“What would you like to say to me, Angel?”
Twenty-four hours ago I would have thought of all sorts of cutting things I’d like to say to him, but with the shape I was in all I felt was glad that my punishment was over, and a deep desire to be in his good graces. My answer was immediate. “I’m sorry I disappointed you…Master. I’m sorry I cried.”
He gave me a brief, warm, affectionate smile.
“Take her back to the quarters and have her clean herself and the bucket,” Marco said.
With Luis on one side of me and Perla on the other, I walked naked out of the room, holding the bucket, my head lowered in absolute humility.
When we entered the quarters I went straight to the bathroom, ignoring the stare from Josef and the malicious giggle from Jin when she whispered, “Mira el culo!” Look at her ass!
Why did she hate me?
“I remember yours looking like that once.” Josef teased her in Spanish and Jin laughed.
I dumped the bucket in the toilet and flushed, then cleaned it in the sink, trying not to gag. Once I finished I turned the farthest shower on cold and stepped under it, wincing. I caught Josef leaning in the doorway, watching me with a worried expression. I dropped my eyes and when I looked back up he was gone.
Drying off was painful. A glimpse in the mirror showed ugly welts, the edges of some with tiny red blood blisters. The old me only knew how to deal with pain and emotional distress by crying and popping Motrin. That was no longer an option. I didn’t know how to deal now except to keep going.
Just keep going.
I wrapped the towel around myself and passed the others, going to my bed to lie down on my stomach and pass out until it was time for Mr. Creepy Voice to have his way with me. I couldn’t even bring myself to worry about what was in store for myself with him. I could only handle one horrible event at a time and I was currently maxed out.
I was woken by Josef some time later. I immediately tried to get up from where I lay on my stomach, and sucked in a gasping breath from the plethora of pain splicing across my backside.
“Shh…” Josef stilled me with a hand to my upper back. He then touched my collar, which was still slightly damp from the shower. “You can take this off when you come to the room.” He wasn’t wearing his. I nodded. From now on I’d take it off immediately up entering the slave quarters.
He reached down and gently nudged my face up, then brought his lips to mine. I froze with surprise, first at the fact that he was kissing me, opening my mouth with his, and second that he was pushing something into my mouth with his tongue. Just as quickly as the kiss began it ended, leaving behind a pill. I only hesitated a second before discreetly working it to the back of my throat and swallowing it. I had no idea what it was, but I didn’t think Josef would try to hurt me or steer me wrong.
He left me, going to the closet. The three girls were over there, too, getting ready. My stomach spun and dropped. Tonight… That man with the deep voice who got off on me being beaten. Oh, God. I didn’t want him to touch me.
Was this really going to be my life? Day after day of being raped by strange men? And even worse than rape because I would be expected to pretend to enjoy it. What if he expected me to be all sultry, like kissing down his body and giving him an elaborate blow job? The very idea of being an active participant made me want to puke.
I sat up, but my butt hurt too much, so I stood. Everything was sore now, and my head pounded. Perla called me over. I’d fallen asleep with the towel around me, so I adjusted it and went across the room.
Mia was sitting at the vanity dressed in her dominatrix ensemble, shiny black boots coming up to her thighs. Her brown hair was coifed in a perfect bob and she was applying make-up to stage perfection. She looked dangerously sexy with darkened eyes, the only splashes of color being across her high cheekbones and full lips. She saw me in the mirror and nodded. I nodded back, kind of intimidated by her awesomeness.
Jin came out of the closet wearing a black corset top and black mini skirt. She looked me up and down with a smirk and then lifted her hair, saying to Josef, “Lace me.”
With deft fingers he made her tiny waist appear even tinier. She winced at the tightness, but said nothing. When he finished she grinned a seductive smile and thanked him. He nodded and went in the clothing room to get ready. Jin frowned when she saw my eyes follow him.
Ah. So that was it. Did they have something going on? Or was it just Jin who had feelings? I couldn’t imagine them being allowed to have something, seeing as how we slaves weren’t even allowed to masturbate. I guess they didn’t want us wasting any of our valuable sexuality. Blech.
