πππππΒ
"You're wanted out there again," Ishki said, reaching for my arm. I almost puked as he grabbed my wrist, his fingers thick and oily on my skin. He snapped a handcuff on that wrist and then grabbed my other arm, stepping closer. "They said you won't be coming back here," he whispered, and I felt one of his hands squeezing my ass, his fingers digging painfully into the crack. "It's too bad. I'll miss you, Vladimir."
Vomit rose in my throat as I smelled his breath β stale cigarettes mixed with rotting teeth. It took everything I had not to shove him away. Fighting meant he'd get to touch me even more; I knew that from experience. So I just stood there and waited for him to release me. He couldn't rape me β that was one humiliation I'd been spared, thanks to the cameras β so all I needed to do was remain still and not throw up.
