by Sansa Rayne
Chase laughs, cracking a wide smile. “Seriously? What the fuck is it?”
I grin. “A surprise. I’ll show you everything later.”
“Alright,” Chase says, leaning back in his seat, looking like a king on his throne. He polishes off his drink quickly and immediately asks for another.
Our less-than-civilized roots show when we dig into our food, cutlery clattering against the plates. We chew big bites of juicy, red meat; we laugh with open mouths, and loudly enough to fill the restaurant. Chase tells me about his cell-mate, Manny, and the guards. Overcrowding earned him his early release more than good behavior, but who’s complaining? At least he never had to fight for his life. Despite a quick, quiet trial, word spread that he was charged with beating up his deadbeat father, which most of his fellow inmates more than understood.
He wipes his lips on a napkin. “Any idea what happened to the piece of shit?”
I nod. “Hang on.”
Chase stares at my Galaxy S3, and it occurs to me he’s been away for a long time. I find for him the story, and hand over the phone.
“Mayor Nick Uplinger spent a few weeks in the hospital recovering, then resigned,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Since then he’s dropped out of politics and kept a low profile.”
“Good.”
The waiter brings by dessert — warm chocolate brownies with vanilla ice cream scoops on top. We thank him as he buses our dinner plates.
“You’re not going to try and contact him, are you?”
“Nah. They probably told him I was released. I like to think he’s stewing in his fucking piss right now, waiting for me to show up at his door, ready to buttfuck him with a sawed-off.” Chase drives his fork through the brownie and takes a bite. Looking up blissfully at the ceiling, he shakes his head and says, “Delicious.”
—
After lunch, I drive Chase to my place, where I’ve set up a room for him. Though it’s spacious enough for a queen-sized bed, a forty-inch plasma screen and a private bathroom, he’s much more impressed by my well-equipped mini-gym, which he intends to use daily. I give him a while to unpack his bag and take a nap; in his excitement about getting out, I doubt he slept very well last night.
In his room I’ve left out a variety of new sheets and blankets so he can choose whatever color he likes, and there’s a brand new Samsung phone waiting for him. It was a lot to set up in one day, and I could use a nap myself, but I’m too wired. The best is yet to come.
I wake him at five. We catch a cab to Hotel Atlantic in midtown, then ride the elevators up to a suite on the fiftieth floor.
“Jus- Pierce, I know I’ve been away for a while and could use a good fuck, but you’re aware I’m not looking to spend the night with you, right?” Chase jokes, grinning.
I laugh. “Just trust me.”
The room I’ve rented is massive, with three king-sized beds, a fully-stocked bar and eye-popping, modern décor. As soon as we enter, a soft din of conversations quickly gets lost beneath the room’s booming sound system, which screams out an eighties hair band channel on Pandora. Drinking wine and dancing are a dozen women, all gorgeous and wearing obscenely short dresses.
Chase stares at them a minute, then his gaze follows a line of wires that run into the master bedroom, where they meet up with a standing tripod for a professional video camera. Then he sees the bed, where a petite, blonde in a hot pink taffeta dress lies in wait, sipping casually from a champagne flute.
“What the fuck is this?”
“This is our new business.”
Chase grips my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “Are they whores, Justin? My release has fucking terms! I can’t be around-”
“They’re not,” I interrupt. “You see the cameras?”
“What about drugs?” he continues, scanning the room in a panic. “I can’t be around drugs either. I told you I’m not going back to fucking jail again.”
“Chase. There’s no drugs, just alcohol. Everyone here is at least twenty-one. We’re not doing anything illegal right now, I promise you. And we’re not going to.”
He nods, and lets go of me. “Okay,” he says. “All right.”
“Do you see the cameras?” I ask again.
“Yeah.”
“And the girls?”
He grins. “Uh huh.”
I stop and give him a second to put it together. Soon, his smile widens and his head bobs.
“Porn?”
“Adult entertainment.”
Chase laughs. “Fucking porn, Pierce. That explains the new name, huh? So you pay all these women?”
I shrug. “Tonight they’re just here to party. Except for Nikki over there. She’s down to shoot a video, if you are.”
In my years working with him, I’m not sure I ever saw Chase blush. “You mean me, don’t you? On fucking camera!”
“Oh, I’ll do the fucking if you want. Trust me, I don’t mind. But this business is way better than prostitution. The money is unbelievable,” I say, raising my arms at the lavish room behind me, “and it’s totally legal. You can fuck gorgeous women to your heart’s content. I could keep your face out of frame, or you could wear a mask even — nobody pays attention to the man, you know?”
“Yeah.” For a while he just stands there, watching the party and occasionally turning back to Nikki, who plays with her phone, ignoring the rest of us. “Hey, let’s talk a second,” he says at last, pointing toward the door.
I follow him back out into the hall, and when the door shuts behind us, the music fades to a mild thump. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “I just… I have to thank you, man.” He holds up the lapels of his suit jacket and turns to the door for our room. “Last night, I was… afraid. Yeah, okay. I was. I had no idea what the fuck would be waiting for me when I got out. I hadn’t heard from you-”
“I would have if-”
He shakes his hand. “No, it was better you were left out of it. I don’t blame you for that, alright? And, yeah, I figured you’d pick me up, maybe take me out for lunch. But goddamn, Justin — sorry, Pierce — I didn’t expect you to have a whole life just fucking waiting for me. I wanted you to move on to something better.”
