The Club

by Steele, Suzanne

  For the first time from the days of hearing fairytales that promised me happily ever afters, the raw knowledge of reality crashes down on me. Sometimes happily ever afters hurt…

  “Don’t ever mistake my love for weakness. I. Will. Hurt. You.” His voice breaks through my thoughts, confirming what I already know to be true.

  He searches my face, glaring into my eyes to see if the seriousness of his words is registering with me. He leans in and though he whispers in my ear, the malice in his softly spoken threat is unmistakable.

  “I’ll whip your ass every time you get out of line, girl, and we both know you will get out of line!”

  He whispers in my ear once again, “I want to hear that growl, girl. Come for me, baby.”

  Over and over, he plays my body like a masterful puppeteer. Though I am not, nor will I ever be, a woman who submits to a man’s every whim, in this bedroom, my husband dominates my body like he owns it and I guess, in a way, he does. Sated, satisfied, and resigned to the fact that I am bonded to a killer, I drift off to sleep after a night of lovemaking with my prince of darkness.

  I wake up in the morning to the sight of my husband’s glare. It’s almost as if he summoned me from a deep sleep with his stare alone.

  Oh shit, Mr. Unpredictable is pissed.

  “Go to the bathroom and get your ass showered, Roxanne!”

  I wash my hair in the shower as I think of my plight. I probably understand my husband more than he understands himself. His mood swings and bouts of anger are often times due to his inner turmoil and he just doesn’t know it. Tony is all about control and emotions are the hardest thing to restrain or even regulate.

  I am deep in thought when Antonio rips the shower curtain open.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He grabs a handful of my hair and I immediately feel the moistening between my legs that his dominance stimulates in my body. My husband is as unpredictable as the sea and just as dangerous. He’s calm one moment and a raging storm of emotion the next.

  I see his mouth form into a sadistic smile as he looks at me with knowing eyes. “My wife’s pussy gets soaking wet when I come around.”

  My breathing becomes sporadic and I can feel the small tremors in my body as every nerve is alerted of my husband’s presence. My body never ceases to respond to the sensual fear he induces and his ability to know my motivations and intents. I have never been subjected to a man who is honestly interested in what makes me tick. This man is not only interested but obsessed with every move I make and every response I have. He is as unpredictable as the weather and he is my storm in waiting. Inside this man, who has mastered looking like he is in complete control, is a raging tsunami. This man—this conundrum—I am unable to piece together in a legitimate form of understanding wants to know every detail of my inner workings and I am flattered.

  He pulls at my hair, growling into my ear, “Get your hands up over your head, now!”

  I raise my arms up and eye him, trying to get a read on his mood as he slips his hand between my legs and seductively whispers, “Is your pussy wet?”

  “Yes, you know it is.”

  “You little wannabe runaway, your ass is collared, leashed, and kneeling at my feet. I own you!”

  “Antonio, you are going to make me come if you don’t stop playing in the folds of my pussy.”

  He continues what he is doing, never taking his eyes off of me. Those black, piercing eyes that hold so much passion and danger, they always mesmerize me.

  “Ahhhh, ahh,” I moan out, pressing my body against the shower wall.

  His lips crash down on my mouth as he enters me. His groans and whispers of how much he loves me escape his lips in between passionate kisses.

  I will never tire of this man. He has taken the broken pieces of my heart and managed to piece them back together one by one. Though they are cracked and damaged, they are whole in a beautiful form of disarray and dysfunction. Though I am still fractured, I am no longer shattered. I am his, he is mine, and together, we are one…

  Roxanne

  I wait until Antonio is gone before I sneak into his office and grab the key to his gun cabinet. I quietly unlock it and grab a tactical, pump action shotgun so I can practice my slide action abilities. I begin making my way down to the outdoor range when I hear Alexis running behind me and yelling my name.

  “Roxanne, Roxanne…”

  It sounds more like “Roxaaaaaaannnnne” due to her southern drawl. Maybe that is why the girl makes so much money. I never considered her accent to be a drawing card with the men. I come to the conclusion that it is an agglomeration of things bundled up in one big Barbie doll of a dancer that turns them on.

  When she finally catches up to me, she’s completely out of breath. “Roxanne, you’re crazy. Listen… I got something to tell you.”

  I turn, looking down at her four-inch heels, and just say one word, “Seriously?”

  “Well, I had no idea you were going to be trudging through the dirt in cowboy boots with a gun or I would have dressed appropriately.”

  I return her stare while she glares at me with her hand on her hip as if she is actually awaiting an answer. When she sees she isn’t going to get one she continues.

  “Guess what? Tony is getting rid of that bitch, Anna.”

  I pump the gun in a slide action manner and raise it to shoot at the target, which is a bale of hay with a bull’s eye on it.

  “I can get rid of the bitch for him.”

  She continues, ignoring my sarcasm.

  “He called that man named Bucky who runs that club in Texas and gave her to him.”

