Beautiful Captivity (The Club #1) (2 page)

HIM

…

I don’t like that I can’t keep my mind off her in that room. Raven must have her bathed by now and I’m tempted to introduce myself earlier than I agreed. However, she needs to be told the rules and I’m not the one to do it. It will be easier coming from another girl like her.

Tomorrow night will be the most
significant night in our history, and here I am lusting after the prize. I’ve never involved myself with our products. It’s pointless. I keep myself from touching them, even when they try to encourage it. There are other establishments and there’s a fair amount of, shall we say, bartering between a few of us. However, all I can think about is breaking the rules.

I call to Nathaniel to bring me a glass of Scotch. I need to focus on the reveal tomorrow. She will be introduced to all of her bidders before we allow the winner to take her upstairs for the night. I’ve already cleared the penthouse and provided the items requested on his bid. He has some definitely unique needs, but it’s not on me to ask questions.

Once I have her event double-checked, I look at other bookings. Raven has someone joining us during the afternoon tomorrow. She doesn’t get many anymore, and this gentleman has been here several times this month. It’s fortunate, because she used to be a high income earner. I would prefer not to turn her over to my associates, as she is treated better here. However, her assets are fading quickly and I need to think of a new marketing plan if I want to stop her from being “returned.”

One of our youngest girls has three men on the booking sheet for tomorrow night. I was very clear that no one was to be seen for the event with the new girl, but once she is brought to the penthouse, the evening is free. I will have to clear one of the play rooms for them, as the three men who’ve requested her are not new to me, and they get rough.

I look to the window. I still have nearly thirty minutes. I hate that I am growing aroused just picturing her.

Her

…

Samantha helps me dress in a long silk nightgown. It’s black, but still fairly sheer. I attempt to cover myself and she smacks my hands away.

“You are going to need to get used to being looked at. Tomorrow night, some of the city’s most important men are coming here just to look at you.”

“They just look?” I ask, relieved. Perhaps I can do what they ask and they will let me go. I don’t like feeling vulnerable and I’m not comfortable being this immodest, but if it’s what I need to do to go home…

“No,” she says. “All but one will just look. I don’t know who won the bid, but you were in very high demand from what I overheard. It’s a record here. You were claimed faster than any girl we’ve ever had.”

“Claimed?”

“Sit,” she commands, and I do, because I don’t know what else to do.

“We are all brought here. I may seem unkind by saying that you need to accept it now, that you won’t ever go home again, but the sooner you do, the easier this will be. For a year, I fought. I resisted. It didn’t stop them from selling me almost every night. I don’t know what the men paid, but I was in high demand. For some of them, the fact that I resisted made me a higher commodity.”

“No. That’s terrible. I won’t,” I say.

“You will. Because the alternative is worse. They will either kill you or return you, and I don’t know that one is better than the other.”

She takes her dark hair in her hand and looks to the door. Someone’s coming, I think she said, but I don’t know who and I don’t know why. She said tomorrow night. That leaves me tonight to make a plan.

“Listen, Nichole. If you’re returned, as they call it, you will be sold, but it will not be to a place with a claw foot tub and silk nightgowns. Things could be worse. I resisted as I said, but once I accepted that this was it for me, I came to look at the parts that are pleasant. We’re mostly left alone except for our clients. We do what they wish, and they pay to ensure that we are taken care of. Clothes, food, anything you want. Except to leave. You will never leave. This room will be your home.”

“Forever?”

“Until you stop being worth the cost of maintenance. And then…”

“What?” I ask, terrified.

“Then, you end up like me, making deals with clients to keep seeing you just to avoid being returned. I don’t want to be sold to someone who doesn’t get paid to keep me as I am. The men who come here… they do things that will scare you. Some of them have very specific, and very niche needs. However, there is a guarantee that you will walk away from the encounter safe. The men who buy us after we’re returned… well. Their needs are even more specific.”

HIM

…

Time’s up. I close the door to my office and make my way upstairs to the girls’ chambers. They know to keep their doors locked and I never intrude without warning. Discretion is a significant part of our business, and the girls need privacy when they are on their own as well. Only once or twice has someone tried to escape, but it’s ended worse for them than for me.

I knock softly and Raven opens the door. The girl is on her bed, holding a sheet to herself. I can’t see much of her body, save for her creamy white shoulders, and the thin black strips of her nightgown.

“Why is she being modest?” I ask.

Raven turns to look and sighs. She moves to pull the sheet off of her, but I stop her. It’s safer for me this way probably. I can already feel my erection growing just from the sight of her shoulders.

