by Caris Roane
Part of him wanted to rush the stage, grab the woman, and get her permanently out of this hellhole. If he did, however, he’d destroy decades spent building a reputation as a man fully into the lifestyle. He had to perpetually think beyond the present moment, to the thousands of women and men who lived caged in this part of the world, serving the sadistic needs of a hungry, perverse, but well-paying vampire clientele.
The club appealed to high-end slavers, with black marble on the walls layered with swaths of emerald crystals. Soft lighting hung suspended over numerous linen-covered tables, creating an oddly intimate atmosphere for the horror taking place not just on stage but all around him.
Many of the clientele brought their own slaves with them to perform fellatio while they enjoyed the evening’s entertainment. Ecstatic moans occasionally rolled through the club as waitstaff kept the drinks coming.
This club was at the dark end of the lifestyle, where the slaves lived constantly with the threat of torture. But other clubs were worse, involving a snuff element. Those, he avoided. He’d sacrificed a lot to create his cover, but he drew the line at watching slaves murdered for the purpose of sexual gratification.
He lifted his now-empty glass to a passing female slave, toggling it slightly. She came toward him on a quick step, eyes flaring. With that one brief signal, he knew her type: She might have entered the world as a slave, but she’d fully embraced the lifestyle and learned the fine art of turning pain into pleasure.
On his periphery he saw that two Starlin men sat at a nearby table, no doubt assigned to observe him. He therefore had his own little performance to give, and this slave would be perfect for what he needed to do.
She was Asian, with straight black hair to her shoulders, and wore a costume made up entirely of chains crisscrossed over most of her body. The chains left nothing to the imagination, revealing bare breasts, buttocks, and a narrow black landing strip.
“What’s your pleasure, Master Reyes?” She held her small round service tray toward him.
With one hand he placed the tumbler in the center, but with the other he grabbed the chain that ran from the middle of her chest, downward between her legs, then rose to connect high on her back. He pulled, one hard tug.
She gasped, her chin quivering.
He watched her face as the pain transformed into something sweeter, and in a slow rhythm he worked the chain up and down. “What I want right now is your mouth on my dick.”
With her dark eyes glittering, she set her tray on his table, then dropped to her knees.
She did all the work, unbuckling his pants, licking him, teasing his balls. With his eyes on the stage, she took him deep, her head doing a slow bob as he leaned back in his chair.
He wasn’t happy about the situation, which meant he struggled to physically enjoy the process, but he kept his eye on the prize: proving to the Starlin spies that he’d adopted the slaver way of life.
She paused for a moment, looking up at him, and whispered. “You’re legendary, master.” She rubbed her thumb slowly over his crown. “Take me home, later? My owner won’t even charge, not if he knows it’s you.”
Her words pleased the hell out of him, not because she applauded his sexual prowess, but because she’d inadvertently told him that her owner would treat him just like he did all the big boys at Starlin. He’d worked a helluva long time to achieve this position, spending a large portion of his fortune securing the goodwill of the various club owners.
He smiled and leaned close to bite her ear, sinking his teeth hard until he tasted blood on his tongue. He repressed the part of him that wanted more of the sweet-tasting elixir, that wanted a deep draw at her throat, then sat back once more.
She looked up at him again, her lips swollen as she breathed hard, clearly enjoying his attentions. “Please, master.”
“We’ll see. Take care of me now and we’ll discuss terms.”
She smiled and went back to work, head bobbing once more.
His hatred of the sex-slave world went deep, so to sustain his arousal, he let his mind drift into dangerous waters: into the recent past when he’d seen Angelica at the Ocean Club.
The mere thought of her brought pleasure flowing and his hips flexing slightly.
Angelica.
She’d be his salvation in this heinous situation; images of her would see him through.
He recalled her red dress and the most beautiful display of cleavage he’d seen in a long time. She had looked so damn sexy, so beautiful when he’d first seen her sitting at the bar, her long legs crossed at the knee, her gaze fixed on him. He’d recognized the invitation and wished like hell he could have taken her up on it, taken her home, made love to her. God knew, he’d wanted to.
The more he focused on those memories, the more his body responded, so he stayed with them. She’d looked even prettier up close, with large brown eyes, made up just right, her lips shiny with gloss. Then she’d kissed him, one of the biggest surprises of his life. He’d wanted to keep on kissing her, to lay a line of kisses across the mounds of her breasts, to run his hands up her dress, to sink his fingers deep inside her wetness.
He moaned and the mouth that worked him sucked just a little harder, a little faster, a perfect response.
He saw Angelica naked, her layered hair shoved behind her creamy shoulders, her throat exposed, pulse beating in her neck.
Desire flowed as he saw nothing but her, imagining the feel of her breasts beneath his fingers and his mouth sucking each nipple repeatedly until her body responded with heavy undulations.
With these thoughts, pleasure soared. He cupped the back of the slave’s head. She knew the signal and sucked faster. But his mind was full of Angelica now, her long legs, his knees spreading them wide. He was over her now, pushing his cock inside, pumping into her, faster and faster.
