by Nicky James
The Escape
Soren’s Saga
The Escape: Soren’s Saga
Copyright © 2017 by Nicky James
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.
Cover Artist:
Nicky James
Editing:
Undivided Editing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
Dedication
This one is for my Naughty Nymphs… you know who you are. You guys brighten my day and make it all worthwhile.
I love you.
Thank you for your support. Happy reading!
This book is part of a series which has no name…
I didn’t expect it to go this far, but here we are.
However, it can be read as a standalone.
Enjoy!
You never know how strong you are… until being strong is the only choice you have.
--Author Unknown--
Chapter One
SOREN
The dark-haired man, whose name I could never seem to remember no matter how many times I was told, shoved his dick as far down my throat as he possibly could. My eyes watered and I pinched them shut, waiting for my next opportunity to breathe.
If he thought to trigger my gag reflex and embarrass me, he would be sorely disappointed. It didn’t exist any longer. I’d learned quickly, gagging was unappealing. Long ago I’d trained myself how to endure and not disappoint.
His fist tightened painfully around my blond hair as he slammed into me again and again, groaning and making noises I’d heard a hundred times before.
He was close.
Thank God.
I secured my grip on either side of the lounger where he reclined with his pants around his ankles. Digging my nails into the leather, I picked up my pace, flicking my tongue over his slit with each pass, and working him with a skill I knew would end it quickly.
In a few short, forceful thrusts, he filled my mouth on a grunt. He held himself firmly inside me as his orgasm peaked, then simmered. I held my breath and took it, until the hot jets of cum finally stopped. It pooled in my mouth, and I moved it to the pockets of my cheeks, refusing to swallow as I waited for my cue to back off.
When you’d sucked as many cocks as I had, they all started tasting the same. I didn’t flinch, and only began counting the minutes until I could go home and flop into bed. That night had been especially grueling and as his body vibrated with the last waves of his orgasm, time seemed to slow down.
Behaving, I remained put until he shoved me off, and stretched his body out, more relaxed than when we’d first entered the club’s private backroom.
I grabbed one of the hand towels set out on the side table and discreetly emptied my mouth. Recently, an underlying revulsion had sunk in. What I did for a living had lost its appeal.
No, it was more than that, only I didn’t know how to describe it. When time ticked close to midnight on a Friday or Saturday night, my insides began to stir and churn. I’d fidget and become anxious as I anticipated the rest of my evening. Too many times, I’d caught myself zoning out, wishing I was somewhere else, and working entirely on automatic. Day by day, it grew worse, until one day last week, I woke up and realized, sex bothered me.
Twenty-two years old and I’d decidedly concluded; I hated sex.
Fucking fantastic!
That was a problem; sex was my job. But, I justified that most people hated their jobs so I should stop bitching. Besides, I didn’t know how to break the cycle, so there I was and there I would remain.
I tossed my own dirty towel aside and snatched a clean one off the end table. He’d made no effort to move and was palming his balls and softening dick. I rolled my eyes and tossed the towel on his chest before turning and retrieving my drink. With an overly generous mouthful, I drained it, swishing it around my mouth and washing away any remnants of his taste that still lingered unpleasantly on my tongue.
Spiced rum.
I only drank spiced rum on nights where I needed a boost. Ones where my brain rebelled against what it needed to do. Basically, lately, that meant every night.
The music from up front pounded in the background as I wandered to the private bar, opposite the lounge area, and poured myself another. There were multiple rooms available in the secured back section of the club, but I always gravitated to the larger room.
“Fill me one, kid,” Mr. Dark-haired nameless guy called.
I dashed a look to the clock on the wall, and sighed. So much for rushing him out of there. Behind the bar, I found two clean glasses and filled them with ice as I peered around. The lighting was dim, but I could still make out Ash’s bare ass where he rode dark-haired man’s friend on the leather couch on the other side of the room.
He’d better hurry the fuck up and finish the guy. It was after two in the morning and Donny would have already locked up and be waiting for us to clear out the remaining stragglers.
I snagged the bottle of rum and poured it over the ice, filling both glasses with an eyeballed two ounces. Dark-haired man’s pants were secured again, and he tossed a few bills down on the coffee table. He was a regular. He knew the drill. I’d sucked his cock plenty, despite not remembering his name. At least he tipped well. Always paid over and above what Donny asked, knowing we pocketed the extra.
I drained half my glass, and returned to the common area, where I placed his drink on the table before scooping up the money he’d laid out, shoving it inside the edge of my shorts. I’d managed to stay fully clothed at least, that was a plus. If you called skin tight, pleather boy-shorts and boots “fully dressed”.
He snagged his drink and stood, towering over me. Everyone towered over me. However, my five-foot-eight height and small frame were deceptive. A direct contradiction to my bigger-than-life personality and confidence when around the seedy men who frequented the club. I wasn’t easily intimidated. Probably a result of growing up alongside my jock of a brother and needing to constantly prove myself.
