Chaotic Anger: The Seven MC Book 1

by Breck, A. R.

He looks around, scoping out every corner and every person. I can see him calculating, formulating another plan. “Do you know a quick exit?”

  I give a barely noticeable nod. “Behind you. There’s a terrace. A tall fence lines the property, but I think we could get over it.” I whisper.

  He nods. I watch as his eyes mentally picture every detail and creating an escape route if needed.

  “I’m going to the restroom.” I whisper. “I don’t want to be here when she gets back with our drinks.”

  He makes a move to push out his chair. “No. Stay here. It’ll look odd if you follow me every place I go. It doesn’t even happen with the slaves.”

  His eyes bore into mine. Anger bubbles at the surface and I know he wants to lash out. To yell at me for wanting to do something stupid.

  It’s not stupid, though. What would be stupid would be to have him guard me all evening.

  “I don’t like this. Can’t you hold it?” He growls.

  I stand up, keeping my face blank and brushing the side of my slicked back, black hair. “I’ll only be a moment. If she comes back and notices me, it won’t matter any way. We’ll be caught. I’ll be back in a moment.” I lean down and kiss his cheek, trying my best to act the part of the rich and spineless wife of the slave master.

  I keep my gaze unfocused as I count the steps to the ladies’ room. I’ve walked these halls and counted my steps more times than I want to know. Thankfully, there’s no line when I reach the restroom. If this were an hour later, the line would have been ten people deep. The other restroom is hidden, not known to the guests and therefore, not something I want to explore this evening.

  I slip inside, pushing the door closed with the toe of my foot. I twist the small lock with my finger then turn around, planning my palms against the cobalt blue counter. The cool tiles sink into my blood and release a shiver down my body. I pull my dress up to my waist and sit down on the toilet, relieving myself as one of the million horrific memories comes back to my mind.

  Día de los Muertos – One year ago

  I shiver in my black and red dress. I’ve been freezing all night. The temperature these last few weeks have been cooler than normal. But of course, Santiago has me dressed in the tiniest outfit possible.

  The top is a corset piece with a rounded neck that accentuates the cleavage that has blossomed since I had Lilah last year. Santiago uses it to his advantage, dressing me in low cut tops most of the time. The corset is tightened to where I cannot even take a full breath. I stand winded all evening, feeling uneasy and uncomfortable.

  The bottom half of the dress flairs out, a mixture of tulle and silk pleating out, making me even more uncomfortable. Santiago forbade undergarments this evening, leaving me freezing and uncomfortable for the duration of the night.

  I do my best to control my shiver as I stand next to Santiago. I stare at the creamy wall ahead as he speaks with Mr. Slavik about tonight’s upcoming bidding.

  “I’ve got a blonde girl that I think will be perfect for you tonight, Mr. Slavik.”

  I can feel Mr. Slavik’s eyes pass over me. “You do not mean your own blonde slave, do you not?”

  Santiago places his hand around my waist, leaving rot in its wake. It feels like my skin deteriorates and becomes tainted as his large fingers pass over my back. “Ah, you have an eye for my Ivy? Most do.” He chuckles, creating shiver to raise the skin on the back of my neck.

  “She is a spectacular creature. Is she the one you speak? The blonde girl?” Mr. Slavik asks with excitement in his tone. Nausea bubbles in my stomach. I’ve heard stories of Mr. Slavik. Mr Slavik likes slaves because he likes to kill them. He is a sadist.

  “Ivy is not for sale.” Santiago’s tone turns possessive, authoritative.

  “I see. Do you share? I would enjoy to try her out. Or just maybe have one taste.” His Russian accent can barely get his words out over his building lust.

  I work to swallow down the barely there saliva in my throat. My senses are drying up, becoming numb. Preparing what I know is going to be a horrific night.

  Santiago doesn’t respond, but I can feel him contemplating. To deny Mr. Slavik of anything would be a slap in the face. He is one of his best and most wealthy customers. But Santiago has also never shared me. He has always been overly possessive and even jealous when it comes to me. He likes to taunt others while dressing me in barely there clothing, but if someone looks too long, he might plunge a fork in your eye. If their hand grazes against me, they lose that hand.

