Devour You: A Post-Apocalyptic MMMF Kinky Erotica: A Spicy Tale of Bondage, Discipline & Submission in a Cruel New World (The Soldiers’ Toy Book 1) by Maeve Harlow
The van jolts to a stop. There are four of us in the back, four orphan boys. My disguise has worked so far but only because no one has looked too closely. If I can get inside the camp without anyone finding out, I might just be able to disappear in there. A few weeks ago I’d met a family, a father and his two children, who had told me about the camp. It was a large industrial complex the military had started using as a base during the war. That was years ago, now they were rounding up what was left of humanity and bringing them there to restart society from the scraps the war and the bombs left behind. The father had warned me also that I should avoid this place at all costs. Rebuilding society meant children, and women to have them. The soldiers who’d survived took it upon themselves to “assist” with this repopulation, with or without consent. And from the stories he’d told me, it was mostly without. He’d left the camp, sneaking out in the night. The next day he cropped his daughter’s hair and dressed her in boy’s clothes. After we parted ways, I did the same.
But they’d trapped me. As I went into a grocery store to find food, I fell through the floor and into a cage, then waited for three excruciating hours until a group of men came, took my bag and shoes, and put me in the back of the van with three boys, war orphans. I’m small enough to pass for a teenage boy and hoped no one would notice otherwise.
“Check them for weapons,” I hear as the van door slides open. Shit. They’d already checked once, but not very thoroughly, just patting our pockets. Even a slightly more hands-on frisk and they’d be bound to notice I’m a woman and not a boy. The three boys get out, and I stay where I am, starting to shake even more than I was. I don’t have a plan, I’m just scared, and trying to buy time to think. For a minute nothing happens and I think maybe I can get away with this, hide in the van and sneak inside somehow, steal some supplies, and get out before anyone notices.
“There’s one more.” The driver, you bastard.
A man sticks his head into the van and looks around until he sees me cowering in the corner. “Get out.”
I don’t move, panic sending beads of sweat down my neck and ribs. He slams a fist on the roof of the van and I scramble out onto the pavement. The van drives away as the man grabs me by the elbow and drags me towards a corrugated metal wall.
“Hands on the wall.”
This time I do as I’m told, I’m out of options. I try to keep from whimpering as he roughly pats my arms and shoulders, then puts his hands around my rib cage and freezes. He’s running his thumbs over something and I realize what it is at the same time he does: the band of my sports bra. Before I can react he whips me around, pushing me back against the wall. With one hand he pins both my wrists to my chest, with the other pulls my hood back and hat off and grabs my chin, jerking my face up towards his. Neither of us moves for a few seconds. He’s much taller than me, with broad shoulders, short hair, and end-of-day scruff. I can hear my teeth clattering violently. If he turns me in…
I try to speak but it comes out as a sniffle.
He rubs his thumb roughly over my trembling bottom lip and lets out a sigh. “You poor thing.”
He turns to shout something to one of the guards, I have to do something. “No!” I gasp, “Please! Just… d-don’t tell anyone, please!”
He stares at me but then shakes his head.
I keep trying. “Please, you know what they’ll do to me, you don’t have to say
anything… I… please…”
“It doesn’t work like that, sweetheart.”
But he hasn’t called anyone over yet. His hand is still cupping my face and his
thumb rubs my lip again and then caresses my cheek and the cleft in my chin. He’s looking at me like he’s thinking about taking me right here against the wall. Now I’m thinking about it too and, well, I’m kind of turned on. For a second I think, maybe it could just be him, I’d take one man over a hundred, and looks-wise he could certainly be worse.