by Amo Jones
I gaze down at it. “Excuse me?” I want to tell him to get his paws off my tits, but figure that will get me yet another gag-worthy love fest once I’m alone with James again, and there’s only so much I can take when it comes to it.
“The girls need to be branded,” the officer—Nomad—says. Nomad? Is that his name? Why can’t I be ho-ing in college like Sloane? I stop the thoughts treading their angry feet through my brain.
“What brand?”
James’ jaw tenses a few times. “Is it necessary for her? She’s only my plus one.” James unbuttons his jacket, coming closer to military dude. Interesting. It’s not every day he has to throw weight to get what he wants.
“Afraid so. The rules are quite clear that no one is to set foot inside L’artisaniant without the mark.”
“The what?” I panic, my eyes flying between the two of them.
James grabs my hand and turns, lifts my arm in the air. “Beside the armpit. I don’t have all night.”
Military man pulls out what looks like a tiny stamp. It has crusted gold plating over the handle and cursive writing that I can’t read over the tip. Fire ripples over my skin and turns all of my nerves to ash as he releases me. I gaze down to see a burn mark now fresh beneath my arm. It’s small, maybe the size of a nickel, but the intricate lines that swish into what looks like a scribble is well pressed into my flesh.
I tilt my head. “What?”
J is tugging me through the front doors before I can wrap my head around what just happened.
It was dark. So dark that the chandelier which hangs from the marble ceiling was the only thing that was struck by the full moonlight breaching through the drapes. Thick, blood-red curtains shaded the lounge room, and four men sat at chairs, their legs thrown over their thighs.
Not one caught my eye. I had never seen them in my life, and up until last month, James had been training me.
Splitting me open and fucking me until my insides were sushi and the only name that fell from my lips was his, and the syllables weren’t laced with love, or passion. They were poisoned by the hate that pulsed through my veins.
He thought he had conditioned me to handle his brutality, which in essence he had, but he forgot one of the most important things of all.
Cruelty hardens the skin to which it is pounded upon, so he wasn’t only grooming me to become—what he says—his sex slave. But he was also handing me the nails to which I needed to build up my walls.
The collar pinched my neck as he tugged on the chain. “Gentlemen…”
They all seemed to shuffle in their seats before my eyes found the ground. I knew better than to pay attention to anything and everything that happens around me.
I wasn’t to look at anyone.
I wasn’t to touch anyone.
I was to allow people to touch me—anyone. Whoever James said could, would. Whoever. Whenever. Though we hadn’t taken that step yet—until tonight—I was well trained on what I should and should not do in the presence of whoever he took me to.
“Diamond…” one of the men purred. I couldn’t see him, but the rasp in his voice illustrated how many cigarettes he had smoked in his lifetime.
“Gentlemen…” James said, but I kept my eyes on my toes. White as snow, to signify purity. The day after James took my virginity, I started my white nail polish trend.
“You brought us a gift? You shouldn’t have.” Goose bumps rose over my skin as the other man’s voice drifted through the space between us.
“Not tonight,” J’s authoritative voice boomed through, and it’s then that I got the first hint that maybe, just maybe, he ran this ship too.
He tugged on my collar and I fell forward, dropping to my knees. Carpet burn tore through my skin as his fist found my hair and he gently caressed it. As though a lover would. As though he doesn’t ruin my mind anytime we’re alone together.
“Tonight, you will all have the privilege to watch me, but none of you will touch.” He pauses, and I still haven’t raised my head up to see the other four older men. After a series of grunts and approvals, he releases my head. “Very good. First, we will handle business.”
Finally, I look out the corner of my eye when movement catches my attention. Another room adjacent to this one is in view, hidden behind a curtain. There was a girl curled up in the corner, afraid. Where she is is obviously the main area and we’re in a private room.
There were a sea of bodies inside. Young girls, old men. The nature was obvious. As quickly as I stole a peek, my eyes snapped back to the ground and I followed the pattern of the carpet.
