The need to free her from my father overpowers the consequences. I won’t be able to live with myself if I just sit back and do nothing.
How in the world am I supposed to do that?
Another thought occurs: is my dad really raping her? Forcing her to do unimaginable things? I saw the bandages all over her, but didn’t want to upset her further.
I drag my hands down my face, having a challenging time understanding how a human being could be put through this torture.
How am I supposed to act normal around my family when my girlfriend, who is my dad’s sex slave, is chained in a room at the bottom of this yacht?
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Unable to stabilize my breathing and rapid heart rate, hope soars through me at the thought of gaining my freedom back after seeing Tyler. Another orgasm slips through and sends me over the edge with exhilaration. Arching my back this time, I relish the high and ride it out fully.
After the last of it, my mind returns to what just happened.
Tyler. My Tyler. Here on the same yacht as me.
Another thought materializes: Martin is Tyler’s dad.
Nausea rises up my throat at how fucked up this entire situation is.
Observing Tyler’s reaction when he saw me and the genuineness he showed when he said he had absolutely no ideaabout his dad’s involvement in this brings me comfort, but not for long.
When Tyler found out about the human trafficking, why didn’t he walk away?
Was he just going to turn a blind eye to it? Or was he going to participate in helping facilitate it?
Distrust courses through me. I should never have gone over to the fraternity’s house. Now, I’m a victim because of it. Letting people into my heart is so rare for me, and I did that without a thought for Tyler.
Suspicion over the situation and Tyler’s participation in all of this makes me wary.
But what choice do I have? He is my only chance.
At least four orgasms and a few hours have passed by before the door swings open, and a drunk Martin staggers in.
He quirks his lip mischievously at me.
“You clearly had a great day,” he states, without any kind of emotion in his voice.
Not reacting to him since I know it turns him on, I refrain from shifting my body and proceed to glare at him.
First, he pulls the remotes for the vibrators out of his pocket and turns them off. My core pulses as I close my eyes, the fatigue taking over.
Delicately, he moves to remove the ball gag but suddenly pauses, seeing that the headphones are to the side of me.
Confused, his lips turned down.
“How did you get these off, my resourceful girl?” He bends over me as he shakes his head, making light of it, and unbuckles the ball gag, withdrawing it from my mouth.
He reaches his hand out, quickly grabs a small towel, and wipes off the drool on the sides of my face. Noticing I have relieved myself on the bed, he yanks the sheet off underneath me and cleans between my legs.
“Tonight, my dear, you rest. You have earned it after your performance today. Tomorrow is a new day.”
Opening one of the cabinets, there is a small fridge, and he brings a cold water bottle to my lips. I slurp it down along with a few purple grapes he hand-feeds me.
My stomach growls. I am still hungry.
After dabbing my mouth with the towel, he strides out of the room, vacant of any regard for me.