His lower back tightened and the release came, streaking like lightning through his cock.
Angelica.
She was the one. The one he’d wanted, desired, needed.
As his pleasure peaked he groaned, not caring if he was heard above all the other sounds in the club.
Angelica.
His breathing slowed and he leaned back in the chair, his mind still spinning with the images he’d created.
He frowned as he thought of Angelica, of how much he wanted her, how much he wished she were here right now, with him. That would never happen, of course, not in a million years.
After a moment the slave leaned back on her heels. She gently tucked him inside his briefs, zipped him up, fumbled with the button, then buckled his belt. All neat and tidy.
Though she smiled, he saw her drawn cheeks, the pinch at the corner of each eye as she worked to hold back her emotions. He knew what it was to be in her position, to have to engage sexually on demand, often several times a night.
Fuck this horrible situation and the way this slave had been brutalized. He took her chin in hand and, leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “You brought me beautifully. Thank you.”
When he leaned back again in his seat, her dark eyes grew haunted and she spoke quickly. “Master, please buy me. I would give anything to serve in your house. I know my owner would allow it. Like I said, he’d do anything for you. He says you’re to be the next Starlin member. Please. I need to get out of here.”
He felt her desperation, but with the Starlin boys watching him, he still had his role to play.
He steeled himself and took on a bored expression. “All I want from you right now is another Maker’s Mark, neat.”
The light of hope died swiftly in the woman’s eyes. She nodded, rising to her feet and moving away as fast as her shackled ankles would allow.
He made himself a promise that as soon as he brought Starlin down, he’d start destroying clubs like this one until they were all gone and slavery was a thing of the past in his world.
Thank God he’d been able to warn Angelica away from the Ocean Club. What she didn’t know, what he hadn’t been able to
tell her, was that she perfectly fit the bill for Starlin acquisition. Not just because of her beauty, but more important because she had no money to speak of and her closest relative was infirm.
Earlier in the year he’d seen the Starlin team scoping her, so he’d done his own surface investigation and learned the basic details of her life. He understood her vulnerability. Fortunately, at least until a few days ago, she’d stopped coming to the club and he’d been relieved.
But the moment he’d seen her, he knew she was in danger. She’d never looked more beautiful or sexier and the Starlin team had already arrived, hunting for the right women to snatch.
He’d watched her leave the club, then he’d taken off in the opposite direction, heading back to his home in Italy. He just hoped to hell that in the future she’d stay away. The one thing he’d learned was that the acquisition teams worked clubs almost exclusively, all over the world, grabbing women and sometimes men to sell at auction. Witnesses at clubs were notoriously unreliable—another perfect aspect of the whole setup.
His server returned with his drink, but her eyes were now passive, no longer pleading. She moved away slower this time. He felt her despair like a palpable weight in the air, but he kept his gaze fixed on the stage.
He drank his whiskey in slow sips and after a few more minutes, from his peripheral vision, he watched the Starlin spies leave their table. They would make a full report. If the gods smiled, he’d get that fucking invitation.
He needed to get the hell out of the club, take a hot shower using plenty of soap, but he remained where he was just in case there were others tracking his movements and reporting, spies he didn’t know about.
After another hour, and another whiskey, he was about to leave when a slave brought him an embossed envelope. He recognized the Starlin insignia, an S with a chain in a circle around it.
He strove to calm the surge of adrenaline that rocketed through him. This was it, what he’d been working toward all these years.
Breaking the gold seal, he pulled out the card and read. The Starlin Group extends the warm hand of fellowship and requests your presence at all future events. Congratulations and warmest wishes to our newest member. Your fellow slaver, Master Engles.
He glanced up at the male slave, whom he knew to be one of Engles’s many assistants. Engles was the man to impress and Reyes had apparently gotten the job done, but it had taken years. “You may tell your master I am most grateful.”
The slave, his face also a familiar mask of impassivity, nodded once, then left.
Reyes remained another half an hour, a powerful euphoria flowing through his veins. His forearm rested over the invitation, the physical reminder of what he’d accomplished.
His gaze sought out the slave he’d used earlier. As she dropped to her knees in front of yet another slaver, a woman this time, he promised himself he’d get her out along with all the others who had served him while he built his heinous reputation.
His plans were finally falling into place. The next auction would take place on Friday, followed by several gala parties. On the block would be beauties gathered from every corner of the world, and to cement his reputation he’d buy his first slave, or even a group of slaves.
When the woman on stage finally passed out, the dom tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her away. A round of applause rippled through the audience, along with calls for more drinks. Another group of slaves entered the stage to clean up.
Reyes finally rose to leave.
Pulling a well-packed money clip from the pocket of his pants, he dropped several thousand on the white linen, then headed home.
#
Angelica lay on a hard mattress that smelled of blood and urine, her hands bound behind her. She couldn’t keep her eyes open and her head felt as if spikes had been jammed through the top of her skull. Mostly her arms were killing her in this position.
