Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
The dark was a really effective way to break someone.
Much the same way that the sensory deprivation box had started to make her crack, desperate for any human contact, no matter how brief or insubstantial the touch might have been, sitting alone in her hut made her desperate to get out.
For any reason.
Even to be dragged back onto that porch.
Emma’s fingers traced her jaw. It ached from two evenings in a row of it being forced open for hours on end while men used her mouth.
Roughly. They didn't care if they hurt her, in fact, she suspected that they wanted to, deriving just as much pleasure from her pain as they did getting themselves off between her lips.
Her scalp still hurt too, since several of the men enjoyed gripping onto it as they thrust into her mouth.
Then there were her knees, which ached from being forced to kneel for hours on end, her shoulders ached from the awkward position her arms were cuffed in, and her wrists were marked from the cuffs.
As for her ankle … well, she was pretty sure she could predict how she was going to die.
It was either get her buyer to lose control and kill her, or the infection was going to take her out.
Already the torn skin surrounding her cuffed ankle was red and puffy.
The metal cuff hadn't been removed either time she’d been taken out of this room, it had been on permanently since she was brought there.
That meant the skin never had a chance to begin to heal because it was constantly being rubbed every time she moved.
Infection wasn't the worst way to die, she supposed.
Certainly better than many of the alternatives she could conjure up with all the time she had to think.
Shifting uncomfortably, Emma thumped her head back to rest against the thick wall behind her.
At least the concussion symptoms seemed to be dissipating.
A headache still drummed between her temples, and she still got a little dizzy any time she moved too quickly, but all in all, her head was better, clearer.
Which meant she had to start thinking seriously about getting herself the hell out.
“Damn you, Nathan, for lying to me,” she muttered into the dark, something she’d taken to doing because she needed to hear a sound every now and again since she was alone for the majority of the day.
If Nathan hadn't lied and led her on, she would have played things differently that day she was taken to the auction. Then she’d still been hoping that Nathan was on her side, that he’d been truthful with her, that he’d somehow stop what was happening.
But he hadn't. He’d allowed her to be sold off and hadn't even come to see her that last morning.
“Coward,” she grumbled.
Even though she knew it was no use letting her mind wander back in time and play the what-if game, she couldn’t seem to help herself.
There were so many things she could have done differently that might have led to different results.
Instead of being knocked unconscious when she tried to run, she could have waited until they were already on the road, where there were people already around them, and then made her move.
That would have made it more likely that someone would have seen her and helped her.
She could be home right now if she’d just known that Nathan was nothing but a disgusting, rotten liar, and not put her trust and faith in him, and she’d played her cards differently.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, and as she swept a hand over them to brush them away, she heard feet shuffling toward her.
Was it evening already? Anxious as she was to get out of this room, she wasn't looking forward to the coming hours. At least at the end, she’d be brought back here with a fresh bottle of water and something to eat.
The lack of food she was given made her realize that if she wanted a chance to escape, she was going to have to work for it quickly. The longer she waited, the harder it would be because she was going to become weaker with each passing day.
Since she knew what was happening to her after two previous evenings, she tried to focus less on the humiliation of having a leash attached to the collar on her neck, and the pain of crawling across the rough African landscape.
Instead, she tried to focus on other things.
It was lighter out than on the other occasions, which meant she got a better view of the landscape.
From what she could surreptitiously scope out as she was led toward the house, she couldn’t see a fence of any sort.
There was one dirt road that led off into the distance and no other properties in sight.
The landscape had plenty of trees, but they were scrubby and spread out, not the kind that were going to provide her with much cover if she made a run for it.
And what animals lurked out there?
Lions? Buffalo? Elephants? Hippos? Hyenas?
She probably wasn't really any safer out there than she was here, but at least if she was attacked by an animal, they’d just be doing what animals did, trying to survive, here she was being hurt purely for other people’s sick enjoyment.
“Stand up,” the young boy who was always the one to collect her from the hut said, tugging on his end of the chain like she was some creature that had to be physically shown what was required of it.
Pushing to her feet, Emma was pleased to see that her head didn't spin.
Good. This was about as strong as she was likely to be, so she had to figure something out.
A few men were hanging about. They were armed, and although they weren't paying much mind to her and the boy, she knew they’d be on her in an instant if she made a run for it.
Now at least.
But at the end of each evening, most of them were drunk and rowdy. If she could break away from the boy when he took her back to her hut tonight, maybe she could use the cover of dark to escape.
“Clean yourself and remove the, uh … underwear,” the boy said, averting his gaze as he said it, and nodding at a bucket of water by the corner of the house.
Arguing would be stupid, the lingerie was barely a step up from being naked anyway, and she would relish the chance to clean up a little, even if it was just with a bucket of water and a rag.
Emma quickly went to work, making sure she examined as much of the area as she could while scrubbing herself.
Forming what she thought would be the best escape route, she committed it to memory because it would be dark later and she wouldn't have the luxury of seeing where she was going.
“You're looking absolutely delicious today, my little pet,” her buyer said as he came strolling down the porch steps.
Maybe it was a stupid thing to worry about, considering her situation, but Emma hated that she didn't know his name. It was such a simple thing, and yet it was just another example of the massive power imbalance.
“Come,” he ordered, and since she’d basically finished washing up anyway, she dropped the rag back into the bucket and took a step toward him.
They walked back up the porch steps, but when she automatically turned toward the right, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her the other way.
The last two nights she’d been on the other side, and she had no idea why they were going to the left today.
Or why she was out of her hut while it was still light.
Something was different, but she had no idea what.
“You have been a good little pet these last two nights, giving out pleasure to everyone who wants it. Tonight, it’s your turn to be on the receiving end,” her buyer said as he steered her over to the corner, where she spotted more cuffs embedded only in different places.
Her stomach tightened in fear as she stared at the swing hanging from the ceiling.
It had cuffs on it where she suspected her knees would be, and it didn't slip by her notice that the position of them would keep her legs spread wide open. More cuffs ran along the back of the swing, and she assumed those were for her wrists. She’d be trussed up and ready for them to use as they chose.
“Sit.”
“I'm not a dog,” Emma snapped before she thought, then gulped as angry dark eyes looked down at her.
“You're less than a dog. Remember your place here, little pet,” her buyer sneered as his fingers curled around her neck and he shoved her into the chair. The boy came up behind him as she struggled in his grip, and only when her knees and wrists were locked into place did her buyer remove his hand.
His long fingers toyed with her collar, and his smile was enough to send a chill through her despite the warmth in the air. Palming the leash, he snapped it onto her collar and then hooked it onto one of the swing’s chains.
“We’re having a party today, little pet, and you're the star attraction. Tonight, you're going to get more pleasure than your body knows what to do with, and then tomorrow you’ll get to choose. Left or right. Get or give. It’s up to you, and you should be very grateful I gave you that choice.”
Emma wasn't grateful at all because he was making her complicit in her own demise. Either she fought against him and continued to allow him and his men to shove themselves into her mouth, or she acknowledged she was his as his sex toy and allowed him to use her for such.
Getting down on his knees, the man’s dark head moved between her spread legs, and when his tongue swiped across her, Emma couldn’t stop the tears. Her fingers curled into fists, and she fought against the building sensations. She didn't want this, but she also couldn’t stop it.
Couldn’t stop any of the other men who would do the same thing to her either.