Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series)

by Natalie Kristen

  Once the column reaches its full height, the lightning and thunder cease, and the lights in the Pit dim further. The column is lit up like a lava lamp, with glowing bubbles streaming steadily to the top.

  “Let us now welcome our first bathing beauty, Kara!” Mr Toni smiles broadly and waves Kara up.

  Kara climbs the steps and stands with her head bowed beside Mr Toni. The harness has already descended, and Mr Toni helps her into it, all the while smiling and cracking jokes.

  He gives the wire a tug, and blows a kiss to Kara as she is being reeled upwards. “Swim, and be free, my love!” he calls out, spreading his pudgy arms.

  Kara is released into the water, and the top of the column seals shut. The music changes to a soft, melodic tune, and the light ripples across the stage, as if trying to create a magical underwater sensation. But the music, the lights and Mr Toni's laughing commentary does nothing to relief me of my overwhelming sense of dread and doom.

  I watch Kara's emerald, scaly body paint begin to change color in the water, and she becomes a writhing, rippling, cloud of colors. Her costume flashes blue, orange, yellow, red, the colors morphing and changing with increasing speed. As I watch her widening eyes and clawing hands, I realize that the colors are changing according to her fear. As she starts to panic and her heart rate soars, the colors change faster and faster. There are low chuckles and a few languid, lazy claps from the audience.

  I snap my head round and squint hard into the smoke and shadows, but I can't make out a single one of those cruel, sneering faces. My eyes flick back to the stage, and I see Kara's eyes flutter rapidly. All the color has leeched from her face, but her costume is only half gone. There are still large splotches of body paint all over her body, covering her right breast, the flat of her tummy and the length of her left leg.

  Hurry up, hurry, hurry...

  I stand frozen, watching the paint fade little by little from her body. Hold on, Kara, you can do it!

  At long last, every bit of her body paint is gone. But Kara has lost consciousness. Her naked body sinks slowly to the bottom of the column, her auburn hair waving like seaweeds across her face.

  I press forward, bumping into the girl in front of me. Jennifer turns sharply and hisses at me. “Hey!”

  I hardly hear her. I can barely breathe, my entire body shaking with cold and fear. “Come on, come on, save her!” I whisper raggedly, my nails digging into my palms.

  Kara is left lying in the column as the spotlights train on her. After a full minute, red smoke shoots up from the vents around the stage, obscuring the column completely. All the lights boom off for a heartbeat before strobe lights cut through the darkness. Cheers and jeers erupt from the patrons but their voices are swiftly drowned out by the rising, screaming music. The smoke clears suddenly and the column is lit up by a jagged crack of light, as though lightning has just struck that gleaming, glass pillar.

  I jerk forward, but Kylee shoves me back with her shoulder. “Stay down,” she says angrily in my ear.

  I stagger back, my eyes wild. Kara is gone.

  There is nothing in that swirling water but bubbles.

  Lots and lots of bubbles.

  But no Kara.

  I open and shut my mouth rapidly, a thin wheezing sound squeezing from my throat. Where is she? What have they done to her? No, no no no!

  Jennifer's hand flies to her mouth and she stifles a squeak. I thud back into place behind her, sick to my stomach.

  Kara has drowned.

  A male voice yells out, “Lousy bitch! I bet good money on that one!”

  Someone laughs.

  Someone else claps.

  I squeeze my eyes tightly shut for an instant. These bastards! This is just a game to them. They are losing and winning money, drinking and laughing as we drown in front of them.

  Give me strength. Give me the strength to survive and do what I need to do in this hellish Pit.

  I snap my eyes open with a shuddering breath. Pam is craning her neck, squinting back towards the end of the line at me.

  I hear her voice in my head: You have to be stronger than your mind.

  Swallowing hard, I nod at her.

  Raising my eyes towards the stage once more, I blink at that tall, watery coffin that has just claimed its first victim of the night. How many more will drown in that transparent column before this night is over?

