by M Dauphin
Every day I’ve been here I’ve been woken, showered, fed, and shoved back in my room with my guard. The first few days I refused to eat, but then my will to survive kicked in and I accepted the dry, tasteless energy they fed me. My guard doesn’t talk to me. He glares at me when I start pacing and he always stops me from going too close to the door. After he made me pass out that night I’ve had a gnarly bruise on my throat and it hurt to swallow for a few days so I’m not about to try that maneuver again. My days have been pretty mind numbingly boring, actually. I don’t know who has me. I don’t know what happened outside my door that day. I don’t think I’ll ever know, really. I’m certain there’s no one out there that’s coming to my rescue. My mind has been playing tricks on me lately, thinking I’m seeing things that I’m not, so I chalk it up to an illusion…even if it was clear as day Knox’s voice. The one time I tried to fight back I was knocked out…I haven’t given up I just have to be smarter about it.
It’s getting to the point where I just want to get it over with. Whatever they’re keeping me here for…I want it over. I can’t spend the rest of my life living in solitude in a basement. I think it’s only been around a week, the marks on the wall say so, but I’m not certain. With no windows and no telling what time of day it is, I have no way of tracking time. I guess that might be a good thing, not knowing how long you’ve been gone with no one looking for you.
A bell brings my attention back to the present and suddenly there’s something being drug across my skin. It’s spiky and running up my leg. A moan from somewhere in front of me makes me jerk at the restraints. Jesus Christ it’s a sex club. I’m not stupid, I’ve read the books. I know places like this really exist. How can someone get off on this?! I want to scream out for someone to help me, but the gag in my mouth is stopping me.
The man walks over and takes the gag out of my mouth, pushing a small earpiece into my ear. A voice comes to life.
“Don’t make a sound, Harper,” the woman says. It’s the blonde woman. The one that took me. “The louder you are, the more you’ll regret it. People aren’t here to hear you scream in resistance, they just want to watch. Let them watch.” She purrs like she’s not doing anything wrong right now.
“Fuck you,” I whisper so only she can hear me.
Suddenly a crack cuts through the silence and sends searing pain down my inner right thigh. I cry out and another hit happens on my left. He’s hitting me with a whip! I can feel the tassels falling from my leg but this time I don’t cry out. Every time the whip comes in contact with my skin I grit my teeth a little more, trying my hardest not to make noise.
The louder you are, the more you’ll regret it.
I’d rather not know how bad I would regret it. As it is I think I’m still wearing panties, I’d like to keep it that way.
He continues his torture, gently trailing the tassels of the whip up and over my panties, then up to my breasts. I hate that my nipples are pebbling from the gentle touch. I hate that people are watching my body respond to something like this. Do they not know I’m a prisoner here?! This isn’t willing, people!
“Good girl,” her voice comes into my ear again and I wish I could rip out this earpiece and break it into a thousand tiny pieces. “Almost done.”
The man at the table, who from what I can see has tattoos running up and down his arms, has moved to the side of me. His hands, warm with some type of liquid, come down on my stomach and start massaging me.
Everywhere.
“No,” I whisper, trying to wriggle out of the restraints. “No!” I yell, forgetting all rules when his hands reach my breasts. He pushes me back to the table and squeezes hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.
This isn’t supposed to be happening. Wherever I am…this can’t be happening!
I hear a few louder voices in the crowd…a man moans in the background and a lady sighs.
No.… No, please no.
His fingers start playing my nipples and I curse myself for even remotely thinking it feels good. This sick fucking bastard.
I pinch my mouth shut and squeeze my eyes closed, trying to block everything out. I can feel the nerves running through my body, making me shake from fear. His hands roam my body and every now and then I hear a moan come from him. I can’t open my eyes for fear of what I’ll see.
How is this happening to me?
My breaths come in short gasps, my mind starts swimming as I’m violated in ways I never imagined in front of a crowd of people.
I need this to end.
With tears streaming down my face, I hear a bell and suddenly all contact leaves me. He’s not even standing by me anymore and I breathe a sigh of relief…but not too much relief.
I know this isn’t over.
As the table starts to shift, I feel a pinch in my neck again and everything goes black.
“You pushed her too far on the first night.”
I hear her voice through the fog but I refuse to open my eyes.
If I don’t open them they don’t know I’m awake and they can’t hurt me anymore.
Maybe they’ll just leave me here to die.
“I did exactly as I was told,” a voice growls.
“I never said to make her cry. Patrons don’t want to see that shit.”
I fucking knew it.
“Not my fault you picked a weak one.”
“I DIDN’T PICK HER!” The woman screams before storming off, the click of her heels loud in the silent room.
I hear a man chuckle when she’s gone and immediately tense up. This is the man that was with me on stage. This is the man that touched me in ways I’ll never be able to wash off my skin.
Rage is burning inside me and I’m trying not to cry, but the memories of what happened to me bring the tears back to the surface.
