Weeping Violet
Page 4
Brinley. My name is Brinley.
The salve is warm and gooey on my tender skin. Genesis starts at my clitoris. She rubs the little nugget with repetitive motion. I don’t know if she is massaging the salve in or attempting to stimulate me. I can feel my cheeks warm further as she takes her hand away, scoops out more salve onto her fingers and goes back to work on my clitoris. Another gasp escapes my lips at how her massage is making me feel. I’m tingly in every place. Her hand travels down my sex. She begins to bathe my lips and folds with the ointment.
“This cream really works. The soreness will dull as your body gets used to sex.”
She continues to stroke and rub me, keeping her fingers nimble as she massages my clitoris. The pleasure in me builds.
As one who practices abstinence, I am not a stranger to self-pleasure. I recognize what is happening to me. And at the hands of a girl!
“This is my fourth year here, and I figured out if I help my Chambermaids get accustomed to all types of sexual experiences with strangers, it speeds up your assimilation,” she says as she dips an unknown number of fingers into me. At first, she seems to be spreading the salve around the inside of my sex.
“Mmm.” It just sneaks out of my mouth. My hips rise up to meet her fingers without my brain actually telling them to do so. “Mmm.” My body ignites as her thrusts deep inside me increase. I come unglued. Heat and fire and tingling rack my body as I come around her fingers. I cry out in pleasure. My body shakes uncontrollably.
“I think you’re ready for your bath,” she says and extends her hand out to take mine to help me off the table.
I can’t look her in the eye. My heart is pounding and my head is swimming. I am so embarrassed. She leads me to the tub and I hurry to hop inside to hide my body under the flower petals.
“I will leave you to your bath. There is a button next to the tub if you need me.”
I see the button that she is speaking of and I nod. Once she steps out of the room and I hear the door close, I do the only thing I can. I cry. Big, heavy, heartbroken sobs. This is my life.
I don’t call for Genesis. I stay in the water until it no longer feels warm. When the door opens, I don’t bother looking in the direction of the light that is filtering in because it doesn’t matter who it is. Nothing matters.
“You must be shriveled like a prune, love,” Genesis says. “Come, now, I must take you on the rest of your tour.”
I stand up and Genesis wraps a lavender towel around me before helping me out of the tub. I still don’t say anything to her. What is there to say? I dry off and put on the lavender silk robe that Genesis provides for me.
On my way out of the Beautification Chamber, I wave goodbye to Roxy. On the short trip to the elevators I don’t even bother with observing my environment. I don’t see how learning my way around this place will help any.
“About what happened earlier, if it makes you any less uncomfortable, I am not into chicks at all. I love boys.”
“It does. Thanks,” I say, speaking to her for the first time.
“I have a job to do, and helping out my girls is a big part of that job.”
“Thanks,” I say again. I am happy she didn’t like what she did to me, and that it was more of a job for her. Knowing that makes me feel less used.
We step off the elevator onto the fifth floor.
“This is where the seven of you will live during your stay. Most of you will have one roommate. There is one room that sleeps three girls. As you can see,” she says as we make our way through the living area, “you have a living room, a family room, a kitchen, and three bedrooms, each with its own large bathroom.”
I continue to follow her through the living quarters, my eyes glazing over everything, not really focusing on much.
We open a random door and I follow her into a room. I notice immediately where my side of the room is because of the lavender bedding. The opposite side of the room is bright yellow, and I remember the girl who Mason named Sunshine. She must be my new roommate.
Genesis shows me the adjoining bathroom with a closet big enough to sleep in and full of lavender clothing. I walk out of the bathroom and sit on the edge of my bed. Genesis gives me some time to absorb my new surroundings. My new home.
“Your chamber is right up those stairs.” She points to two darkened archways in the room, across from the beds. “Yours winds up and to the right. And your roommate’s winds to the left. Let’s go check it out.” She smiles.
Based on her excitement, I expect some sort of wonderful surprise designed to lift my spirits. Something like a room full of designer clothes. Genesis knows as well as I do that there is nothing up those stairs that will make me feel good. With no other option, I follow her up the stone stairs that slither to the right. A cold chill runs through my spine as we continue. If only there was a way to throw myself out of the small windows in the building that offer a modest amount of light. Genesis stops in front of a doorway covered in a heavy lavender curtain.
“After you.” She gestures for me to walk through the curtain.
I take cautious steps through. To my horror, I walk into my own personal nightmare. Genesis has to walk around me, because I can’t make my body advance beyond the entrance. The heavy lavender curtain is hung up on my shoulder.
Someone kill me now.
My chamber is nothing more than a lavender sex den. A massive canopy bed sits in the center of the room. Of course, the bedding, pillows, canopy, and skirting that adorn the bed are various shades of lavender. The bedposts and headboard are an inky black wood.
If only there was a way to stop myself from breathing and pass peacefully into an eternal sleep. What is the point of a tour? I get it. My life is over. Why rub salt into my wounds? I really don’t know what Mason the Monster thinks he is doing here. Creating a beautiful nightmare? I run to the en suite bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach.