  The bubbles are rising to welcome the next girl, who is trying to stifle her hiccuping sobs as she is being lowered into the water. Her costume is orange and red, and as she shivers violently, the colors merge and flicker so that she looks like a flame at the top of a giant, transparent candle. A flame that is about to be extinguished.

  She is dropped into the water, and immediately the colors of her spray-painted costume flares out, spreading through the water. The water swirls bright orange and red around her. Tendrils of gold and silver unravel from her body, as she spins wildly in the water. Her legs kick furiously, propelling her to the top of the column. But the glass lid is securely in place, sealing her in. Her palms press against the lid, as her legs continue kicking and thrashing. The colors unraveling from her body pool at her feet, creating the illusion of a tail. The top half of her body is free of her body paint, and only her legs are sheathed in the shimmering, dissolving paint. From where I am standing, she looks like a mermaid.

  She continues clawing feebly at the glass lid, as her costume dissolves gradually from her legs. The cocoon of colors creating the illusion of a mermaid tail sink to the bottom of the glass column to reveal her thin, bruised legs.

  Her costume has completely dissolved. The glass lid slides open and what looks like a swing descends from the ceiling. The swing is made up of two wires and a leather strap. The girl gasps and grabs the leather strap. She fumbles but finally succeeds in positioning the leather strap under her buttocks. The wires lift and she sways from that makeshift swing, coughing as tears stream from her eyes. Once her feet touches the stage, she staggers off the swing and raises her arms high over her head. There are catcalls and lewd comments from the audience.

  The girl glances over to the Warden, who is standing in the shadows at the side of the stage, and at a signal, move awkwardly to the front of the stage and kneels down with her hands behind her back.

  I exhale painfully. The girl has survived her water ordeal. I glance at the row of girls in front of me, and at the back of Pam's head.

  Will they survive? Will Pam survive? Will I?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I am next. I count twenty-six dripping, shivering girls kneeling around the revolving stage. Thirteen girls didn't make it. Jennifer is just getting off that leather swing, and I notice the long scar down the length of her thigh as she strides past me to kneel at the other end of the stage.

  I glance over my shoulder at the darkened Pit. I am the last to go.

  I smooth my clammy palms down the textured, reflective paint on my body and let Mr Toni secure the harness around my body with a tight, grim smile. His jokes have ceased and he looks exhausted. With a tug on the wire, I am lifted up towards the top of the column.

  Fighting the rising nausea, I squint at the lights and shadows of the Pit. Who is out there? Who is betting that I will drown?

  I arrange my features into a smile. My lips start to quiver but still I stretch them into a wide, insanely bright smile. I can't let them see how scared I am. It will only heighten their excitement and pleasure.

  I look down at the clear water below my dangling feet. I blink hard as my toes dip into the water, and start to hyperventilate. No, no, this won't do. Calm down, Zoey, take deep breaths. Pace yourself.

  Forcing deep breaths into my lungs as I am being lowered deeper and deeper into the water, I prepare my mind and body for the last breath I will take before the water level rises above my mouth and nose.

  The water tickles my chin, lapping at my lips. This is it. Tilting my head up, I gulp in a huge breath and hold it as I am submerged totally in the water. The harne
ss is released and the wires retract rapidly. The glass lid slides shut above my head, sealing me in the illuminated column.

  My life is now in my hands, in my head. I gaze at the watery blur around me, and see my costume start to dissolve. My body paint seems to explode into a myriad of electrifying colors in the water. I wonder how I look to the audience. Like a firework maybe? The effect should be quite dazzling.

  The Dazzling Drowning Damsel in Distress.

  Haha, but wrong!

  Way wrong!

  I am not drowning. And I am not in distress.

  I am fine.

  I am just...

  My hands flail around and slap at the glass surface. It is getting difficult to see, and think of anything else but my need to breathe. I puff out my cheeks, refusing to open my mouth. The rainbow colored paint spiraling off my body clouds my vision and disorientates me. I can't see anything anymore. Not the bubbles escaping from my nose and mouth, not the murky water, not the lights staring up from the rotating stage. Nothing.