  For Mr. Slavik to actually ask to have me, well, I’m a little more than curious to see how he will respond to this. Santiago’s greatest customer.

  “Mr. Slavik…” Santiago sounds flustered, off kilter. “I don’t usually share. Mostly this one. She is special to me.” Santiago’s hand caresses my side, and I blink away the thought of curling away from his hand.

  “I see. I see. But Mr. Fernandez, Santiago. I travel across the world to purchase from you. Because you, Mr. Fernandez, are the best. Every time I come here, my eyes cannot help but glance at your toy and admire her. Her body, her face. She is exquisite. Is she not? Maybe you allow one taste tonight, and then I will buy this blonde you speak of. And then we will not speak of this again.”

  “Deal.” Santiago says, not even giving it a second to think it over.

  The blonde will be popular. She hasn’t spoken to me, but I’ve seen her in passing. She is a beautiful girl. One of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. Every man will bid on her tonight, and her price will be very high. With their deal just now, Mr. Slavik has agreed to paying a very high price for the blonde.

  And I am the pawn.

  “Follow me.” Santiago says, pulling me out of the great room and down the hallway.

  “Wait one moment, please. Let me grab my wife.” My eyes burn with his sentence. Having him around to do who knows what is painful enough, but to have a heartless woman also be present is enough to send me over the edge.

  Santiago pauses while Mr. Slavik walks over to a nearby table and gets his wife’s attention, pointing towards us and helping her out of her seat. For once, Mrs. Slavik’s interest looks peaked. Whereas usually, she looks bored, almost dead.

  The four of us walk down the hallway, and Santiago walks us into the bathroom. It is a large bathroom, but sticking us four in here makes it claustrophobic. I stand in front of the toilet, unsure on what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve been given no orders. I’m not in our usual room. I’m with two strangers.

  So, I do nothing but stare at the wall.

  “Mr. Slavik. Mrs. Slavik. This is quite new for me. I don’t share my property, ever. You want a taste of my slave?”

  Mrs. Slavik raises her eyebrow in curiosity. Mr. Slavik nods his head. “I do, Mr. Fernandez.”

  “I will agree to fucking her here, against this wall, in front of you. You may look, you may touch with your hands, but you will not be fucking her. Do you understand?”

  Mr. Slavik licks his lips, running his hand over his dark, gray tinted hair. “Yes, Mr. Fernandez. I understand very well.”

  “Very well.” Santiago says, grabbing onto my shoulders and having me face the wall, my back to the toilet. Santiago leans down into my ear. “You be a good girl, Ivy. You be a good girl and maybe you will get a reward for your behavior.”

  There is no such thing as a reward when it comes to Santiago.

  His hands drop to my thighs, grazing up and taking my dress with it. He bunches it around my hips, exposing my back and front to Mr. and Mrs. Slavik on my left. Mr. Slavik lets out a grunt of appreciation as he looks me over.

  He turns to his wife and mumbles something in Russian. She looks me over, nodding in agreement.

  I can hear the clanking of Santiago undoing his black pressed pants. A damp line of sweat breaks out on my upper lip and I have to blink back tears of this new unknown.

  “Place your hands on the wall.” Santiago orders.

  I do as I’m told, pressing my hands on the dark
brown wall in front of me. Santiago’s fingers dig between my cheeks, giving my legs a little slap to open wider. I spread my legs, giving him easier access. His fingers slip between my folds, expertly maneuvering between each dip and fold like he’s done a million times. He’s become a master of my private parts.

  Embarrassingly, my body has also been trained to grow wet where Santiago is concerned. It took a while to train myself to do so, but Santiago would get angry with the lack of lubrication. Through enough lashings and beatings, my body knows that the moment Santiago touches me, it becomes drenched.

  My scent fills the room, and I can see out of the corner of my eye as Mr. Slavik runs his hands over the top of his dress slacks.

  “Good girl, Ivy.” Santiago says as he slips in from behind. I close my eyes; glad I’m facing the wall today. I can pretend I’m somewhere else, even as my body rocks to Santiago’s thrusts. He keeps one hand on my hip and his other hand circles around and holds onto my stomach. When another hand grazes the top of my dress, my eyes fly open.

