Torn: A Dark BDSM Romance Novel (Shattered Lives Book 1)

by Lexie Syrah

  With a smirk, he whispered, “Elysium.” Rage filled my body, and I screamed. Not with words, for words cannot convey the pain and anguish that I felt. Instead, I screamed a guttural, incoherent sound. And yet, the door slammed shut behind Mr. Sheffield.

  Chapter 14

  Anger was what fueled me tonight. Nothing else. I was a woman on fire, and the message that I had left for him was just the tiniest fraction of the fury that ran through my body. The rage blocked the pain from my heart, and I welcomed it with open arms. The abyss surrounded and filled me with its midnight strength. There was nothing that would stop me from my goal now.

  I picked up the dress that had comforted me for these months. That day dress that had embraced me with loving memories. I didn’t rush. I didn’t run or scream. An icy flame was at my core, and I was determined to hurt the man that had hurt me. He would be fucking other women for the rest of the night in his anger, but he’d be coming home to a surprise.

  I walked to the kitchen and pulled the kitchen shears from their place, knowing how much this would hurt him. The same smile that he had given me was reflected in my face now. He may not have been here to see it, but he would see it when he came home. Snip. Snip snip. Snip snip snip. The dress that had covered me in love was in tiny pieces of worn fabric. The grace of my employer. My savior. My lover. All of it was in pieces now. For a moment, my hand hovered over the trash can. No. That would not be the way that he would discover it. My smile grew as I felt my anger pulse.

  I picked up the ruined scraps and spread them over his bed. He would have to physically remove them from his bed before he could sleep. These scraps would be the last thing that he thought of before he finally let sleep fall over him. He would realize what he had lost. The memories of me wearing that dress would overwhelm him, and he would know that the woman who had meant everything to him was gone forever.

  I walked back to my bedroom and looked around. There was nothing here that I would need, save a single day’s clothes that would end up in a trashcan tomorrow after I’d bought ones to replace them. Money would not be an issue. I was sexy. I was experienced. Escort agencies would be lining up to send me to their clients. Especially when I showed them the full extent of my skills. Excitement filled my mind as I thought of how many men would be worshipping my body.

  I picked up the black dress that I’d worn last night and put it on without any underwear. Fuck underwear. I’d been a whore to Mr. Sheffield for long enough. Now I would be a whore for myself. I would never again be at a man’s mercy for protection or safety. I may have enjoyed the way that his touch had felt, but I would find a new man every night who would profess their love for me, for my body, and more than anything else, their love for the woman of their fantasies. And I would never again have to feel the heartache that Mr. Sheffield had left me.

  Tonight, though, I would not be an escort. An escort wasn’t what I wanted to be tonight. I wanted to feel pain and degradation. The absolute depths of depravity were what I sought tonight. I wouldn’t find that as an escort. I would find that as a whore.

  I picked up my cell phone and the envelope of money on the counter. I would throw away the phone in the morning. I would get my own. I’d be my own woman tomorrow with my own clothes, own phone, and own house. But tonight, I was the abyss, and I would show a lucky man that his darkest fantasies could be fulfilled.

  I called a taxi. I would go to where alcohol, lust, and money flowed like a never-ending spring of debauchery. It was not Elysium, for that was a place where women were treated with respect. I needed a place where women were treated as entertainment, as though they were no more important than the liquor that was consumed in excess.

  A high-end strip club would be my destination. I smiled at how much attention I would get. How I would welcome the men’s stares, their touches, and the desire that flow from them to my wanton young body.

  I heard the taxi pull up to the door, and I stood up. The four-inch black stiletto heels that supported me were ready for the night that I would hold nothing back. Visions of last night came back to me. I had tried to let go, but my feelings about Mr. Sheffield had held me back. I had been his little girl still. I’d been the woman that he wanted. Tonight was not going to be like that.

  Chapter 15

  After everything I’d done for her, she’d thought that I wanted her to be my slave? I could have had a slave anytime. I wanted a woman who cared for me as a slave would. Someone who trusted me, loved me, and wanted to make me the happiest man in the world. Yes, she was all of those things. She had been more, though. She had been everything to me. My body, mind, and heart had been hers. She wasn’t a vehicle for my pleasure, as a slave would have been. She was my love.

  It was only through sheer willpower that I hadn’t beaten her senseless. She had been the first person I’d ever completely trusted. I’d told her everything. I’d tried to help her grow. I’d given her everything that she could have wanted, including my monogamy. After Charlene and I had split up, I’d spent nearly every night with a different woman so that I could find the perfect slave. I’d spanked, whipped, and fucked over thirty girls, and none of them had been a good fit. Then I had found Maggie.

  I hadn’t gone back to my own club because I knew that it would have hurt her. Yes, I knew that she would have allowed me to. She wouldn’t have refused me a trip to a club even if it had involved me fucking every woman there. I couldn’t stand the thought of bringing even an ounce of pain to her, though. So I’d stayed away. The friends that I’d had for years and years had called and begged me to come back. Just for a little visit. They’d missed me, and they desperately wanted to meet the girl who had captured my heart.

