Big Sky (13 page)

She didn’t quite believe Will’s description of drunk-Luke as less intimidating. The only one who wasn’t drunk was Will. He must be the designated driver—or the one designated to pull the others off her if they got out of hand. Physically, he was strong; they all were. They had to be for that kind of work, but was he strong enough to protect her if she needed it? And would he?

“Why isn’t Will drinking?” she asked, needing to confirm her hope.

“Safety. If you need to be cut out of the ropes for some reason, do you want to trust I haven’t had too much to drink to do it without slicing you open?”

At least Luke could hold his drink enough to have that rationale.

“Why aren’t
you
drinking?” he asked. “I need you loose and relaxed.”

“I don’t drink. Not since my freshman year of college.” It had taken exactly one year to realize why drunk was only fun the night before.

Wheels were turning in his head, but Veronica had no idea which wheels. Was he going to hold her down and force her to drink out of a funnel? He could make her drink if he wanted her drunk.

“Put your arms over your head like this.” He raised his arms to demonstrate, which made him look ridiculous. Yeah, he was a bit silly drunk.

She rolled her eyes but did it, and he pulled her dress over her head. There was a bite in the air that caused her nipples to harden, but the bonfire so close kept the worst of the chill away.

Luke’s mouth closed over one of her breasts, sucking on it while Robert watched with a leer on his face.

“We should milk her,” he said.

Veronica’s eyes widened and she hoped the men were all too drunk to remember any of this in the morning. She looked for Luke’s reaction. It was a raised eyebrow.

“She’s not pregnant,” Luke said.

“It doesn’t matter. I saw it on a website. All we have to do is give her hormone shots, and keep trying til we get there. She’s already branded, we may as well milk her, too—keep the theme alive.”

“You are a freak,” Luke said as if he had room to talk with his playroom and video cameras, but the look in his eyes said he thought the idea was just the right level of degrading to be hot. “Have you even tasted breast milk? As an adult?”

“I have,” Will said. “When Frieda was pregnant. I got curious.”

“And?”

“It’s sweet. Not bad. It depends on what you feed her, though. It can taste sour if she eats too much onion and garlic.”

“No onions and garlic, then,” Luke said as if he were actually considering it.

Will turned red in the firelight.

Luke noticed. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Will ducked his head. “After the baby was weaned, I made her keep producing milk for me for a couple of years until she finally got fed up with it.”

“What do you think, princess?” He cupped her mound, his fingers slipping inside her. “Survey says, yes. The idea makes our little slut hot.”

She flushed and turned away.

“What do you think, Jake?” Luke asked.

“I think it’s disgusting. I’m not drinking it.”

“More for us, then.”

“You know what they call them?” Will asked, too into the idea to let it drop now. “Milk maids.”

“Hot,” Robert said.

“I still think it’s nasty,” Jake said.

“And we said you didn’t have to participate,” Luke said. “Help me tie her up.”

Jake put down his beer and followed them to the big wooden X. The two men positioned her on her back, leaning to press against the wood.

“Careful with her brand,” Luke said.

“It’s not even touching the beam, she’s fine.”

Veronica’s face flamed as they spread her legs wide to tie them down, exposing her more than she’d ever been exposed for any of them. Even in just firelight it was humiliating. Robert and Will watched from a few paces back. Jake helped tie her up, but once she was secured, he stepped back and let Luke go to work.

“This is going to look like a crack-addicted spider’s web, with me doing this drunk,” Luke said.

“Doing what?” Veronica asked, her curiosity overcoming her fear and embarrassment for a moment.

“Japanese rope bondage. He learned it a few years ago. If he’s doing the fancy rope work, you’re going to be there for awhile,” Robert said.

Robert wasn’t kidding. Half an hour later, Luke was just finishing up the knots. He’d wrapped ropes intricately around both of her arms, keeping it as loose as possible around the sunburned areas. On her legs he wasn’t so lenient. Then he tied ropes around her upper torso, and her breasts. The constricting nature of that much rope tied with that much time and complexity made her panic.

“Shhhh,” Luke said, stroking her hip. “Deep breaths. This is why I wanted you relaxed. Will can cut you out fast if necessary.”

“I have a problem,” Veronica said, once her breathing was back to normal.

“Yes?”

She flushed and lowered her voice. “I have to pee.”

Luke started to laugh.

“I’m serious. I really have to go.”

He shrugged, unconcerned with her discomfort. “So pee.”

Her eyes widened. “I hope that’s a joke. I can’t just
pee
.”

Luke’s expression darkened. “You can and you will. We are far from finished with you and there’s no way I’m undoing all this work so you can take a piss. It’s just pee. Do it.”

She shook her head and glared at him, her lips set in a firm, defiant line. “I can’t.” There was no way she could be exposed like that and pee in front of them. It was too degrading and awful.

Robert, who was proving to be the most dangerous instigator of the group, came closer. “This, I have to see.”

Within a couple of minutes, all four of them were standing around her, arms crossed, amused looks on their faces—just waiting for it.

“I’m not doing it,” she said.

Despite the alcohol that had lightened his mood, Luke’s face was stern. “Ronnie, what did we say about you making an effort and seeing how much nicer I could be?”

“I don’t care. Be mean, beat the shit out of me, but I’m absolutely not doing it. I’d rather die.” She didn’t really mean that, she only said it because she didn’t think he’d do it, at least not the killing part. He was too giddy with all the perverted things he could make her do to end it all now. The big box of videos he had of Trish said it had been a long time since he’d done all of this, and he wasn’t about to end the party now.

“You’ll do it. You won’t have a choice.” Luke turned to one of the guys, “Jake, go get the bong out of the shed.”