  “Calm down, slave. I was given orders. Only touch.” Mr. Slavik says, pulling down the top of my corsette roughly. My breasts spill out of the top, and Mr. Slavik pulls at my left nipple painfully, lust exuding from him growing by the second.

  “My wife will fuck me while I watch your master fuck you, slave.”

  I swallow, my throat having to work extra hard. I keep my gaze focused on the wall in front of me as Santiago slides in and out from behind. Mr. Slavik keeps pulling at my nipples, rolling them between his fingers and grunting with the effort.

  “Watch Mr. Slavik fuck his wife, Ivy.” Santiago orders. I have to force myself to turn my head, watching as Mr. Slavik props himself up on the blue counter. Mrs. Slavik crouches above him, her dress pulled up around her waist as well. Her legs are bend and spread wide, and I watch as Mr. Slavik’s cock slams into Mrs. Slavik, fast and aggressive. He slams into her repeatedly, and I feel embarrassed as I watch like I’ve never watched before. My eyes are so close, I could reach out and touch where they come together if I wished. If I weren’t in a situation where I wasn’t trapped, held against my will, maybe it’s something I would consider.

  His wet, thick member pulls apart her dark folds. Just as the head is about to poke out from inside of her, I watch as it slides back in. Back and forth it goes, all the way to his balls which sit heavy and full at the base of his cock. I can see her clit, thick and swollen, peeking out from its hood.

  But as Santiago and Mr. Slavik begin thrusting in the same motion, and Mr. Slavik pulls at my nipples, my brain shuts down. I keep my gaze focused on where they connect, but my mind goes dark, as it always does when Santiago calls for me.

  I feel a zing and my focus comes back. Mrs. Slavik bounces, scowling heavily at me with her movements. Her accent is so thick, I can barely understand her. “You will come, slave.” I believe is what she says, although it sounds more like, “Kew veal cahm, slah-vay.”

  I scream at her internally. No.

  I realize her finger is pressed on my clit. She moves it quickly. Tirelessly. Roughly, but not painfully. “You will come.” She repeats.

  I squeeze my eyes shut painfully, not liking the sudden feeling growing inside of me. This is not something Santiago requests of me, and it is not something that I have ever believed I could force on myself. But as Mrs. Slavik rubs at my clit, and Mr. Slavik pulls at my nipple, and Santiago thrusts into me from behind, I feel a separation from my mind and my sensations.

  The sensations win.

  I squeeze my eyes shut painfully and clench my teeth as hard as I can as an orgasm rips through me. I can feel Santiago speed up as he races towards his own release, spasming against my walls and emptying inside of me.

  “Fuck.” Mr. Slavik says, sounding more like “Fawk.” As he pistons inside of Mrs. Slavik, who is already letting out little moans, releasing my own clit to focus on her own.

  “Yes, slave.” Mrs. Slavik moans, tilting her head towards the ceiling as she floats through the waves of her own release.

  The three of them sit there, breathing heavily as their heart rate settles. I listen as Mrs. Slavik fixes herself and Mr. Slavik buttons up his pants, muttering something in Russian to his wife.

  “You liked it, and you will pay for it.” Santiago whispers in my ear as the door opens. Everyone slips out, leaving me alone in the bathroom. I stare at the wall for I don’t know how long, gazing at the dark brown walls and wishing I would sink into them, disappearing into the murky texture and fade away into nothingness.

  As I stare at the same brown wall, I think about that night. About how I was whipped so badly on my backside that I couldn’t sit down on my right side for a week. How I got whipped so badly, there was a three-inch laceration that required stitches. How Santiago told me if I were to ever orgasm from another man, he would kill me and hang me near the shops in Tijuana to let anyone do with me that they saw fit.

  I wipe my face, getting off the toilet and quickly washing my hands. The last thing I need is Aziel to come searching for me.

  I open the door, and it’s the voice that echoes down the hall that simultaneously freezes my body and melts my mind.

  “They are coming, and she will be with them. Get her. Kill them all.” Santiago lashes. I close the door, leaving it open only a crack so I can still hear.

  “What about everyone else? Do we alert them?” The voice that sounds like Santiago’s right hand man, Mateo, says to Santiago. His voice sounds irritated and urgent.