I rise from my knees carefully and flush the toilet. My hands shake as I make my way to my new place of employment. My mind runs through all of the recent stories on the news of people forced to endure tragic events that pushed them beyond their limits, and how they survived kidnappings, home invasions, assault, rape, and torture. Story after story flashes through my mind. I have to believe that if others can survive such horrible experiences, then I can, too. What do all of the success stories have in common? A better question would be what do the unlucky ones who could not cope with life after tragedy have in common? An even better question is, which group will I fall in?
Genesis does her best to make this moment seem as normal as possible, which probably says a lot about her sanity. “So, basically, this circular room houses everything you will need to perform your duties for the next year.”
I find it funny that she keeps saying “for the next year,” as if I believe for one minute that I am going home, ever. I may be stupid enough to get kidnapped, but I’m not stupid enough to believe for one second that I am ever going home again.
“Here you will find your wardrobe—a year’s worth of lingerie and other seductive attire,” she says as she opens a door that leads into a lavish walk-in closet. Of course, everything is lavender.
I see what she means by “other seductive attire.” There are leather garments, metal objects, stilettos, and items so sheer I cringe and feel the heat travel through my neck and face. The closest thing to sexy I have in my wardrobe are my bathing suits. And none are bikinis.
Seriously?
We walk out of the closet. I follow her like a lost puppy. My head is foggy and light.
“Over here,” she says walking over to the left wall, “is what I call the ‘toy box.’” She pulls open a drawer that is full of dildos of various sizes.
I gag. “Just close it. I get it. Toy box.” I never want to see the contents of the toy box again. How am I going to survive this? Do I even want to? “I’ve had enough touring excitement for one afternoon. I need to lie down, please.” I take off in the direction of the hea
vy curtain that serves as the gateway to this horrible place. I can hear Genesis calling behind me.
“But I haven’t even shown you the Pleasure Pony yet!”
At those words, I begin to run, taking the winding stairs three at a time. She is insane! This isn’t a candy store, and I’m no kid. This is criminal. I am a captive prisoner and no amount of enthusiasm on her part will change that. When I make it into my room, I dart to my bed as if my life depends on it. I rip the covers back and fall into the bed, pulling the covers over me. They are the only protection I have in a place like this. Tears fall unbidden like a thunderstorm of terror.
“You have to find your inner strength, Violet.” I feel the bed depress when Genesis sits down.
“My name isn’t Violet. My name is Brinley.”
“That is your name. And you must always hold on to who you are. But you are going to have to keep that on the inside. That way you can separate your body from your soul. Girls do leave this place. I have friends on the outside who were brought here the same as you. They were released and went on to live their lives,” she says as she rubs my leg in an attempt to comfort me.
I uncover my head and look at her. I don’t bother wiping my tears or my running nose. “Why are you here?”
“I know it seems insane, but my home is here with Mason. I can leave whenever I want. I didn’t have any family when I met Mason. It was just me. No mum, no dad. He took me in. I was never a Chambermaid. I was hired specifically to be a groomer. I love my job. I make lasting friendships with some of the girls, and I have even found love. I will help take care of you while you are here. You have to trust me, because there is no way out until your time is up.” She pats my leg and stands. “Now get some shut-eye.”
“How did you even meet him? Mason, I mean?” I’m curious, because if she wasn’t taken, I don’t get it. Did she fill out an application? Apply online?
“The normal way—we bumped into each other at a little pub in London. We struck up a conversation and became friends, then hung out for a few days. It was never romantic. What we have is more like a father-daughter thing. I guess he felt bad that I was barely eighteen and alone. He put a lot of trust in me when he offered me this job. Now enough chitchat, love. You need your rest.”
Without another word, Genesis leaves me alone. I don’t cry any more. My brain is swimming with thoughts. How can I do what she suggested—separate my body from my soul?
7
The ride to GPO feels like driving to my death. My stomach is knotted and aches. My heart pounds in my chest and my head feels light. Flight or fight is kicking in big time and all I want to do is run.
Tabitha’s hand reaches down and grabs mine. Her hand is warm, and she gives mine a squeeze.
“You got this, Bee.”
I reach down with my other hand and cover hers. Instead of talking, I just inhale and exhale, calming and slowing my breathing, while shaking my head.
When we pull up to the observatory, I recognize Taron’s truck—a big honking matte-black F-250 with illegal tint. His license allows for it because he is security. We park across from the truck and wait. Taron hops out and stands in front of our car. He could easily work at The Chamber. He’s six-three with muscles stacked on top of each other, and has deeper brown skin than Tabitha’s. His hair is cut short and there’s a honey tint to his brown eyes.
I fling the door open, run into his arms, and break down. He is quiet and comforting as he squeezes me tight.
“I got you. Nothing is gonna happen to you again.”
I nod into his chest and feel Tabitha rubbing my back.
“You ready?” he asks.
I have no words, I just move. With the two of them in tow, I lead them to the spot on the trail where everything in my life went wrong.
