Chapter 9: The Truck Kennel (Three Stops)

The truck rumbled down the gravel driveway, and I felt every bump through the thin blanket beneath me. The kennel was cramped, barely three feet long, two feet wide, and Emily and I were wedged together top-to-tail, her face pressed into my crotch, mine into hers.

Internal: This is what you wanted. This is what you asked for. Two locks. No way out. And your daughter’s tongue is an inch from your cunt.

Aaron had fastened the kennel door facing the cab, so the barred front was visible through the truck’s rear window. The ventilation slits, narrow gaps between the wooden slats, let in slivers of moonlight and, later, the glow of streetlights. They also let out a sound. Anyone standing near the truck bed would be able to hear us if we moaned. Anyone looking closely would see movement.

“Are you comfortable back there?” Aaron called through the sliding rear window.

“No,” Emily said.

“Good.”

He turned onto the main road, and the truck picked up speed. The wind whipped through the slats, cold against my bare skin. I shivered.

Internal: You’re naked in a dog crate in the bed of a pickup truck, heading toward the shelter where you used to sleep. This is your life now. You chose it.

Emily’s breath was warm against my inner thigh. I could feel her lips, the soft brush of her nose. She wasn’t moving yet. Just breathing. Waiting.

I did the same. Pressed my mouth against her mound, felt the coarse hair, the heat. She smelled like sweat and soap and something else, something that was just her.

The truck slowed. Turned. The lights of the shelter came into view through the slats.

First stop.

Aaron pulled into the shelter parking lot and killed the engine. Through the ventilation slits, I could see the familiar dumpsters, the rusted van, and the cracked sidewalk. A few people were standing outside, smoking, talking.

“Stay quiet,” Aaron said quietly. “I’m dropping off some equipment. Five minutes.”

He got out and closed the door. The dome light flickered off.

Internal: He’s going inside. Leaving us here. In a cage. In plain sight.

Emily’s mouth found my clit.

I bit my lip to keep from moaning. Her tongue was tentative at first, exploring, tasting, then more confident. She licked me like she was learning a new language, her lips and tongue forming words I couldn’t hear.

Internal: She’s never done this before. Not to you. Not to anyone. But she’s a fast learner.

I returned the favor. Pressed my face into her cunt, parted her lips with my tongue, and tasted her salt and musk. She was wet already since the kennel door closed, and she opened for me like a flower.

The truck rocked slightly. Someone was walking past.

I froze. Emily froze. Her tongue stopped mid-stroke.

Through the slats, I saw a woman, one of the shelter regulars, the one who always wore the same pink hoodie, peering into the truck bed. She squinted at the kennel.

“What’s in there?” she asked.

Aaron’s voice came from somewhere to my left. “Equipment. Don’t touch.”

“Looks like something’s moving.”

“Rats. I’ll deal with it later.”

The woman shrugged and walked away.

Internal: Rats. He called us rats. And it made you wetter. You’re sick, Amber. You’re really sick.