Forbidden: a Contemporary Romance Anthology

by J. L. Beck

  Thankfully the ride really is short. We pull up to a very normal looking house on a very normal looking street. Exactly the kind I remember from all those American movies I used to watch on TV back home.

  A short woman with very wide hips is standing by the open door, frowning at us as we approach. She looks like someone’s mom. Not mine, but just thinking it makes me miss my own mom so hard tears actually erupt in my eyes for the first time, since I was abducted.

  No one notices and they don’t spill, so I don’t bother wiping them away.

  “Clara here will show you to your rooms,” the guy says. “Just follow her.”

  She gives him an annoyed glance and mutters something under her breath before giving us all a very welcoming smile, which just makes me want to cry harder.

  I’m the last through the door, again. Must be a subconscious wish not to enter at all, or something.

  “Wait,” the guy says, grabbing my arm, but gently, not obtrusively at all. “What’s your name?”

  The question takes me by complete surprise.

  “Katarina,” I stutter.

  “Well, that’s a mouthful,” he says, grinning at me. “I’ll just call you Kat.”

  “I’m Vincent,” he adds. “You can call me Vin.”

  “OK,” I manage, and I want to smile but this scene is so surreal. I feel like he’s picking me up, and not about to make me a whore, or whatever he has planned for me.

  “Go in now,” he says, since I’m just standing there getting lost in his endless green eyes.

  I turn and follow the sound of footsteps up the stairs. He asked for my name. Even gave me a nickname. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

  But even despite the fuzziness that idea brings, I know it will probably be worse than anything I could ever have imagined.

  VIN

  Kat. That nickname I gave her is more fitting than I think she realizes. The shape of her eyes is right anyway, if not the color. Though there are blue-eyed cats out there. They’re a rarity. Kinda like her. I’ve seen a lot of gorgeous women in my time, fucked quite a few of them too, but all their beauty pales in comparison to hers. I’ve yet to really notice any of the other girls who came here with her.

  “You shouldn’t get friendly with the ladies,” Rocco says, as he lights a cigarette on the porch, since my mother doesn’t allow any smoking in the houses she cooks and cleans at. “Didn’t your father tell you that?”

  I want to smack that smug grin right off his face. He’s here to take orders from me, not lecture me on rules. “Don’t you worry about my father.”

  A large part of why I’m so annoyed at Rocco’s warning comes from the fact that he’s completely right. My father wouldn’t like me messing around with Kat. She’s an investment, a business asset, and not here for my personal enjoyment. The whores are off-limits, he told me as much when he entrusted me with the job of running this particular operation, which is a huge step up for me, and one I’m not about to blow.

  Besides, I don’t know if the no screwing the whores is really a hard and fast rule. I know for a fact Tony fucks them a lot. But he’s that kinda guy. He prefers women who can’t say no to him.

  “Use an ashtray, Rocco,” my mother chides, as she comes out onto the porch. Then she rounds on me. “And since when do you call me Carla, huh?”

  My mother may be just a little over five feet tall, but she’s got enough personality to tame a room full of made men. I might be a grown man, but her tone makes me feel about ten years old, and Rocco’s already turning this way and that, looking for an ashtray. I’m not sure what kind of answer will make her happy.

  “I can’t exactly call you Mama here, now can I, Ma?” I say and smile at her widely, since that always works with her. “I’m supposed to be the boss of this place. How would that look?”

  “It would look like the right and proper thing that it is,” she says sternly, but her eyes are smiling. “And you should give the girls some time to settle down before you start bossing them around. One of them burst out crying when she saw the cameras in her room, and she wouldn’t stop. I can still hear her crying now.”

  I can’t, and I’m glad for it. I hope it wasn’t Kat. But I don’t think it was. She seems too strong to have a meltdown like that.

  “Come on, I made spaghetti for dinner,” Mom says and turns. “You two can have some now, while it’s fresh.”

  “I would love some, Ms. Carla,” Rocco says, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray he finally located on the windowsill. “I love your cooking.”

  She gives him a very warm smile before preceding us into the house, since she always was a sucker for compliments. But Rocco’s not even exaggerating. My mother’s cooking is divine.

  2

  Vin

  I followed Mom’s advice and let the girls rest for the rest of the afternoon, but it’s almost eight now, they’ve been fed and my mom’s gone home. I don’t want any of them going to sleep before I tell them the rules.

  “Get off the sofa, it’s time,” I tell Rocco, who’s been nodding off since eating three heaping plates of mom’s spaghetti earlier.

  He grumbles and groans, but does it, while I climb halfway up the stairs. “Girls! Please come downstairs!”

  Kat is the first to poke her head out of her door. “Get the others then come downstairs,” I say curtly. Mostly since I’ve been picturing her naked with her shapely lips wrapped around my cock all afternoon, and I’m still not sure if it’s a good idea to turn that fantasy into reality.

  “‘Please’ was a little over the top, no?” Rocco jokes as I return downstairs to stand in the doorway to the living room.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say grinning at him. “But I’m sure my mother would appreciate my manners.”

  “She likely would,” he says and chuckles, then his face grows serious and imposing as the first of the girls comes downstairs.