  “No.” Santiago lashes out. I can imagine his hand swiping through the air, like he wants to make the thought disappear altogether. “Get Ivy. The rest…do what you will. I suppose it’s up to Día de los Muertos.”

  Their conversation ends and I can hear the familiar tapping of Santiago’s heels as he walks towards me. I close the door even further, leaving only enough room for my eye to peek out.

  I hold my breath, his familiar Versace cologne curling into my senses. The smell makes me nauseous. I much more prefer the man that smells like cigarettes, outdoors, and motorcycles.

  Santiago pauses just in my line of sight, looking out into the great room in front of him. He is a handsome man, with his tall, slender body and dark features. His hair is styled to the side, his hair dark, and the beginnings of some gray teasing around his ears. His dark brown eyes are almost black, and his jaw is smooth and clean just as always. His tailored suit fits his body like a glove, from his shoulders down to his ankles.

  He stiffens a bit, looking over his shoulder and staring at the bathroom. As if he can sense me. He turns around, shifting his body to come inside. A curious look is on his face as he reaches for the doorknob.

  My heart jumps into my throat, and breathing is impossible at the thought of Santiago finding me. I claw at my neck, needing the air that seems to have vacuumed from this room. I watch as the doorknob turns and open my mouth to release a silent scream.

  “Santiago. They’re here. A couple of them are down the streets.” Mateo says quickly.

  Santiago spins away from the door. “How do you know?”

  “Their bikes. I would know them anywhere.”

  Santiago nods. “Let’s do this.”

  Santiago and Mateo quickly walk away. I give myself a few seconds, then open the door and rush back into the main room.

  “Hey.” I whisper.

  Aziel stands up, worry all over his face. “I was about to come find you. Where the hell have you been?” He looks me over, looking for even a hair out of place.

  “I’m fine.” I shake my head. “No, I’m not fine. I saw Santiago.”

  His eyes widen, the black paint around his eyes stretching in concern. “What? What happened?”

  “He didn’t see me.” He sinks back into his chair, his relief palpable. “But he almost did. He was talking to one of his guards. They know we’re here. They saw our bikes. They are looking for us, Aziel. We have to leave, now.”

  He stands up, grabbing my hand and we mak
e a break for the back terrace. We rush past waitstaff and guests, rushing out through the opened doors and people talking on the back patio. We head into the grass, where the light is sparse. I know these grounds like the back of my hand, though, and as we rush through the backyard, I take the lead and rush towards the gate. It’s tall, over six feet for sure, but I think with Aziel we will be able to climb over it.

  “Let’s use this tree.” Aziel points to it and I stop, nodding in agreement.

  “Good idea.” I breathe.

  “Go first. I’m right behind you.” He pushes me towards the tree, urgency in his tone and touch.

  I grab onto the rough branch above me, gripping the jagged bark as it digs into my palms.

  I hear a grunt and then hands grab me around the waist. “My little Ivy. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” My body locks up as I’m placed on the grass and spun around to face my very own devil.

  “Santiago.” I breathe.

  He looks furious, devastation and betrayal clear in his eyes. “You have been a bad, bad, girl, Ivy.”

  Aziel comes out of nowhere, landing a fist right in the side of Santiago’s head. Santiago stumbles to the side, grabbing onto the tree to right himself. “You motherfucker.” Santiago growls.

  “Do not…” Aziel pants, wiping blood from the corner of his painted mouth. “touch my girl, ever again.”

  Santiago laughs, menace lacing through his tone. “Your girl? Ivy, in every way, shape and form, on every inch of her little body, belongs to me. I’ve made her a woman. I’ve made her into the beauty she is today. Do not, under any circumstance, think she is your girl.”

  “You sick, old fuck.” Aziel says, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming his forehead against the branch. “You rapist, pedophile. Fuck you.” He slams his face against the tree again.

  Santiago whips his hand out and karate chops Aziel in the neck. Aziel drops to the ground, clutching and groaning in pain.

  “Fuck.” Aziel gasps.

  “You fucking gringo. Tienes suerte de que no te castre aquí.” You’re lucky I don’t castrate you right now.