  The doors closed behind me as I entered Elysium. I didn’t say anything to Robert as I walked through the second set of doors. He saw the fire in my eyes and knew why I was there. Silence filled the typically jolly man, and I was thankful for that. The crowds parted as I walked through them. It was Saturday night, and it was packed, but they knew me here. They knew my moods. And they knew that I was not afraid to hurt the first person that I came in contact with.

  They just hoped that I would find someone who wanted the same thing. My eyes swept through the crowd. I had not been there when the wine began to flow. I didn’t want any tonight. I wanted to feel every ounce of pain that I brought to a fragile woman’s body. I wanted the memories of her screams to be crystal clear in my memory. For they would give me strength in the coming days. I had lost the woman of my dreams because of my weakness and her inability to trust me.

  I hadn’t wanted a slave until tonight. It had never been my desire to turn Maggie into a slave. But she was gone now. Tonight I would find a girl who would fill the hole in my heart. And I would fill her body with pain as her initiation. Many of the girls that walked through the club had begged me for more, and I had sent them on their way.

  I hadn’t been interested in a body before. I had wanted a mind and heart to go along with the body. But not anymore. The abyss had filled my need for emotional satisfaction. The darkness had taken hold of me, and I was another shadow in the moonlight that filled Elysium.

  Girl after girl walked by me, their eyes filled with lust. They’d either experienced a night with me, or they’d heard the rumors. I was much older than them, but that age had become skill and precision. They knew that a night with me would make a night with another man pointless, and that knowledge scared them. I was heroin to an alcoholic. Yes, they might be addicted to the fuzziness that their liquor gave them, but after a taste of me, liquor was nothing more than something to while away their time with. It was only a piss-poor substitute while they waited for the true bliss and ecstasy that I would give them.

  Even though the girls lusted after me, fear held them back. So my eyes continued to sweep through the crowd. I strode towards a group of women. I only knew one of them, and she’d experienced a night with me. I didn’t say a word as I sat at their table, but all conversation stopped.

  As
hley was the girl’s name. She couldn’t have been over 23, and her body was beautiful, but she had already been used. The girl sitting next to me was younger, full of youth and awe. It must be her first time to Elysium, and I would make it a memorable one. Her dress was light silver and sparkled in the moonlight. It covered much less than Maggie’s had. I could have reached through it and grasped her breasts without any trouble, but I didn’t do anything of the sort.

  I turned to Ashley and said, “Do you remember me, Ashley?”

  Her eyes were wide with terror, but desire filled her body. Her breath was ragged as visions of our night together filled her mind. I remembered her. Her ass had been virgin until that night, and I’d tied her to a bench and fucked her ass until she gushed all over the floor. Then, I’d throat fucked her. She had begged for more even though pain had wracked her body. And I’d never even touched her pussy. She’d begged to have my cock in her pussy over and over again, and I’d laughed at her request. A slave does not decide how her master uses her body.

  “Yes, Mr. Sheffield. I remember.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. The girls sitting with her were silent as I smiled.

  “Ashley, tell your friends about our night together. I’m looking for two new slaves. Two girls whom I will use as fuck toys anytime I have a desire. I’m not looking for girls to fuck once and send home. I’m looking for someone to use multiple times a day. And I’m choosing them from this table.”

  “Mr. Sheffield, I’ve already told them about you. I saw you when you walked into the club. They wanted to know why I kept staring, so I told them. Will you please choose me?” When I didn’t respond, she stood up and took off her clothes so that I could see the body that she hoped I would abuse.

  “Any of you who wish to become my slave should show me just what you’re willing to do. I would suggest that you do things that are filthy, degrading, and painful. Find a way to prove that you are more willing to be used than your friends are.”

  Immediately, the girls got up from their chairs and scattered around the club to try to find partners who would do the things that they needed. I’d needed something to take my mind off of Maggie, and this promised to be the most entertaining possibility. I might not even take one of the girls home with me, but at the very least, I would be witness to their very limits, and I would eventually fuck one of these girls into oblivion.

  Chapter 16

  I sat in the front row. The girl on stage was beautiful in every way that I was not. Her tits had to have been DD’s, and her makeup screamed slut in every way. She worked the pole like a professional, and men and women threw money to the stage in appreciation for her skill and beauty. Even I threw her some money because I couldn’t deny the fact that it turned me on to watch her.

  The number 23 was written in permanent marker across her stomach, just as 24 was written on mine. Tonight was amateur night, and I was going to make at least one man pay an outrageous amount of money to spend the night with me. The stage would be my advertisement. The lights would shine on my body in this fully-nude strip club. I would hide nothing about the merchandise that I was selling.

