A single sob racked his body. He would surely die this time.
He couldn’t see anything, but all of a sudden he felt those hands roaming over his body, prying under his sweater. Despite himself, Luke felt grateful that he was wearing it instead of a shirt with buttons. This way at least those beasts had difficulty stripping him, even though it wouldn’t stop them from doing the things he hated.
Luke didn’t see it but his ears caught the sound of a zipper being undone right under his nose and he smelled something wickedly familiar—the musky smell of a man. He shuddered again, feeling sick but not wanting to open his mouth, fearing that something worse would happen to him. Fingers tightened in his hair.
“Open it, whore! Open that sweet mouth of yours and swallow it!”
Luke sobbed quietly and tried to shake his head. No. They couldn’t make him do that again. They couldn’t do something like this to him anymore. He was a free man, and he—he didn’t want to be a whore anymore.