I’m not fucking weak…
“Get up,” he barks, making my eyes fly open. “Shower. You stink.” He throws a bar of soap at me as I slowly sit up from the bed. Whatever they knocked me out with earlier is still buzzing through my system.
“Up! Now!” he barks, startling me. He’s bald, muscular, and full of tattoos.
I glare at him, wanting nothing but to spit angry words at him but I save my energy.
When the door to the bathroom slams I mutter under my breath “Fucker.”
Maybe I am weak after all.
After turning on the water and waiting for it to run at least luke warm, I step into the shower and immediately regret it.
“Shit,” I hiss as the water runs down my thighs.
I look down and see the welts on my thighs. Red, angry, raised marks mar my thighs from where he hit me earlier.
All because I made a noise.
Next time I need to be silent.
Listen to me…next time! Am I already that far gone that I’ve resigned to this being my life? I’m just going to sit here and accept the fact that this is going to happen to me normally now?
The bar of soap in my hand gets a good workout as I try to scrub this evening off of me. Once clean, I give my entire body another once over, trying to wash away the memories of what I was just put through. By the end of my shower my skin is red and burning; the welts on my thighs feel like they should be bleeding already. I wish they were.
I wish I could just end this so I don’t have to go through that again.
I know that’s not an option though.
Fuck, I need to get out of here.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I don’t even recognize myself anymore. My skin is pale, there are dark circles under my eyes. Not a big surprise since I’ve been held in a basement for god knows how long. I can tell I’ve already lost weight…Jesus Christ is this what I’m letting myself turn into?
No.
I won’t.
I won’t become that weak girl that was hidden away from society for years.
Looking around the bathroom, all I see is the bare minimum.
And then my eyes hit the mirror.
Glass.
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After a quick glance at the door, I start working on the mirror. If I can loosen it from the wall I can get a piece of it off without having to shatter it. The less noise the better.
The minute I hear the pop from the wall there’s a loud banging at the door.
“Get the fuck outta there, this isn’t a spa!” The guard starts unlocking the door and I rapidly wrap a towel around myself before the door swings open.
I glare at him as he takes me by the arm and pulls me out of the bathroom.
Please don’t notice the mirror, please don’t notice the mirror.
He deposits me back in the bedroom and I beeline away from him, straight to my bed.
“Wait…where are my clothes?” I start searching the bed. Nothing. “They were here when I left!” I spin to glare at him but he’s just grinning.
He shrugs at me and winks, then slams the door closed.
“Fuck!” I need my clothes! “Give me my goddamned clothes!” My banging on the door goes unnoticed, at least to anyone that matters.
I have to get out of here.
I can’t go through that again.
Pacing the room, I try to calm my nerves but as soon as I start to calm down I hear the lock disengage on the door. My eyes grow wide and I tighten the towel around my body, standing frozen in the middle of the room.
As the door open, I hear her before I see her.
The click of her heels.
“Harper,” she purrs, practically floating into the room. Perfect, mother fucking cunt bag bitch.
“What the hell do you want with me?” I hate there’s a quiver in my voice. I can’t show fear around her. She feeds off fear.
“Cooperation, Harper.” She chuckles. “That’s all. I just need your cooperation.”
“I’ve never played well with other girls,” I growl. She grins, then shrugs.
She walks closer to me as I stiffen from her proximity. With a quick swipe, she’s removed the towel from around me and shoves me against the wall. Her hand finds my breast and she grins. She’s so close I can feel her breath on me. Her eyes, hardened in a way I’ve never seen before, locked on mine as she continues to play with my nipple.
Fuck this needs to stop.
“Stop, please,” I whimper, feeling so betrayed by my own body right now. How can that feel good…how could my body even think that’s ok to do?!
“You’ll learn,” she says. “In due time you’ll be begging for it.”
“Like hell I will,” I spit out. As soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret them. Her hand comes across my face, hard.
“It’s going to take much more conditioning before she’s ready,” she says to a man standing at the door. Her heels start clicking against the hard floors and I soon hear my door locked tight again.
Never. I will never give her what she wants.
Even if I die trying.
Beep
Beep
Beep
The monitor’s consistent beeping is nagging at me. It’s been nagging at me since the day they put me in this hellhole.
A hospital. Hah!
This isn’t anywhere near where I should be right now. I should be breaking down that mother fucking door to get to my girl. I shouldn’t be sitting here waiting to be discharged after a fucking week of sitting here to heal.
All I did was threaten the doctors that I was going to murder them and run out of this goddamned room if they didn’t let me go and boom, guard posted at my door 24/7 for the last week. I understand completely what happened to me was bad. I understand the bullet from the gun nicked the femoral vein in my leg. I totally get I lost a fuck ton of blood…but I’m alive and I have no clue if she is anymore.
It’s driving me nuts just sitting here, not doing anything.
I’d be able to tell the cops all about it…that is, if I wanted my club shut down. Do I want them investigating in my club, where I know for a fact there’s a fuck ton of illegal activities going on? No.
No, I definitely do not.
At the very least, I’m happy they brought me outside before they called for an ambulance.
I can still hear her voice in my head.