She sensed that considerable time had passed since she’d last seen Reyes at Briggs’s Ocean Club, but she had no idea how much. Days, at least.
She also had vague recollections of being awakened, forced to drink things she didn’t want to, then shoved back down on the same mattress to sleep for long periods of time.
Her arms hadn’t always been bound like this—only after she’d tried to claw one of her captors’ eyes out.
She still didn’t understand where she was, what was happening to her, or how long she’d been in what she could only describe as some kind of jail cell set in a cave, a very large cave.
“How’s Sleeping Beauty?” A woman’s voice reached her, sweet and melodious. A spurt of hope swept through her.
“Coming ‘round, mistress.”
“Well, get in there, strip her down, and let me have a look. The Starlin acquisition team said she’s worth at least two million.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Hope crashed.
Angelica tried to sit up. She wanted to fight whoever it was that intended to follow the woman’s orders, but she’d only made it to her elbow when a hand grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.
“Hey.” Her protest came out slurred.
For this one word, she received a hard slap across her mouth.
“How many times have I told you not to hit the face? Humans don’t heal fast.”
Angelica processed this statement, but couldn’t make sense of it. What did the woman mean by humans not healing fast?
“Sorry, mistress.”
“Bring her closer.”
Angelica’s face throbbed as her captor dragged her to the front of the cell, then pulled her upright for inspection. Between the pain in her head from whatever drugs she’d been given and the new blow to her face, she could barely open her eyes.
“Closer.”
Blinking, she had a blurred view of the bars of her cell and a figure beyond.
“Aw, why are you crying, sweetheart?” The woman clucked her tongue. “He didn’t hit you that hard.”
“Not crying,” Angelica managed through thickened lips. She might have been, she wasn’t sure, but like hell she’d give this she-devil a reason to think small of her.
“Well, at least you’ve got some spirit.” The woman tilted her head—that much Angelica could determine, but her vision still wasn’t working right.
“Get her clothes off. I need to see the goods.”
At that Angelica’s instincts took over. She thrashed in the man’s hold, kicking at him and screaming. Of course she couldn’t do much with her arms bound. Still, she fought him hard.
Something struck the back of her head and all went black.
She woke up with a pungent smell wafting beneath her nose. Again she came up fighting, but she didn’t get far since restraints held her down, flat on her back.
And she was naked.
She breathed hard, trying to twist, but her ankles were pinned as well.
“You need to relax, princess.”
The woman of the melodious voice had returned, only now she was inside the cell.
She drew close to the bed and sat down on a stool beside the putrid mattress. She put a hand on Angelica’s throat, stroking down the side of her neck. “Your blood has a wonderful smell, very rich. I’m tempted to sample you myself. Unfortunately, we always promise pristine, never-before-bitten goods to our clientele.”
Angelica rocked her head back and forth. “Get the hell away from me.”
She could finally see, despite how badly her head ached.
The woman smiled at her, but her dark-blue eyes held a cruel glint, truly malevolent, despite her otherwise angel-like appearance. She looked like something out of an old painting, with light-red hair in a mass of curls, pale skin, small pink lips, and large cornflower-blue eyes.
Angelica couldn’t battle the woman, but maybe she could reason with her. “Listen, I don’t belong here. There’s been some kind of mistake.”
The woman’s small lips curved into a bow. “Of course you belong here. You’re built exactly right for
our needs.”
A chill ran through her. “What do you mean needs?”
“You’re a woman. Figure it out.”
The statement confirmed her worst fears. “Sex.”
“Of course, and all sorts of variations so you’ll never be bored.”
Angelica shuddered. “Can’t you let me out of these restraints?”
“No, I can’t. You almost blinded one of my workers. You must be obedient while you’re in our care, do you understand?”
The woman slid her hand down Angelica’s chest and began caressing her bare breasts, moving in slow circles. “You have very full, exquisite breasts, by the way. Does that feel good?”
Angelica squirmed, trying to get away from the unwelcome touch. “I’m not into women.”
“They all say that at first, but pretty soon you’ll be doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do. And given your spirit, I feel compelled to offer a taste of the kind of pain you’ll experience if you don’t do as you’re told.”
The woman took hold of Angelica’s left nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinched harder and harder. Angelica twisted, trying to get relief, but the pressure increased.
She looked at the woman’s face and saw a kind of euphoria in her features. She was enjoying hurting her.
“Sorry, precious, but this is gonna get worse before it gets better. Try to relax.”
“It’s bad enough already.” She spoke the words between gasps.
Something that felt like fire began to burn through Angelica’s nipple, a burn that kept coming, kept increasing. She heard screams, then realized they belonged to her.
“Beautiful,” the woman said softly. “I really am tempted to keep you for myself. Let’s see how much you can take. I hadn’t meant to go this far, but you’ve got some chops, my dear.”
The fiery pain broadened, expanding through her breast. She shook, cried out, and wept. The pain was beyond bearing. She was sure it couldn’t get worse, then it did.
