The Dukes' Obsession (The Dukes Series)

The Dukes' Obsession (The Dukes Series)

Amy T · Ongoing · 38.2k Words

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Introduction

After being kidnapped by the biggest piece of shit humankind has ever known—Jason Deymar, the most hated Duke in the U.S.—I’m dragged to a prison built for Rogue Dukes.
To survive the prison while I discover who killed one of my closest friends, who died in here, I’m forced to make a pact with three of them. They’ll keep me safe… as long as I belong to them.
It’s supposed to be temporary—just until I find a way out of this hellhole. But when I catch them watching me in the dead of night, it feels anything but temporary. And it can’t be.
A Lady would never allow herself to get tangled up with Dukes. Unless they are the only thing keeping me safe.

Chapter 1

This book is an RH dark romance. There will be numerous triggers - the list is too long to post here. If you think you can't handle it, turn around. If you do venture further, I hope you enjoy every word.

This is the first book in The Dukes Series, and it's interconnected with The Lords Series.


Jason Deymar—puto cabrón de mierda, fucking piece of shit who deserves to die in the worst possible way—shoves me as one of the security guards opens the front gate of the prison to let us pass.

“Welcome to your new home, bitch.”

I almost turn around so I can punch him in the face for calling me a bitch, but the last time I tried to hit him, he grabbed my arm and twisted it with such force I was sure he’d broken it. He didn’t, but my arm is still sore. I can always kick and bite, but I will be overpowered the moment I try something funny. So, I force myself to wait and keep walking.

“Fuck you, asshole!” I sneer through gritted teeth. I might not be able to fight him physically, but I can always let him know how much he disgusts me.

Jason pushes me again, making me stumble forward, nearly sending me to the ground. Despite the handcuffs binding my hands in front of me, I catch myself at the last moment. He and the security guards laugh.

I look over my shoulder, glaring at him, before raising my hands in the air and showing him both my middle fingers. If this motherfucker thinks I’m scared of him, he’ll soon learn how fucking wrong he is.

The only reason I haven't escaped my kidnappers yet is because Jason kept me drugged, with a bag over my head so I couldn’t see where we were going, and handcuffed the entire time until we got here—wherever here is. From what I could tell, when he finally removed the bag, we were in the middle of nowhere. The only building in sight is the prison. Nothing else. Just a vast, open field stretching out for miles and miles. I need to figure out where I am—and fast.

This is the first time in days that I’ve been out of his car for more than a few minutes. He usually stopped at gas stations and stood guard outside the bathroom while I took care of my business—which wasn’t easy, since he refused to uncuff me, no matter what.

While in the car, he kept my hands cuffed to the door and my legs tied with rope so I wouldn’t attack him. I did try to angle my body in a way that would let me kick him a few times, but he tased me every time—until I stopped.

At some point, he’ll have to remove these handcuffs. And when that happens, he’ll wish he’d never been born. I’m going to fucking blow this prison up, with him in it.

Jason and the guard who let us in take me to the courtyard. It isn’t the cold, wintry day that makes my blood turn to ice—it’s the scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

Right in the middle of the courtyard, several women are being gangbanged while at least fifty men are waiting their turn. To the side, two other women are kneeling, surrounded by at least seven men. The two women wear little to nothing while they are sucking or jerking off cocks.

“What is this place?” I ask.

Jason lets out a bark of laughter before replying, “A prison for all those Dukes who broke the rules and went rogue.”

Rogue Dukes. I’ve never heard of them. From the looks of it, they’re just as nasty as the rest of the Dukes—maybe even more so.

“Why did you bring me here?” I inquire, already guessing the answer.

Jason turns to face me. His gaze sweeps over my body. Despite the freezing temperature, I’m only wearing a dress–the same one I had on the night my entire world changed.

He grabs the back of my neck and has me look at the women. “I think it’s obvious. You are to join the rest of the bitches. After all, the only place women should be is on their knees, worshipping Dukes, rogues or not.”

“¡Vete a la mierda!” I sneer, then spit in his face.

The next moment, Jason slaps me so hard across the face that my ears ring.

“This place will be good for you. It will teach you how to respect me,” Jason snarls.

While I press my cuffed hands to my throbbing cheek, Jason turns to the guard. “Make sure she gets a proper welcoming,” he says, before handing the guard a small key—probably the one to my handcuffs. “I will probably bring new women in a couple of weeks.”

The guard chuckles. “Maybe you will bring one for me.”

Jason shrugs. “Maybe.” Then, to me, he adds, “I wish I could stay and see how you get fucked, but there are places I have to be.”

I say nothing to him, because I’m too busy plotting his death in my head. And how to get the fuck away from here, before things escalate.

A few seconds after Jason leaves, the guard turns his attention to me, looking me over like cattle. If he keeps looking at me like that, he will be left without eyes.

“Pretty,” he says, while he grabs my left breast and squeezes it hard.

I try to slap his hand away, but he grabs my wrist and brings my hands above my head while he keeps groping me. His hand moves to my other tit, and he pinches my nipple.

He lets out a low whistle. “Nice tits. Love them big. I love ass too. From what I can see, you have a perfect one.”

He’s such a typical man, I’m not even surprised. He only sees me as a sex toy, so he won’t know what hits him until it’s too late.

While he’s distracted and drooling all over my tits, I kick him right in the nuts. The bastard should be in pain, falling to his knees, but all he does is grin at me before he leans forward and says into my ear, “My angel loves pain. And so do I. Do you?”

I love pain, but not in the way this piece of shit thinks. I love to make men suffer, scream in pain, while I look at how fucking pathetic they are. The only thing men are good at is being used like punching bags.

Men are a plague. The only gift I can give this world is to send as many to hell as possible. Not all of them are scum, but most are. My father is one of the few good men that I know. He is the reason why I will never allow any Lord to turn me into his sex slave and bond my soul to his. No Lord is good enough for me.

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