Filthy Secret

PENELOPE

The room is silent as I scream for my father. He’s the one man that should protect me, but he’s not doing a damn thing to stop any of them. In fact, he’s bound up like me with his arms behind his back. The major difference is, strange objects surround his eyes, holding them open.

Again, that slither of fear winds its way around my heart, robbing me of my breath. They’re going to kill us. I don’t know why. What did we ever do to them? The stranger behind me touches me like he owns me, as my father is forced to watch. It’s mortifying beyond belief.

I pray he can’t see how aroused I am from where he’s at. The room is dim, and that should be my saving grace. Only it’s not. Within moments of that thought, the lights go down, plunging us into darkness, but before I can utter a sigh of relief, a spotlight shines down on us both.

“Your father is a terrible man,” the stranger murmurs behind me. “Seems he thought you were good collateral for his gambling debts.” At his words, the question I was asked earlier comes flooding back to me.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

In horrifying increments, it’s all starting to make sense. Nausea churns my gut as another man in a suit grips my father’s chin and forehead in his grasp, ensuring that he can’t look away even with his eyes forced open. “Daddy?” My words are weak and pathetic, a mirror of how I feel right now.

How could he do this to me? I did everything he asked for and then some! Beneath the sorrow choking me, a thread of anger wraps around me, strengthening me as I tip my head up to look him straight in the eyes. He flinches at my unspoken accusation, telling me everything I need to know.

They’re not making this up. The bastard actually put me down as fucking collateral. What would Mom say if she were still here? How would she feel knowing her only baby girl is now at the hands of monsters because of this asshole of a man?

Once more, the stranger comes close, his breath skittering across my bare skin. “I’m going to fuck you, Penelope, while your father watches, so he gets it into his head that the house always wins.” Shivers race down my spine as his tongue skims my ear.

Need burns through me as his hands grab me to put me back onto the balls of my feet. I’ve saved myself for what? It’s not like any of the guys I’ve been with ever made me feel half of what I feel at the mercy of these men. Childish. That’s the only way to describe our interactions.

Now, I’m in the presence of men. Men that desire me. Men that know exactly what to do with me. Men that are not above debasing me for their pleasure. I didn’t know that was something I craved until this moment. As humiliating as all of this is, I can’t deny that I’m getting even wetter.

My father mumbles some half-hearted, piece of shit apology, as if he can change things now. There’s a reason he’s down here. It means he’d do all of this again in a heartbeat. Anger wins out, pushing away the cloak of despair threatening to overwhelm me. The man behind me wants me. I can feel his arousal long and thick against my hip.

“I can blindfold you, if you want,” he whispers in my ear. “Just because your father is a jackass doesn’t mean you need to suffer needlessly. He’ll be forced to watch you, but that’s not a punishment you have to take on. Trust me, you’ll be dealt with in a far different way for your actions tonight.”

That’s the only thing that brings back that shaft of fear. As much as I want him to fuck me, I’m terrified of what else they have planned. Once he takes my virginity, that’s it. I’m no longer of use to them. “Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Ahhh, my dear, sweet Penelope. I wish I could promise you that. But you see, I never make promises I don’t intend to keep.” He punctuates his words with a nip at my earlobe, and I groan, despite the fear swirling in my gut. He slides his hand further around my waist and descends from there until his fingertips glide along my lower lips. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You want me to take your virginity, don’t you, sweet girl?”

I nod, my gaze sliding back to my father’s. I shouldn’t care that he knows how aroused I’m getting, but there’s still that desperate need for approval. With his eyes forced open the way they are, I can’t tell exactly what his expression is, but I know deep down, he’s disappointed that I don’t fight back. But why should I? I’m here because of him. If anyone should be ranting and raving, it’s him.

Of course, he does nothing. At least I tried. I put up a token resistance. All he’s doing is looking at me and shaking his head in shame. Fuck. That. Straightening up my back, I lean against the stranger, sliding my fingers along his taut stomach as best as the ropes will allow.

“That’s right, my dirty little girl. Let’s give your daddy a show, shall we? I’m going to undo your arms so I can tie them a little differently. Unless you want foreplay to be with my belt across your ass, you’ll remain as still as possible until I get you restrained how I want you. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” I breathe, holding myself rigid. To his credit, he works pretty fast, and soon, my arms are at my side. Tingles race up and down as blood flow comes back in, but all too soon, he’s in front of me, putting my hands together, and putting more rope around them.

When I did a little online exploration, rope was something that always fascinated me. After tonight, I’m pretty sure I’m over it. The rough fibers cut into my wrists, not hard enough to really damage me, but it’s uncomfortable nonetheless. Soon, he connects the hook and motions to someone I can’t see. The hook begins to rise, pulling my arms high in the air until I’m stretched out before everyone in this club.

The man goes back behind me and runs his hands over my body. Every touch is possessive. Which, given the sum he had to pay, he’s essentially my owner now. My clit pulses as his hands slide around front to cup my breasts. “Pregnant or not, my little Penelope, you’re going to make the sweetest milk for me, aren’t you?” His fingers pluck at my nipples, pulling them, stretching them. The sensation is intense, and I’m not sure if I find it pleasurable or agonizing. It’s on that dividing line of pain and pleasure.

The man skims his lips over my shoulder as he kneads my breasts, as if his actions alone will produce the milk he so desperately desires. I’ve heard of wet nurses and women who perform lactation services, but it’s always been in conjunction with babies and not grown men. Then it hits me. Pregnant. Oh. Oh God. That’s the last thing I want.

I’m still practically a kid myself! I don’t need or want a baby! Thrashing about, I try to pull myself out of his grasp, but he holds firm. “Oh, poor thing. Don’t want to be our little cow? I guess you have dear old daddy to thank for that one.”

For once, my father shows a small sign of having a backbone. He jerks about in his restraints, tears falling from his open eyes. I guess it’s just too little too late. “Please,” I whisper, “I don’t want to have a baby. I can’t. I – I just can’t.”

He pulls back around and stands in front of me, stroking his shaft. “Then I guess you better hope to whatever God you pray to that you’re infertile. Because as you can see, I’m not planning on wearing a condom with you. I’m going to stuff that cunt of yours so full of cum that you’ll be leaking for days. And when I’m not fucking you, my friend Nick here will be.”