Just who the hell is James?
They spoke back and forth with one another, with each passing minute indenting carpet patterns into my knees. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, James shook the collar, bringing me back to my feet. My long brown hair fell over my slender shoulders. My collarbones were too sharp, my skin a shade too pale. My tummy rumbled as I thought about the food I haven’t had in three days. I was midway through punishment for attending a party with Sloane, at which James assumed I had slept with someone else. If I didn’t tell him the name of this mystery man I had supposedly slept with, I had to go seven days without food. I was allowed water, but only by his control. Some days I would barely get a drip. Today was one of those days. I barely had the strength to stand on my own feet, so for once, I was thankful for the collar.
I followed behind him into the room. The scent of sweat and a sweet-scented oil drowns my senses. I almost trembled right there when James led me through the sea of bodies and to the other side of the room. Dark walls bleed with the blue LED lighting. There’s a circle bar in the middle, multiple stools tucked beneath it, and lounges and sofas lined out through the room. In every corner, someone was having sex.
I wanted to know why I was here and what this place was. I raised my head and caught that same young girl curled up in the corner, sweat matting her blonde strands to her forehead. Instantly, she found me. Pain flashed over her doe eyes as her lip trembled. My mouth fell open, willing words to come out for her. Needing them to come out for her. Even if it was just a small reassuring smile. You’re not alone, I wanted to say. Her forehead dropped to her knees as she turned her head side to side. She was in a bad way, even I could see.
“Come forward, Jade. Don’t be afraid.” But I was. His words meant nothing to me. Every flick of lighting, rhythm of whatever song that was playing, and breath I took, I feared him and what he was capable of. Pushing open a door, painted in the darkest black, he gestured inside, dropping the leash. “Enter. I will be back in a second.”
I did as I was told, falling forward and dropping to my knees in the center of the room. Dark-colored dots flashed around the area, my breathing labored.
The lighting here is soft, translucent enough to ease the nerves of anyone that may be anxious. I wonder if they created it this way. To make people feel warm and welcome. As soon as we enter, James directs us down a long corridor until we’re met with a glass door, frosted over the base so we can’t see through.
“Is this like The Complex?” I ask absently, studying the door like it’s the hardest test in history. After my first night working with James, I learned what he did and where he did it. It was called The Complex.
“No,” James murmurs. “This is different. You won’t need your collar, and you are free to roam.” There was only one other time I was free to roam. “They’re not in my line of business.”
The doors split open and I’m instantly sucked into a dark vortex of sin.
Bodies move around the room as soft music plays softly, each beat and note grazes down my arm in warning. It feels sexy and dark, not somewhere I particularly want to be a part of with James. People are having sex on couches, others are drinking at the bar, and some are right in the middle of the room in a damp tangle of sweaty limbs, rubbing each other all over.
My thighs clench. Before I can cement my feet to the ground, James is whipping me into the room with his hand securely
at my lower back. “No one knows who runs this. They never show their face or mingle with their guests.” The collar he uses with me for work is dangling in front of my body, unlatched from his grip. If you didn’t know what it was, you would assume it’s an accessory. For a split second, all I can hear is the deep gasps of me reaching for air. The atmosphere is intense.
He continues to direct me through the swarm of people, until he reaches another set of doors. This time, he pushes me forward once they’re open and I fall into a dark room on my knees, hitting the carpet with a thud. The doors close behind me, and I quickly try to reassess my surroundings. Everything is pitch black. I can’t see any fucking thing. Curling my hands into fists, I cuss under my breath. My heartbeat is erratic, my palms pulsing in sweat. The carpet patterns are indenting into my knees, but I know better than to move.
I itch to reach behind my leather mask and scratch under my eye, but I don’t.
That’s when I hear the shuffle in the corner.
My blood turns cold. He leaves me in a dark room in a house I don’t know, during a party that is dripping with all things sinister, and now I’m pretty sure someone is in this room with me. I should be surprised, but I’m not. I know better when it comes to James.
