The crate

The first thing Jill felt was the heat.

Humidity clung to her skin like a second layer, thick and suffocating. Her head throbbed, her arms ached, and when she tried to move, a sharp rattle reminded her of the cold steel clamped tightly around her wrists. Handcuffs. Behind her back.

She blinked her eyes open slowly. Wooden planks above her. Gaps in the crate allowed thin streams of late afternoon sunlight to slice through the darkness, creating golden beams that danced across her bare body. Sweat trickled between her breasts, down her stomach, pooling at the curve of her hip. Her skin glistened, hot and flushed. She was completely nude. Not even her boots.

What the fuck…

Her mouth was dry, her heart pounding as fragments of memory fluttered back — a figure in the hallway… something pressed against her face… the bitter sting of chloroform. She had been ambushed.

She twisted slightly, grimacing as the cuffs bit into her wrists. Every movement made her hyperaware of her vulnerability — the way her nipples had hardened from the humid heat and the wooden crate pressing against her back. Her thighs stuck together from the sweat, and her pussy ached with a dull throb she couldn't explain.

A voice nearby made her freeze.

Gravelly. Male. Multiple voices.

She tilted her head and poked her eye through a wide crack in the crate. Her stomach turned.

There were at least seven men. All armed. Tatted up. Some wore bandanas or ripped vests — classic city gang muscle. But others were more refined… tactical gear, earpieces. She didn’t recognize the symbol on the jackets: a red snake coiled around a black crown.

Not any gang from the city I know…

One man, tall and lean with silver rings on every finger, turned toward the crate and grinned.

“She’s awake.”

Her breath caught. He was looking right at her. Through the wood?

He knocked twice on the crate with a sharp rap-rap. The sound echoed inside, making her flinch.

“You decent in there, officer?” he called with a lazy drawl. “Kidding. We made sure you wouldn't be.”

Laughter erupted outside.

Jill’s cheeks flushed red, the humiliation hitting harder than the heat. Her nipples throbbed again — painfully sensitive. She clenched her thighs, furious at her body’s betrayal.

The crate jolted. They were opening it.