Page 87 of Kidnapped By the Beast
But so far, nothing was happening except for Butcher watching her and puffing on his foul-smelling cigar.
Lexi’s heart pounded. Each button sliding free felt like another little piece of herself being peeled away. Her skin prickled as the fabric slipped back from her shoulders, goose bumps rising in the hot, stale air.
Butcher leaned in the doorway, cigar glowing, smoke curling lazily around his heavy face. He was grinning in anticipation and rubbing his crotch. Lexi was desperately afraid he wouldn’t be content just to watch once she was nude.
“Take it off now,” he said, gesturing to her blouse. “Come on, girly—and then the bra.”
Lexi swallowed hard and tugged the blouse free, letting it fall from her shoulders with shaking fingers. She wrapped her arms around herself, stalling again. Her skirt, her bra—if she just kept moving slow enough, maybe she could stretch it out until?—
“Enough!” Butcher snapped, his voice cracking through the air like a whip. His smile turned sharp. “Boys, strip her.”
“No—wait!” Lexi cried, backing up until her legs hit the bed.
Two of his officers moved fast. Big, rough hands seized her arms. The smell of sweat and cheap cologne surrounded her as they yanked her forward. She kicked, twisted, but their grip on her was like iron.
“Hold still, bitch!” one growled, jerking at her skirt until the zipper tore. Fabric slithered down her thighs as it fell to the floor. Her breath came in ragged sobs as the other officer tugged at her bra strap. She still wore one despite the float dots for coverage but it was clear she wasn’t going to be covered for long.
“No—please, don’t—” she pleaded.
The strap snapped open. Cool air brushed across her flushed skin, as the officer yanked the elastic straps down, baring her breasts.
“Holy shit, Boss!” the other officer exclaimed. He was staring at her chest, his eyes wide. “She’s…she’s leakin’! You know—lacternating!”
Lexi froze. Humiliation burned through her like fire. She looked down—her bra cups were damp—dark circles spreading—betraying her. She had been leaking all day, her breasts so swollen and heavy they hurt. This was her thickest bra, but even it couldn’t hide the evidence of her shame completely.
She felt sick.
Oh God. No. Not this—not here. Please!
“That’s lactating, you idiot,” Butcher snapped, smoke puffing from his lips as he stepped closer. “You two get out of here so I can see her better,” he added.
As the officers shuffled out to watch the doorway again, his expression shifted. A cold, calculating smile spread over his pudgy face, his eyes narrowing with greed.
“Well, well. Looks like we struck gold, girly. Lactation cam vids make a shit-ton of money!” His grin widened, yellow teeth flashing. “You might even make us twenty thousand, easy.”
His gaze raked down her body, lingering on her breasts where another bead of golden nectar welled, darkening the lace. His piggy eyes filled with lust.
“Come on, now—let’s see you milk those tits for the camera.”
Lexi’s knees felt weak and unsteady. She wanted to sink into the floor… vanish into the cracks…cease to exist. Shame burned hotter than fear, hotter even than the lights glaring down on her. The idea of milking herself for the camera—for Butcher—made her sick. There was something about this act—it was sacred—only to be shared with one she cared about.
Only to be shared with Brandt, you mean, whispered a little voice in her head.
But if she didn’t comply with the loan shark’s demands, Uncle Herbert would be killed.
What the hell was she going to do?
50
BRANDT
The stink of stale beer, cigar smoke, and human sweat hit him the moment he shouldered through the side door of Bad Intentions. The room was thick with it—grease, smoke, and desperation, coating his tongue like ash. However, he also smelled something else—the familiar, sweet fragrance of the woman he loved. Lexi’s scent—he was so attuned to her he could have picked it out of a thousand others.
He followed her sweet fragrance through the crowded bar, down a dark service corridor and around a corner. There he stopped because he could see her—his Alexandra—across the room, standing inside the doorway to a room lit by glaring studio lights.
She was shaking…and she was naked.
Her arms were crossed over her chest, trying to cover herself, tears tracking her cheeks. The sight of her—so vulnerable, so humiliated—made something inside Brandt snap. The pudgy human male standing beside her must be Butcher—and there was no doubt in Brandt’s mind that she hadn’t gotten naked for no reason.
