by D W Marshall
Thomas’ face registers surprise. “Really?” He beams. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I can’t wait to marry you.” He kisses me on the lips. It isn’t sweet or gentle. He slides me a room key, wasting no time.
Wow, I don’t even get dinner.
“He’s waiting for you upstairs. Baby, thank you. This is the start of something big.”
I’m sick to my stomach. I stand on shaky legs, reach for my champagne glass and down it, pour another and down it. I take the room key in my hand and start to walk away.
Thomas grabs my hand. “Baby, I love you.”
I don’t respond. The champagne is hitting me and I need it right now. I walk away. When I’m almost out of the restaurant, I glance back at Thomas to watch as he orders from the menu. My stomach heaves a couple of times, and it’s all that I can do to make it to the ladies’ room to deposit what little I have in my stomach. I stand in front of the mirror, rinse my mouth out and stare at my reflection. My hazel eyes look like Christmas, sharing the space with the red that has clouded them from crying.
I can’t believe I held hope for coming home to him. How could I have been so stupid to think he was worth coming home to? He doesn’t love me. He never did. If I give him this we will never be together, I know that. And even if we made it through this nightmare, will I even want him? I don’t know if I want him now.
But what if he’s the best that I deserve? What if no one else wants me but him? I’m all used up, what do I expect? How do you tell someone that you spent a year locked away, being passed around by thirty-five different men? No regular, normal guy is going to want me after all the hell I went through.
“Maybe crazy deserves crazy,” I say to my reflection. At least I wouldn’t be alone. I splash water on my face taking care not to wet my hair. I grab the room key from the counter and head up to the sixth floor.
Chapter 4
Whitney
I take a couple of deep breaths before sliding the key card into the slot. I jump as the lock makes the familiar click. I depress the handle and push the door open and walk inside. My breathing picks up and my heart hammers inside of my chest when I scan the room and spot the man sitting at a round table having a drink. I don’t move. I can’t go forward into the room, nor can I retreat. My legs simply won’t work. The man turns his head toward me and we are locked into an intense stare.
He is wearing a crisp deep blue dress shirt and a grey tie. My eyes leave his and scan the room. His jacket is hung across a chair. Everything is in slow motion. The room isn't yellow, but it may as well be. I may not be locked away in captivity, but he is a customer, one of the thirty-five that I had the pleasure to spend a year with. I throw up in my mouth and my body is wracked with chills. The man continues to regard me without saying anything.
After a long silence and me standing in the center of the room, petrified, he finally speaks. “You must be Whitney?” he asks in an accent that suggests a lot of time in America.
I am unable to find my voice.
The man is older than me, most likely in his thirties. He is extremely handsome with fair skin, chocolate hair, and he certainly doesn’t look like the sort that would need to pay for sex.
“Please sit,” he says.
I chance that my legs will hold me up and take cautious steps toward the table—toward him.
“I am Whitney.” My voice is shaky, but I don’t take my eyes from his, and I don’t take a seat.
“Promise I won’t bite. Please.” He gestures toward the chair across from him.
This time I move toward the chair. It makes an ugly sound as it drags across the wooden floor. Time slows as I take my seat across the table from him.
The stranger and I don’t speak. Instead, we only regard one another. When I was released from The Chamber three weeks ago the last place I expected to be was seated across the table from another man that expects me to hand my body to him. Worse, Thomas is downstairs waiting for this to happen, telling me that I am worthless in his eyes. To him, I never left The Chamber.
The longer I stare at this man, this stranger, the more shallow my breaths become. The faster my heart beats. My body shivers beyond my control. There is no way that I am having sex with this man. I finally speak up. “You don’t look like the type of man that…I mean, you don’t seem the type for this sort of thing either.”
He laughs. “You’re right about that. I’m just doing a favor for a friend.”
I furrow my eyebrows at his comment. “You mean Thomas?”
He nods. “Thomas and I met about seven months ago. He made some risky business moves that went south. So, let’s just say that I’m helping out a friend who’s starting a new venture.”
“By paying to sleep with me?” I maintain eye contact, while I wonder exactly how long my heart can continue to race in fear before I need emergency medical care.
“Yes,” he says.
“But, you’re only doing this for Thomas, not because this is something you normally do?”
“Yes,” he says. He hitches a brow in curiosity.
I seize the opportunity. “So, can we just say we did it and that you were satisfied?”
He laughs.
I press on. Because if he is telling the truth he may agree to this. “I only ask because I’d really rather die than do this, but I’m also afraid to go back downstairs to my fiancé if I don’t.”
He doesn’t speak. His lips are pressed into a hard line. He is considering my new proposal. “Listen, I’m a nice guy, but as a business man I’m all about transactions, goods and services.” He pauses. “Wait, you said fiancé?”
“Yes,” I say and nod. The words bring with them new tears.
The stranger looks away from me while he processes what I’ve said. Then he pulls his shoulders back and returns his gaze to mine. “Look, I feel bad that you have such a shitty fiancé, but what do I get out of this? Besides being out twenty-five hundred dollars?”
