House Of Aces

by Pamela Ann

  House of Aces

  Book #1

  Carter Dean

  Pamela Ann

  House Of Aces

  Digital Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Copyright © 2014

  By Pamela Ann & Carter Dean

  Warning: Due to heavy adult content, this book is only recommended to MATURE readers. Certain settings contain graphic depictions of violence with trigger-inducing scenes.

  This is book one of the House Of Aces Series.

  Can you put a price on a human being?

  Can you put a price on love?

  In the Katana family, a price must always be paid, be it with currency or a life.

  Bombarded by a house full of dark secrets, abuse, a never ending sequence of lies, and with no one to trust, how can one survive a harsh world full of deception and trickery?

  Prologue

  Present

  “Business or pleasure, sir?”

  “A little bit of both.” I smiled and gave her a deep stare, which seemed to have her eyes mesmerized, locked onto mine as she reached for the stamp without flinching or even looking down to make sure that she was grabbing the right object. She then gave a hard stamp on the last page of my passport.

  Her clear, sky-blue eyes scrutinized me further. “You travel a lot. What do you do for a living?” Her business-like tone had a tinge of playfulness in it.

  Without batting an eyelash, I responded to her, “I’m an importer of rare objects.” Amongst other things, I thought as I thanked her, reaching under the window to get my passport that had a piece of paper underneath it, sealing our conversation with a slight wink and a mischievous smile before clearing my throat and then proceeding towards the exit.

  As far as I could remember, my uncle had always told me that women and money were the easiest things to achieve in this world; to maintain them was the hard part. He was a man of few words, so when I would sit with him during teatime, my ears were open and my mouth was shut. That was how things were done in his household. It was a tradition that had been passed down from one generation to the next for decades. Men had the upper hand; they were the ones to make all the decisions, the ones to have the last word. If anyone would attempt to protest, argue about how things were done, those people disappeared and would never be heard from again.

  My father passed away when I was six-years-old. My mother vanished shortly after. My paternal uncle and my aunt were the closest things to family I had. They took me in as their own and I didn’t want for anything. They put me through school, bought me my first car, and they kept nice clothes on my back and shoes on my feet. They gave me everything I could wish for, and I felt lucky and blessed to have them in my life.

  Now, at the age of twenty-nine, they were the only parents I knew, and quite frankly, I was happy with that arrangement.

  I had started working for my uncle at the age of nineteen, and it really hadn’t been work until a few years back, yet there was nothing that I could find to complain about it. I had always been under Tony, my aunt’s bastard son who was probably the meanest thing on this planet when he was not in the presence of my uncle and aunt.

  My job responsibilities had been pretty lax back then. I didn’t say anything or do anything other than observe how he worked; how he did things, how he breezily accomplished several successful business trips, and there were many. For six years, I stayed by his side while I was in training.

  I still remembered the first flight I had taken with him to Croatia. The city, Kozara Bok. We flew first class to Istanbul and from there we took a smaller plane into Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. While all my friends were backpacking in nicer European hot spots for the ultimate vacation, Hawaii, Cancun and the Tropics—I had been actually visiting the countries and cities that were heavily struck by poverty and destitution. The economy was so bad and had been for so long that the stench from these areas could be compared to a microwaved dinner served on the flight, the scent sticking to your skin and hard to forget.

  As time went on, I gradually got used to it, amongst other things.

  We were in town to recruit young students in high school; eighteen-year-olds that had exceptional track records who also were stunning to look at. Beauty and brains.

  We had a rule that we would limit two candidates per visit.

  Our pitch to those lucky few would be a full scholarship to a four-year degree at UCLA. A life in America that was fully paid for with their cost of living included—a tantalizing offer that not one of them could refuse. For those Europeans, who’d lived an impoverished life, it would be like winning the lottery. Or so they’d think.

  Imagine, a family of five or seven in one household with running water that was tinted brown or green, and only small portions of food to be shared among the big family. With the lack of food and transportation, since most of them walked or commuted to school, there was an abundance of skinny women with definition in their bodies in every place that counted—voluptuous in ways that were vital for business.

  It was like clockwork every time we travelled. Fly in. Head straight to a poverty-stricken part of town and locate a high school. After that had been accomplished. We usually waited outside after school for a male teacher and pitched the scholarship speech that had been said hundreds of times in different rural places. The teachers would look at our fake credentials, and once they were fully convinced, we’d ask for a full list with pictures of seniors that had outstanding grades. The price for all of these favors? Five hundred Kunas, which was only equivalent to a hundred USD. Once that had been settled, we would set up a meeting for the next day—same time, same place.

  That was where it really all began for me, not working as a shadow, but staying up all night, going through every student profile, which listed their information—from grades, their sports activities, accomplishments—only selecting the prettiest ones from the pack. More importantly was how fluent they were with the English language. Yes, we chose beautiful and smart girls, however we also needed them not to be able to speak English that well—preferably borderline illiterate.