Veronica jerked her head up at that. They had a bong? When did they have time for recreational drug use? She’d seen the amount of work they had to do, though they did seem to sometimes stop about a half hour before dinner time. Still, she’d never smelled it on any of them.

“You’re getting her high?” Jake asked.

“Oh yes.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? If she’s too stoned to care, it’s less fun.”

“I’m only relaxing her enough so that she’ll let go, not enough to kill the impact on her.”

Jake disappeared behind the hay bales and came back ten minutes later with the bong, ready to go. Luke lit it and held the mouthpiece up to her mouth. Veronica preferred to be a little stoned for this, so she chose not to fight him and inhaled.

“Okay, that’s plenty, maybe a little too much.”

She relaxed. She knew they’d succeeded in their goal when they let out whistles and catcalls. Then she felt the hot, wet stream trickle down her leg.

When she realized what she’d done, the tears started sliding down her face. Luke moved in next to her ear. “Don’t let them get to you. They’re just fucking with you. They’re drunk as hell and won’t remember it in the morning.”

The small gesture caught her off guard. “What about Will?”

“Well, you know about him and Frieda. He’s probably the freakiest fucker here. Nothing fazes him, so don’t worry about it.”

Robert came up with the water hose and Veronica cringed, afraid he was going to hose her down like some prison movie, but he was only cleaning her off with a light mist.

Luke seemed to have sobered up as he approached with that predatory look in his eyes. Despite the discomfort since he’d tied her to the wooden beams, and despite the other men looking on, her mouth watered when he unzipped his pants. However sober he appeared, he had to still be buzzed if he was casually dropping trough in front of the others.

“Beg me to fuck you, sweetheart. I want the guys to hear how sweet you sound when you beg me.”

Veronica’s heart beat harder, and the relaxation that had hit her with the marijuana faded as everything came into hyper focus. If she didn’t do as he requested, he might beat her and then force her. She needed to feel at least the illusion of consent. It was impossible to fight him with the ropes tied so tightly around her, especially outnumbered as she was.

Her real choice wasn’t whether she would consent or not. The real choice was whether she would try to separate herself from the event, try to hover outside her body or if she would connect and feel and accept what these men would do to her. The latter was a terrifying idea that every cell in her body bucked and rebelled against, but the former... if she separated she might become so lost she never found herself again.

Veronica closed her eyes and forced the words past her lips. “P-please, Sir, fuck me.” When she’d said it, the throbbing need began between her legs.

“In front of my men? You dirty slut. Do you like being watched, Ronnie?”

“I-I don’t know.”

It wasn’t as if the idea of his ranch hands in some kind of circle jerk around her hadn’t entered her filthy mind, but she hadn’t thought they’d actually act it out. She wasn’t sure she could handle the reality when she couldn’t control the outcome.

“Do you want to find out?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

Luke looked back at Robert. “What did I tell you? Do you trust my judgment now?”

Robert tossed back another beer. “Sure, boss. I trust everything you say right now.”

Luke stepped out of his pants, and Veronica licked her lips. He was hard and ready, but he still lazily stroked his cock, watching her. He finally filled her inch by agonizingly slow inch. He trapped her gaze in his as his hand dug into her brand.

“Ow!”

A slow smile. She wouldn’t have guessed a rancher would know anything about the art of subtlety or innuendo, but the pain and grip on her hip hadn’t been accidental. When he entered her, he wanted her to remember which one of them she belonged to.

He stroked gently over his mark. “Shhhh,” he murmured, trailing wet kisses over her neck. He began to move in a languid pace, dragging out her torment, while his men chanted and egged him on in the background. Mortifyingly she’d gotten wetter when he’d gripped his mark and hurt her, the tinge of masochism coming out to betray her just like her cunt had.

Robert got impatient. “Hurry up. I want my turn.”

“You’ll get your turn. You might want to stay sober enough to get it up.”

“Fuck you, Luke.”

He just laughed and continued to piston in and out of her. Veronica had moved past the embarrassment point. The boom box had run out of batteries and died, leaving only the crackling bonfire and the chirping crickets. The night felt unreal and ancient, and when she looked up, the stars seemed to beckon her to join them. It was like the day before when she’d lain in the grass, floating on the endorphin rush from the branding.

Whatever was happening wasn’t about doors and misogyny and rights and indignation. It wasn’t about which gender made more money or if men objectified women too much in bikini contests. It was pure, raw animal lust that reached inside her and flipped something low in her gut.

He gripped her hip again, jolting her out of the state she was in, dragging a whimper from her throat and her attention back to him.

“Who do you belong to? Whose mark do you bear?”

“You... y-yours,” she panted.

Then for the second time with him, she came. The men shouted and whistled and catcalled, adding to the surreal nature of the moment. Luke pulled out and finished by hand, leaving a trail of cum dripping down her stomach.

“Next!” He pulled his jeans back on and zipped up, then went to sit on a bale of hay, his dark eyes never leaving her.

Robert stalked her, purpose in his gaze. A tear slid down Veronica’s cheek and she closed her eyes. A calloused thumb brushed it away.

“If you don’t want me, I won’t fuck you, darlin’. I’m not a rapist.”

Was Luke? Yes, no, maybe... but... it hadn’t felt that way while he was inside her. She’d chosen to be there for the experience instead of disconnecting, and she felt more high from the rush than the drugs they’d given her.

Had there been a single moment in which she hadn’t wanted Luke’s hands on her? She’d been afraid he might kill her or hurt her, but afraid he might fuck her? She couldn’t remember. She might have protested his ownership of her, but her body had known its master the moment he’d gotten close enough for her to get a whiff of his aftershave.