Chapter 4: Claimed in the Depths

The heavy basement door thudded shut behind them, the sound muffled instantly by the thick soundproofing. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the dungeon’s equipment. The air felt thicker down here, cooler against flushed skin, carrying the faint scent of old leather, metal, and something darker—years of sweat, fear, and unwilling surrender.

Travis moved like he owned every inch of the space, which, in a way, he did. He walked a slow circle around the four women, his boots echoing on the concrete. Boone and Colton positioned themselves near the stairs, blocking any foolish attempt at escape. The loggers’ presence filled the room—broad shoulders straining against flannel shirts, calloused hands, the raw masculine musk of men who spent their lives in the woods.

“Strip,” Travis ordered, voice low and calm, as if he were telling them the weather. “All of you. Nice and slow. We want to see what we’re working with.”

Alex stood tallest, jaw clenched. “You don’t have to do this. We can share the cabin upstairs. No one has to get hurt.”

Boone laughed, a harsh bark. “Hurt? Sweetheart, hurt is the point down here. Now do what the man said before I start ripping clothes off myself.”

One by one, robes and remaining undergarments fell to the floor. The women stood naked under the men’s hungry stares. Morgan’s full curves drew whistles; Taylor’s toned athletic body made Colton lick his lips; Casey’s petite frame and perky breasts earned a predatory grin from Boone; Alex’s strong, commanding form only seemed to excite them more—the challenge of breaking her.

Travis pointed at the St. Andrew’s cross. “Morgan, wasn’t it? You were on that earlier. Back up there. Arms and legs spread.”

Morgan hesitated, eyes wide. Alex stepped forward protectively, but Colton grabbed her arm, twisting it just enough to make her gasp. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”