Random Acts of Fantasy

by Julia Kent

  “You think I have a fantasy about my ex-fiancee stealing my now-girlfriend and—oh, no. Not one bit.”

  “You never know what someone wants in the deep recesses of the libido,” Burly said in a philosophical tone. Great. Now bodyguards were turning into Dr. Ruth.

  “Can we find Suzy? I’m sure wherever she is, Darla is.”

  “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the performance?” Big asked. “You’re with the band.”

  “Fuck the performance,” I muttered. “My girlfriend might be in danger.”

  “Darla’s cool,” Burly muttered. “Met her a few times. She seems like the kind of woman who can take care of herself.”

  “You met Suzy, too?” I asked.

  Burly flinched. “She’s hardcore.”

  “My restraining order ended ten days ago with her.”

  He cocked his head, one of the chandelier’s lights glinting off his hoop earring. “The master has plans.”

  There he was again. This mysterious master. “Whatever master plan the master of the island has, it damn well better not involve Darla and a tunnel butt plug, because those things hurt.”

  All three of them stared calmly at me. Then Li Ping said evenly, “Your kink is not my kink.” What the hell did that mean? Her tone of voice was measured and casual, professional and smooth. She really believed it and wasn’t coughing up some line fed to her by her corporate overlord. I liked that.

  Hated that fucking phrase, though.

  “I’ve located Ms. Bergen. Room 332.”

  I took off, Big and Burly right on my heels.

  Darla

  Waking up in a strange room, wrists and ankles encased in some kind of feathery handcuffs, with a hard ball filling my mouth and leather straps splaying out from the corners of my mouth up and around my ears, might sound like fun in damn near any other circumstance, but right now, my eyes blinking and adjusting to the light, what I saw before me made my stomach clench with pure terror and my juices dry up like I’d been rammed into a Ronco infomercial pussy dehydrator.

  Moo fucking hoo.

  Suzy and those twins, all three of them looking at me like I was Little Red Riding Hood and they were wolves. Big, bad, non-shifter wolves.

  My neck hurt and I couldn’t do anything about it. Breathing made my throat seize up, and I realized I could only inhale and exhale through my nose. The ball-gag thing they’d stuffed in my mouth crashed against my teeth, stuck inside and over my tongue, and because I was on my back the weight of it pressed against the back of my tongue and throat, making it damn near impossible to breathe.

  The more I struggled, the more it cut off my air. Visions of Joe and Trevor flashed through me, of my now-bound hand smacking Joe’s beautiful face, and I teared up. That was no good, though, because my throat started to swell with misery and then my nose filled up.

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t…die…like this. Die? The word made me thrash with terror, and that, I noticed, made the twins light up like Christmas trees, their faces animated with the kind of carnal lust you see when…

  Shit.

  I’d never seen a face like that, actually, because the look of pure, lascivious control and joy in their eyes was mixed with my own capture, which mean that I wasn’t no equal partner here in whatever ravaging they had planned.

  I started screaming.

  It didn’t work. The ball pressed against my uvula and dug deeper into the back of my throat, making me choke and gag, and then bile threatened to come up.

  “If you throw up, you’ll choke to death on your own vomit,” Suzy said casually, like mentioning my shoelace was untied.

  “Maybe she likes that?” Twin #1 said. I could only tell them apart because one of them wore a blue bow tie and the other wore burgundy, the same colors they were wearing when I met them near the docks.

  In my frenzy, the words clicked on some level where they needed to, and I stopped cold. My muscles needed to be pushed into relaxing by my brain, which was a cyclone of everything spinning round and round. Closing my eyes helped, limiting one of my senses so the others could coordinate.

  I was completely helpless.

  There was no way out of this, and they’d taken away my one true weapon.

  My mouth.

  Why? What purpose did Suzy have in abducting me and chaining me up like this? Joe had mentioned she’d done something similar and talked about the restraining orders, but that information had been dragged out of him at a time when I was looped out on whatever they gave me to get through the flight and I thought his story was so crazy it…

  Couldn’t be true.

  If this was true, what else was? What else had Joe told me that I’d blown off and waved away as pure bullshit?

  Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t defend. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t…anything.

  My mind went cold.

  A long, teasing touch of a finger began as a scratch on my ankle and initiated a slow, torturous path up the inside of my calf. “You like it like this,” Twin #2 said. “We’re going to give you everything you want.”

  “How can she say the safeword?” Twin #1 asked Suzy, who carried a clipboard and acted with the air of someone who was in charge.

  “She’s part of the dubcon fantasy group. Ms. Jennings specifically requested the ball gag, so no worries about safewords.” She smirked at me. “And she asked for the forty-eight-hour treatment.”

  What? What? Dubcon? What’s a dubcon?

  “Fantasies are the best,” Twin #2 said, smiling at Suzy. “Everyone gets what they want.”

  What in the hell did they want? Whatever it was, I was having none of it. I began to struggle, my voice muffled, gagging be damned. Cold blood shot through me like I’d had slushies hooked up to IVs, my body insane, shifting my mind into a portal of pure, unadulterated survival mode. A tiny part of the leather strap caught in my canines and I began to painstakingly rub the teeth together, hoping I could somehow bite through one strap and then—

  Then what?

  The leather was quite thin, and as I ground my top and bottom teeth together, I made it millimeter by millimeter through it. Halfway and I had to stop, jaw brutally aching, throat on the verge of puking.

  The hand slid higher, up my gartered thigh. That had been a surprise I’d planned for Trevor and Joe, and my eyes and throat filled with tears at the thought of them, how Simone had suggested the silky undergarment, teaching me how to wear the hose just right, telling me how men go crazy at the sight.

  “Oh, God, Gavin, check this out,” Twin #2 said to the other. “Garters.”

  Gavin looked at Suzy. “You did your research. Thank you.”

  Research? My wet eyes found Suzy’s and she winked at me. Winked! Had Simone been some sort of setup? The handcuffs cut hard into my wrists as I pulled, making the bed shake. No way. Nuh-uh. I was not about to be manhandled by two guys who were being tricked into thinking I wanted this. No fucking way.

  But what could I do?

  For the first time in my entire life, I had no options. No choices. No way out. Sheer force—of body or will—wasn’t even available to me.

  I was completely helpless, and was about to be taken.

  Deep, slow breaths. The leather strap tasted like sweat and dead cow. Don’t think about that, I snapped inside. Just keep nibbling, just keep nibbling, just keep nibbling.

  “I love it when she fights,” Gavin whispered to his brother.

  So I stopped. Joe and Trevor were setting up for the performance by now, probably assuming I was still pissed. Couldn’t blame them. Amy was gone, and Sam and Liam were occupied by the prep work as well. No one had any idea where I was, and I remembered the ankle patch.

  Ah.

  That was why my ankle hurt so much. Suzy had ripped it—and a chunk of my skin—off.

  Was this why Joe never talked about her, because she was so batshit crazy he didn’t want me to be…what? Contaminated by her? Aware of her? My brain floated off into logical, rational contemplat
ion of his motivations because the alternative was to acknowledge Gavin unbuckling his belt and saying, “You know you want it.”

  And I would rather dissociate and pretend I live in a My Little Pony episode than accept that.

  Three-quarters of the way through, I could push the back of my tongue against the ball and feel relief. Almost there. The enamel of my teeth felt like screechy sandpaper and sounded worse in my echoing head, but it was better than the screams of my fear.

  Nibble, nibble, nibble.

  Gavin’s hand was rough as it slid all the way up, finding me panty-less (hey, the garter thing…), and his fingers stopped about an inch before my folds. Any closer and I wouldn’t need my annual gynecology exam.

  “What the fuck?” He yanked my dress up over my hips and displayed my landing-stripped hoohaw to him, his brother, and Suzy.

  “First time being waxed, huh?” she said dryly. “You should take care of that rash.” She looked at Gavin. “Does the rash bother you?” she asked, as if I were a showroom model and they were concerned about the color of the car’s floor mats.

  “That is an amazing tuck job,” Twin #2 said.

  A what? Tuck job? Like, taping your dick up all behind your ass so you hide it? That’s what cross-dressers and drag queens do, right? Males who are dressing up as…ohhhhhhhh.

