What happens in Jamestown stays in Jamestown

Millie eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented. Her head ached, and as she slowly sat up, her senses were hit with an odd mix of stale beer, cigarettes, and something else—something damp and unclean. She was in a motel room, dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the blinds. Confusion settled in. This wasn’t the luxury hotel room she had fallen asleep in after her latest photoshoot.

Her heart pounded as she realized something else: she was completely naked.

Panic surged through her. Millie jumped out of bed, her small, slender frame trembling as she looked around for any sign of her clothes. The mattress creaked, and the cold air pricked her skin, reminding her just how **** she was. The room looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years—stains marred the cheap carpet, and the walls were a sickly yellow from years of nicotine and neglect.

“What the hell?” she whispered, her hazel eyes darting around the room. No clothes. No phone. Just a bare room with no explanation for how she got here.

Shivering, Millie padded across the room to the cracked bathroom mirror. Her reflection startled her. Her normally styled, glossy brown hair was a wild mess, her face pale and makeup-free, her lips dry. She looked... unfamiliar.

Clutching a musty towel she found hanging on the door, she wrapped it around her body and cautiously opened the door to the hallway, peeking out. The motel was quiet—eerily so. No voices, no footsteps, just the hum of the old AC unit struggling to function.

She crept through the hallways, the towel slipping every now and then, her bare feet cold against the stained carpet. Down a hallway, she spotted a laundry room. She quietly opened the door and, to her relief, found a pile of clothes someone had left behind. Rifling through, she grabbed an oversized flannel shirt, a pair of men's jeans that were far too big, and some socks. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

As she slipped into the clothes, something tumbled from the pants pocket—a crumpled wad of cash. Millie stared at it, feeling a mix of guilt and necessity. She stuffed the money into her pocket and quickly left the laundry room.

Now clothed, she ventured outside. The sun was just beginning to rise over the flat landscape of what looked like a sleepy small town. James Town, the motel sign said, but the name meant nothing to her. She had never even heard of the place. How had she gotten here?

Wandering down the empty streets, she noticed something unsettling: there were no women. Every person she passed—grizzled old men in trucker hats, middle-aged guys in flannel and boots—was male, and not a single one of them gave her more than a passing glance. No one recognized her as the international model, the face of countless magazines and billboards. It was as if she was invisible.

Feeling her stomach growl, Millie spotted a rundown restaurant at the edge of town—a cheap knock-off of Chuck E. Cheese with a broken sign reading Chunky Chaz. The interior was no better, with flickering fluorescent lights and the smell of greasy pizza hanging in the air. She used the stolen money to buy a slice and a drink, all the while feeling the eyes of the male patrons on her.

Not one of them approached her.

Their gazes felt... cold. Detached.

She hurried out of the restaurant and back to the motel, sneaking into her room without anyone noticing. The cash she found had been enough to pay for another night, but she still had no answers. Her mind raced. Who had brought her here? And why was there no one around but men?

Millie collapsed onto the bed, clutching the thin blanket around her for comfort. She needed to find a way out of this strange town, but there was something about James Town that made her feel like she wasn’t meant to leave. A sense of dread crept into her thoughts, leaving her uneasy. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching her.

******************************************

Millie barely had time to close the door behind her before she was attacked.

A man—completely naked and wild-eyed—charged at her from the shadows of the room. She let out a scream, trying to fight him off. Her petite frame twisted and struggled, the oversized clothes she’d stolen only slowing her down as he grabbed at her. Her hands flew to his face, scratching, her legs kicking out. She landed a solid kick to his jaw, and he grunted, momentarily knocked off balance.

But before she could take advantage, his hands tore at her flannel shirt, the fabric ripping apart with a sickening sound. The pants went next, yanked down as Millie screamed and thrashed. With each struggle, more of her bare skin was exposed until finally, she was completely naked, her pale skin shining under the dim light, **** and trembling.

Her heart pounded, and with one **** shove, she broke free, stumbling toward the door. She yanked it open and bolted out, but as she reached the rusty gate outside, her foot caught on the edge, sending her sprawling to the ground. She landed hard on her chest, the impact jarring her as she gasped for air.

Before she could even attempt to scramble to her feet, his hand closed around her ankle, dragging her back toward him. The fear in her chest turned into something darker—something primal and helpless—as his hands spread her legs, positioning her from behind.

“No, please!” she begged, her voice barely a whisper, her body shaking from the cold and terror. But he didn’t stop.

His rough grip held her in place, and before she could say another word, he entered her from behind, filling her with a hard, unrelenting ****. Millie gasped, her nails digging into the dirt beneath her, the sensation overwhelming her senses. It was rough, invasive, but something within her body betrayed her—each thrust igniting a strange, unbidden response deep inside her.

Her body clenched around him involuntarily, the sensation impossible to control. The first orgasm hit her like a wave crashing over her, sudden and intense. She cried out, her voice echoing in the empty lot behind the motel. Her legs trembled, barely able to support her, as he continued, relentless, driving her toward another peak.

The second came faster, her body shaking uncontrollably as she was pushed deeper into the dirt, her small breasts pressed flat against the cold ground. Her mind spun, losing control as pleasure mixed with humiliation.

By the time the third orgasm hit her, it was wilder than anything she had ever experienced. Her body was no longer her own, every nerve alight with sensation as she moaned helplessly, her hips pushing back against him without her control. She felt utterly shattered, trapped in this perverse rhythm.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he finished, letting out a low growl as he thrust into her one last time. Millie collapsed, her face pressed against the cold earth, her entire body shaking. She was left gasping, covered in dirt, naked and broken.

He stepped back, and as he did, his foot came down lightly on her face, pressing her cheek into the dirt as he left. Millie lay there, her breath ragged, too shocked and overwhelmed to move as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving her there—humiliated, used, and utterly alone.