  “Did he put a bow on the bitch and giftwrap her?” I ask as I pull the trigger, making Alexis jump.

  “Damn it, Roxanne, stop it. You’re scaring me.”

  “You should be scared, very scared.”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  I turn to face her and take the ear defenders from my head. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Aren’t you glad she’s leaving?”

  “I’m glad Tony had enough sense to get rid of her before I kill her.”

  We both look up when we see a dually truck drive in. I look up at the office window and I can vaguely see my husband standing in the window with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

  “Come on, I want you to meet Bucky,” she giggles, pulling me by the arm.

  We make our way back up to the castle and I eye the man standing before me. He is a long, lean 6’2” with shoulder length, blonde hair, stark blue eyes, and a smile that lights up a room.

  “Well, aren’t you just the prettiest looking tomboy I’ve ever laid eyes on? Why you look just as cute as can be in those jeans and cowboy boots… and a gun to boot. You want to go with me too?”

  I blow a piece of hair out of my eyes that has come loose from the ponytail I’m wearing. I strain my neck to look and study the cowboy before me.

  “No Sir, I don’t… I’m trying to get as far away from that girl you came to get as I can before somebody gets hurt, or worse yet, killed.”

  He lets out a belly laugh that causes me to smile.

  “Alexis, go get Anna.” I hear Antonio Wayne’s voice cut through the air like razors.

  “Gladly,” she mutters under her breath.

  “And you…” he turns looking at me, “get that gun put back where it goes.”

  I bounce towards the door and turn, eyeing Bucky, “It was nice to meet you, Sir.”

  “It was real nice to meet you too, young lady.”

  I make my way up the stairs as Anna is coming down and I can’t help but relish in the fear she has in her eyes at the sight of me with a gun. It serves the bitch right. She started it when she set her sights on my husband.

  I grab the keys from Tony’s desk and put the shotgun back up in the gun safe. I make my way over to the large window and watch Bucky drive off with Anna already sidled up close beside him. This works for me; she gets the boss she so d
esperately wanted and I get to escape spending the rest of my life in prison for killing her…

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Antonio Wayne

  I eye Roxanne after I strap her ass down on an ob-gyn table and, I must say, she looks delicious. I wasted no time getting her into the position I wanted. As soon as Bucky pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed her arm like a fucking madman, marched her in here, and tied her ass down. My wife is a drug I crave like a hopeless junky. I make my way to the head of the table and grab a handful of hair, forcing her to look in my direction. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

  “Anna should be thanking you for saving her life or, at very least, from the beat down of a lifetime.”

  “You’re so jealous.”

  “Yeah, like you aren’t?”

  “You’re property. I have a right to be jealous.”

  “Fuck you, Tony!”

  I jerk at the handful of hair I have fisted in my large hand. “Where are your manners, Roxanne?” I bend down to get in her face and my voice is that of sadistic predator. “The name is Sir. In my fucking dungeon, it’s Sir. I wonder… did you have any idea that you were wired differently. Have you always been drawn to men who enjoy taking a woman? Did you root for the villain as a little girl? Did you toss prince charming aside because your wicked little mind was sickened by his offerings of sweet champagne and roses? I… am your knight in dark, shining, and wickedly laden armor—armor with shards that cut into your deepest and most hidden wants and desires. I am the happily ever after in your twisted, tormented tale of your Cinder-fuckin-rella dreams.”

  I watch her eyes glaze over with lust as I pin her down with the truth of my words, reading her as if she is my open book. She is my wife, the love of my life, my everything. I will kill, maim, and annihilate anyone who attempts to awaken my sleeping beauty. She dwells here in my castle for my pleasure.

  “Who do you belong to?”

  “You,” she answers with no hesitation.

  Her breathing has become labored and her groans have become agonized. Oh, I do so love to torment my little princess.

  “I’ll never let you go, Roxanne!”

  I make my way to the end of the table and sit on a stool with rollers much like a doctor would use. I open a drawer and retrieve a dildo and heated jelly. My actions are slow and methodical, designed to build her level of anxiety along with the anticipation she’s feeling.

  One stroke through her folds confirms what I knew would be true—she is already wet for me.

  “This is how I like to see you… open and vulnerable—open and vulnerable to me. There is nothing I enjoy more than playing on the playground of your psyche while I subject your body to all manner of ecstasy. I crave access to every part of your being, my love. Owning you is about so much more than locking you in a cage.”

  I slowly slide the dildo into her and watch as she begins to moan and move her hips, trying to fuck it.

  “This is why I tie you down… Your pain and your pleasure belong to me. I’m in no hurry when it comes to you. I’m taking my time and gluing the pieces of your shattered heart back together so I can have the biggest piece. I want all of it. There may be cracks, scars, and slivers, but your heart belongs to me. We are two twisted souls inhabiting a dark fairytale of obsession and dysfunction but, nonetheless, we are in love.”

  I lean in, blowing a soft breath across her clit. “I love you, my twisted and tainted little princess. I will hold you here in my castle for the rest of your days.”

