Chapter 1 Alma - The prison 1
This book is an RH dark romance. There will be numerous triggers - the list is too long to post here. If you think you can't handle it, turn around. If you do venture further, I hope you enjoy every word.
This is the first book in The Dukes Series, and it's interconnected with The Lords Series.
Jason Deymar—puto cabrón de mierda, fucking piece of shit who deserves to die in the worst possible way—shoves me as one of the security guards opens the front gate of the prison to let us pass.
“Welcome to your new home, bitch.”
I almost turn around so I can punch him in the face for calling me a bitch, but the last time I tried to hit him, he grabbed my arm and twisted it with such force I was sure he’d broken it. He didn’t, but my arm is still sore. I can always kick and bite, but I will be overpowered the moment I try something funny. So, I force myself to wait and keep walking.
“Fuck you, asshole!” I sneer through gritted teeth. I might not be able to fight him physically, but I can always let him know how much he disgusts me.
Jason shoves me again, making me stumble forward and nearly sending me to the ground. Despite the handcuffs binding my hands in front of me, I catch myself at the last moment. He and the correctional officers laugh. All but one, who, despite the amusement in his eyes, tries to keep a straight face.
I look over my shoulder, glaring at Jason, before raising my hands in the air and showing him both my middle fingers. If this motherfucker thinks I’m scared of him, he’ll soon learn how fucking wrong he is.
The only reason I haven’t escaped my kidnapper yet is because Jason kept me drugged, with a bag over my head so I couldn’t see where we were going, and I was also handcuffed the entire time until we got here—wherever here is. From what I could tell, when he finally removed the bag, we were in the middle of nowhere. The only building in sight is the prison. Nothing else. Just a vast, open field stretching out for miles and miles. I need to figure out where I am—and fast.
This is the first time in days that I’ve been out of his car for more than a few minutes. He usually stopped at gas stations and stood guard outside the bathroom while I took care of my business, which wasn’t easy, since he refused to uncuff me, no matter what.
While in the car, he kept my hands cuffed to the door and my legs tied with rope so I wouldn’t attack him. I did try to angle my body in a way that would let me kick him a few times, but he tased me every time—until I stopped.
At some point, he’ll have to remove these handcuffs. And when that happens, he’ll wish he’d never been born. I’m going to fucking blow this prison up, with him in it.
Jason and the officer who let us in take me to the courtyard. It isn’t the cold, wintry day that makes my blood turn to ice—it’s the scene unfolding before my eyes.
Right in the middle of the courtyard, about six women are being gangbanged by three or four men, while around thirty other men linger nearby, watching and even jerking off, probably waiting their turn. Off to the side, two other women are kneeling, surrounded by at least seven men. The women are wearing little to nothing as they suck or jerk off cocks. I can’t even imagine how cold they must be.
“What is this place?” I ask.
Jason lets out a bark of laughter before replying, “A prison for all those Dukes who broke the rules and went rogue. They like to call themselves Rogue Dukes.”
Rogue Dukes. I’ve never heard of them. From the looks of it, they’re just as nasty as the rest of the Dukes—maybe even more so.
“Why did you bring me here?” I demand to know, but already guessing the answer.
Jason turns to face me. His gaze sweeps over my body. Despite the freezing temperature, I’m only wearing a dress–the same one I had on the night my entire world changed.
He grabs the back of my neck and has me look at the women in the courtyard. “I think it’s obvious. You are to join the rest of the bitches. After all, the only place women should be is on their knees, worshipping Dukes, rogues or not.”
“¡Vete pa’l carajo!” I sneer, then spit in his face.
The next moment, Jason slaps me so hard across the face that my ears ring.
“This place will be good for you. It will teach you how to respect me,” Jason snarls.
While I press my cuffed hands to my throbbing cheek, Jason turns to the officer. “Make sure she gets a proper welcoming,” he says, before handing the guard a small key—probably the one to my handcuffs. “I will probably bring new women in a couple of weeks.”
The officer chuckles. “Maybe you will bring one for me.” He has a slight Southern accent.
Jason shrugs. “Maybe.” Then, to me, he adds, “I wish I could stay and see how you get fucked, but there are places I have to be.”
I say nothing to him, because I’m too busy plotting his death in my head. And how to get the fuck away from here, before things escalate.
A few seconds after Jason leaves, the officer turns his attention to me, looking me over like cattle. If he keeps looking at me like that, he will be left without eyes.
“Pretty,” he says while he grabs my left breast and squeezes it hard.
I try to slap his hand away, but he grabs my wrist and brings my hands above my head as he keeps groping me. His hand moves to my other tit, and he pinches my nipple.
He lets out a low whistle. “Nice tits. Love them big. I love ass too. From what I can see, you have a perfect one.”
He’s such a typical man; I’m not even surprised. He only sees me as a sex toy, so he won’t know what hits him until it’s too late.
While he’s distracted and drooling all over my tits, I kick him right in the nuts. The bastard should be in pain, falling to his knees, but all he does is grin at me before leaning forward and saying into my ear, “My angel loves pain. And so do I. Do you?”