When Mr. Dark hair caught my chin, and yanked it up to meet his gaze, I didn’t react with fear, only annoyance.
“I like your mouth around my dick, kid.”
“Clearly,” I said, batting his hand off. “What’s that three, four times this summer?”
Who’s counting?
“Six.”
You apparently.
I downed the remainder of my drink and dropped my empty glass on the table. “Six, huh?”
I didn’t keep track. Didn’t care.
He placed his glass beside mine and snagged me, spinning my body around and crushing himself up against my back, arms around my waist where he ran his hands over my bare abdomen. His hot breath whispered across my ear, making me wince. “How about next time, I fuck you like that.” He grabbed my chin again and directed my head toward Ash and the man he rode. “What do you think?” Their noises suddenly filled my ears where I’d been doing well ignoring them.
I bit the inside of my cheek as my skin prickled with apprehension. But I didn’t allow my unease to show. “It will cost you. That shit is more than your blow job, but you know that.”
“I can pay.” His hands slunk down my bare chest, shifting south and began to dip below the waistband of my shorts. I shooed him off and pulled away.
“You pay what Donny asks, you can fuck me however you want, but tonight is over.” I collected my empty glass, and re-handed him his half-full one. “Drink up, we
are shutting down for the night.”
I sauntered toward the bar again, calling over my shoulder, “Ash, finish dammit, I wanna go home.”
The grunts and slapping of skin became louder and faster as the club music stopped. I tried not to listen, or the memory would just keep me up all night… and not in a good way.
Donny would be wandering back there any moment, and if Ash knew what was good for him, he’d get it done before that happened. Donny’s toleration level was low, and he had strict rules we maintained without question, lest we need to be reminded of our place.
Behind the bar again, I busied myself loading the dirty glasses we’d accumulated into the small dishwasher and grabbed a rag to wipe down the counters. On the other side of the room, the man with Ash audibly finished. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Ash skitter to the private bathroom through a door and down a hall. The two sleazeballs we’d entertained, conversed, tidied up, and prepared to head out.
The man Ash had been fucking, sauntered over once he was dressed and placed his empty glass on the bar.
“One more for the road?”
I glared and took his empty glass. Instead of refilling it, I retrieved a shot glass and filled it with the rum that was still sitting out. That way, he wouldn’t be inclined to hang around longer. Donny would be furious if those two weren’t ready to go by closing. The shot glass was a subtle hint for him to hurry the fuck up and leave.
He smirked at the offer, as I slid it toward him.
“You’re cute,” he said. His steal grey eyes weren’t shy as they roamed my body.
“Your time is up. Save the flattery. Drink.”
He smirked. Apparently, I was amusing. With his shot, he wandered back to the man I’d entertained that evening. I wasn’t being paid to stroke egos after hours. I hated being called cute and I especially hated being treated like I was nothing but a one hundred and twenty-pound bag of flesh who could be bought and sold at will.
…even though I basically was.
Ash came from the bathroom, dressed once again in our standard dance attire. His shorts were red that evening and mine were neon blue. Cautiously avoiding drawing attention to himself, he crossed the room on silent feet and joined me behind the bar. He snagged the rum from my hand, and pulled a glass down from the shelf.
“Can we come in early tomorrow for clean-up? I’m tired,” he said as he filled his glass.
“Yeah, me too. That’s what I figured we’d do.”
“Have you done the count?” Ash slid the bottle back on the bar and drained his glass in two big gulps, making a face as he swallowed.
“No. Once these two are gone, we can take care of it together.”
Ash placed his glass in the dishwasher, just as Donny came from the front of the club with a loud clap of his hands.
Donny was in his mid-fifties, but he was well-dressed and carried an air about him of a man half his age. His dark brown hair, streaked with hints of silver, was always perfectly styled and sleek. At work, he dressed in a black button down, slacks, and black tie. His shoes glistened in the low lighting and he was built like a man who spent every spare moment of his life at the gym. His physic was daunting, and no one messed with him. Customers or staff.
He ran the legal end of his business by the rule book, and the illegal end was so tightly knit, anyone looking to find a crack and break its barrier, failed. I often wondered if he paid authorities to turn a blind eye to his business. It wouldn’t surprise me. Too many different men were in and out daily for the anonymity to be kept under wraps.
“Thomas, Derick, I hope this evening has served you well.” Donny approached the two men, and draped his arms over their shoulders respectfully. As he chatted them up, he tactfully guided them toward the door from which he’d entered.
Watching them from the corner of my eye, I pulled the count binder from a cubby spot under the bar as they returned to the front of the club. Once the door closed behind them, I heaved a sigh and washed a hand over my face. The heavy weight of the evening lifted slightly knowing we were almost in the clear.
“Let’s get this done and go,” I said, opening the binder to the correct page as Ash pulled the liquor bottles down to be measured.
Once he’d lined them up on the bar top, he turned and stopped me with a hand on my arm before I could start.
