Virgin Delivery Girl - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

"Baby, I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."
The moment Ethan stepped out of the car, a vehicle roared up behind us, screeching to a halt just inches from our bumper.
A hulking man with a jagged scar down his cheek climbed out.
He didn't speak—just wrenched me from the passenger seat.
My scream tore through the air. "What the hell are you doing?"
Silence. His rough hands groped over my jeans before landing two sharp smacks on my backside.
"Damn, girl. So big… so round."
That voice.
My blood ran cold.
It was the same one from last night.
That hadn't been a nightmare. It was real.
Where the hell was Ethan?
I thrashed, screaming for help, but his grip was iron. He fisted my hair, slamming two brutal punches into my chest.
"Big and round… just like that ass of yours."
A guttural growl rumbled from his throat—the sound of a predator toying with its meal.
Before I could react, he stripped me bare, bound me to the car, and shoved my own panties into my mouth.
Then—Ethan.
Relief flooded me. I whimpered behind the gag, begging with my eyes.
But he didn't rush to me.
Instead, he nodded at the man, handing him a cigarette. They lit up together, chatting like old friends on the roadside.
Ten agonizing minutes later, Ethan finally untied me, his face a mask of theatrical fear.
"We're in deep shit." He swallowed hard. "That guy? He's the local enforcer. Charges 'protection fees' just to park here."
His voice cracked. "Did he… hurt you?"
I wanted to scream. Look at me!
But his eyes—wide, wet, brimming with concern—made me hesitate. Against every instinct, I still trusted him.
What other choice did I have?
My phone was dead. Fear gnawed at my ribs, but I clung to one fragile belief: Ethan wouldn't betray me.
Trembling, I told him everything—the assault, the humiliation—and begged him to call the cops.
Ethan's face crumpled. "We're lucky to be alive," he whispered, stroking my hair. "I swear, we'll drive straight to the city and report him."
He floored the gas, tires screaming.
But the road twisted into mountains—no towns, no lights, just endless wilderness swallowing us whole.
By nightfall, headlights glared in the rearview.
The scarred man's truck.
Then our engine sputtered and died.
My stomach howled with hunger.
Stranded in the middle of nowhere, we pulled over.
The man popped his trunk—crammed with food, water, supplies.
Ethan jogged over, returning with a single protein bar.
"I begged for this. Car's toast. I'm sorry."
I still believed him. His eyes held galaxies of guilt.
But one measly bar after a day of starvation?
When Ethan went back for more, the man shook his head.
Ethan returned, jaw clenched, voice breaking.
"He said… he'll only give us food if you sleep with him."
A ragged breath. "This is all my fault…"
He choked up, even slapped himself—a performance of perfect regret.
I'd lost my parents young. Raised by Grandma until she died my junior year.
Never left my hometown. Too scared to face the world.
Ethan was the first man who made me feel seen.
So of course I'd give him everything.