Page 17 of The Preachers' Promise

“Wait a minute, Carter. She might have had a change of heart.”

Carter remains standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his arms folded over his chest. The short white sleeves of his uniform strain over his biceps. There’s something cruel about his features. His eyes are too small and set too far apart, his lips thin, his nostrils flared. His blond hair is thinning, his pale scalp shining through the strands under the harsh overhead light.

They both stare at me.

My face floods with heat. “I can’t do it now that he’s here.”

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “You’ve proven yourself untrustworthy. I need him here in case you try anything else.”

He gives a slow smile, his gaze lingering over me. “I’ve seen it all before, sweetheart.”

He makes my skin crawl.

“Strip,” the woman says, “or we’ll just sedate you and undress you ourselves. Your choice.”

It’s not much of a choice, but I know for sure that I don’t want Carter’s hands on me.

“Okay, okay.”

I get to my feet, my legs wobbly beneath me. My head swims, and I pause, waiting for it to pass. I clutch my new outfit to my body.

“We haven’t got all day,” Carter snaps.

Huddling into myself to try to keep my modesty, I pull my shirt over my head. I go to pull the pink top on, but she stops me. “Lose the bra. We need to make sure you haven’t hidden anything in it.”

“I haven’t!” I cry.

“You still can’t keep it. It has an underwire in that you might use to hurt yourself or someone else.”

I fight down tears but turn my back. I unhook my bra and drop it to the floor.

“Now turn to show us,” she says. “We have to make sure you don’t have anything under your breasts.”

My vision wobbles with unshed tears. Keeping my head down, I slowly turn.

Carter gives a chuckle. “Her tits aren’t big enough to hide anything under.”

“Now the pants, underwear and all,” the woman says.

There’s no point in trying to fight it. I just want all this to be over and for them to leave me alone. Fighting tears ofhumiliation, I roll off my pants, taking my panties with them, and kick them away. I use my hands the best I can to hide myself.

She stands directly in front of me. “Squat.”

I do, my thighs trembling, and me hating her with every ounce of my soul.

“Good. You can stand. Now open your mouth. We need to check you’re not hiding anything in your cheeks.”

“I’m not.”

“Just open your mouth.”

I think she is going to do it, but then Carter steps forward. I’m completely naked, with only my hands covering my body, and having a strange man in such proximity to me feels like a violation in itself. He grabs my jaw and digs in his fingers, forcing me to open.

I whimper my dismay.

He pushes a thick finger into my mouth and swirls it around the inside of my cheeks. He lingers a little too long on my tongue then pushes his digit far enough back in my throat to make me gag.

“She’s clean,” he announces.