Perla, completely naked, pulled the towel off me and I let out a small sound, covering myself.
“No.” She stood in front of me and put her hands on my wrists, slowly bringing them down. “Es beautiful, sí?” She ran the backs of her fingers from my collarbones down my chest and over my breasts, making my nipples pucker, then down my stomach. Mine looked so small compared to hers, and my tummy seemed too rounded next to her flat one. Perla bent, and to my horror stared right at my crotch, then ran her fingers over the small patch of hair there. I gasped and stepped back.
“Es no too long. Okay for tonight.”
Out of curiosity I looked down and saw that she was smooth and hairless. Perla took my wrist and pulled me into the closet. I had a crazy urge to laugh at her openness, but I didn’t. Had it really only been a few days ago that laughter felt appropriate and normal?
Josef was in the corner in a black leather thong, a black studded collar, and matching cuffs around his wrists and ankles. His loose hair look like it’d been lightly gelled to tame it. He gave us a wink and strode from the closet. Was that his whole outfit? Wow.
Perla dug through dressers of stuff until she found a pair of black lace thongs for me and a sheer black negligee that was just loose enough not to hurt my back. I put them on, being careful not to move too fast—I was afraid of one of the welts opening and bleeding. Next, Perla found some black high heels for me. She put her foot up to mine and we had a moment of camaraderie when we found we wore the same size. And just as it had happened with Josef, I experienced a tenderness when I realized I really liked her. In all this mess, I was grateful to have her and Josef—two people who didn’t want to hurt me.
Perla put on a red bustier-styled negligee and red spike heels, then we did our hair. As I wound the fat curling iron around the brown strands of my hair I felt a wave of sad bitterness. Why should I try to make myself look pretty for this asshole?
Then I remembered the belt across my skin.
I would do my hair because Marco wanted me to. My arm suddenly felt too heavy, but I held it up until the last strand was curled.
I didn’t think I could ever have feelings of acceptance about this situation, or be content with my lot the way the others seemed to be. But I could fake it, just to get me through until I was rescued, and then I’d put it all behind me. It couldn’t be too much longer now…
When Luis came to get us, something strange happened. As each slave exited the quarters, they fell to their hands and knees and crawled. When it was my turn I did the same, feeling ridiculous as people stared when we passed. Some of the patrons stepped closer to examine each of us, like trying to decide which lobster to pick from the tank for dinner.
And then there were the humiliating titters regarding the state of my ass. I kept going, making eye contact with no one. I can do this. Keep control.
One good thing happened as we crawled across the house…whatever Josef had given me started to kick in. The stinging and heat on the back of my body seemed to sooth, and the burning against my knees as I crawled eased up. I felt almost buzzed, lightheaded, calmer.
I wished I could thank Josef and tell him that I freaking loved him.
Without fanfare we went our separate ways. I kept my head down, like I’d seen the others do, so I didn’t know where they went or with whom, but Luis stayed by my side and I f
ollowed at his feet down a narrow hall until we got to a room.
“Up,” Luis said.
He took me into a beautiful bedroom and my eyes went to the gigantic window as he led me around the four-poster bed. I hadn’t been allowed near any windows since I’d been there. I craned my neck to see the sunset sky and sparkling ocean. I wondered how it smelled out there— the Mediterranean air. Freedom…
“On the bed,” Luis said.
My nostalgia for the outdoors disappeared with a snap as I came back to reality, staring at the high bed. I started breathing harder. Luis nudged me. I crawled up and he climbed up, too, taking my wrists and telling me to lay down on my back. I did as he said, and though it stung and pulsated, I knew it wasn’t half as bad as it would’ve been without that pill.
Luis pulled out a chain attached to the headboard and clamped both of my wrists in it. The door opened and I instinctively brought my knees up. Marco walked in, closing the door behind himself.
Unease curled in my belly. Had there been a change? After having me beaten, did Marco want the honors of screwing me himself? I didn’t know which would be worse, him or Marco. And then I decided Marco would be worse. So far he hadn’t done anything to me himself, and I wanted to keep it that way.