  “Through here,” I say pointing at the living room and ignoring their scared faces, as they cast sheepish glances at Rocco and me.

  They’re all so skinny that four of them fit on the sofa, but Kat takes the armchair I was sitting in before getting up to call them. She looks like a queen on her throne. Sort of. Though her eyes are scared more than anything else. But coy too. I’m sure she’s no stranger to twirling guys around her little finger. Hell, I’ve barely spoken to her, and I’m just about ready to fall at her feet.

  “I’m sure you must be tired, so I’ll get right to the point,” I say after clearing my throat in an effort to dispel that particular fantasy. “This is your home now, and it’s entirely up to you how pleasant your stay here will be. If you do as you’re told and don’t make any trouble, it can be a good home.”

  I pause in the speech I’ve been practicing for the last five days to gauge their reaction. They’re all staring at me with fear bordering on terror. Some of them already have the shaky lip and are probably seconds from bursting into tears. But not Kat. I can’t read much in her eyes. Unless it’s interest. Just what I want to see on any other woman I have a boner for. But not on her. Because she’s off limits.

  “You’ll be locked in your rooms at night, but not during the day,” I continue. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the cameras in your rooms. You’ll be doing video sex to start with, and I’ll explain more about that tomorrow.”

  “No real sex?” one of them asks, interrupting me. She sounds so relieved it’s unnerving.

  “Not to start with, no,” I answer.

  My father has the policy of introducing his whores into the business slowly, and I’m really glad for it right now. It could be months before any of these new recruits have to go on a live date. Or it could be a couple of weeks, depending on their popularity. I bet Kat’s gonna be real popular, and that thought doesn’t sit well with me.

  “I’ll explain more tomorrow,” I continue. “For now, return back upstairs, shower and go to sleep. I think Carla arranged some clothes for you.”

  “She did, yes,” Kat says. “She is ver
y nice.”

  I nod, but don’t know how to reply. “I’ll come lock the doors in about an hour. There are bars on all the windows, so don’t try to escape. Someone will be up all night making sure you’re behaving yourselves.” It’ll be me tonight, but I don’t tell them that. “Like I already said, this could be a smooth, pleasant experience, or hell, and the choice is entirely yours.”

  Two of them are staring at me defiantly, but luckily don’t say anything, so I don’t have to get any more unpleasant with my warnings. I will, if I have to. I feel for them in their predicament, but I’m no pushover. I know what my job here is. And what I told them is the truth. They can have a cozy life here, if they behave.

  “Go now,” I add, refusing to meet Kat’s eyes as she passes me, even though she’s desperately trying to catch mine.

  But nothing good can come of us getting any closer.

  A few moments later I can hear the sound of showers running. I can also hear their muffled voices as they talk.

  “Alright, I’m gonna head out,” Rocco says. “You’re fine here without me, right?”

  There’s a clear undertone of doubt in his voice, but I ignore it. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

  Once he’s gone, I go out to the porch for a cigarette, locking the door behind me. I’m trying really hard not to picture Kat soaping herself up in the master bathroom right above my head.

  The cigarette I meant to smoke turns into five, and it’s almost ten by the time I finally go back inside to lock them into their rooms. The house is completely quiet, all the bedroom doors closed. The silence makes me nervous, makes me think that they might be waiting to clobber me on the head with something. But everything that could be used as a weapon has either been removed from the house, or is safely locked up, and I think I can take five skinny girls, so it’s a stupid thought.

  I start at the far end of the hallway, checking each room to make sure the girl is inside before locking her in. I have the urge to bid the first one that looks at me goodnight, but I refrain. That would be getting too friendly too soon. It’s better, easier in the long run, that they stay afraid of me. That was father’s advice, though he never told me to be mean to them. Just stern and strict.

  Pretty soon the only door left to lock is Kat’s. She chose the master bedroom overlooking the porch.

  And even as I slide open her door I’m still not sure I won’t be walking in to join her.

  She’s sitting on the edge of the bed as I peer inside, wearing just a short nightshirt, the light on the nightstand making her long, slender legs glow gold.

  “Can I have a glass of milk?” she asks quietly.

  “Yeah, sure, come on,” I say and open the door wider, without even considering that there might be a more sensible way to deal with this.

  Like saying no, or bringing her the glass of milk myself. But it’s too late to change my mind now, since she’s already passing me. The nightshirt she’s wearing barely covers her ass, and I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing any underwear underneath it. We’re practically alone in the house, and no one will disturb us. No one will know, if I do anything more than drink milk with her.

  So all in all, letting her get her own glass of milk was probably one of the best decisions I ever made.

  KAT

  I don’t know the real reason why I asked for milk, or why I’m preceding him into the kitchen now. But getting milk isn’t the reason. I rarely drink it.

  All afternoon I’ve been thinking about Vin and how obviously he likes me. He hardly even looked at the other girls, while he gave that speech in the living room. He only had eyes for me. I could use that to my advantage somehow. Like maybe I could find something to attack him with then run out of this house and get help.