  They thought I was one! Hooray! The one and only time I would ever be glad to be mistaken for being a man dressed as a woman!

  I started to fight, hard, again, because maybe there was a glimmer of hope here. Maybe they expected—

  “Shut up, David.” Gavin shoved his hands on his hips and glared at Suzy. “I think there’s been a mistake.”

  David walked over to me, making me twist and shriek, the ball gagging me more. Holy fuck, make it all go away. Rescue fantasies of Joe and Trevor bursting in filled my mind, competing with the revulsion caused by David’s fingers on my thighs, parting them.

  Whatever he saw made him pull my dress down and immediately reach behind my neck for the ball gag’s clasp, saying, “I’m so sorry, I am so, so sorry, Miss.” His face looked like a combo of mortification and guilt as he freed me. I’d been so close, and now it turned out I didn’t need to rescue myself. The look Suzy shot me told me I wasn’t remotely out of the woods yet, though

  “You have a vagina!” Gavin shouted. “A real one!”

  What’s a fake one look like? I wondered as the ball gag came out and a trickle of blood from chafing at the corner of my mouth leaked onto my tongue, tasting like metal and fear.

  The leather strap was off under David’s fumbling fingers and he carefully removed the ball. If he’d yanked it out I’d have cracked teeth. My first words couldn’t come, I was so racked with coughs.

  Suzy turned a furious red. “What are you doing?”

  “She doesn’t have a cock!” Gavin thundered.

  Now I found my voice. “No shit I don’t have a cock! Help! Help! Joe!” I screamed. A dick? They expected me to have a penis? I was saved by my own vulva and vagina? When in my life had being a woman been an advantage? Apparently now. Well, praise Jesus for giving me a clit.

  Suzy took a pillow and shoved it over my head, my disappearing vision leaving me with a pinpoint of her angry eyes before the world went dark. Air disappeared and I twisted my neck to the right as far as I could, hoping for a thin trickle. A heavy object pressed hard into my cheekbone. It felt like she was sitting on me.

  The pillow disappeared as fast as she’d put it on, David’s shaking hands suddenly uncuffing my right wrist. Suzy was a lump at the base of the bed, near the door, very red-faced and livid now. “Oh, God, there’s been such a mistake,” David groaned.

  “Joe! JOE! JOE! HELP!” I screamed.

  “You can stop with the role-play,” Gavin said to me, stuck between anger and apology. “She’s the one who made the mistake,” he thundered, pointing to Suzy. “I’m reporting you to your supervisor. You assured us that this role play was completely consensual and that she was a BBW trans, into it all like we are.”

  “You want a chick with a dick?” Suzy said, rubbing her hip but not getting up.

  “What did you think we said?”

  “I heard the BBW part, and…” Suzy looked helpless and cunning at the same time, then shot me a smirk. I couldn’t register much, adrenaline and cortisol pumping through my veins. Just get me out. Just get me out and back to Joe and Trevor. Out out out.

  “HELP!” I screamed again. David uncuffed my other hand and I sat up, lungs now capable of some sonic booms.

  “HELP ME!” I roared.

  And then, like a fantasy come to life, the door was flattened, tipping down as the hinges ripped out of the wall, falling perfectly on Suzy as if it were a giant human iron. Joe stepped on the door, his footstep falling exactly on the piece of the door where Suzy’s head was, a sickening gasp of air coming out of her.

  It made me smile, cracked mouth be damned. Sometimes pain felt good for all the right reasons. Motherfucker almost let me…in front of her…she woulda…

  “Urgh,” she said as another guy, enormous and dressed like the Men in Black, came through.

  Gavin and David looked like twin versions of the Home Alone kid, hands on their cheeks like they were silently screaming.

  Joe rushed to the bed, his hands on my bleeding ankle, his body shielding mine from the twins. I don’t think he realized he was saying my name over and over, like a mantra.

  But he was.

  And then Trevor appeared in the threshold, shouting, “Why are you handcuffed?” He stepped on the door and made Suzy shriek.