My fingers tingle as I feel body heat swim around in front of me. If I lean forward, I’m almost certain I’d collide with whoever it is. I feel the warm mist of someone’s breath falling over my lips and my insides short circuit. My lips part slowly. I’ll just ask who’s there. Who James has left me with. Just as I’m about to allow the words to fall from my mouth, I feel that same fog but only this time, it’s on the back of my neck.
Oh my fucking god. How many are in here? My eyes close and my head tilts to the side, my breathing becoming harder, more desperate. There have been times where James has shared me, and there has been another time where he did more than that, but none of all those times felt like this. I don’t know if it’s because I came in reckless and in a mood to party, or that it just feels different in this house. The person behind me moves lower, down the nape of my neck as the one in front of me remains right there. The tip of a finger glides down from the front of my throat, slowly grazing against my sternum. I can’t breathe. Holding any oxygen I have left inside of me, I attempt to catch up with myself, maybe talk myself down, but it’s too late. My thighs clench and my belly shakes with a disturbing amount of lust.
Opening my mouth again, I’m ready to ask who is there, but my voice is cut out when three clock bells sound off in the room.
Ding… Ding… Ding…
It was a rusted ding, reminding me of an old church waking at midnight.
A voice comes through next. Maybe the bell was sounded through a speaker system throughout the house? Damn James for him not telling me more about L’artisaniant.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The voice sounds unfamiliar. Every syllable is said through a device to distort it into a tone that sounds way too close to Billy the Puppet.
“Welcome to L’artisaniant. If you’re here tonight, you already know what we are, but not who we are. When you walked through our doors and gained your stamp, you signed away your right to speech. Leave your donations at the door on your way out, and remember, don’t go too far into the house. Each level is categorized by what it is you think you can handle. Each level has its own cost. The higher you go, the more expensive it becomes. Everyone has their kink, but I can assure you that niveau quatre is not it. With each level, there is one of us walking among you. As you know, no one has ever seen les quatre sangs before, and that is how it will remain.” He takes a short breath, chuckling.
“And may the odds be ever in your favor.”
Why did that sound like a challenge? The bells sounded out again, each one hitting the chords of my soul and vibrating over my skin on its way out. What level am I on right now?
“Bet she wants to know what level she’s on…” the voice behind me says, and I freeze. In the back of my mind, his voice absorbs into a hidden part of my brain. I don’t think much of it. When your sight is taken from you, you’d be surprised by how distorted everything becomes. A blur. Confusing. Do we grasp on to sound or scent? His tone is dark and gravelly. As if he smokes too many cigarettes. But it’s also smooth and sensual, like he drowns in expensive whiskey. Whoever is in front of me doesn’t answer.
My heartbeat quickens, sweat dripping down my chest.
“Why were you left in a dark room with two hungry wolves?” Lips scrape over the back of my neck. “Tell me.” He flicks his tongue over the nape as I sink my teeth into my lower lip, attempting to hide the hungry moan from escaping. “Are you ready to be fucked within an inch of your life?”
Blowing out a steady breath, I wish for words to come, but they never do.
“I’ve had worse,” I whisper, barely audible.
“Is that a challenge?” the guy in front of me mumbles over my lips. “Because I can meet a fucking challenge.” Is this what they do here? Fuck each other in dark rooms?
My legs tremble with pleasure and they’ve barely touched me. I tilt my head to the side as the guy who is behind me sinks his teeth into where my neck meets my shoulder. A sharp sting shoots out where his teeth are, but instead of flinching away from the pain, I relish in it. I want to soak it in and drown in it. James has never been rough with sex, and the people who he passed me off to he told to be the same—bar one. This feels different. It lights a fire inside of my tired soul, stirring the hunger I hide deep in my belly that has always wanted to expose itself.
“Fuck, you taste good.” He growls over my flesh. I quiver in the spot, chills wreaking havoc over my body. Music plays through the speakers. Not too loud, but loud enough to get lost in it. I recognize it instantly. “Bad for Me” by guccihighwaters.