“I did,” I say. “Yeah, I know what I do for a living isn’t the classiest, but it’s legal and very lucrative. The girls — they live so much better than the ones we used to know. And compared to my total fuckup brothers, I’m the successful one in the family.”
“Sure, Justin. This is a step up for you, no doubt, but-”
“And,” I continue, “I didn’t do this just for me. It’s for you too.”
Chase sets a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve never had anyone do anything like this for me,” he says, now pulling me in for a hug. “I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”
I nod, letting go. “It’s nothing, after what you did for me. You kept me out of jail. How can I ever repay you for that?”
“Please,” he says. “It was worth it. After what Nick did to my mother… I wanted to hurt him for a long fucking time. You know, I haven’t gotten exactly what I wanted many times in my life, but that night… was perfect. Justin, you don’t owe me.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You know you can cram that up your ass, Chase. If you hadn’t been there, I would have torn that fucker to shreds, and I’d be the one doing 20-to-life. Let me pay this debt, okay? I’m keeping you up to your balls in money and women until you keel over. No arguments.”
Chase smirks. “Like I’m gonna say no to that.”
“Good,” I say. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll introduce you to the girls.”
“The one in the pink,” he replies, raising his voice against the roar of the music. “She’s really for me?”
I shut the door behind us. “They all are, Chase. They all are.”
Pierce’s story leaves me transfixed, from how he met Chase all those years ago, to how their porn operation started. Considering how well Pierce — Just
in — is doing now, it’s hard to believe he grew up in the skids. Where would he be right now without Chase? Working some menial, meaningless job, like his father, doomed to struggle his entire life? Or would he be in jail, forgotten by society, never having had a chance to do anything with his life?
And for all the misery and misfortune he’s avoided, he’s seen plenty — I never would have known he came from such a tough life. We have more in common that I knew.
“You put on a face, don’t you?” I ask.
He nods. “I have to. And it’s more than just hiding my past. The material I put out, it can’t be seen as coming from a monster, or a sleazebag. I need to project an image of polite professionalism, to show that our abduction fantasies are fully contained, consensual and staged creations.”
Sitting up, I pull my knees against my chest. “I know what it’s like to be different too.”
“Yeah,” Pierce laughs. “You really do. I’ve never known anyone who got off on being watched like that. It’s unique. What is it about looking at yourself that makes it so hot?”
I blush as my core warms just thinking about it. “It’s intoxicating — like I’m experiencing it on a higher level. I feel like I’m everything: the star, director and audience all rolled together. I can embody whatever role I want, and move between them seamlessly. I can have complete power, and no power — no responsibility, and full responsibility.”
He shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around it. I’m not even sure I fully understand it myself.
“And what about your art exhibits? You like having a big audience. Why?”
I feel a shiver spread outward from my wetness. “I just like it, I guess. I don’t know. The thought of people seeing me and being turned on by it… I need that, for some reason. I mean, why do you like tying up women and punishing them?”
Pierce grins. “Yeah, I hear you. It’s just who we are. But you, Sibel, are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
“You too,” I say.
He lifts my chin with his finger and leans in to kiss me. His lips are soft against mine, and his evening stubble tickles my cheeks.
“What about your site?” I ask after. “How did you decide that that was the kind of porn you would make? Couldn’t you make more money with regular porn?”
He doesn’t answer at first, gazing off into the darkness of the warehouse. “It’s complicated, actually. I’ll tell you about that some other time, okay?”
“Why not now?”
Pierce’s expression sours; he shakes his head.
“Is it bad?”
“Sort of,” he grunts. “It’s… something I’m ashamed of.”
“Should I be worried?”
Now he turns to me, straightening up, ready to fight. “No, Sibel. It’s nothing for you to worry about. I promise.”
“Okay,” I say after a bit. I definitely know what it’s like to have a secret I’m not comfortable sharing. “When you’re ready.”
“Thanks. You’re incredible, you know that?”
I laugh. “I tell myself that every day.”
Pierce’s sour mood seems to evaporate, and then he pounces, scrambling to get on top of me. I shriek, then giggle as he kisses me again. Then I remember something important, a question I’ve wanted to ask since the beginning of his story.
“So wait, you were born Justin Blake… that makes your brother… Jake Blake?”
He and I both laugh, especially when he tickles my side. “That’s right,” he says at last. “Everyone would taunt him, ‘Jake Blake, fucking flake.’ He hated that.”
“Sheesh. No wonder he had a chip on his shoulder.”
Pierce pulls me into his lap and rests my head against his chest. “Eh, Jake’s just an asshole. But the mocking didn’t help.”
“No,” I say. “It sucks. Especially when you’re young, and vulnerable.”
“I bet people give you a lot of shit for your art,” he says, nodding.
“God, yeah. I get called a slut all the time, even though I’m never sleeping with men in my performances, and I don’t date much.”