  I can feel my body start to shake violently as I fight the urge to open my mouth and my lungs. I know that once I start to gasp and swallow, I won't be able to stop. Water will just gush into my body, pour unstoppably into my lungs. I won't give in. I won't give up.

  Weakly, I move my legs, kicking myself to the top of the column. Reaching up blindly, my hand knocks against the solid surface. The glass lid is still in place. How much longer? I try to look down at my body but I see nothing. Surely my costume would have dissolved completely by now?

  My fists start to bang against the lid as my lungs burn horribly in my chest. I am afraid that I am going to explode any instant now. Let me out!

  Suddenly, my fists smash above the surface of the water and into the air. I surface with a loud gasp, spluttering and choking. Something brushes my shoulder and I let out a shriek, but when I blink, I see the black leather strap. I grasp it with all my might, sobbing uncontrollably. It is the swing. My ride out of this hell.

  I am not sure how I managed to sit securely on that leather swing, considering how hard I am sobbing and heaving. But when my senses have returned sufficiently for me to be aware of my surroundings, I find myself blinking into the spotlights as I sway in the air, moving inexorably towards the revolving stage.

  I stumble off the swing and Mr Toni grips my elbow to steady me. He directs me to a spot at the front of the stage and I sag to my knees. There is a deafening buzz in my ear, and my eyes don't seem to be working. Everything is zooming in and out of focus, and I seem to be seeing double or triple. The lights look magnified, and the figures and shapes in the audience look bigger and more misshapen.

  I close my eyes and just concentrate of my breathing. Air, precious, glorious air. That is all I need, all I want for now.

  When I feel someone touching my arm lightly, I snap my eyes open with a start. I exhale a shaky breath, relieved to find that I have been placed beside Pam. Pam tilts her head towards me and asks under her breath, “You okay?”

  My eyes round as I glance over my shoulder at the churning column of water.

  “Yeah.” I attempt a smile at Pam.

  She gives me a quick smile back, then looks blankly out at the shadowy audience. I follow her gaze, blinking and squinting against the spotlights. I can vaguely make out some faces and dark, gleaming eyes. There are men in military uniforms smoking in the front row. Further back, I see a few expensive suits and ties.

  I can see the red glow of cigarettes all around the Pit but I can't see the hands holding the cigarettes, much less the faces smoking them.

  I am guessing there are around twenty patrons here in the Pit tonight.

  A shrill whistle blows and immediately the girls shift to their rehearsed position with their hands cupping their breasts. I do the same, my eyes roaming across the expanse of the Pit as the stage makes a full revolution. Another whistle, and I lower my butt to the stage floor and spread my legs wide. The stage rotates slowly and I can feel eyes raking down my body, appraising and appreciating my shaven pussy. The heat creeps up my neck, and I suddenly wonder if I can do this. Can I let any of these repulsive men touch me and penetrate me? I feel I am betraying Jaxon, yet it is because of Jaxon that I am doing this.

  As we change position again and I bend down to grab my ankles, I wonder if Jaxon will hate me. What if I was the one who had gone missing, and Jaxon had to fuck other women to save me? Would he do it? Would I hate him for doing it?

  My chest constricts painfully as the whistle sounds again, and I blindly follow the other girls and arch my back. I won't hate him, but I will hate the other women. My whirling thoughts send a sharp stab of jealousy and a jolt of hatred through my heart. I already hate these imaginary women. I hate these phantom women with a vengeance so fierce, I would claw out their eyes, and scratch out their lips and rent their bodies in half—eyes which I imagine have drunk in Jaxon's powerful, naked body, lips that have tasted his and bodies that have been pleasured by his skilful hands and mouth. I will hate these women so much!

  As I strike the final pose, with my fingers laced at the back of my head and my breasts jutting out proudly for the patrons' inspection, I feel almost giddy and exhausted from my wild conjectures and imaginings.