“Fuck,” the voice behind me growls. “What’s your name?” His hand slips beneath the bottom of my dress, his fingertips grazing my inner thighs. Moisture pools between my legs as I grind forward. I’m panting, sweating, and building to explode.
“I—” The man in front of me reaches forward and yanks down the front of my dress. Warmth coats the bead of my nipple as his tongue swirls over the nub. “Oh fuck,” I whisper, my head falling backward onto the guy behind me.
“Touch me,” he grinds out behind me. “You’re fucking demure. You need to change that.”
I don’t answer, overwhelmed with all of my sensitivities coming to life.
Reaching backward, my palm hits a rock-hard chest. Abs built like bricks jagged over my palm.
“Lower,” he growls softly, his mouth opening against my back. Jesus Christ, who is this man? I scratch my nails down his abdomen, reaching the band of his jeans. Finding the button, I flick it open as the mouth on my nipple sucks harder, his other hand coming to my other breast. Moaning, I press my ass against the man behind me, his thick girth burying between the crack of my ass cheeks.
His fingers dip beneath my panties. “I’ll give you two options.” His voice conjures all of my ghosts and brings them horny and raging to the surface. “Do you want to be fucked or do the fucking?”
I think over his words, playing with them inside of my head. When it comes down to my needs and what I’ve liked about this so far, it all comes down to one thing. “I want to feel good. But I need it to hurt.”
He doesn’t recoil from my words, and the man in front of me unlatches his mouth from around my nipple with a clench of his teeth. He hisses. “Oh, so you like pain?”
I gulp, refusing to let the words leave my mouth. Refusing to admit my confession. The way my clit pulses at the word is enough to make me feel dirty and corrupt. Not the kind of dirty that you can scrub off in the shower, but the kind that digs its claws into your watered-down soul.
When I don’t answer, the man behind me cups my whole pussy in his hand and pulls me to my feet with him. I continue to be blinded by darkness, music thumping and now my skin slick with sweat.
Once we’re on our feet, the man in front of
me pulls down my dress until it’s at a pool at my feet. My stomach shudders nervously, my pussy throbbing. So different to James. Does sex exist like this? Before the thought can simmer in my mind, the man behind me is picking me up from the ground and spinning me around to face him. He’s greedy, I sense, which I like. He gives off a dominating vibe. We fall backward until he hits a wall with a thud, his hand still cupping my pussy. My fingers search his face. Short hair, strong, sturdy facial structure. I dip into the curve of his cheekbones, his soft lips that puff out over the rim a little. He doesn’t move, his breath no longer falling on my face. It’s different this time, since we’re facing each other—but again without seeing each other. He’s holding my naked body in his hands, but why do I feel like he can see right through my soul. Moving my fingertip lower, I run it over his sharp jaw, and down to his nipple. A ring pierces his left pec, with a bar going through and two jewelry pieces hanging off. I have to fight the urge to nibble on it. It’s not until the other man comes up from behind me that we both begin breathing again, as if we forgot where we were. Bringing my finger back to his mouth, the curves of his soft lips curl up in a grin, and my stomach hits the ground. Butterflies fly around in my belly and ignite a wind storm that reaches down to the tips of my toes.
That was a creepy smirk.
My mouth opens and I lean forward, ready to kiss him. I don’t know why I want to kiss him, it’s probably way too intimate for what we’re about to do—he hikes me up in a rush, lifting me so that my legs need to wrap around his neck. The kind of strength a man needs to lift any girl in this way is enough to—holy fuck. His slick tongue touches my clit and my brain short circuits.
“Oh!” My legs tighten around his neck as my fingers dive into the loose strands of his hair. I’ve never, not once, had this happen to me. James only took what he wanted and would please him, he was never interested in oral sex on me. Fire burns through my veins as I sink deeper and deeper into the unknown.