  Escape was pretty much an impossibility on the ship, even without the threats the men with us kept issuing day and night, until some of the girls did nothing but cry all the time. A few of us who weren’t so cowed by all that joked about jumping into the water and waiting for some brave sailors to rescue us. But the water was very dark and very deep, and they only let us out onto the deck for fifteen minutes at a time and watched us like hawks.

  Now escape is suddenly a possibility again. This house is on such a normal street. I’m sure someone would help me, if I ran around screaming.

  But all the furniture in the kitchen is plastic, and all the cupboards are locked shut with huge padlocks. There’s not a single knife in sight, nor is there anything to pick up and threaten him with.

  “The fridge is that way,” he says, pointing at it with his head, while he picks up one of the plastic glasses we used at dinner and shakes off the few droplets of water still clinging to it. “And here’s a glass.”

  He holds it out to me.

  “OK,” I mutter and take it from him then twirl around to face the fridge. Which is the only thing with a door that’s not locked in this whole kitchen. Possibly in the whole house.

  I swing open the door, and I get hungry all over again at the sight of all the food in there. There’s everything from mayonnaise, to all sorts of salamis, and heaps of vegetables and fruit.

  “Here,” he says, reaching past me and grabbing the carton of milk. I get a very strong wave of his scent as he does so, musky yet clean, fresh like some clearing in a pine forest, and it hits me just below the navel with a physical force. He’s standing so close we’re almost touching.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, and take the milk he’s offering.

  “What were you looking around for? Weapons?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound annoyed, just amused, but in a carefree sort of way like we’re just having fun. Like my life doesn’t depend on getting out of this house before I get used and abused even more than I’ve already been.

  He wants me, his desire for me is a palpable thing right now. I could always sense that, but for all my beauty and vanity, I never knew what to do with guys’ attention. I hid that well, just let them take the lead, but I don’t think I ever enjoyed being with any of them as much as I could have. With Vin it could be different. Somehow, I’m sure of that.

  And maybe that’s the best path to my escape from this place. He will fall in love with me, then he will rescue me, and we will live happily ever after. I should make him fall in love with me. I wish I knew how. Back home I had a few creepy stalkers over the years, but that kind of obsession is as close, as I ever came to love.

  “I was just looking around,” I mutter and turn to him. I should touch him now, run my hand down his arm or something. He’s changed from his suit, is wearing jeans and a t-shirt now, the bulging muscles in his arms clearly visible. But I’m holding a glass in one hand and a carton of milk in the other, so it’s not exactly doable.

  “Let me pour that for you,” he says, grinning as he takes the milk and glass from my hands, his fingers brushing mine as he does so, sending a river of heat up my arm.

  “Here you go,” he says and offers me the full glass, then finally takes a step back, so I can move away from the fridge. I walk over to the counter, consciously making my hips sway even more than they usually do. That’s the kind of thing guys like.

  His eyes are literally eating me up when I turn back to face him.

  “Milk’s not the real reason why you wanted to come down here, is it?” he asks. It’s a question, but everything in his eyes and on his face, even in the way he’s standing, with his wide chest squared toward me, is telling me he already knows he’s right.

  “You said we could have a pleasant time here,” I hear myself say in a sultry, seductive voice, which I don’t think I’ve ever heard myself use before. I may look like a seductress, but that illusion is always gone when I open my mouth. “Sleeping alone in a locked room is not pleasant,” I add.

  He walks up to me and I’m sure he’s going to kiss me now, but he stops just short of actually doing it. “What else did you have in mind?”

  He knows exactly what I meant, his eyes are telling me that plainly. So he’s either just toying with m
e, or he actually wants my permission to kiss me, and I’m not sure which it is. All I know is that the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach are very real and much stronger than any I’ve ever felt before. They make no sense. This man is my captor.

  “You could kiss me, if you want,” I whisper, and it sounds kind of dumb, but right at the same time.

  He wastes no more time after that, his lips brushing mine, softly at first. I part my lips slightly and his kiss gets bolder, his tongue jostling with mine in my mouth. Before long we’re sharing a hard, dirty, wet and needy kiss, but there’s softness and sweetness in it too, so much of it I forget I’m a captive in this house, that all the windows have metal bars on them, and that I’m his property, about to become a whore for life. Right now I’m just a girl kissing a boy she likes.

  His hands are all over my ass and back, grabbing my breasts through the thin fabric of my shirt, and that betrays what this really is. The prelude to a quick dirty fuck with no romance. But I don’t mind it. The passion he has for me comes through in his kiss, in every touch of his hands. And I like it, I share it, enjoy the feel of his hard body in my arms. I want to get naked for him, see his nakedness too. Feel his cock on my lips, in my mouth, in my pussy.

  His fingers find my clit just as I think it, like my thoughts guided him there, and in seconds he has me moaning, as his fingers caress my pussy, dip inside me every so often, but not harshly, not hard. He knows what he’s doing, which isn’t something I can say for the guys I’ve been with before him. Not that I’m really thinking about any of that, or about anything at all. Because his fingers in my pussy, his soft, wet lips against mine are making me yearn for the sweet release of an orgasm, until that’s all I can focus on.

  But just as it’s within my reach, his lips leave mine, and his fingers retreat from my pussy.