I glance down at my hands, my mind going a million miles per minute. “That’s. Understandable.”
He lets out a sigh. “Can I ask you a question?”
I look at him and nod.
“Why would Thomas think you’d do this for him? The guy is a tool for sure. But I’m curious why he would even think you’d be an option. Your obviously not a pro; you’re scared to death.” His face softens and is marred with concern.
My thoughts go to his question even though they don’t have to, because I know the answer. Here is my opportunity. “Thomas and I were together when I was kidnapped a year ago and did stuff like this.” I inhale a large amount of air and let it out. My shame. “Against my will. I was released about three weeks ago.” I pause, searching for a rational excuse. “I guess Thomas saw an opportunity.” I sigh around the last word because I can’t believe what has happened. Before this moment, I thought my luck was changing. Mason kept his word and released me and the other six other girls that were held with me. I thought Thomas wanted me. I guess my luck ran out, because it seems I’ve jumped from the frying pan into a hellish fire. I know Thomas is that hellish fire and his wardrobe comes with a red smoking jacket, pitchfork, and two deadly horns growing from his head. Thomas may be sicker than Mason because Thomas actually believes he loves me.
He sits back against his chair. “Fuck me. Your boyfriend needs his ass kicked. I’d be willing to take care of that for you.”
I shake my head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me.”
“Well, I definitely can’t do this shit now.”
We sit and stare at each other when an idea hits me. “What if I paid you double to say you did and that it was amazing? That way you’d get something out of the deal.”
He considers what I’ve proposed. “That gets you out of this, but what about the next time? I think Thomas is desperate, and once he gets his hands on this money he won’t let you go so easily. Maybe you should cut your losses now,” he says.
I consider his
advice. “This is the best way for me right now.”
“You still love him.”
I nod. “Pathetic, I know.”
He sighs. “Not after what you’ve been through. I get it, you’re grasping onto whatever you can.” His smile is brittle. He pities my weakness. “I’ll do it, but how are you gonna get your hands on that kind of cash? We’re talking seventy-five hundred dollars, ‘cause Thomas is gonna be looking to get paid.”
I look into this man’s kind eyes, a stranger who is treating me better than the man I love. “I can wire it to you. It’s part of my scholarship money. I can wire it to your account for say, security services and you give me the money to give to Thomas.”
We shake hands on our deal, not exactly illegal, and for a moment, I am so thankful for this kind stranger.
“We have some time to kill,” he says.
“It would seem that way.”
“You mentioned scholarship money. Are you a student?”
I sit back in my seat, considerably more relaxed than when I first came. “I’m known as a genius around here. I received my Bachelor’s degree at sixteen, double Master’s degrees at eighteen. I took a break after that and was scheduled to attend University College in London for my Doctorate, but I was taken months before.”
He looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. Obviously reassessing. I’m not unaccustomed to that look; it often follows someone learning that a black woman as young as me has accomplished so much. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Remarkable.”
I smirk. “Somehow I feel less than remarkable.”
We chat for a while before the man slides an envelope across the table toward me. It’s time to go, and suddenly I feel much safer in the company of this stranger. I take the envelope. I don’t open it and slide it into my small purse. I stand from my seat. “Thank you. I am grateful for your kindness.”
He shrugs. “It’s the least I could do. Can I give you a piece of unsolicited advice?”
“Sure.”
“Get yourself out of this mess. Thomas’ blind ambition isn’t the sort of thing someone like you should be involved in.”
I nod and a shiver of fear rocks my body. “Thanks again for everything,” I say and head for the door.
“Hey,” he stands and says. “Take this, please.”
I walk back toward him and take the business card he is handing out to me. I read the information out loud. “Nikolai Andres.” I look up at him, searching for the exotic features that fit his name. The room is dimly lit, but I can see subtle exotic features in the cut of his jaw and the straightness of his nose. “Personal Trainer and private security,” I read. I look up at him again and say, “Thanks.”
He walks toward the door behind me. Standing, I can see that he is tall, over six feet. He opens the door for me to exit.
“I work with a great security team,” he says, and I turn back toward him.
“They specialize in the personal type, if you should ever be in need,” he continues, raising his eyebrows as if to say he believes I will be in need of security very soon.
There isn’t much I can say in response. I offer him a smile. I know it doesn’t reach my eyes, these days my smiles rarely do. I thought tonight was going to be the night to change my smiles, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I place the card into my purse and turn and walk away. I never thought I’d be thankful to Mason for anything, ever. Out of all the things in the world to be grateful for, the money he gave me bought my way out of this nightmarish situation.
Chapter 5
The Chamber, Three Months
My girls told me that it was only a matter of time before I would be summoned for my one-on-one sex session with Mason. I was hoping that the day would never come. I’ve been in this place for three months. I thought he’d forgotten about me. He definitely seems to have taken a liking to Sapphire. But, my wish didn’t come true, because I am following Layne to his secret chamber. When my roomie got the call, she was missing in action for three days. Which meant that we all had to take on extra sexing duties in our chambers to pick up the slack, just like every other time Mason steals one of us away. I could look at it differently, if he keeps me for days, I’d only be fucking one person for days instead of several. But it’s Mason. A shiver runs through me.
