Page 23 of StoryTeller's Tale

But that’s where I’m heading, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I struggle, stumble, but end up being half dragged along the overgrown pathway and in through the doorway. I’m pulled upright and to a halt in the middle of a room.

I stand, my chest heaving as I hyperventilate. My mouth is completely dry. Shivers rack my body as I’m subjected to an unpleasant scrutiny by a number of bikers who are lounging around. Movement catches my attention, and my eyes focus there as one stands. Idly, I notice the letters on his cut denote he’s calledTats.

He walks over as the biker behind me draws my hands firmly behind my back and holds them tightly. When Tats is directly in front, he stares at me, his eyes tracing down, lingering on my breasts, my stomach, and then to my legs.

“She fits the description.” Half turning, he nods at one of the men behind me approvingly. “Tall for a girl, long legs. Got meat on her bones, and the red hair requested. The face isn’t much, but maybe the rest of her assets will make up for that.”

“I’m happy to try her out,” one of those seated calls out, his offer being received by a round of laughter.

“Sure you will, Fang. That’s mighty big of you.” Tats rolls his eyes.

The man making the offer rubs at his crotch. “Glad you noticed.”

Someone else snorts.

Though my mind is fogged with terror, I try to think through it. Physically, I’m unable to beat them. I’ve only my brains to depend on now. These men seem to have taken me because I match some kind of warped shopping list, though I’m not sure any of the assets they’ve mentioned are worth very much. It’s clear I’m not going to be able to stop them from having their wicked and probably very unpleasant ways with me, unless there’s some way I can increase my value for being untouched. The merit of a certain predicament had come up a time or two in the stories I’ve read. Now, I’ve just got to be believable.

I let my lip tremble, not having to feign the shakes that are racking my body. In a quivering voice, I blurt out, “I’m a virgin.”

“Sure you are,” the one named Fang retorts. “Nice try.” Lazily, he gets to his feet, his hands starting to unbuckle his belt. “But all the better if you are. Breaking them in is the best part.” He starts walking toward me. I try to shrink back but I’m still being firmly held. Jeers and chuckles start sounding and just when Fang’s within touching distance, he’s interrupted.

“Hold up.” Tats raises his hand in the air. His rheumy eyes meet mine. “You wouldn’t be lying to us, would you, sweetheart?”

“N-n-no.” Keeping myself from being raped immediately relies on how well I can spin this truth. “I’m a good Christian girl. I’ve got a fiancé. He’s waiting—”

“Bollocks she has,” a man with a distinct British accent states, his words punctuated with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “She’s just trying to keep us hands off, Tats.”

Tats swings around to face him. “And if she’s telling the truth? We fuck her, get our rocks off, bloody her up and then find we could have asked double, triple for her?” He scrubs a hand across his bald head. “You want to explain to Knuckles about that?”

“And if we sell her under false pretences, who’s going to cop it then?” the British man insists.

“We could check her out.” Fang enters the conversation again.

Tats eyes go wide. “Yeah? And you’re a fuckin’ doctor who can tell?”

Fang shrugs. “Well, it should be obvious. She’d be tight as fuck.”

And I want dirty fingers touching me about as much as I want one of their cocks. My stomach rolls and I feel like I’m going to vomit.

Tats walks close and stands right in front of me. It’s as though he’s trying to read my mind. I don’t have to pretend for real fear to show on my face, I might be trying to be brave, but I’m terrified. Experienced or not, no woman wants to be raped.

As he stares into me, my mind works, but try as I might, I can’t think of a way out. These aren’t the bikers I’ve always read about. They don’t give a damn for anyone but themselves. Idly, I find myself wondering if I do get out, whether I should sue the authors of the books who so misled me. Maybe if I’d been more scared of them at the start, I wouldn’t have let down my guard.

There was nothing more I could have done.

It’s not the authors’ fault, nor mine. I knew these were bad boys in the worst possible way as soon as I’d seen them, and I’d always known the bikers I read about lived only in a fantasy world. I just doubt I’ll be reading those books with the same enthusiasm ever again. And that’s if I even get the chance.

Instead of holding Tats’ stare, I drop my eyes in a show of submissiveness.That’s what a virgin would do, isn’t it?

“Please, please don’t hurt me.” My voice sounds as weak and helpless as I’m feeling, but perhaps that bit of begging might help. Reading the room, any defiance isn’t going to go down well. I’ve been used to bullies trying to take advantage of the quiet weak girl. There are times when standing up for yourself earns you respect, but sometime staying quiet and demure better serves your purpose.

“Tats—?”

“Oh, fuck it. Just throw her in with the others,” Tats snarls as if he, too, was anticipating playing with a new toy, only to have it taken away. “I’ll need to talk to Knuckles to see how he wants to play this.”

“Knowing Knuckles,” another unnamed biker states in a voice that sounds whiney, “he’ll want to break her in himself.”

Another sneers, “She’d wish it was one of us.”

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