Born Captive (Broken Angel 1) - Page 4

Wren knew she wasn’t really special. She was far too aware the world thought of her as a whore. The doctor knew it. She knew it. So why not finally give her womb away?

Why the fuck not?

As he tightened his fist around his cock, the doctor’s bottom lip turned into a sharp grin. His fingers smudged her labia. “You don’t say a word,” he grunted.

Wren closed her eyes and noticed the rising, burning sensation from the tight cuffs clasped around her wrists. The metal dug into her wrists quite painfully. The sooner it was over, the better.

Bracing herself, Wren imagined herself in her father’s garden. The bright sunlight brushed against her flowing hair. Peace.

“She’s mine.”

Wren opened her eyes to a hunched alpha, pistol in hand, unwavering. Without warning, his finger curled around the trigger.

Two pulls, faster than lightning, and the doctor’s head exploded onto the wall in front of her.

The alpha lowered his weapon. “My turn, bitch.”

Chapter Two

Cassian gazed at the row of nude women lying in cryogenic chambers. The cold served to keep their bodies in shape. The gas left their minds docile and cavities dilated for him. There was no need to tease and toy their holes open like a freshly harvested oyster. He could suck the slick from between their legs whenever he felt the urge.

“The copies are a grand display of what we can achieve.”

Fingers held tight around the glowing chamber of one clone, Cassian realized the error of his words. They would be a grand display. Someday, when he got the coding down.

Leaning forward, the leader hissed, “The eyes… they have grown in wrong on this bitch.”

They are her. Yet, so different. So very fucking wrong.

When the cities succumbed to the brutal force of the Ouroboros, they’d lifted the ban on the slave trade, and the industry was born. Cassian had his hand in every sector. The latest venture, Omega Unlimited, a 24/7 nightclub in the heart of the bustling city of Dagon made most of his fortune these days. But, these days, his mind his mind was set on one cunt.

Subject EC23. But I call her Wren.

Her scent was ripe like an old, tainted peach. Unlike most of the slaves, her hymen was intact. She was a prize worth saving, and the future vessel of his legacy. When she reached the right age, he would crack her open and bask in her yolk.

When she was young, he’d delicately copied her code. He wasn’t a scientist, but he followed each and every minute instruction. Harvesting her data, Cassian took what he needed and sent the concubine to a facility in the south for constant monitoring. She was to wait for him until ready to pluck. Then he would lunge at the chance to tear her hymen and store his seed safely for the coming winter.

“I have deprived myself of her for too long,” Cassian whispered.

A woman’s voice stole his bearing, sending shivers down his spine. “You will find her.”

Cassian hunched forward and ground his teeth. “I… love her.”

“You have her replicas.”

Groaning, he fixed his face on the woman behind the glass of the lustrous freezer. “Don’t toy with me. They are not as glamourous as her.”

“They take it the same.”

Maybe. Cassian didn’t know. When they woke from their induced slumbers, the copies always gagged in paralyzing horror. Deep facial scars and burns from raids of yonder littered his face like the apocalypse. His body, tormented with the clawing of his victims, stood tall like a black mamba.

Still, whenever he inserted his mass of flesh and overgrown cartilage into a copy’s hole, he had to pretend they weren’t cold. It was like ruining a freshly dead corpse. Still worthwhile, but the slick didn’t produce as heavily as the feral ones on the outside.

He unsheathed his cock from a saggy pile of foreskin bundled against his pelvis. The bone, thick as redwood, scythed into the air. Sore and blooming, the head dripped lubricant in preparation.

Cassian felt his appetite overtake him. “I’m ready for the copy now, Mother.”

There would be no screaming. Not even the faintest moan. Cassian had perfected blocking out the slithering crawling tongues inside his head. He was sure to block out hers, too.

Tags: Penelope Woods Broken Angel Erotic
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