“I’m sorry, Knox,” Kayla’s cries are annoying me and the rage I once had at the guard is now being projected onto her.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I grumble, attempting to stand.
He shot me so good that I blacked out for a minute, and when I woke up he was tossing me on the ground just outside the club. Mother fucking twat is going down as soon as I get to my gun.
“Knox you’re not going to make it…you have to let me stop the bleeding.” I think she’s crying…or trying to, at least. Good.
“Let her out of that room, Kayla,” I rasp, unable to move anymore.
“I… No.” She stands up and puts her hands on her hips, glancing at me like I’m stupid. “No, I don’t think I’m going to do that.” Her voice isn’t what it was just a few moments ago. Now it’s strong, forceful, and filled with greed. This woman is fucking insane.
When I woke up in the hospital I was strapped to this goddamn bed and I haven’t been out since. They told me when I woke up from surgery I punched out a guard and tried running away, simply to fall the minute I got out of my bed.
In order to make sure I heal properly, they took the highest precautionary measures and strapped me to the bed AND posted a mother fucking guard outside.
“Alright, here we are,” the nurse smiles as she walks into the room and I’m sure she’s hoping to get my number. They always do, and typically I wouldn’t mind a piece of ass from a girl like her, but my mind has been rooted in one spot lately, and I’m going to go mother fucking insane if I can’t get back to her and make sure she’s safe.
“’Bout time,” I grumble, standing up. There’s a nagging ache in my leg, but the painkillers I’m on dull it out to bearable.
“Just sign here, and here,” she says, pointing to the paperwork. I scribble my barely legible name and grab the prescription she hands me.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
On the way out to the car I call John to head over from the back of the parking lot. He’s been waiting for hours for this fucking hospital to get their shit together. He brought me a new phone and has been taking care of all my personal shit. Being that my car was totaled and all my shit lost in the accident just hours before I was shot, I’m sure that hasn’t been an easy feat.
Per hospital regulation, the nurse has to wheel me out the front door and I feel like a mother fucking fool. I have a limp. My leg still works perfectly fine, it’s just sore.
I still can’t believe Kayla called the ambulance when she did. Of course they asked questions, and of course she knew taking me away would mean she gets her plaything for longer. It was filed as an ‘accident’ for the police report. The gun in my waistband went off on accident and I slid it back in and attempted to walk to the car and get myself to the hospital on my own. I failed.
All of that’s made up, obviously, but I couldn’t have them involving police and snooping around my club.
“Hey boss,” John says, smiling at me as the nurse locks the wheels so I can stand. With slight assistance I manage to get up and not fall completely over.
John rushes to my side and helps me to the car.
“This mine?” I arch an eyebrow at him and he nods once.
“It’s amazing how fast the insurance company comes through when you add in a little club membership to sweeten the deal.” He winks and I shake my head.
Good god I hope this club opens up or I’m going to owe a fuck ton of people favors.
Sliding into the car, arranging my leg where it isn’t a pain in the ass, John gets in and buckles up.
“Hope it’s ok,” he says, starting the engine.
“Perfect,” I mumble, itching to get to the club. “Have you heard anything?”
“Uh…” He pauses before switching the car into drive, then hits the gas and takes off.
“John?
We just talked an hour ago. What happened?”
“I finally heard back from my source in Springfield.” He nods.
I had him get in contact with a very close, very closed lip source I have back at the original club. With me in the hospital and John having to run the St. Louis club we needed someone there to make sure Kayla wasn’t using Harper on stage.
“And what did he have to say?”
“She was there last night,” he mumbles, turning the corner and feigning attention to the road.
“There?” I growl, ready to explode all over this brand new car.
“On stage, sir.”
“Mother fucker!” I slam my fist against the dash but it does nothing for the rage.
“Take me there, now,” I growl.
“Sir, I th—”
“Get on the mother fucking road and take me there, John! Or you’re fired and I’m finding someone else to do it!” I bellow.
He silently nods and makes his way towards the club.
“Where’s my gun?” I’d hate to have to stop and buy a new one somewhere on this short of notice, but I have ways of doing it if I have to.
“Behind your seat.” His eyes are focused on the road and I see the tense jaw, but he’s at least on his way to the club.
“Good.”
I’m ending this once and for all. Kayla won’t stop me this time. This time there’s no turning back. I need Harper out of there before they do anything else to her.
“What’s your plan?” John finally speaks up. The entire drive so far he’s been silent, focusing on the road and probably trying to figure a way out of this. He’s never been one for confrontation so I know this is making him a nervous wreck. About forty minutes ago Leigh called to check in and I got an ass reaming like none other. He’s been a hot fucking mess since Harper went missing and the fact that he’s known that I’ve known where she is hasn’t helped his sanity. He threatened to go to the police, but my pocketbook silenced him. I know she’s there. I know Kayla wouldn’t ever kill anyone so I know she’s safe in that regard. I also know that when Kayla asked for a plaything, it was strictly someone she could train and play with…only making it to the stage if said person was willing.
