Rough Exile

Chapter Four

“Up.”Someonesmackedme.

Was I late getting my siblings up for school?

Exhaustion and nausea dragged me down, but the hands wouldn’t let sleep reclaim me. They forced me upright. My legs were unsteady, and the floor beneath my feet lurched, but the hands kept me from falling.

“You stink.”

I do?

Why couldn’t I see? I blinked, but it didn’t help. I tried to push back my hair, but there was fabric in the way that prevented me from reaching the strands that obscured my vision and tickled my face. The air was stale and humid with my breath. Something was over my face and when I tried to pull it off, he pushed away my hands.

“Leave it.”

Oh, right. The bag.

I stumbled again, but the man caught me before I went down. His chuckle was unpleasant and triggered a cascade of memories—hands, mouth, a too-big dick. He smelled like fresh air, even through the cloth over my face. My body ached from hard use and bruises that felt like they went down to my bones.

He stripped off the shirt and undergarments I wore—or was it a bathing suit?—then lowered me to a toilet. I peed for what felt like twenty minutes.

“Done?”

“Yes,” I croaked. My stomach was empty and clenching, but at least there was nothing for me to throw up.

Water turned on somewhere, and he picked me up off the toilet and shoved me into a shower. I gasped at the cold, but it soon warmed and thawed out my cold limbs. He removed the bag from my head, but the darkness in the shower was complete, as though we were in a basement room with no windows. The floor pitched again, and I banged into a plastic wall.

“Wash.” He pushed a bar of mildly scented soap into my hand, and I washed, eager to get the smell of his cum and my fear off me.

Apparently, there was no shampoo, so I lathered the bar between my hands and washed my hair with it, too. I rinsed my mouth with water and brushed my teeth the best I could with my finger. My eyes stung from the soap, but the burning gave me the illusion of being cleaner, at least. I cleaned my pussy and ass gingerly, both of them aching from vigorous overuse. I only remembered bits and pieces of things, but my body remembered it all. Even as I washed, cum dripped from me.

I must have made a sound of discomfort because he tsked. “Poor little princess. Did I make you sore?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“A whore like you should have a tough pussy by now.”

I didn’t answer, since there was nothing to say. His accent was thick. Was his voice familiar?

Time had blurred into a confusing series of sex, small meals, and assisted trips to the toilet. He didn’t usually speak to me, but he’d pumped me so full of drugs I hadn’t been well enough to even wonder who’d taken me and why, until now.

Maybe it didn’t require a genius to figure out why.

Wait. The Russians. Bron.

“Does the Island really know you have me?” I whispered. “They’ll track you down.”

He shut off the water, depriving me of the heat I’d been enjoying.

“They know who has you.”

“And they let you take me?” I asked, doubtful.

Lane had her suspicions about the Island’s possible side businesses, but I hadn’t really believed it. Maybe I’d been naïve in thinking the Island was forthright in what they were about. It didn’t make sense to have girls sign up to be there voluntarily, then to let them get involuntarily kidnapped. Why bother having a middleman when it would be just as easy for rich men to kidnap a woman off the street? Maybe because no one would report me missing from the Island?

God—Lane must be out of her head with worry. First Clover and now me? It wasn’t like there was anything she could do to rescue me, even if she knew who had me and where I’d gone.

”Is Lane okay?”

“Yes.” He toweled me off with impatient movements, chafing my skin with the rough cloth.

He sounded exasperated. Had I asked him that before?

“Drink this.” He put a glass in my hand and pushed it toward my mouth.

”Is it drugged?” I asked, wanting to cry. Fuck, I hated being drugged, but this guy seemed to be a big fucking fan.

“Last dose.” The hand over mine was unrelenting.

Maybe I didn’t want to deal with his excessive use without the drugs.

Reluctantly, I downed the mixture. He led me back into a room that smelled like stale air and too much sex.

“I’ll bring your clothing back when it’s clean.” He shoved something at me—a blanket? It was scratchy wool, but warmer than what I’d been wearing for however long I’d been with him.

The floor was still shifting underfoot. It had to be a boat this time.

He left, and I wrapped myself in the blanket before the lethargy tugged me back down into its clutches.

*

I woke to someone over me—in me. Grunting. Stabbing into me with his body. Every thrust was a hot poker. My pussy stung, and my ass ached. How long had he been on top of me?

My limbs wouldn’t obey, so there was no pushing him away. I tried to complain, but speaking was beyond me.

He shuddered and went still, then withdrew with a rush of fluid.

Sleep closed in over my head, suffocating.

*