58 Suppressed

The sounds of their panting were extremely loud in this confined room.

It reverberated against the walls and my ears to mess with my concentration.

I tried to remove myself from the situation, imagining that I was somewhere else but it didn't keep me from knowing everything that they did and every breath that they took.

The slowly time passed like that until I could feel extremely hot sticky liquid coat my neck and chest in thick slimy coats.

Then, one of them pulled my shirt up and came onto my chest and stomach before the last of it was dripped all over my cheek and the corner of my lips.

I was extremely glad that my mouth was closed at the moment because I can't imagine what would have happened if it wasn't.

I know I said that tears were useless and all but I couldn't help the instinctive urge to sob like a newborn baby.

Out of all the things that I couldn't do because of the drugs in my system, crying was the only thing that I could do at the moment.

The hot tears dripped down from the side of my face and my hands were trembling from my suppressed anger and rage but not much could be done.

I was also really tempted to throw up but my currently paralyzed body would not allow me to do so.

Puke would definitely add to the list of urine and semen all over me.

"That's enough. That will keep Eros off of our trail until we get back," a deep dark voice said from high above in a rather commanding tone of voice, as if he was the leader of this group.

I tried to hold my breath because the musky and sweaty scent was suffocating inside of this enclosed room.

I was already emotionally exhausted and my mind was starting to become muddled at this point.

"Don't blame us, blame Zanthos for this."

That was the last thing I heard before darkness took me.

.

.

.

My ears were ringing and there was a painful migraine expanding across my temples like someone was squeezing my head in the palms of their hands.

My brain felt sluggish, moving at the pace of a snail.

And I knew that this was from the effects of whatever drug was in my system.

With much force and will, I managed to open my eyes to look at my surroundings.

At the first initial glance, I found myself at a loss for words.

My eyes trailed from the many signs, trying to piece together the image that I was seeing.

It was obvious that I was at the airport because most of the signs were directions for different terminals and gates.

There was security at the checkpoints and people were dragging their luggage in through the front entrance.

Although my eyes were open, I didn't have any control over my body.

I couldn't turn my head or speak.

I could only sit upright while watching everyone move around me.

As I glanced down, I noticed that I was seated in a wheelchair and someone was pushing me forwards.

Other than that, I also noted that someone had dressed me in a black trench coat, probably to cover everything that was underneath.

"My wife is very sick, she can't stand or walk on her own," the man behind me said as he wheeled me towards the security checkpoint.

If I can get out of this wheelchair, I will show him who's the one that can't stand or walk.

He continued to push the wheelchair forward until the airport security could thoroughly check me to make sure I didn't carry any prohibited items with their scanners.

The male behind me handed them 2 passports and some other documents to which they accepted after the luggage was pushed through the scanning equipment.

I prayed that whatever document he gave them would not work.

But I knew that he wouldn't have taken me here if he had any doubts about getting caught.

The staff quickly swiped the passports and typed something on their keyboards before tickets were easily printed.

They didn't ask any questions, most carrying this bland unemotional face as though they hated their job and couldn't wait to get their day over with.