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“Don’t risk it,” Xero says.
I draw away from the fluid with a frown.
A metallic clink has me flinching back toward the corner of my cell. It’s coming from a square hatch in the door that slides open to reveal a pair of dark eyes.
It’s Seth. The man who escorted me to Delta’s room and threatened me with anal rape.
“Hey. Looking for this?” He draws back and pushes a plastic water bottle through the hatch.
My heart skips, and I wait for him to let the drink fall to the floor, but he only moves it from side to side.
“Go on, take it,” he says, sounding gruff.
I glance at Xero, who shakes his head.
My throat constricts, escalating my thirst. Bits of cereal bar cling to the inside of my mouth. I need something to wash it down before I choke.
Seth pulls back the bottle. “Alright. Suit yourself.”
“Wait.” I rush forward toward the hatch, already reaching out for the disappearing water, but it’s replaced by a long, skinny erection, already dripping with precum.
“Suck on this!”
Bile rises to the back of my throat as I recoil from the hatch, my pulse quickening. Blood pounds through my veins, sending up a surge of adrenaline. I should have fucking known.
“Come on, baby.” Seth strokes himself, his voice breathy with excitement. “It’s only a mouthful.”
“Don’t give him the satisfaction of an audience,” Xero snarls.
I turn my gaze toward the wall.
“Look at me,” Seth growls. “If you want that fucking drink, you’re going to watch me come.”
I grind my teeth, not wanting to give him a second of acknowledgment. It dawns on me then that I’m the only available woman on the set. Dolly is married to Delta and has gained some sort of power in X-Cite Media. Everyone else here is a man with a taste for extreme pornography. There’s only one door separating me from a gang of predators.
Seth groans. “Look at me when I’m coming, you worthless cunt.”
He can go straight to hell.
After a skin-crawling eternity, he grunts his release, and the hatch slams shut. Seth leaves, his laughter echoing through the hallway.
I turn back toward the dog bowl, but the water is now cloudy with semen. Ropes of cum trail from the hatch and spread across the floor toward the bowl. That bastard, Seth, sabotaged my water on purpose.
Xero places a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t even think about it.”
I scoff. “Is this your idea of a joke? I’d rather die.”
Hours later, Grunt returns to take me back to the studio room and stops at a set of artificial green tiles featuring a pair of steaming bathtubs. Locke stands between them, dressed in a white coat and a surgical mask, holding a clipboard.
My throat, which is already parched from not drinking, tightens. Grunt deposits me between the tubs and steps back as the crew point their cameras.
“No need to clutch your pearls,” Locke says. “We’re only shooting B-roll footage.”
When I give him a blank look, he adds, “Background footage, so our patrons get the look and feel of an abandoned asylum. These days, it’s not enough to gang-rape a bitch and leave her to bleed out on a dirty mattress. People want atmosphere, drama, artistry.”
“You’re going to all this trouble so a bunch of sick fucks can jerk off?” I rasp.
He tuts. “Dolly always said you didn’t appreciate the arts.”