Three months into my sentence means three months closer to my release, if Mason is telling us the truth about letting us go after a year. Everything else he has told us has been true. We have not been harmed, we sleep in comfortable quarters. In the time I’ve been here I have wanted for nothing—except my release. The other women have become my friends, more like my sisters. We confide in each other, comfort each other, share our stories of life before this place. And our dreams of life after this place.
“Here we are.” Layne stops in front of a large heavy door. “See you in a few days,” she smiles. “Have fun,” she calls as she hurries down the hall.
I knock on the door. A beautiful woman, naked stands before me. She is pale skinned, lithe, with magenta shoulder-length hair, and has large brown eyes. “I’m Pricilla. Welcome.” She opens the door, and I follow her inside. The room is enormous. Three oversized-beds line a wall, ornately dressed in bright purples, greens, oranges, and red bedding and drapery. In the center of the room is a long table with enough food to feed a family of eight.
Mason is sitting at the head of the table, also naked. I assume as he isn't wearing a shirt. Two other women are sharing a spot at the table: one brown skinned, slightly darker and different in tone than my skin; the other similar in tone to the woman who let me in—both naked.
“Welcome, Sunshine. Please disrobe and have a seat at the table.” Mason pats a spot next to him.
When I draw near I notice that the space in front of him is bare, save a small cushioned mat that is at least five inches thick and the same navy as the fabric covering the table. I let my robe drop to the floor and make my way to the spot he directed me to.
He hops up and pulls my chair out for me, his massive cock coming into view. He presses against my ass and kisses my neck, in a flurry of wetness. I swallow hard. Not from fear like I would have three months ago, in anticipation. Mason is unpredictable.
“You’ve met Pricillia. This is Everett,” he says, pointing to the brown-skinned woman, “and Cara.” He points to the other woman.
“Please let’s eat.” He motions to the food.
Mason fills my goblet with champagne and the women pile my plates with fruit, cheese, crackers, and chicken, steak and potatoes—more food then I can eat in two meals.
“How are you doing, Sunshine?” Mason asks.
Everyone at the table stops moving as if the whole evening weighs on my answer.
“Well, thank you.”
Mason smiles. “I trust you are being treated well here? No problems with any of the men?”
I shake my head. I take a draw of my champagne to wash down the bite of food I’d just taken. “Everyone has treated me just fine.”
“If I opened the doors and said you could go home right now, would you leave me?”
I shift my eyes to his. How can he ask me that question? Does he want an honest answer? And if so, what could that cost me? I nod.
“Please answer with words, Sunshine. You are in a safe place. Would you leave me?”
I exhale the breath I was holding. “Yes, I would leave you.”
His smile slips, and he deadpans. “Even after the kind treatment you have received here? You would leave me?” He puts his hands over his heart.
I sigh and choose my words carefully. “I appreciate your kindness; things could be so much worse for me.” A dark wet cell comes to mind. “But, it’s just that I had plans before I came here. I was supposed to be heading to school. I’m pretty sure I’d be engaged by now. So, I wouldn’t leave as a slap in the face to you,” I gesture toward him and offer a tight smile. “But to get my life back on track.” I star
e at him.
His lips pick up at the corners and a smile forms. “Well, this lifestyle isn't for everyone. I appreciate your honesty.”
“Thank you.” I relax a bit and resume my meal.
The other women resume chatting about this and that, along with Mason, as if we are not sitting naked at a table, preparing for lord knows what.”
“Do you have a favorite lottery winner? By now, I’m sure you do. After three months, they should become more familiar.”
I blush because I do. “Connell.”
“Dammit.” Mason slams the table, causing me to jump.
I slide my eyes to his with care. “Did I say something wrong?”
He laughs. “Nope. He bet me you’d say him.” Mason gestures and Cara pops up. She has a perfect landing strip. She opens a door in the back of the room and Connell walks through, naked. His cock hanging heavy. I tear my eyes away from it and meet his eyes, finding him smiling.
“Have a seat.” Mason points to the chair to my right.
Before Connell takes a seat, he kisses me on the mouth. “Thank you for having me, Mason.”
Mason looks back and forth between the two of us with a smile, almost in a trance. His elbows propped up on the table, his hand under his chin. Connell takes my hand under the table.
“You seem happy,” Connell says to Mason.
Mason claps his hands together. “Boy, do I have a surprise for the two of you. But later for that. Tonight, we eat and then we fuck.”
This is insanity. I am sitting at a table with five naked people, eating fucking dinner as if nothing is odd about this. But I comply. I drink champagne and sample rich desserts and succulent meats and vegetables, exchanging pleasantries until my body is used for pleasure. I suppose all our bodies will be used for that purpose, but I’m almost certain I’m the only one who didn’t choose to be here. Though I’m not sure about the three women. Are they willing employees like the groomers and the guard? Or, are they prisoners awaiting the end of their sentences like me?