  I lean in and, with master precision, begin to slowly plunge the dildo in and out of her as I gently lick and probe her clit with my tongue and teeth. I watch in fascination as I purposely send her over the edge of the abyss of pleasure.

  I stand up and open a section of the table that allows me greater access between her legs. I push my cock slowly into her and watch as her bound hands repeatedly clench, opening and then closing into tight fists. I begin running my thumb around her soaked opening so I can feel my cock go in and out of her. I love taking this woman of mine—filling her with all I am and all I have to give.

  “Who do you belong to, Roxanne?”

  “I belong to you, only to you…”

  Epilogue

  I’m certain there are those of you who will never understand my twisted tale of love. My husband’s love for me is an intense obsession and a darkly obscured portrayal of need. The secret lies within the truth that I need to be needed. There is no love for me if there is no obsession. I’m a different breed than most women. I cannot be wooed with champagne and roses… I must be taken with fetish-laced dominance. That’s where my fascination lies.

  This is my family now. These girls are now a part of my life and I have no intentions of ever leaving this group that society deems as outcasts. My husband has managed to take my fucked up, broken life and make something beautiful out of it. I can’t just walk away from that.

  I know we’re taught as little girls to believe in knights in shining armor but I need no man to rescue me. Antonio Wayne is my dark knight and he is just what I need to complete my fucked up version of happily ever after…

  There is no end for a story like this that tells of a love so rare and of such great magnitude, most will never experience it in their lifetime. If and when we make our voices heard through the thoughts of whomever we use to write our story, well, then… another segment will be written. We are voices in the portal to eternity and when we cry out with the agony of our love, we will be heard…For now, this is the End…

  From the author: My stories do not end in the traditional manner that many do. The love that the characters share with one another is an obsession that never ends. Therefore, there can be no traditional end to the telling of their tales.

  Though I leave you with no cliffhanger, I always leave a story open for continuation because, in my world, I never know when my characters’ voices will begin calling to me to write of their agonized journeys again. I never know how you, as a reader, will respond to characters but I remain true to their personalities even when one has a broken mold. I remain true to the character, their story, the art of the written word, and I remain true to you as a reader…

  Roxanne and Antonio Wayne got their happily ever after, though perhaps not in the traditional manner. If they beckon me to write of them as they continue their journey, you will be the first to know. I can only be true to myself as I write and I hope that it resonates with you because even though I may never see you face to face, we are bonded together through this fucked up tale of obsession and need…

  Yours truly: Suzanne Steele

  Prologue: Rubia

  Ricardo smoked a cigarette, watching his wife while she slept. He let his mind drift back to the first time he ever laid eyes on her.

  He was standing in the rafters of a large warehouse.

  His troop’s moral had been low so he had arranged for two American, female cage fighters to be brought in. He remembers that the girls had behaved as if they were strangers.

  Bets were placed and Juanita had won the crowd over as she flitted, flirted, wiggled, and giggled with all of the soldiers.

  Ricardo observed her from the rafters and he was humored with her. She stood at almost six feet tall, had long blonde curls, and the figure of an athlete who took her workouts seriously.

  As humored as he was, he watched her little scam unfold right before his eyes. Juanita was throwing the fight.

  Nobody else would have caught it but Ricardo was not just anybody. He was a trained military intelligence officer who had excelled in his career.

  Ricardo had grown up in the slums of Colombia and had resorted to running drugs at a very young age.

  His reputation for his ability to profile and interrogate the competition was so well known that when the military got Intel on him, instead of prosecuting him, they recruited him.

  Between Ricardo’s street sense and his military training, very little got past him.

  After taking the tim
e to profile her as she worked the ring, he separated the girls to interrogate them.

  He would question Juanita, but Roxanne was being escorted to New York to marry his little brother, Antonio Wayne.

  He solidified in his mind that retribution was to be paid and that restitution would constitute marriage to the brothers.

  Juanita was left to sit in a room alone in order to purposely build anticipation.

  When Ricardo felt that she had been left alone long enough to ‘ponder’ her misdeeds, he entered, pulling up a chair and turning it around to fold his arms along the back of it.

  “That is quite the scam that you have going there, Juanita.” Ricardo sat looking at her intently as if waiting for an answer.

  Juanita folded her arms in defiance, “I don’t have a clue what you are referring to.”

  “Okay, maybe a night in jail will jar you from your false state of dimwittedness.”

  “You can’t take me to jail!” Juanita jumped, lunging at him full force.

  “You little bitch!” he said, grabbing and shaking her like a ragdoll. “You cost me a lot of money!”

  Juanita was right in his face when he noted that she suddenly became distracted. She began to study his face as she chewed on her bottom lip. He held her with one hand and turned, whistling towards the door for the doctor to come and sedate her.

  Sleep eluded him that night and many nights after. Every time he closed his eyes and attempted it, he saw her face and it haunted him.

  It took Juanita three weeks before she broke down and agreed to begin her new life as his wife.