Chapter 19
The smell hit first when they neared the kitchen — savory meat and potatoes, rich gravy, buttery crust. Her stomach growled loud enough she froze, cheeks heating, but none of the men even looked at her.
Someone had already scraped a portion into a metal dog bowl and set it on a rubber mat beside the backdoor like it belonged there.
Half full. Enough to taunt her stomach but nowhere near enough to satisfy it.
Logic cut through the haze: they didn’t want her puking later, if the rest of the night continued like the first part. But the thought didn’t make the ache any easier to bear. She was going to be hungry all night.
The bowl looked disgusting, mashed layers collapsed into a lump of brown and pale yellow, but she didn’t care. Hunger overrode pride.
Kenny clipped her wrists behind her back, the infinity cuffs locking together, and something in her chest loosened. The familiar weight against her wrists reminded her of who she is. Willow. Hawk. Nurse.
She was more than the thing in the mirror.
Or, she would be tomorrow.
She leaned down, scooped the mess into her mouth without hesitation, and found it savory and delicious.
Several bites were gone before she realized she should feel humiliated.
On her knees, eating out of a dog dish while the men sat at the table with real plates and forks.
But the humiliation didn’t stick. She was beyond it.
This was who she was tonight. Not a woman.
Not even human. Just a pet, fed on the floor.
She wished she had water to wash the thick mash of potatoes and meat, but there was no way to ask. No voice. No hands. Less than human. She swallowed hard, hunger driving her until the bowl was licked clean, her tongue dragging along the metal, her own reflection warped in the bottom.
Silas pushed his chair sideways, the scrape of wood on tile sharp enough to make her flinch. He unzipped, cock in hand, and jerked his chin at her. “I need a toilet.”
Her body moved before thought could catch up, mouth opening automatically, lips parting around the head of his cock. Hot piss poured down her throat, acrid and bitter, and this time she swallowed without hesitation, but not from calm, from conditioning.
Her body obeyed because it had no choice, and that obedience made the shame worse. Her stomach churned as the salt and bile and meat sloshed together. This wasn’t food and water. This was degradation on top of humiliation; his piss poured into the same hole where her dinner had gone.
“Efficient little creature,” Silas said. “Feed her, water her, all in one stop.”
She swallowed again, throat working like crazy to keep up with the flow, and the word creature echoed like a slap. Not a woman, not even a pet.
She’d wanted this, or thought she had, but here, now, reduced to a despoiled vessel for input and waste, reality fractured the fantasy into a desecrated dream, its beautiful horrors made flesh.
Her body forced to kneel in mute submission to its own unraveling, every nerve raw, every tremble a confession of need.
A vessel emptied of self, rebuilt in humiliation and silence. No voice, no will, just nerves lit and waiting for the next command from the owners who’d defiled her.
Her throat ached, but her traitorous cunt still clenched, turning her shame molten. Not just used. Debauched.
Violated.
She was nothing more than a creature to them. A toilet. A thing to be fed and watered when it suited them.
And still, she swallowed hard and fast, trying to stay ahead of the incoming stream, desperate to avoid the electric shock of failure.
Silas finished with a grunt and shook the last drops onto her tongue, not even bothering to aim.
He tucked himself away, and she sagged where she knelt, the taste of his power still burning on her tongue.
Her body trembled. Her soul curled tight.
There was no strength in her spine, no pride left in her bones.
And they hadn’t even dragged her to the bottom yet.
How much lower could they take her? The thought twisted hot in her belly, half fear, half hunger. A shiver rippled through her as she wondered what was still waiting — how much more pain she could take, how much more shame they could grind her into.
Boone pushed his chair back, casual as if he were standing to stretch. “I need a toilet.”
Her body moved before her mind caught up.
Crawl. Kneel. Mouth open. The collar snug around her throat reminded her there was no other option.
He sat again, and his stream hit the back of her tongue.