  It was all business; one with a success rate of a hundred percent. I was not one to boast, but that was quite an outstanding degree of achievement.

  At first, there was always something that made me believe that I was making a difference in a young girl’s life. That Tony and I were giving these girls an opportunity to live well and say farewell to their shitty lives back home.

  But I was proven wrong.

  Chapter 1

  Ten years ago

  “It’s okay, Sabina, that’s why I’m here. I’m here to help.”

  She made a wan smile and pointed at her clothes that were scattered across the floor.

  I picked up the pieces of torn clothes, which had once made up her favorite outfit, and threw them in the garbage. “Like I said, new clothes, okay?”

  She reluctantly nodded as I walked out. When a minute passed and she hadn’t come out, I was starting to worry, so I called for her to come out. Still, she didn’t follow. I went to check on her and found her staring in the mirror crying, her arms bracing herself with the towel still wrapped around her underneath her bathrobe.

&nb
sp; “Sabina, let me help you. You take this off.” Slowly, I unwrapped her body from the towel that had lain dormant in between her nude body and the bathrobe. I could see her cleavage, plump and pushed up by her arms, promising that further down she was hiding a beautiful pair of breasts. Looking away from her slopes, I gave her a smile before taking her hand and leading her towards the bedroom.

  “All right I’m going to go out for a smoke. Your clothes will be here soon.” My assuring words didn’t help, she didn’t seem as if she understood me. She was gripping my hand so tightly that I felt like she was trying to cut off my blood circulation.

  Her blue eyes look frightened. “No, please, no,” she begged.

  Using hand gestures, I tried to explain that I was just stepping out to smoke, and that I would be returning once I was done. Her brows furrowed as her eyes flickered back and forth, trying to understand what I was telling her.

  She then started to nod, as if comprehending me, yet when she lay herself down on the bed, loosening her bathrobe, and started to say, “okay, okay,” I knew that she and I had some major communication problems.

  Does she think this was why I wanted to assist her? I thought as I watched her bend her legs on the bed, slowly opening them before me. She seemed intimidated yet determined.

  “Okay,” she said again, staring straight at me.

  Swallowing the heavy lump in my throat, I wanted to divert my attention, however Sabina was stunning to look at. So my eyes remained appreciative as they lingered on her supple, naked body.

  “Thank you, Ryan. Now you love me. It’s okay.” I could tell she was nervous, but she was also excited, biting down on her lips to hone in on my weakness—a hot, inviting body on a bed. Ready. Fuckable.

  Even though my cock was stimulated, I couldn’t decide if I should walk out and have my fix of nicotine or fuck the shit out of this girl. I wanted to do both at the same time, but before I could come up with a decision, she slid off the bed and kneeled down on the carpet, her gaze lifting to me with those innocent deep blues as she rubbed the bulge in my slacks.

  She was one overeager student. I was pleased to have chosen an amazing Ace.

  “Give me. Ryan. Give me,” she begged, squealing when she saw my nod before she scrambled to unbuckle my belt. She then unzipped my pants in a way that appeared as if she was starved for cock, and that, if another second had passed without it, she would wither up and die.

  A deep, satisfying groan broke from me when her mouth wrapped around the tip of my dick, slowly sucking me, gradually wetting my hard length with her saliva.

  She had no order in her seduction, no grace. The blowjob was sloppy, and at times, even painful with her teeth scratching the part of the cock that separated it from the shaft to the head. But who was I to complain? There was a young Croatian beauty on her knees sucking me off like I was her salvation.

  Life was good.

  Everything was just getting hot and heavy when suddenly the door swung open and my auntie Katja stormed in with her arms filled with bags from Nordstrom. Her eyes grew like saucers when she saw what I was up to.

  “Ryan! Can I walk into a room one day and not see your penis hanging out!”

  I fell over Sabina, trying to escape the wrath that was about to come. I tried so hard to swiftly pull up my pants from my ankles, but I fell over again.

  “Shit,” I muttered as I ran into the bathroom, quickly buckling my belt, while I heard my aunt speaking strictly to Sabina in Croatian. Her tone was stiff, harsh almost. Was she trying to lecture her about indecency? Fuck, I hoped not.

  As much as I adored my aunt, she could be a pain in the ass when it came to the women I fucked with. Apart from that, she was amazing all around. See, my aunt Katja was a beautiful, Russian bombshell, who also happened to be somewhat of a genius for knowing how to fluently speak every major European language. It made her a very important asset in the company. Without her, it would be difficult to communicate to Aces once they arrived in America. She was the boss lady, the madam. We never really spoke about how all of the ladies in my family were Russian; I just assumed that each of my uncles had fallen for a girl they had found for the scholarship program. Five uncles who were all Japanese and had married Russian women; it made sense, to me at least.

  All nine of my cousins were halfies and we all only spoke English. I never questioned why none of us spoke Russian or Japanese. It was just how it was in the Katana household. Obey. Respect. Deliver.

