by M. N. Forgy
“Bend over,” Tim demands. I furrow my brows at his aggressive tone, but do what I’m told. I turn around and plant my hands on the bed. He lifts my dress to my hips and pulls my panties to my knees.
He slaps my ass hard, the burn racing up my skin. Before I can respond to his roughness, I’m impaled by him. The hard intrusion makes me whimper with pain but shiver with excitement. It’s painful, yet feels so good.
He growls and pounds into me hard, his death grip on my hips bruising my skin. My core throbs as he tears into me, and I want to tell him to ease up, but I don’t at the same time. I want the pain. I want to be punished. I’m angry with myself, angry with the cards life dealt me. Just fucking angry.
He grabs the back of my neck and shoves my face into the bed hard, the sheets nearly suffocating me with my harsh breathing. My legs ache, and my body hurts from the abuse. I can’t take much more.
My fingers begin to claw at the fabric as my lungs burn to breathe, the crappy motel sheets chafing my cheeks as I’m thrust upon them. He pulls my head up by the back of my neck and thrashes my face hard into the mattress, causing my nose to bash into a bed spring. My nose burns, and my eyes water.
Tim growls like a beast, finally reaching his climax. I don’t move, don’t look up, waiting for him to leave. My legs tremble, and my hands shake with terror. He zips his pants and slams the door on his way out, not saying a word to me as I lie here, bent over the bed. A tear cascades down my cheek. I’m so fucked-up. “Ma’am?” Terris, one of the guards, barrels through the door, his tone frantic.
“I heard crying. Are you okay?” he questions frantically.
“I’m fine!” I cry, my tone more angry than I intended. I stand up on shaky legs and grab the bed to steady myself.
“Fuck, Fancy,” Terris mutters. I look down, finding the skin around my hips already turning a shade of purple from the grip Tim had on my hips. I purse my lips and shove my dress down to cover myself when a drop of blood splashes onto it. I frown and touch my nose with my fingertips, curious where the blood is coming from. I bring my hand back, finding the culprit. The bed spring must’ve busted my nose.
“Fuck,” I whisper, staring at the blood.
“Get that fucker!” Terris yells, running off.
I stumble to the bathroom, my hands gliding against the wall, guiding me while my eyes flood with tears. My face doesn’t really hurt, not as much as my pride.
When I finally reach the bathroom, I slump against the wall and fall to my ass.
“Fancy!” Mick yells, rushing into my room.
I don’t move. I just sit here against the bathroom wall, my eyes fixed on the dirty sink in front of me. I can feel it, the grit, the dark, all of which make up rock-bottom. Here I am, sitting at rock-bottom, my mind, body, and soul destroyed. I would think I would’ve hit rock-bottom a long time ago, but here it is… all by one trick. Showing me my place in the world. I don’t have power. I have no control. I don’t have shit. I’m not safe, and nobody can save me.
“Look at me, Fancy,” Mick instructs, pushing my chin to look at him. My gaze slides from the wall to his round face, his thick eyebrows furrowed with concern as his bald head shines from the light above.
“That guy will never come near you again, and he will pay for this,” Mick threatens, his other hand sliding against my cheek. He shifts, grabs some toilet paper, and dabs at my nose.
“Don’t bother, I asked for it,” I mutter, pulling my chin from his grip.
He scowls. “Did you? Did you verbally ask for it?” Mick questions. I don’t answer, just stare at the sink.
“Answer me, Fancy!” Mick roars.
I jump slightly and level him an angry glare. “No!”
“Then you didn’t ask for it,” Mick remarks, standing. “He’ll be handled. As for you, no guy is going to pay for a chick with black eyes and a busted nose. No sex this week. Oral only, and that’s if we’re lucky,” Mick instructs, leaving me to sit on the nasty motel floor with tissue shoved up my nostrils.
***
As the week went by, so did what was left of my conscience. Every day, I woke up from a night filled with nightmares of wings and walked my sorry ass to Mick’s motel. I’m numb, my emotions gone. My thoughts are gone. I’m… gone. I can feel my heart beating, can taste the air entering my mouth. The two important things I need to live, yet I don’t feel alive.