  I blow out a painful breath and shake my head. What the hell am I doing? I am being stupid, that's what. Messing with my own mind, when I should be messing with theirs.

  I shake my head hard, in a futile attempt to clear it.

  It must be the lack of oxygen.

  Being underwater for too long, with my air supply cut off for so long has wrecked havoc on my senses.

  Stay alert, Zoey, stay sane. I ball my fists. Not Zoey. Ana! Ana, damn it!

  Some of the patrons are beginning to rise from their seats.

  The red lanterns above start to glow brighter, and I blink the moving figures into focus. All the patrons are wearing black satin masks, obscuring the top half of their faces. Some are in tailored suits, while others are dressed less formally in jeans, long-sleeved shirts and cowboy boots. Yet others wear nothing but chains and sashes on the top half of their bodies. This looks like a bizarre costume party, where anyone can come as anyone else.

  Mr Toni adjusts his shimmering white suit and runs a hand over his bald head as he takes off his pink top hat. “And now, gentlemen, please take your pick. The ladies are ripe for your picking!” he announces, waving his hat at us.

  The men in cowboy boots and hats at the front booths are the first to move forward and walk round the stage slowly. When they see a girl they want, they reach out and tap her on the shoulder. The girl rises mutely and walks down the stage to stand behind them. Some of the men choose more than one girl, and once they are satisfied with their selection, they fasten leather collars around the girls' necks, leash the girls and herd them out of the Pit.

  A man wearing black jeans and a silk red shirt with ruffles in front walks up to the stage. His small, black eyes shift constantly behind his mask, and his oily, black hair is combed neatly to one side. He is not very tall, with thick arms and legs. There is a heavy gold chain hanging round his neck, and his stubby fingers are adorned with precious gems. A twisted band of silver and gold is wrapped around his left wrist. He raises an arm and I see that even his cuff links are diamond studded.

  Ostentatious. Obviously showing off his wealth.

  It seems it is true then. Money can't buy good taste.

  He strolls around the stage with a deliberate, exaggerated gait. A group of men in military uniforms have already selected the girls they want, and moved off, but still this man is lingering, strolling up and down, rubbing this chin as he slowly circles the stage.

  There are less than a dozen of us left kneeling on the stage. Another cigar-chomping man in a purple turban taps the trembling brunette on my right and snaps his fingers impatiently. As Jennifer moves off, I spot Kylee kneeling a few feet from me.

  The man stops in front of me and I avert my eyes quickly. Don't choose me, don't
choose me!

  He stretches out a finger. And taps Pam on the shoulder.

  My head jerks up as Pam rises silently to her feet. Before I can mouth something to her, the man gives a throaty laugh, and points at me. “I want you as well.”

  I snap my eyes to him. He gives me a smirk, taps my shoulder with more force than necessary and strolls to Kylee. “And...you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The man holds our leashes in one hand and saunters out of the Pit.

  I stumble after Pam and Kylee, as the man leads us out into the shadowy corridor. He seems to know his way about the Red Lantern very well, so he must be a VIP, a Very Important Patron.

  We turn a corner and the man sweeps a beaded curtain aside with one hand. I duck through the tinkling curtain and almost trip down the winding flight of stone steps. The shiny beads and crystals wink and blink in the dim lighting, like hundreds of soulless eyes strung up on light, transparent strings to watch our descent.

  Emerging from the stairwell, we walk past rows of translucent sliding doors. The doors are plain, with no ornaments or decorations on the frosted glass save for a single black number. Striding up to the door marked with the number five, the man taps a gold card at the plasma panel at the side and a small green light blinks twice. A soft click is heard, and the man pulls the door open for us in an exaggerated show of gallantry. “After you, ladies,” he purrs.

  I step across the threshold and hear the door slide shut behind me. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I see the red light come on at the plasma panel, activating the lock with a click. The man pushes past me with a low chuckle, and calls out, “Take your pick, my lovelies. Choose your poison, or rather your pain.”