When beautiful Amanda Coleman accepted a job at a rustic library in a bucolic little town, she never imagined it would be the first step into a living nightmare of captivity and depravity. Nor did she think that her fate would hinge upon the head librarian, the town doctor, and an innocent, pretty, heroic, runaway blonde girl who wanted to do nothing more than help others. As the two struggled against perverted injustice, little did they know that an unknown warrior was on the way -- an ex-white slaver known only as Tyler. But would he get there in time...?
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She fell, kicking and screeching, to the teak-floored entry hall. He took the brunt of the fall for her, giving her time to finally realize that she was no longer outside, and that, between the plastic and cloth she couldn’t scream, or even breathe. They landed with a thud next to a wall table with an old phone on it. He quickly kicked the door closed while she rolled off him onto her side. There was a chunk of an automatic bolt clicking harshly in place, and then he started to scramble to his feet.
She kicked once with each leg, like a swimmer trying to get away from a shark, but this swimmer had a tow rope around her neck, and he dragged her behind like him like chum. One hand clawed at her throat, trying to relieve the stranglehold, but the plastic was deep in her flesh. The other hand shot to the squishing sock in her mouth. Her fingers wrapped around it, but just before she pulled at it, her teeth tightened.
The same moment she wrenched the thing from her mouth, hurling it across the living room to the left, something exuded from it, onto her tongue, and down her throat. It was noxious and acidic. The cry she attempted beyond the choker was squelched by it. Her mind and mouth groaned, but she managed to pull her shapely legs under her. She slammed back against the wall, but he was on her again, his hands in her face.
Her lovely mouth was now distended like a Mvnch painting, but all that came out was a choking wheeze. She twisted away, trying to fight off his hands, but they got through, slapping over her lips and grabbing her thick, lustrous hair. Through the roar in her ears she could hear him.
“Mine,” he was saying over and over. “Mine, mine, mine, mine...!”