I gave head to two men, and one a hand job. Surprisingly, they were all good-looking. But still, with every rip of the foil to a Jimmie, as Margo calls them, a little piece of my heart goes a shade darker. Although, Jayden and I have a fully stocked fridge, and air conditioning. The day after that john gave me a bloody nose, Jayden and I went home to find a new couch with a TV sitting on a box crate. Mick has kept his word; he’s taking care of us.
Jayden finally got praise from him after he watched her performance with a trick in room 2. His words were along the lines of Jayden looked like she belonged in a porno. Doesn’t surprise me, though. Smith returned for round two. He wanted sex but Mick told him no, so he offered six hundred dollars instead of the usual four. Money speaks wonders in this business, because Mick accepted his offer. Mine and Smith’s round two was an experience I won’t soon forget.
“God, you’re sexy. Better-looking than my fiancée even,” Smith groaned as I rode him.
“Yeah?” I laughed, holding myself up with my hands on his chest. I’m the other woman. Deep down, I felt a little sorry for his fiancée. But I had to admit, it gave me a rush that he thought I was sexier than the girl he planned to spend the rest of his life with.
“Oh, yeah. In fact, I can’t get you out of my head, Fancy,” he panted, cupping my cheek.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” I flirted, sweat building up my chest. It was actually a little creepy. I lolled my head back and moaned loudly as a flicker of ecstasy built in my abdomen, my sound of bliss Smith’s undoing as he came. He stiffened and pulled my chest to his face, riding his release and depriving me of mine.
“Fuck, I love you, Fancy,” he groaned. I stilled, my eyes wide. Margo said the rule was I had to say it back.
“I—” I choked. “I love you, too,” I whispered, my voice strained. My vision blurred, like all the blood in my system fled, leaving me lifeless. I just told a stranger I loved them…
A knock at the door breaks me from memory lane. I don’t get up, though; I just sit here with my legs crossed. My skimpy purple dress climbs my thighs, revealing my fishnet stockings.
A fat guy walks in, causing me to swallow hard and my eyes to widen. He has red curly hair and overalls that fail at hiding his large gut. The warm air from outside sweeps past him into the room, and I draw back and gag. He smells like body odor. Imagine an entire football team throwing their sweaty jock straps into a pile after a football game to simmer in the summer sun. That’s exactly what this guy smells like.
“Hello, I’m Dave,” he greets, his double chin jiggling as he talks. I swallow and nod. I can’t talk, because that means more air — and therefore body odor — entering my lungs.
“What—” I choke. “What can I do for you, Dave?” I ask, trying to hold my breath.
“Do you suck cock?” he asks, a big yellow-toothed smile wide on his face.
When I said I reached rock-bottom before, I lied. This is rock-bottom.
Before I answer him, he’s undoing his overalls, letting them fall to his sneakers which are not tied but velcroed.
“One hundred and fifty,” I inform him, holding my wrist to my nose for the smell of my perfume. Margo told me that even if men stink, you have to do it. There’s no backing down from a trick. Think of roses, suffer through it.
Dave shuffles his legs to the bed and sits down, out of breath. He starts fisting his cock, and my throat retches. I can’t do this. There’s no pretending with this guy. I’m not strong enough.
“Come on, baby,” he encourages. I look at him from the corner of my eye and try to pull every ounce of willpower I have. I slowly
kneel in front of him and hold my breath. I spread his legs using his knees, and then my lungs demand air. I inhale, and the rancid smell does it for me. My gag reflex hurdles puke upward. I turn, finding the door to the motel room, and quickly open it. I crawl forward and expel my dinner on the sidewalk.
“You took one of mine, so I’m taking one of yours!” I hear beside me as I heave for fresh air. I turn to look at who’s talking, but before I can get my head turned all the way, vomit races up my throat again.
“No, wait! Claudia came to me, man. Take her ass back. She’s in room 7,” Mick begs.