“Talk to me,” Taron says.
I fidget with my fingers. “I went running before class.” My voice is high and shaky and foreign. “I bent down to tie my shoes and these guys ran up on me and I blacked out. When I woke up I was on a plane,” I finish the last part with a lump in my throat and through a hiccup.
“Right here. It was right here. I didn’t even get a chance to run or react. They took me right here.” I collapse to the ground on my knees and let go. I fist the pavement and slam my palm onto it, wetting it with tears.
They drop to the ground with me, hugging me through it. “I should have never been out here alone. Logan said it, and how many times did you tell us that?” I look at Taron and he nods, but doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’
I scream until my lungs burn.
Patiently, they wait for me.
When I have no energy left, I collapse into Taron’s strong arms.
The three of us sit for a long time in silence on the spot I was taken. Taron rocks me, and Tabitha rubs my arm.
“I say we come to this spot at least two times a week,” Tabitha announces. She gathers her wild curls and ties a messy bun on top of her head. She is so strong, and her strength comes from the inside. Maybe growing up with brothers made her that way, but she has a fighting spirit that has never leaked out enough for me to grab hold. If I had to compare her to any of my chamber sisters, I imagine she’d be most like Raven. The entire time Raven was there, it was apparent that she never settled in like the rest of us. She always seemed to be plotting or studying something.
Her proclamation makes me sit up straight. “Come here and do what?”
She smirks at me. “Hell if I know. Walk, eat, dance, tell jokes. It’s like how Fat Amy on that movie took the sting out of being overweight by referring to herself as fat before the other girls did it. We’ll ‘Fat Amy’ this bitch!”
I shake my head but laughter bubbles up inside of me and I nod. She laughs with me “Agreed, as long as Taron is with us every time. Your skinny ass would get snatched as fast as I did.”
My comment makes her stop laughing abruptly.
“Uh, not me,” she says.
Before I can respond, Taron butts in. “Listen, this shit is my fault. I should have been training y’all this whole time. Starting today, we train at my gym. I can’t be worrying about the two of you all of the time. I’ll go crazy.” He hops up from the ground, extending a hand for Tabitha and me, then pulls us up at the same time.
“Deal?” he asks. “I mean, you really don’t have a fucking choice.”
“I have to get back to school. I have two more months before graduation,” Tabitha says as she dusts herself off.
He lets out a sigh. “Okay, I’ll reach out to one of my partners in NoCal and you’ll start with him the second you get back. But while you’re home, we train.” He looks at me. “You got a problem with that, Bee?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I need this.”
He backs up a step and breaks out a punching-kicking combination, then backflips standing in place. “Fuck yeah, you do. I want the two of you to jack up anybody that steps to you incorrectly.”
We all laugh and head to the cars. I peek back at the spot a few times and smile inside about the idea of Fat Amy-ing it. Things are already looking up for me. I welcome the day that this place doesn’t elicit strong emotions.
8
Taron was not joking around. We immediately follow him to his gym to begin training. Luckily, we’re both in sneakers, but we have to pick up workout clothes from the gym’s apparel store. Tabitha and I walk into the massive workout area in black leggings and black shirts that have TARON’S TKO written across them.
He’s had this gym for a few years and I’ve never stepped foot inside before. It is equipped with everything one would expect to see inside a gym—a full-sized boxing ring, a TRX system, tires and sleds, a small track, free weights, and cardio and weight machines. The music is fast and energizing.
He puts us through our paces using the TRX and the open floor space he’s coined, “the red carpet,” which Tabitha and I have decided is pure evil. We throw medicine balls and flip tires up and down the carpet, moaning the entire time.
“I need food,” I say when we get in the car.
“Same here. Let’s go eat.”
I moan. “I can’t get my arms on the wheel.”
We explode with laughter.
“I hate you, Taron!” Tabitha yells at the gym and gives it the double finger, which makes me laugh harder.
I point a limp finger toward the gym, too. Then, in an exaggerated motion, I throw my hands onto the wheel. “You start it and put it in gear.”
She does as I instruct, and thirty minutes later we are at Venice Beach, sitting on a towel we had to purchase on the boardwalk, munching down on tacos.
The sun is bright and the breeze is all that I need in my life right now.
“My freaking arms are noodles. I hate your brother.”
“Girl, we are gonna be so sore tomorrow,” she says.
“I’m kind of a millionaire now.” I blurt out. “I was thinking I could invest some money in Taron’s business to thank him for training me. Maybe he can help more women,” I say around a bite.
The thought popped into my mind the second he dropped everything to help me. He is like a big brother to me. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask for a dime when we picked out clothes, or mention charging me a cent for extensive training…not that I expected him to. But, he gave us his time and he did so generously, out of love and concern. Not everybody is like that—longtime friend or not.
Tabitha stops mid-bite. “What do you mean ‘a millionaire?’” she asks.
I sigh and tell her everything. “The guy who took me. He gave me and the other girls four million dollars each.”