry about there. Secretive, broody, and big. His place is already firmly cemented in our ranks.

"And Western, well, he was showing promise. Sure, his heart was a little too large, but hearts are easy to break. He would have been fine, the perfect Duke. But then you showed up."

He studies me then as if I am a puzzle he can't quite figure out.

"You pussy whipped us all, didn't you? Even me…" he trails off before his eyes brighten, and he huffs a laugh.

"Even now, you distract me from the task at hand! I have yet to tell you about my brilliant plan to bring in more new and exciting cubs! We were sitting in Vincent's office getting our dicks sucked by a couple of cubs, watching the show on the stage when an idea came to mind. Live exportation!"

My stomach sank. The live exporting of animals. It was a cover-up. They were going to trafficpeople.

"Ah, you have it figured out? Yes, we are going to export cattle and sheep, whatever the fuck else needs carting overto who-the-fuck-cares. And we are going to trade some skin while we are at it. We are barely weeks off our first shipment, and guess what? Vincent chose me as his delegate! Maybe, if you are lucky, Vincent will let me bring you along. As my pet. Because I have no doubt that when I finally get in your pussy, I am not going to want to leave it."

"Your dick is not getting anywhere near me!" I spit. "West is here, you know? He and the others are in The Den. Tonight. You won't be gettinganythingfrom me."

He laughs. "Oh, my sweet cub, you are smarter than this! Use that clever mind of yours. Vincent planned this. All of this. When he left earlier, he went to meet with your precious Western and his little friends. Vincent bought them here for a show. And you and I? Oh, we are the main attraction."

He leaps, and he is on me before I know what is happening. I scream, kicking and scratching at the man, but I am quick to realize I really don’t stand a chance against him. He rips off my clothes, piece by piece. The tearing of fabric barely discernable beneath my screams and his humor. Bile rises in my throat as I feel his hands on my bare body.

"Help!" I scream, hoping beyond hope that someone will hear me. Someone who would help me and not enjoy the show. "Somebody help me! Please! Get your disgusting, pedophile fingers off me!"

"Yes! Scream for help, Roe! It makes me so fucking hard!" he yells, frenzied.

I don't stop fighting, not as he opens the door, not as someone helps him collar me like a fucking dog, not as I'm restrained by someone else as Mr. Foster takes off his shirt, not as I'm forced onto a stage in front of too many eyes, not when my eyes meet Wests in the crowd. Not when I am forced to lie down, and my legs are spread for all to see.

For all to witness the moment my soul and entire being… is broken.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

West

"Who the fuck is ready for some breaking in?" Foster yells. He doesn’t need a microphone. The crowd is eagerly tuned into his every word and movement. They cheer as he stands in front of Roe, arms spread out as he basks in the energy of the room. He leers at me as our eyes meet, and I sneer back, giving my captors another push to no avail.

Mr. Foster turns then, his focus entirely on Roe. My girl. He runs his fingers over her bare skin, from ankle to breast, where he stops to give her nipple a pinch. Roe squirms against her bonds, her body angling away from Foster as much as it can.

But not enough.

For the first time in my life, I feel completely powerless. It is a terrible, foreign feeling. Like my desperation is causing the hairs on my arms to stand up as they reach for something,anything, to help.

"Who wants to see the lovely Roe cum?" Mr. Foster yells. The crowd cheers and whistles even as Roe's eyes widen, and she shakes her head rapidly.

I can barely hear them over the yells of my friends and I.

Law: "No! She’s sayingno!"

Trent: "Someone needs to fucking do something! Now!"

Brett is roaring. His hatred and despair echoed through the room in an animalistic cry.

Me: "Don't touch her Foster! Don't youfuckingtouch her!"

Foster seems to hear my comment because his eyes darken, and his smile disappears.

"I am Sir!" he screams before whipping around and snatching a bottle of oil from one of his helpers.

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