“Well, well.” The scarred one approaches slowly, deliberately. “Fresh meat.”
I back up until I hit the wall. Nowhere to go. No escape.
“Please – ” My voice is shaking. “I’ll tell them what they want – I’ll tell them anything – ”
“Too late for that, sweetheart.” He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanks me away from the wall. “You’re ours now. And we’ve been in here a long time without any... entertainment.”
The other two rise from the bench. Circle around me like predators. One is wiry, all sinew and mean eyes. The other is thick, bald, with hands the size of dinner plates.
“Which hole you want first?” the wiry one asks.
“Mouth.” The scarred one is already unzipping his jumpsuit, pushing it down to reveal his c**k. It’s enormous – thick as my wrist, veined, already rock hard. “I want to f