  Coming out of the bathroom, I saw my aunt standing over Sabina, who was now back in her robe, her head down and eyes low as she listened to my aunt. Clearing my throat, I needed my aunt Katja to give her a break. She was new; she could cut a girl some slack.

  “Auntie, I’ll see you later at dinner.” I raised my brow, interrupting her.

  Her angry expression immediately disappeared as she spun to the side and faced me. “Ryan, my baby, I heard from Tony that you did a very good job. Your uncle is very proud of you. He is waiting for you at home with a present.” She then kissed me on my cheek and shooed me away.

  But I wasn’t done yet. “See you later at dinner, Sabina.” Extending my hand out for a handshake, I captured her soft hand in mine.

  “Bye, Ryan. Bye,” she murmured, holding onto my hand as if telling me not to go with her puppy dog eyes.

  My aunt meant no harm. And even though I wanted to stay a little longer, my uncle was waiting for me, and Lord knew he was one I didn’t want to anger.

  “Don’t worry; tonight we will have a good time,” I promised.

  ***

  “Ryan! My boy!” My uncle greeted me at the door, holding my arm, before leading me to the living room that already had a hot pot of tea on the coffee table, readily waiting for my arrival. As his usual, he had two maids standing on each side of the chairs.

  It always shocked me how my auntie could tolerate beautiful, young women living in the house with them. Their “uniform” was a short, plaid skirt, a blouse that exposed a majority of their breasts and closed pumps. When I first started living here, I thought that my uncle had it good. He was a pimp, and all I ever wanted to be when I grew up. Years later, my opinion hadn’t changed.

  I caught one of the girls making eye contact with me when my uncle spoke, getting my undivided attention.

  “Tony said that you’re a fast learner. You followed all his directions to the tee.” He paused, eyeing me steadily. “He’s very impressed.”

  His voice held pride while his eyes told me that he was impressed. His approval was all I had ever wanted, and with cousin Tony’s acceptance, I felt like I really belonged in the family.

  I merely gave my nod, knowing that he wasn’t done speaking. Deep down, I was proud of myself for finally making him see that I wasn’t a child anymore.

  “Next week he is going to Bosnia and asks that you join him.”

  “Of course, Uncle. Tony’s like my best friend and the best brother I could ask for. I will learn a lot from him.”

  With a flick of his finger, he signaled for the girls to pour our tea and leave us be.

  I always loved this part. The girls would gather close, pour our tea with a stiff legs, bending over with their young, plump asses in our faces, before handing it to us with their breasts inches away from our gazes and then they would slowly stride to the next room, closing the door in their wake, where they would await their next summons.

  I had been fifteen-years-old when I lost my virginity to one of these house girls. It had been the best way to be baptized into manhood. From then on, I had fucked every single house girl that set foot on this property.

  My uncle knew what I was doing behind his back and didn’t mind. He was old at sixty-six. I guessed he’d had enough sex to last him for a lifetime and then some. These gorgeous women he surrounded himself with were merely to admire beauty. He was a man after all, though even if he couldn’t hit it, his eyes suggested otherwise.

  We carefully sipped on our hot tea. It usually took him about three si
ps before he started talking again, and just as I had predicted, that was all it took.

  “I need to discuss something with you, and I need you to understand that whatever I have you do, it’s for your future, so you will have to obey, learn every single thing that you can, and excel at it.”

  “I know, Uncle. I won’t let you down.”

  “Son, you do know that what you’re doing is a good thing, right? No matter what anyone says, no matter how you feel, these girls are not forced to be here. We offer them a better life. They make money. We make money. Everyone is happy.”

  “Yes, sir. I know that back home, they would be doing the same thing in poor conditions, getting beaten, pregnant or diseased. We give them a chance to do what they were born into under better conditions and security.”

  “You are the reason that I don’t ever regret not having a son of my own, you are the perfect son. It is unfortunate how you ended up in this house, but your father would be proud of you.”

  The approach may have been wrong; we offered them a lie—a dream. We lied to their parents and illegally transported them here to become professional prostitutes, however the majority of these girls would only end up on drugs, pregnant, beaten to death, and living the same lifestyle back where they were from.

  Through the years of living under my uncle, I had seen many girls come from almost every country—every poor country. They were given an option to pay off their debts of being brought here with a year of work, the House being entitled to eighty percent of that to cover the costs of operation, transportation and housing. At two thousand five hundred dollars a session, with two sessions a day, they were still making a thousand dollars a day. So if they wanted out of this life, they just needed to work for a year and pay a hundred thousand dollar buyout fee then they would be free to do what they wanted.

  Honestly, in the last four years, what I had learned and found out about this business was that no one left. I had not seen one girl who had bought herself out after their one year contract had ended. Yes, my auntie held all the money for them, but with a simple request form, they could take out ten thousand dollars at a time. Everything was safe, with no risk of it being misplaced or stolen.