  Everyone clapped as her song ended, and I strutted up the stairs, completely naked. My eyes scanned the crowd, and I saw him. The one with darkness filling his eyes. A gold band circled his finger, but there was not a woman at his side. He was here to escape the world that threatened to crash down upon him. He was here to see the world that he’d left long ago when he’d married. He had committed himself to unhappiness when he’d married a woman who couldn’t provide what he needed and desired. But tonight, he would find that desire satiated.

  I had never worked a pole before. I heard the music flood the speakers, and for the first time in my life, I let go completely. My body writhed on stage, and the crowd became interested. I bent over and showed them my holes, and then I ran a finger across my soaking wet lips, dragging pussy juice with it. My mind was blank as I let the music flow through me. The crowd was still there, but I didn’t notice them. All that mattered was the beat that led my body through its primal and seductive dance.

  I moved to the edge of the stage, directly in front of the man I’d chosen, and I spread my lips and moaned. I crawled towards the pole and spun slowly around it as though it was a massive cock that I was making love to. My hands went to my breasts, and my back arched as I felt the need inside of me bubbling to the surface.

  But at the back of it all, the thought of Mr. Sheffield fucking another woman continued to try to dig its claws in, to pull itself out of the forgotten crevices of my mind and push me into depression. The music tried to smother it, though, and the base that reverberated through my body drove my dance onward.

  I was beautiful, young, and utterly without inhibitions. Yet, I looked innocent. My pigtails made me look far younger than I was, and many of the fathers in the crowd filled the stage with money as they thought of their daughters’ friends. I was 21, but they didn’t know that. All they knew was that I was the perfect combination of sex and innocence, and they wanted me more than they’d wanted another woman before.

  As the song came to an end, I picked up the money and brought it to the man in charge of keeping the amateurs’ money and personal effects separated. I walked back to the man that I’d chosen and whispered in his ear, “If I told you that you could have me for the night, what would you say? But more importantly, how much would you pay?”

  He turned to me and said, “I’d tell you to name your price.” His eyes never actually made it to my face as he stared at my pert nipples and hairless pussy that I’d spread wide for him. I pushed a finger in my pussy and moved it to his lips. His lips closed around it, and he moaned and closed his eyes.

  “$3,000 to do whatever your depraved heart desires for the entire night. $3,000 for a young girl that won’t say no,” I whispered to him. His eyes opened, and he said, “It’s a deal. Let’s go, and I’ll get the money.”

  I smiled at him and went back to get my money and clothes while the man went to the ATM to get the money. I quickly put the dress back on and followed the rugged man in his forties to his truck. It was a nice truck with all of the bells and whistles, but it didn’t compare to the luxury of Mr. Sheffield’s BMW. I mentally slapped myself. I would have to stop thinking like that. Mr. Sheffield wasn’t a part of my life anymore.

  He started the truck and drove to a cheap motel where he paid for the night. He was in a rush to get started, and I chuckled at his eagerness to get inside the motel room. He knew that I was about to fill every fantasy he’d ever had.

  “What should I call you?” he asked me.

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d never thought of having a “working name” before, but then the perfect name came to me. “Call me Slave, and I’ll call you Master.”

  Chapter 17

  Nubile and naked bodies surrounded me. Two of the girls lay on top of the table, their lithe bodies in a 69 position. Their fingers worked into each other’s assholes while they licked furiously at the pussy in front of them. Next to me, a man leaned over the table while Ashley licked his asshole and stroked his cock. Another man was furiously face fucking a brunette with giant tits.

  This was what I had desired tonight. Raw and unfiltered degradation. Filth from the darkest corners of these sluts’ minds. And yet none of them had proven themselves worthy of being called slave. Maybe I wouldn’t choose two or even one of them. Maybe I’d have to settle for ones that were older and more understanding of my desires.

  Then I felt them. The two girls whom I hadn’t seen again after everyone had scattered to find fuck-buddies were under my feet now. They each took one of my shoes off. Then my socks were next. Then I felt their lips on the top of my feet. Not licking, not trying to clean my toes with their tongue. Just a simple kiss to tell me that they were there. Then nothing. Perfect. These two were possibilities.

  A slave should make it known that she is available. She should create lust where ever she goes. She should beg with the eyes, not
the lips. Her body should draw the lust from her master without ever uttering a word. These two may not be experienced enough to know how to serve, but at least they know how not to. The women that were fucking and sucking to prove their worth were simply sluts to be used and discarded. The two at me feet, though. They could be trained, for they had the correct mentality.

  I reached down and gripped them both by the hair and pulled them from their place under the table. My grip had been light, and it had not hurt them, but it had shown them how easily I could have.

  “You two. What are your names?”

  An ebony girl not much older than Maggie looked up at me and said, “I am Isabelle, sir.” Her body was acceptable. If she did not ruin it, she would make a good new slave.

  “My name is Sarah, sir,” said the brunette. Her body was splendid even if she was closer to 26. She was also a very good candidate for a slave.