The three men laugh. One grasps her shoulders, holding her in place. His hot breath mixes with the heat of the tent and washes over her neck.
Sarah shakes him off, turning around, and squeezes her eyes shut, burying her face in the first man’s chest. “Please, take me out of here!” She curls her fingers into his tunic, trying to erase the images plastered to the inside of her eyelids.
The first man grabs her shoulders, turning her around. “You sure you don’t want to try it first?” He shrugs his lips, chuckling, and glances down at her. “A woman of your looks would attract clients pleasingly.” Grinning, he holds her shoulders and forces her to watch.
In a large pool in the left corner, n***d men pull the scales and thin skin from Diamrems’ hips, entering them from the front and from behin
