Page 51 of Frat Row

Startling awake, I find myself in a new room.

From what I can see, it appears to be a bedroom.

Chains rattle as I try to stand up. I look down, noticing that I am chained to the bed.

I also take in the fact that I am naked again, with my arms and legs secured tightly.

It feels like I was heavily drugged. As I strain to open my mouth, I become fully aware that something is in it, and my jaw is aching from the stretch.

There’s a ball gag strapped around my head.

Wriggling my body to no avail, I throw my head back in frustration.

Where has he taken me now? I take deep breaths in and out of my nose, doing my best to soothe my discomfort.

Organizing my thoughts, I try not to spiral, taking in my surroundings. The room is dimly lit. There are no windows, and the door is solid wood. The heat is unbearable; how can there be no air conditioning?

I lay there for what seems like hours before the door creaks open. My gut drops as Martin saunters through the door.

“She wakes!” Martin exclaims in a high-pitched tone. “You have been out for twenty-four hours. I had my men transfer you here.” He motions to the room.

Even though I’m scared, I glare at him, no smart remarks, as my voice has been stolen from me.

Quickly looking at my body, I see I have been cleaned, and new bandages have been placed on my wounds.

Bile rises in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to go away. I think about how Martin or some guard bathed me, the unwanted touch repulsing me.

A loud horn blares, and we begin to move.

I have no idea where this bedroom is located.

After a few minutes, Martin starts touching me between my legs.

“I am going to fuck you in every hole while we are gone.” No matter what, I can’t fight my body’s reaction to his touch, which happens to be pleasurable.

Wait. Gone? What does he mean?

And that is when I feel the up and down motion propelling us forward. My body is drifting up and then back down ever so slightly.

On edge, I gulp my anxiety down as much as the ball gag will allow me. I clench my core, recognizing we are on a boat. But with Martin, I’m sure it’s more than likely a yacht.