She swallowed, and her belly cramped with the pressure of too much, too fast. She gulped it down frantically, the only thought in her head not to fail. Not to spill.
By the time Kenny scooted his chair, she was already moving toward him, a thing in motion, an automated toilet responding to command.
Her eyes watered, every swallow a struggle.
She was beyond full. Miserable. Grateful they hadn’t fed her more, because she couldn’t have held it.
Tears streaked her face, not from resistance but from effort.
When he scooted his chair back to finish eating, he gave her a number, and her body folded into child’s pose, wrists still clipped behind her.
Kenny ordered her to “stay,” and she obeyed because there was no other option.
She lay there, a creature restrained by the obedience they’d burned into her one agonizing jolt of lightning at a time, the clink of forks and scrape of chairs above her the only sounds in the room.
Boone finished first. His chair scraped back, and then his hands were on her again, dragging her up onto the same table they’d used to groom her. Only this time, a wedge was under her back.
They wanted her to watch whatever they did to her.
Boone strapped her down with cold efficiency, the goal clearly access, and her body betrayed her with every buckle.
Breath ragged, muscles twitching, panic curled low in her belly — and still, the heat bled outward, swelling her already raw clit and cunt as if her nerves didn’t know the difference between terror and desire.
He pulled her legs up and out until her hips burned, knees splayed, arms secured near her waist. A thick strap pinned her chest just under her breasts so she couldn’t rise even an inch. She was a spread offering, displayed to the men in their chairs as if dinner had merely shifted courses.
The others took a little longer to finish their meals, and then they all retrieved items from a box.
Boone took his seat at the end of the table, between her wide-spread legs.
He slicked his fingers and pressed two into her ass, slow but merciless.
No warning, just thick intrusion into flesh already raw.
Her body gave way with a twitch and a jolt.
The stretch burned, and her hips jerked against the restraints.
Then three fingers forcing their way in relentlessly, a quiet violence she couldn’t prepare for, fingers distending her hole, the ring of muscle fighting the invasion.
Pressure that deepened, deepened, deepened until the raw tissue sparked with fire.
Her bound wrists jerked, and agony bloomed.
Her breath hitched but no sound escaped.
More pressure, and the stretch became a breach.
Her body tried to buck, but the restraints held fast. Her cunt throbbed, her ass burned around Boone’s fingers, trembling as the pressure swelled inside her.
No commentary, no gentleness, just the steady, inevitable stretch of flesh that could do nothing but yield.
Beside her, Kenny stood over her chest, metal glinting in his hands.
He fixed the tit-tree into place, clamps biting deep into her nipples until her back arched hard against the straps.
No words, just the bite of steel and the stretch of skin until her breasts were forced into sharp peaks, and then he stepped back like a craftsman appraising his work.
Silas approached and commented, “I do love seeing tits distended on a nipple clamp tower. Please tell me you’re only getting started.”
“Worry about your own body part,” Kenny told him.
A cruel smirk formed on Silas’s face, and he sat near her hips.
His fingers worked quickly and without ceremony, pinning her clit hood back with a clamp that left her most sensitive flesh exposed and throbbing in the open air.
Then he held a metal ruler poised over her, tapping it once against his palm before bringing it down in a flick across her swollen flesh.
A sharp sting, bright as lightning. Her body jerked, convulsed, chest heaving against the strap, mouth open in a scream that never formed.
A chime sounded. Kenny lifted the violet wand and touched it to the top of the tower.
Electricity surged, the clamps biting into her nipples like teeth, shocks snapping through nerve and skin.
Agony detonated in her chest, white-hot and immediate, stealing breath before it formed.
Her vision blurred, stars bursting behind her eyes.
She convulsed, body straining against the restraints, and before she could even catch a breath, Silas bent the metal ruler back and snapped it against her clit again.
Pain lanced upward through her spine like lightning routing through every nerve pathway, and her mouth dropped open in a silent wail.