“I could fucking kill you, Mick. You stepped over a line! You took one of mine, so I’m taking one of yours!” roars beside me, like a song stuck on repeat. The familiar voice is threatening, and an odd knot forms in the pit of my stomach from its presence.
“Fine,” Mick mumbles. I turn my head to look at Mick and the familiar voice, but my vision is blurry with tears from throwing up.
“She’ll do,” the voice clips angrily. Before I can make out who the voice belongs to, the blurry image rushes toward me. Searing pain races through my scalp suddenly, making me scream as I’m pulled to my feet. My nails dig into the hand that’s laced into my hair from behind.
“Charlie!” Jayden screams, rushing out of a motel room.
“Jayden!” I cry, tripping over my heels as I’m yanked backwards. Jayden races toward me but Mick catches her, halting her movement. Jayden pulls from Mick, trying to get to me.
“Don’t!” Mick yells at her, picking Jayden up off the ground.
“You said you would protect us!” she screams, pounding against Mick’s chest.
“I can’t this time. It’s out of my hands, Jayden!” Mick roars, grabbing Jayden’s wrists to calm her.
Before I can react to what’s happening, see who has a hold of me, I’m thrown into a car. I sit up and look around, finding myself in a… limo? There are black leather seats all around, and little twinkle lights illuminating the space around me.
“Drive to the estate,” the familiar voice demands. I take my gaze from the driver in the front to the man who had ahold of my hair just moments ago.
My eyes widen, and my heart stammers against my chest.
“Landon?” I whisper in disbelief, butterflies swarming in my chest.
Landon’s green eyes shine, and his full lips part as he inhales. I can tell he’s just as surprised to see me as I am him. But as quickly as his startled expression came, it disappears. He straightens, fixes his tie and his eyes harden.
“Charlie,” he greets formally, his tone holding an edge to it. He squares his shoulders, his body taking up most of the seat.
“Landon, what is—” I stop myself, confused. I shift in my seat to get closer to Landon, and his head whips from looking out the window toward me. I notice his jaw clench, and his hands fist angrily.
“Jesus, I barely recognize you, Charlie,” he sneers, running a hand through his hair. I wince from his harsh tone.
“Landon,” I respond meekly, my chin trembling. All I want is to crawl in his lap and have him hold me, comfort me after the Hell I’ve been through lately. But the way he’s staring at me, I can tell that’s not going to happen.
“Don’t.” Landon shakes his head and starts muttering under his breath. “Whatever happened between us, Charlie, it never happened.” He looks up, his eyes piercing mine.
“You are an employee of the Blackwell Estate now,” he scoffs.
I close my eyes and shake my head in confusion.
“What?”
A smirk curls Landon’s lips as he fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeve. “Actually, an employee has the option to leave after their contract has expired.” He smirks and tilts his head to the side. “You are owned by the Blackwell Estate now.”
My nostrils flare to allow the harsh breathing to escape, and my heart races in my chest. Owned? He can’t be serious.
“You can’t keep me, I’ll—”
“What – run away? Call the cops?” Landon shifts in his seat and taps his fingers on his knee. “You don’t want to say that to me, Charlie. I can, and will, lock you in a room, never to escape again, and we both know nobody will come looking for you.” His tone is malicious. “And the cops will just bring you back to me, considering most of them are in my pocket anyway.” He shrugs.
I close my gaping mouth. I can’t go to the cops even if I wanted to with Jayden and I fleeing foster care the way we did. I scowl at him and turn my head toward the window. I believe him, for some reason. I believe he would lock me away in some room, never to see the light of day. The way he reeks of money and the look in his eyes hold that dark promise. It’s the darkness I knew he was capable of when I met him. It dwells in his voice and burrows in his gorgeous eyes. He’s capable of being a monster, just as he is a gentle lover.
“What is the Blackwell Estate?” I ask gravely, watching bright lights go by my window.
“You mean what is your position at the Blackwell Estate?” Landon counters.
“Sure.”
“You will be an escort,” Landon replies with a breath.
