Oh dear Lord, this can't be happening.

I close my eyes, hoping to block everything out, but I can't. Victor continues to rub my hand over his erection—over his large, hard, angry cock. I've never seen him like this. He's not the cameraman who watches me, the man I’ve known for a while. He's possessed.

“Say it again,” he demands.

“Yes, Sir.” My voice isn't my own. It's weaker and submissive.

I've never been submissive in my life.

“Say what you do to me.”

My scalp stings as his hold of my hair intensifies.

“I make you hard.” When his dark eyes narrow, I add, “Sir.”

Victor releases my hand and moves his under the hem of my skirt. Every nerve in my body is on fire. There are flames scorching places within me that I never knew existed. The fatigue from the station is gone, replaced with adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream at record speed. The higher his fingers move, the more I'm electrified.

“Please...” I’m not sure what I’m asking. This isn’t right. It’s not the way it should be.

His fingers inch up my thighs, causing me to shudder at his forwardness. He's touching me, and I'm exposed, only a thin layer of material between him and my core. Why didn't I change before I left the station? In jeans, he couldn't touch me. In jeans, I'd be safe.

But would I?

I gasp as he brushes the crotch of my panties.

“Kitten, you're soaked.”

Kitten?

“You're soaking wet,” he repeats. “You want me to put my hard cock in your pussy in that dirty ditch, don't you?”

“No!” I say, appalled by his language—words I’ve never heard him or any man utter—as I try to close my legs and stop his invasion.

He's too strong. His finger curls under the cotton crotch and teases my clit, sending shock waves crashing through me. Despite my verbal protests, one finger and then two find their way between my folds. I try not to moan, but my body is clenching his fingers, holding on tight.

“P-please,” I plead. “Please don't do this.”

“You want it. You want it bad.”

“No, I don't.”

My head jerks back and I screech in pain as he pulls my hair again, this time causing tears to trail down my cheeks.

To my utter shock, Victor sticks out his tongue and licks my face, from my chin to my eye. I try to back away, but I can't. He does it again, his spearmint-scented breath in my nose as his saliva covers my cheek. All the while his fingers continue to assault me, to plunge in and out of me.

“Cry, kitten,” he says. “I'll drink every tear, each drop making me harder. Each one is another thrust in your pussy because you're going to relieve this ache in my cock. I'm going to take you in ways you’ve never imagined.” He glances down to where his hand is under my dress. “Look at how you're rocking your hips to my touch. You want this. You want me. You're mine, and you always will be.” He sits straighter, looking directly into my eyes as his fingers still. “You know that, don't you?”

I'm not sure what I know, embarrassed that my body is reacting—no, appalled. This is wrong, and yet I was moving with his fingers, wanting him to touch my clit, needing for more than what he's giving me.

Another long lick of my face, and I fight to not flinch. “Tell me,” he demands.

“What? Tell you what?”

My head snaps back again, my scalp screaming from the repeated attack.

“Don't make me punish you,” Victor warns.

Punish me?

“Hurting you is my goal only to bring you pleasure, but if forced, I’ll do it for punishment too, kitten. I'll make you cry. I'll make you scream. Follow my rules and this will go much better for you.”

His rules?

His fingers leave my core. But before I can think about the loss of his touch, cool night air and the truck's AC reach my chest as he rips the front of my dress, pulling it apart at the seams.

“That’s the station’s...”

My words fade away as he hisses at the sight of my breasts, pushing up out of my lace bra.

“This is what you wear to make the men of Milwaukee hard?”

“No...” I shake my head.

Without removing my bra, Victor pushes the lace cups down, exposing my breasts.

He leans forward and catches one nipple between his teeth. Shock waves ripple to my core as it elongates.

“Look at your nipples,” he teases. “They're hard as rocks. You're turned on. Now tell me what I want to hear. Tell me who you belong to.”

I don’t want to look. I can feel how my nipples are betraying me. Instead, I look him in the eye. “M-my husband.” It’s not the answer he expected, but it’s the truth. For now, I do.

He pinches my other nipple, and I shriek at the jolt of pain. “Try again, and don't forget to say Sir.”

“"I do, Sir. I belong to him. I'm married.”