I met his deep brown eyes and questioned him without saying a word.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Ash, or Ashton, had less than an inch more height than me. His frame was similarly small. Donny generally only hired a specific type for dancing out front in the club and for working his more exclusive business of serving customers in back. He most definitely had a type.
Ash’s hair was dark mahogany and held a soft curl which intensified in the heat. Currently it was in disarray from his recent activities, and he blew a strand out of his eyes. He had soft pale lips and a smattering of freckles across his nose which accentuated his look of innocence and made him seem even younger. The perverts liked that about him.
His tongue was pierced, an asset, considering he knew how to use it. He also had a stainless-steel bar through his eyebrow. Although he’d only been working in back for just over two years, he’d climbed the ranks of favoritism and was becoming one of Donny’s bigger money makers.
“Just want to get home. Had enough of this shit for one night.”
I hadn’t voiced my growing aversions lately, even though Ash was my best-friend and roommate.
“You don’t seem yourself. Why don’t we grab some pizza on our way home and game some? You always feel better after you’ve thoroughly kicked my ass a hundred times over at Halo.”
I smiled weakly, not wanting him to know anything was wrong. “Do the count, I’ll write it down tonight. You’re faster at measuring.”
Ash sighed and pulled the first bottle forward. We worked in silence, apart from him calling out numbers and me jotting them down. It didn’t take long since the private bar wasn’t used as much as up front. There’d only been a handful of customers back there all night. Most of them had gravitated to other rooms with other dancers.
Once we finished, we covered the remaining tab with what we’d earned just in time for Donny to return.
“You boys finished cleaning up in here?”
“We’re coming in a half-hour early tomorrow to clean up, if that’s okay?” Ash piped in.
Donny mumbled and scanned the room. It wasn’t a disaster. The empty glasses were gone, the dirty towels, Ash had taken care of removing. All we needed to do was wipe down the leather furniture, clean up behind the bar, and ensure supplies were stocked for the following shift.
Donny wandered over and patted my ass before resting against the counter and rapping on it with his knuckles. I gritted my teeth and worked to remove any indication of annoyance from my face.
He was waiting for his money.
I pulled the wad of bills from my shorts, and counted out what Donny took as payment. Ash did the same. Knowing the routine, we both waited as he assured we hadn’t ripped him off. Donny’s eyebrow rose as he counted the stack I’d handed him.
“This one’s a regular. Why aren’t you pushing for more?”
I shrugged and started returning liquor bottles to the bar behind me to avoid making eye contact.
“Some guys like what they like. Can’t change their minds.”
Donny remained silent as I restocked the bar, but when I turned back, he had that look on his face which told me he wasn’t buying it.
“Try harder, Soren. You’re slacking lately.”
He tapped the stack of bills Ash had handed him on the counter as he stood and pointed them at Ash. “You are a keeper, Ashton. Putting this one to shame the last few weeks.”
Ash smiled shyly and even in the low bar light, his cheeks reddened under the compliment. He still worked to impress. I’d moved past that long ago. Lately I just worked to survive and did what I could to avoid pissing Donny off.
Donny pushed off the end of the bar. “Get outta here. I’ll see you both tomorrow night. I need to move the rest of them along.”
He retreated to the doorway off to the side of the bar and exited to a hallway that led to other private rooms.
I glared after him, a million unsaid comments spinning inside my head and burning my tongue. Five years putting up with that asshole. Five years selling my ass to whoever he saw fit just to make a living. Recently, I was dangling at the end of my rope, ready to jump.
Ash’s arm wrapped around my shoulder, and he steered me toward the changeroom where we stored our personal belongings. “Ignore him. He expects too much out of you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get out of here.”
In the changeroom, I found my backpack and searched inside for a pair of jeans to throw over my shorts. Adding a t-shirt, I glimpsed over at Ash where he fixed his hair in the mirror.
“Can I use your body spray?” he asked, catching my eye in the reflective glass. “I stink like fucking cum.”
Before zipping up my bag, I dug through and found the half-empty can of Axe I kept stashed at the bottom. He caught it when I tossed it at him.
“Thanks.” He spritzed his clothes and tossed it back. “Are we grabbing pizza? You didn’t answer me.”
“Sure.” I dropped the can in my bag and zipped it up before hooking the strap over my shoulder.
Pete’s Pizza n’ Subs was the only place open that late at night. It wasn’t my favorite place for pizza, but I was starving and couldn’t complain. Neither of us had eaten since four that afternoon and it was edging on three in the morning. Our options were limited. Pizza, submarine sandwiches, or cook something at home. I sucked at cooking and although Ash took joy making mystery dishes on occasion, I knew for a fact he hated cooking after a long night at work.
Once we left the club, we walked together down the quiet dark streets to the bus stop a block away. There was little traffic at that hour and even less people wandering about.
It was a muggy August night. Even though the sun had been down for hours, it was still wretchedly hot in contrast to the air-conditioned club.
