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I shivered. The sheer negligee I wore gave me little protection and even less warmth against the persistent prison chill.
Or maybe I was just shivering with fear.
And if I wasn’t afraid enough already, I was when I saw the “victor” who would be choosing from us, the Prizes.
The fighter was big, brash, and smothered with scars. There wasn’t an inch of his skin that hadn’t been kissed by a blade. Two enormous tusks jutted from his bottom jaw. They curved inwards and almost met two feet in front of his face.
“Congratulations on your victory,” Lily said, bowing low to the tusked fighter. “Come check out my wares. And I have something new that might interest you.”
I knew without a doubt the huge creature was going to pick me. There was a sense of morbid destiny about it.
He was going to claim me and there was nothing I could do about it.
The tusked one snorted as he ran a fat finger along my jaw. His crooked nail scratched the tip of my chin. He grinned at me, his huge teeth chipped and rotten. I could smell the haggard breath on my face.
I emitted a high-pitched squeal like a child confronted with a feared and dreaded clown.
“This one,” he growled.
“No—” I managed before he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me toward the hallway.
Lily and the others just stood and watched.
I beat at his arm and kicked at his muscular calves but it was no use. A gnat would have the same effect on him as I was.
He marched me through the hallways, turning this way and that.
Prisoners nudged each other in the ribs and glaring at me and gave chase, pinching my ass and cupping a breast when they got close enough.
The only thing holding them back were the guards armed with their heavy bolt rifles. They alone could put these animals down with a single twitch of their trigger fingers. I doubted the hairy, smelly tusked one would lift a finger to help me.
He gripped my arm so tightly I was afraid he might snap it.
Not that he cared about that. There was only one part of me he was interested in. And he dragged me to his cell to make good use of it.
The door to his cell drew shut and he tossed me onto his bed. He removed his armor and undergarments, and threw himself on top of me.
He tore my dress—such as it was—off me and fucked me. There was no better word to describe it, really. We rucked like animals, with no foreplay, no softness, no tender moments, it was hard and rough and lasted far too long.
I cried the entire time.
Once he was done with me, he rolled off, and shoved me off his tiny bed and onto the floor.
I landed hard on my ass but I counted myself lucky. If it meant I could get away from him, it was all to the good.
His was a single cell, with no bathroom, no kitchen, no amenities to entertain myself with.
When I approached the door, it didn’t open. I was trapped and didn’t know when I could leave.
The answer turned out to be the next morning.
By that time, the beast had taken me three times. He got up from his bed, found me, put me into the position he wanted—usually mercenary or doggy—and hammered me until he was done. Then he returned to bed and fell back to sleep.
Each time was unpleasant, but none had been as painful as the first.
I was relieved to leave that place once morning rolled around. The guards stood outside and didn’t lift a finger to help conceal my nakedness.
They led me back to the Prize Pool. I hugged my arms across my chest in a vain attempt to cover myself. The only positive point was that it was early and few prisoners were awake yet. I didn’t think I could take the jeers and howls of derision again.
