I’m not surprised to find a black screen when I pull up the camera footage inside the brunette from last night’s cage. I expected nothing less from her.
I flip through each cage, taking note of the women and how they’re doing. Three are asleep, and one of the blondes is curled up in a ball, arms wrapped around her bent knees as far from the door as possible. I take my time before flipping to the shot inside the redhead’s cage. I don’t know exactly what her appeal is, but I find her fascinating. My fingers itch to run through the tangled mess on her head, but Angel was right, damaging the goods isn’t good for business.
When the redhead startles in her sleep, I flip to the cameras inside the room so I can get a better picture of what’s going on. Angel, along with two other men, come into the room, and despite his position and job, he’s much gentler with the women than Berto and his guys were last night.
I follow them through the basement from the room they’re currently in to the hallway leading to the showers, turning the cameras off before they’re required to strip naked.
A couple years ago, I wouldn’t have any issue overseeing the entire process, and I blame Kincaid and his band of fucking bleeding-heart Boy Scouts. My time with them is stuck in my head, and if I’m not careful, they’re going to have the power to make me fuck this entire thing up.
My eyes are heavy, but there’s no chance of sleep right now. I don’t know that I’ll ever get a good night’s sleep for however many days are left in my life. When my eyes close, I see horrific things, things I’m ashamed of, things I know I’ll do again.
I don’t know that there’s forgiveness for a man like me, and there’s not a chance in hell I’ll ever ask for it.
My eyes dart back to the video feed on their own, focusing solely on the redhead as she trembles. She’s next in line for the shower and when Angel urges her forward, no doubt demanding that she get naked, I can’t look away.
I can’t stop my cock from beginning to thicken, but then my bad choices come roaring back, mainly having chosen alcohol over actual food.
I barely make it to the bathroom before I puke.
Chapter 5
Cara
“You’re next,” Angel says, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Strip.”
“Please, I—”
“Now!”
My hands tremble as I pull my filthy scrub top over my head.
“Toss it in the pile,” one of the other guys sneers, his eyes roaming to the front of my bra. “Then the rest.”
I nod, my eyes closing as I reach behind me and unsnap my bra. The air around us is humid from the showers going, and it makes me feel dirty. The three pairs of male eyes on me only make it worse. Maybe I should be grateful it’s only eyes right now. I don’t know what’s stopping them from touching or worse, but none of them make a move to fondle me. They haven’t handled any of the other women either, but I know it won’t last forever.
I push down my scrub pants and underwear in one go because I know they won’t be very impressed if I stall any longer, and it would feel like too much of a striptease to remove them separately. I kick them toward the pile, using my hands to cover my chest as best as possible.
“Do I need to wash you myself,” one of the guys snaps. “That one is free, go.”
I move quickly, placing my body under the spray of the showerhead, unconcerned with the temperature of the water. I imagine the warmth of the water would feel nice if this were any other situation. If three men weren’t watching to make sure I get clean. I wash quickly, noticing that the women that have finished are being given clothes to put on. I hate that I feel even an ounce of gratefulness for being handed a pile of sweats, but honestly, they could keep us completely naked and there would be nothing we could do about it.
The towel I use is damp from being used by one of the other women, but I dry my skin as best I can before rushing to get dressed. Our hair is still wet, dampening the shirts on our backs as we’re led into another room. Ten chairs line a long, narrow hallway and we’re required to sit. I watched the brunette from last night as her eyes dart up and down the hallway, but the other women have dropped their gazes to their feet. I don’t know where to look or how to act. Will being defiant and looking around be better than looking submissive? I get the gut feeling that it wouldn’t matter one way or the other.