"Please." I'm not sure the word actually makes it off my tongue. It feels too heavy to move. "I'm sick."
"You're not sick." Someone pants. It's breathless, frustrated, like I'm annoying them. I think it's Krowe. "You're fine. Just relax."
"No." I moan, but it turns to a gasp as the pain shoots through my stomach again. A sob racks through me, because I feel like I'm going to die right now.
Everything is wrong, and I'm dizzy and nauseous and in so much pain.
Where's the pain coming from?
"Shut her the fuck up so he can concentrate!" Someone snaps. "There's a long line here."
A line?
The shaking beneath me gets faster, the thunder more insistent.
"A storm..." I warn them, just before something pushes against my mouth.
It's warm, soft, and I think it's a hand... someone's trying to get me to stop talking. Why?
"Christ, not like that. I don't want to see your hairy asshole when I blow my load."
Thunder rumbles again like a warning.
"Just like that..." Someone croons, and I squint, trying to see through the darkness to tell who it is. "Go on, open up."
I want to ask what's going on, but then something is shoved into my mouth. It's warm too, just like whatever they pressed against my lips. But this time, it touches my tongue, and the vomit swells again.
Panic flares in my chest at being trapped, pinned to the ground; the adrenaline must puncture the fog because the darkness lifts, but there's no shapes I can make out... nothing but one big blur of white.
"Oh, fuck..."
"Already?" There's a chorus of chuckles from somewhere, but I can't turn toward it to ask for help because I'm suffocating on whatever they shoved in my mouth.
They gagged me?
"I can't fucking hold off. It's too good. I'm gonna—"
Something wet splashes against the back of my tongue, and my stomach heaves, desperate for release. But it doesn't come,and I'm not going to die by suffocating on my own vomit because that's a shitty fucking way to go, so I work hard to swallow it down past my protesting gag reflex.
The gag disappears, and I heave in breaths, desperate to quell my heaving stomach.
"Christ, she swallowed it all!"
"What a fucking whore. We should keep her... like a pet in the storm cellar."
There are tears in my eyes, leaking down my face, but I can see past them enough to make out the blob receding above me as the weight disappears.
After a few more blinks, I see him. Krowe.
He's grinning still, that beautiful mouth curved into a devious smile, and his head tossed back.
"Krowe..." I gasp.
He told me I was safe with him, and I believed that. But why doesn't he look concerned?
I’m really sick.
Something is wrong.