  I smiled a bit wider and felt my body go hot, then cold, with shock.

  Joe cradled my face with his hands as Trevor screamed words I didn’t understand at the twins, who were trying to explain to some new, big man in a suit in the middle.

  As my hands and ankles gained tingly feeling and my freedom was secure, I felt myself start to just…go. Little pinpricks of white filled my vision as Joe’s hot, unyielding chest pressed against my side and he whispered, “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

  Joe

  I’d like to say that it all ended so neatly there, with me rescuing Darla, punching the bad guys, having Suzy hauled off to jail and out of our lives forever, and we all said our I love yous and lived happily ever after.

  Right. Only on television.

  Instead, I had a sobbing Darla in my lap telling me that she was so glad she didn’t have a penis when she woke up after passing out in my arms. I’m very glad she doesn’t have a penis, too.

  We don’t need any more of them in this fucked-up relationship.

  The concert was supposed to be the climax of our trip here, the purpose of everything, and Suzy turned it into an afterthought. Big took her away for medical attention and assured me that the master would take care of her, whatever that meant. Suzy kept mumbling something about forgetting her patch and texting my mom.

  So what?

  Do your worst.

  “My penis isn’t here, and it saved me,” Darla said as Trevor knelt on the other side of her, eyebrows up.

  “I have no idea what she’s talking about.” Burly came over and explained to us that the twin dudes thought Darla was a willing role-play member in a sex game with transgendered big, beautiful women that involved a fantasy about being taken without choice.

  “A what?” Trevor shouted, on his feet, fists curled. My body had the same response, and I cradled Darla in my arms, my heart doing an angry dance like an MMA fighter in a cage.

  “Your kink is not my kink,” Burly said. “They assumed Ms. Jennings—whom they thought, as well, was a natural-born male—had consented.”

  “But I don’t have a cock and balls, so it’s all good,” Darla murmured. “No stones and a stick. No chicken to choke.” I stroked her hair and tried not to laugh through my gut-wrenching anger.

  “Suzy set them all up,” I said.

  A curt nod from the bald dude was my only reply.

&n
bsp; “I am so sorry,” the twins kept saying, and as my anger drained out, the fear of not getting here before Suzy hurt her, the rush to figure it out and the concert—fuck! The concert!—all splintered inside, I mumbled a non-answer and just rocked Darla.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered, looking up, makeup smeared and face pale. Trev had stepped aside and I leaned down to kiss her, tasting blood and terror and relief—

  And my future.

  “Showtime,” she murmured against my ear. “Go break a leg.”

  I looked at her scratched ankle and Trevor came over, somber and worried.

  “I mean it,” she said, peeling herself off the bed, wincing as her ankles hit the ground. “We have to go. You have to play.”

  “After all that just happened? No fucking way,” Trevor said. “We’ll…” He seemed to fight for the right words.

  “You’ll play.” Her words were firm and clear. “If you love me, you’ll play.”

  And so we did.

  And it was awesome.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darla

  The concert was incredible. No fewer than one hundred guests told me so, dressed in costumes that ranged from their birthday suits to chipmunks to Princess Leia to an impossibly-cute Klingon Dr. Who. Not that I would know whether the concert was any good, unfortunately:

  I fell asleep. That’s right. Slept through the biggest show Random Acts of Crazy ever performed. Me. The manager. Snoring like a big old lumberjack.

  The resort sent a doctor to tend to me in our room, with Trev, Joe, Liam and Sam all racing off to get on stage. I made Trevor and Joe leave, and the security dudes Joe called “Big” and “Burly” stayed behind.

  My own bodyguards. A girl could get used to this, especially when one of them looked an awful lot like Mr. Bubbles from Lilo & Stitch.

  In the chaos of Joe charging in and rescuing me like he was a younger, darker version of Liam Neeson, and Trevor and Joe and the twin kinky dudes talking to me, I didn’t see Suzy.

  And when the doctor walked in, I realized Suzy was gone.

  Uh-oh. “She escaped?” I sputtered, looking at Big.

  He frowned, clearly offended by the mere idea. “Of course not. Ms. Bergen has been taken to be held in a secure location.”