He pulled a hip up onto the bed and looked me over. He touched the edge of my hip where one whelp ended.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, seeming concerned.
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.
“Yes, Master.”
I paused only briefly, remembering that after I’d been whipped I called him Master on instinct. The memory of how broken I’d been in that room this afternoon humiliated me.
“Yes, Master,” I said quietly.
He ran a hand over my arms, then my legs, speaking to me all the while.
“Your patron tonight is a very important man, Angel. Señor Feliz is a great supporter of my work and I don’t wish to upset him. He has been told of his limitations with you, and he is being watched. You are safe.”
My eyes darted around the room. The ceilings didn’t have any of those video camera domes. Marco chuckled.
“I wish my patrons to have a sense of privacy, but I must also protect what’s mine. Don’t you worry. Everyone is being watched at all times. Never forget that. Trust me to take care of you.”
He paused, watching me, so I said, “Yes, Master.” Although his idea of “taking care of me” was far from my idea.
“Bueno. Now. My rules for you are this: Never tell a patron no. Allow him to do whatever he wishes. If they are breaking a rule my people will swiftly intervene. Try to enjoy yourself, and if you don’t, pretend you do.” His fingers brushed over my nipples in the gauzy material, making them pucker and my breath quicken. My nerves were on high alert. “Eventually you will learn to enjoy the ease of your life here, Angel. My patrons will see you as a goddess. They will worship you with their touches and you will grow to find pleasure as they do.”
Bullshit.
I gritted my teeth and stared straight up at the ceiling. Marco pulled something out of his pocket. A blindfold.
“This will help relax you for your first time with a patron, yes?”
I nodded. I definitely liked the idea of not having to look at this man. I lifted my head and Marco slipped the velvety covering over my eyes. Then he kissed my forehead, which was oddly comforting. As soon as I thought that, a revolting sensation slid through me. I didn’t want to feel anything positive toward Marco. He was fucking with my head, and I needed to be strong.
A plastic click sounded, like something opening, and a moment later Marco was urging my legs apart, pushing aside my panties. What was he doing? I felt a cool slickness at the entrance and he swirled lube around, pushing some inside me. He then fixed my underwear and straightened my negligee.
I heard both Luis and Marco leave. Then I waited.
That bastard made me wait forever. I was high strung, pissed off, and scared to death when the door opened and slow footsteps approached the bed. He was silent. I could hear my breath coming too fast. In and out. My knees pressed together. My muscles tensed.
A belt buckle clinked as it was being undone and I whimpered, remembering that sound only hours ago. Was he allowed to whip me?
Don’t cry, Angela, I begged myself.
Something touched the side of my calf and ran up my leg. He thwapped it against my thigh and I realized it was the end of his belt. I stayed still, practically panting, as he gently whipped the piece of leather across my legs. Then he pulled my thigh to spread my legs. I whimpered again and he chuckled, giving me the chills. He pushed the lacy material of my thong aside and gave my clit a smack with the belt. I let out a small holler of surprise. It hadn’t hurt, necessarily. But it made me throb down there. He did it again and I clenched my thigh muscles, gasping.
No, no no. I would not be turned on by him. Hell-fucking-no.
With no fanfare or warning he shoved two fingers inside me, curling them upward and rocking his hand back and forth. Hard. I bit my lip and pulled on my chains. Nobody had ever fingered me so roughly. I gritted my teeth and tried not to think about abrasions. As he manhandled me, a wet, sloshing sound began and he moaned. The sound was coming from me. I could feel a fullness building deep inside me. I realized with horror he was working my g-spot, which wouldn’t make me come, but it would definitely make me sopping wet.
“Ah, sí, putita,” he moaned. Little whore.
He pulled his fingers out and I heard clothing being yanked off. Moments later he was against my arm by my head. He whapped my mouth with his fucking cock and chuckled.
Yuck! I wanted to scream at him to get it away from my face.
“Suck me,” he commanded.