I close my eyes and let the tears fall from my eyes.
I’ll be a whore. Go figure.
TWELVE
CHARLIE
We drive far from the city lights and eventually find ourselves in front of an iron security gate. After the driver punches in a few buttons on a black box outside the gates, we move forward. We wind up a long driveway with little torches placed along the way. We don’t need them, however; the place that holds my fate is clear as day, even at this time of night. It’s huge and spotlights shine upon it from every angle.
The limo stops and Landon steps out without a word. My heart takes flight in panic as I shift in my seat nervously. My door is yanked open and Landon holds his hand out, offering to help me out of the car. The smell of his fresh scent swims past me and I inhale deeply.
“What? You don’t want to grab me by my hair?” I smart, getting out without taking his hand. He sighs, undoing the button on his suit jacket. As soon as Landon shuts the door to the car, it drives off, leaving me a gaping mess staring at the mansion. It’s made out of large stone, brick for brick, grooves and crevices painting every inch of the foundation. It’s so distinguished with character I can’t look away.
“You like it?” Landon questions, his tone a shade softer than before.
“It’s- It’s incredible,” I stammer, not sure how to describe it.
“Welcome to the Blackwell Estate, Charlie. Let’s go draw up some paperwork,” Landon suggests, pressing on the small of my back. I tear my eyes from the glowing windows placed sporadically along the building and turn toward Landon. That’s right, I almost forgot; I’m his owned whore now. I jerk myself from him, anger fueling my senses.
Walking inside the estate, it’s just as breathtaking. The floor is made up of white marble, and a grand staircase sits right in the middle, rising to another floor.
“This way.” Landon walks past me, leading the way. Following him, I find a door that leads into a dining room filled with a large, oak dining table. Passing that room, Landon leads me past a black piano and an overwhelmingly large fish tank until finally, he opens a door behind the staircase.
“Take a seat, Charlie,” Landon commands, walking in behind me. I look around the oval-shaped room, ignoring his demand. A mahogany desk with a black leather chair sits in front of a wall of windows, with two black winged-back chairs placed before the desk. Looking away, my eyes find a black Persian rug placed elegantly in the middle of the room, and a large red couch along the back wall. There’s a wet bar in the corner, stacked with glasses and bottles filled with amber liquid. I peer up, finding a huge crystal chandelier illuminating the room, setting off little rainbows of light amongst my skin. This is so different than the motel, than anything I’ve ever seen. I’m stunned, as I’ve never been around such riches in all my life.
“Charlie,” Landon clips, grabbing my atten
tion. “Sit down,” he repeats, pointing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. I scowl at him, take my heels off and head toward the chair.
“You’re not a guy who hears the word ‘no’ very often, are you?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Landon chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Why do you ask?” he replies, a playboy smile fitting his face.
I shrug and look around the place again. “By the looks of this place, and the arrogant authority in your voice, I’m just guessing.”
Landon drapes his suit jacket over the back of his chair and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. His chair is stunning, black with gold trimming, and exhibits power. My eyes trail up his toned arms, and my body defies my anger. My panties dampen with the thought of him grabbing me and throwing me on this desk. His body is like a hostile storm, taking charge of wherever he is, leaving a wake of masculinity and power. It’s hard not to be affected by him.
“What happened to you?” Landon mutters, shifting his chair to sit in it. I pull my eyes from his arms, and glance down at my hands. What happened to me? What a laughable concept. I should tell him to fuck off, that it’s none of his business.
I peer out from under my lashes and glare at him. While I’ve been trying to live, keep myself alive, he’s been living like a king?
“Life happened. Life happened to me, Landon,” I grit, my hands squeezing my shoes. I want to throw them at him, fucking impale him with the heel.
Landon shakes his head and opens a drawer, pulling out some papers.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing my team can’t handle,” he mutters coldly, slamming the drawer shut.
“Team?” I question, tilting my head to the side.
“You look like trash, but my team will make you appear like a respectable woman,” he clarifies, plucking a pen from a cup holder. My mouth gapes open, offended.