“Does your husband know that? Have you told him? Does he make you wet?” Victor sucks on the finger that was only moments ago inside me. “Does he make you this wet?”

I can't process all of his questions. My husband can make me wet. He has. I nod.

“Then why did you choose to keep him waiting? If you wanted him, you wouldn't work an extra broadcast, would you?”

“I-I...it wasn't about him.”

He tweaks my nipples, pinching them roughly with his fingers. “Oh, kitten, it should be, but since it's not, you've got me. I'm going to teach you how to treat a man.”

“Please...” It's all I can think to say.

Victor leans back, giving me space for the first time since the truck stopped. “Take off your underwear.”

“What?”

His fingers roughly squeeze my cheeks, crushing my mouth against my teeth until the taste of copper lets me know it's bleeding. “Sir,” he says. “Don't make me say it again.”

I nod. When he releases my face, I move my jaw from side to side before I say, “Yes, Sir.”

He sits back again, never taking his eyes from me while I shimmy out of my panties. It's not an easy process in a torn dress and confined by the seatbelt.

“Give them to me.”

My pulse races as I hand him the light pink panties that match the bra still under my breasts.

Victor takes my panties to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales. He sighs. “I love your scent. But I never knew that you'd be so fucking wet.” And then his dark eyes are back on me. “If you forget to say Sir one more time, these are going in your mouth. Do you understand?”

I shiver at the thought. “Yes, Sir.”

Who the hell is this man?

His cheeks rise as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “That's my pet. Before we're done, you're going to not only know who you belong to, but you'll say it too.”

I don't answer as he scoots back to the driver's seat and fastens his seatbelt.

When we're done? That's what he said. Will he let me go? Will I get back to the man I married, the kind man who would never do this to me?

As I reach for the cups of my bra, Victor stops me. “Don't cover yourself. I want to look at you, at your hard nipples. I want to know that all I need to do is reach out to get your attention.” He reaches over and rolls one nipple between his thumb and finger, eliciting a gasp.

I bite my lip to stop the moan that is perched ready in my throat.

“I plan to keep you naked all weekend,” he says.

Silence falls over the truck as I try to comprehend what is happening. But I can't. It's more than I can process.

“When we get there,” he continues, interrupting my thoughts, “the first thing I'm going to do is fuck that smart mouth of yours. You like telling people what to do, don't you?”

Let him try. I’ll bite.

I don’t answer him. This is ridiculous. He can’t talk to me like this.

Still holding my panties, he lifts his chin and puts the truck into drive. We ease back onto the road. For not the first time, I entertain the idea of escaping, but to where? We’re in the middle of nowhere. There isn't a soul around. Not even one car has passed his truck since he pulled over. I bet my phone doesn’t even have a signal.

My eyes dart to my purse.

Victor reaches it before I do, pulling my phone from the cavernous inside.

“No, kitten. This weekend is just about us.” Pushing the power button to turn it off, he stashes it in the glove compartment. His dark eyes momentarily turn my way. “Remember, follow my rules or be punished.”

I’m dumbfounded.

“You think that because you're on people's TVs,” he continues, his voice deep and threatening, “that you're better than everyone else, don't you?”

“No, Sir.”

Victor snaps his eyes in my direction and then back to the road. “Don't lie, kitten. I'll punish you for lying—every time. Don't forget that. Consider this your one and only warning. I've seen you. I've watched you. You think you're special.” He lifts my panties and inhales again. “You're right.”

“I am?”

“You're special to me. Only to me. You're everything to me. You’re whatever I want you to be: my slut, my whore, and the love of my life. We'll be together forever.”

I shudder at his words: slut, whore. They aren’t right. Forever?

“I'm going to make you mine in every way.”

It's wrong that my thighs are growing slicker with his nasty adjectives. My husband would never talk like that. Compliments and endearments—that's what he's always spoken. It's what every normal woman would want, yet Victor's cruel words are twisting my insides in an unfamiliar, painful, yet erotic way, drenching my core.

“I'm going to not only fuck your mouth, but all of you—everywhere.”

My eyes grow wide as I hear his meaning. “No. I can't. I've never.”

Victor grins. “You will, you are. Say ‘yes, Sir.’ Tell me I can fuck your ass.”