“They’re assholes,” he says, kissing my forehead. “But maybe… if you were dating somebody… like, steadily…”
Grinning, I sigh. “I see where you’re going with this, Pierce.”
“And you went public… about the… relationship…”
As his lips close on mine and I feel our tongues dance together, I imagine what it would be like if we came out as a couple. The headlines would practically write themselves. We’d probably want to issue some kind of joint statement about how I’m not starring in his videos, and that we met because he’s a fan of my art.
But after that, would anybody really care? The news cycle moves so quickly these days; would the story even last more than twenty-four hours?
Will the fans of his website flood him with requests to see me? Maybe. I’d like to think so. But they’ll be out of luck. Has Pierce considered this? Or does he not care? Then again, what if they don’t complain? It’s not like they can’t see me naked plenty. They could watch my art shows… it may even bolster my audience.
So are there any other consequences?
What about Mom and Dad?
Sure, they may be uncomfortable with it at first, but that’s nothing new. Eventually they’ll see in him what I do: they’ll see he’s caring and charming, and that he understands me.
As we kiss, I feel the weight of inhibition lifting off of me, like I’ve slipped out of a lead jacket pulling me inexorably toward the ocean’s floor. I realize that I can date Pierce Williams, and it will be okay.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he says as I blink away a couple tears.
“Nothing,” I reply. “Sorry. I’m just really happy… to be with you.”
Beaming, he kisses me again, his hands wrapping around my wrists and pinning me down on the bed. I crane my neck, looking up to see his powerful arms above mine. He takes the opportunity to suck on my neck, biting softly. My toes curl and my knees bend, running my heels over the smooth sheets. I feel like Pierce’s plaything, waiting for him to claim me.
“You mean it?” he says at last, turning my head so I can look him in the eyes.
Do I? Do I really?
My mind races, imagining consequences both realistic and ridiculous. They don’t matter — I know what I want.
“I think we can possibly pursue… the idea of potentially being… in a relationship,” I whisper between blissful moans as he nibbles at my breast.
Pierce chuckles. “Such conviction.”
“Sorry. I think we-” I begin, but I’m cut off when Pierce suddenly flips me over, so I’m lying on my chest.
“Hush, pet,” he says, covering my mouth with his hand. “I know what you mean. There’s a lot to consider, right?”
I nod, rubbing my face against his palm.
“We’ll figure it out, all of it. Now, stay put,” he orders. “I’ll be right back.”
Complying with his command, I wait, feeling my arousal grow. Where’s he going?
I don’t have to wait very long, though when I try to see what he’s carrying, he barks at me not to look and to keep my head against the pillow. Chuckling nervously, I do as I’m told, listening to every sound as though they may hold clues.
One of them does, at least: I hear the beep of some kind of device, and when I sneak a glance, Pierce is setting up a camcorder for me.
“I saw that, pet. You’re going to pay for that.”
“Sorry,” I moan, feeling my ass tingle in anticipation.
After a very long minute, I finally feel Pierce climb into bed, his weight shifting the mattress beneath me. Then he’s holding my arms, and I feel smooth cords being wrapped around my wrists.
“If we announce our relationship to the outside world, you’re going to face a lot of scrutiny,” he says, turning my head so I face the camcorder. He’s hooked it up to a monitor resting on a wooden crate, ensuring that I can see myself as he continues to tie me u
p. “It might limit some of your options and… put you in a bind,” he adds, pulling a knot tight.
“I get it,” I say, wrenching uselessly against the bond.
He threads the rope underneath me a couple times, looping it above and below my breasts to lock my arms tightly behind my back, With each turn, the rope gets tighter, and I grow more turned on, especially seeing how it looks on the screen.
When he finishes with my arms, leaving them completely immobilized, he moves on to my legs, which he bends at the knees and then ties off, ankle to thigh, with more rope than I think I’ve ever seen. When he’s done, he spreads my legs apart, revealing me to his lingering gaze. I feel more helpless than I ever have before, but never more ready. He walks away again, this time not bothering to tell me to stay put: I don’t have much choice in the matter now.
“If we go public, the things people will say about you may be very hurtful,” Pierce says as he returns.
“I know.”
I’ve dealt with that plenty already, thank you very much.
“You’ll want to fire back at them, but it will only make things worse. You think you can remain silent?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Pierce says, showing me a big, red ball gag. He stuffs it between my lips, then reaches behind my head to buckle it.
“Mmm,” I moan, tasting the rubber filling my mouth. Humiliated, I turn to the monitor to see how it looks. My lips are stretched over the gag, and I imagine they’d look similar with Pierce’s cock in my mouth instead. The thought makes me twitch, desperate for relief.
“Jesus,” he says. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Sibel?”
Laughing through the gag, I buck and writhe against the rope, wondering what’s taking him so long. Then I feel it: a cold fluid dripping against my ass, followed by Pierce’s hand spreading it between my cheeks.
Oh, God!
“I said this decision could be a painful one, and I meant it. But then it’ll feel so good, won’t it?”
Yes, it will. I nod vigorously, though I clench at the idea.
“Have you ever had your ass taken before?” he asks, brushing my hair away from my bound hands.