He yanked me by the hair to face him and prodded open my mouth. My wrists burned in their cuffs above me as he pulled me closer. He shoved himself in, all the way to the back of my throat. Thankfully his penis wasn’t long enough to gag me. I kept my lips tight around him, letting him control the speed, hoping he’d come fast and get it over with. But he didn’t. After a while of grunting into my face he flipped me, twisting my wrists, and climbed onto the bed behind me. He grabbed my hips and pulled them up, shoving my head face down.
Over. I just wanted this to be over.
His hands roamed across my whelp marks and his breathing went raspy. He open-palm smacked my ass cheek and my head flew back from the stinging pain, holler wrenching from my throat.
He smacked again, a growling laughter bubbling up when I yelled again. He seemed to love when I vocally responded to the pain, so I gave the sadistic bastard what he wanted. Five times he smacked my already-sensitive bottom and hips. Then he bit my ass cheek and I screamed. It wasn’t a skin-breaking bite, but his sharp teeth hurt. He did it on the other side and then buried his face in my ass crack. I squirmed, wanting more than anything to scream for him to get his face off me, but it wasn’t necessary. He was finally so worked up that he went up to his knees and pushed his dick into me.
“Ah, apretado!” He called me tight and began to thrust faster, smacking my hip every few seconds like he was riding a horse. I made a lot of noise for him, praying it would end soon. He reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, wrenching my head back. Freaking-A, that hurt! He was fucking me super-fast now and with a hard yank of my head his deep voice went up a few octaves and I felt him coming inside me.
I breathed, relieved it was over.
That hadn’t lasted long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Fifteen unpleasant minutes.
I thought about the soft little mattress waiting for me in the slave quarters.
He pulled out of me slowly, and turned me to my back.
“Now for dessert,” he said in Spanish.
My heart sunk. Why couldn’t he just be happy with his orgasm and leave me the hell alone? My head spun—I was feeling loopy now and I wondered if it was from the drug or the day’s experiences crashing down on me.
He pushed my thighs apart, holding them up wi
th his hands and squeezing so hard I’d probably have fingertip bruises. I yelped when his face went to my crotch and he began lapping at my hole, at his own come. And then he latched on to the sensitive nub of my clit and sucked with abandon, flicking the tip of his tongue. Every nerve ending came to life and blood rushed between my thighs. I panted.
No. No!
I orgasmed violently, my hips bucking from the unexpectedness of it. It didn’t last long, brief and intense, but my scream and obvious pleasure were enough to make him hard again. He raised my ankles to his shoulders and slid into me, pushing my legs toward my chest so he was close enough to grab my nipples and pinch them, twisting.
Hot shame and regret filled me. That orgasm had come out of nowhere—I rarely ever came, even during good sex. Maybe the drug had relaxed me too much. Whatever the reason, I was mad at myself for making him think this was all okay. I hated my stupid body for reacting. It hadn’t been enjoyable in the ways that counted to me. In that moment I swore to myself I’d never come again for one of Marco’s patrons. I might not be able to keep anything else from them, but that would be mine.
Round two lasted longer than round one, but by the end he was tired out and I was sore all over. Luis came to get me, shedding my blindfold as we exited the room. I crawled back to the slave quarters with remnants of my first patron seeping down my thighs. The crawl of shame.
I felt like I’d died and gone to hell.
This is not my life, I chanted in my head. This will all be over soon.
I had to keep saying it or I’d lose myself. The moment this all became my “norm” would be the end. I’d truly be Angel instead of Angela, and I could never let that happen. I couldn’t fight the people here, couldn’t control them, but I could fight my own mind and control it.
I had to.
Something was going on the next morning. Something big.
Luis got me out of bed early, wrapping a bandana around my mouth to gag me and slipping a blindfold over my eyes. He didn’t even make me put my collar on. I still wore the see-through negligee from the night before, seeing as how this place had no pajamas, but I wished I’d had time to put on underwear. Luis pulled me through the house, speed-walking. My heart pounded. Did I do something wrong? Had Marco’s friend been unhappy with me? I ran through the night, trying to remember any “rules” I may have broken.
Escape From Paradise Page 8