It makes no sense. All of the girls here are beautiful. That’s why we choose them. When pictures are sent, I usually can tell if they will be of interest to our clientele, but I pass along some that I’m unsure on. If we have enough interest, we buy them, but the profit is usually low. I’m a good judge of who will make us money, and I knew from one photograph that this girl would bring in a fortune.

I think it’s her innocence. Although I know she’s a virgin, it isn’t just a sexual innocence. She’s young as well, and I’m glad they found her in a club because I prefer not to select anyone under eighteen. I know Raven was brought her before that age, as were several of the others, but since I was placed in charge, I avoid that additional concern.

There is more, though. Her soft eyes look at me like I’m a savior, somehow. I feel guilt for the first time since I began this, and it angers me.

“You may leave us now,” I tell Raven, and lock the door behind her when she goes.

“My name is Zed. Clearly that is not my real name, but that is how you will address me. I do not want to know your name. You will be called Willow, as that is what I have chosen. I run this establishment. You serve my clients, and you will serve them well, or we will send you back to the people who brought you here.”

“I just want to go home,” she says. I’ve heard it all before. The pleas, the bargaining, the fear, the crying, and then the eventual acceptance. I don’t like hearing it, although it’s never made me feel guilty before, but there are clients who enjoy the begging. The man who has purchased her for tomorrow night has actually requested that she cry.

“This is your home now. Tomorrow night, you will meet several men who fought to spent more than an hour with you, and then you will spend the remainder of the night with the man who won. He has specific needs, and demands, which I will review with you before you meet them. However, tonight, I wanted to introduce myself, explain what you can expect, and ask you a few questions.”

She’s shaking, but I fight the insane urge I feel to comfort her. “Are you ready?”

Although she’s scared, she nods, and I’m impressed. “Yes,” she says in a soft, broken whisper. She’s like a fragile bird, and I am here to clip her wings.

Her

…

The man named Zed comes to sit on the end of the bed and I back up against the headboard. He’s young, especially for a man in power, in control of a place like this. I’ve seen movies about these things, but I didn’t think they were real.
This still has to be a joke
, I tell myself.
It’s a twisted prank for freshmen.
But it doesn’t feel like a prank.

Zed loosens his tie and unbuttons his top few buttons. Even through the suit, I can tell he is well built. In ordinary circumstances, he would be gorgeous. His sandy hair and almond eyes are the sort I would fantasize about with my friends, but Zed is not dreamy. He’s a monster.

“Can you remove the sheet, please?” he asks.

“Fuck you,” I spit. I don’t talk like that and I don’t treat people that way, but this isn’t going how I’d hoped. I just want to go back to school and have a stupid fight with Keith.

“You will not speak that way to me, and you will not speak that way in front of our clients unless requested. I am a patient man. I am a fair man. However, this is my business and you will behave the way I ask you to behave. It is in your best interest to do so. There will be no going home. You will adjust; they all do. If you don’t, I lose a lot of money. You stand to lose far more.”

I begin to cry. I don’t want to cry in front of him and I don’t want to be weak, but I just wanted to go out with my friends. I haven’t even started classes yet. My parents were going to bring me more of my supplies later in the week.
I’ll never see my family again
. The tears let go, and I drop the sheet, not because Zed asked but because I can’t stop crying. My hands shake and I let the sheet fall, unable to keep my hands tight around it.

He says nothing, just waits until I have cried so much I can’t continue. I lie back on the bed, wishing for morning, waiting to wake up. This has to be a nightmare. It can’t be happening.

“They said you’re a virgin,” Zed says, as if my world is not over. He’s so matter of fact. I hate him for being so calm.

I say nothing, until he stands and moves closer to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “There, there,” he says and it feels as awkward as it sounds. I roll over onto my side, my back to him, refusing to look at him. He doesn’t move his hand from me, and I hate that I feel somewhat comforted by his touch, despite this being his fault.

“Willow, you need to tell me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” I choke out.

“Good. I will let you rest, but I’ll be back early in the morning. You have a very busy day tomorrow, and you will be displayed in the evening. Tomorrow night you will be rewarded to your first client, so I ask that you please sleep. Do you think you need some assistance sleeping?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my back still to him.

“I have sleeping medication if you require it.”

“I require nothing.”

I feel the bed move as he gets up to leave. I peer at him once his back is turned. Before he reaches the door, I speak.

“My name is Nichole. I’m a real person. And you’ve ruined my life.”

HIM

…

I leave the room, stoic, showing no signs I heard her. However, once I reach my office, I slam my hand against the desk, hard. They never tell me their names. It’s as if their names are their last connection to the lives they had before they came here, and if they can protect their names, they can remain somewhat whole. She has already told me her name. She will not last long. I don’t even know how she will last her first night. I look over his request list again and I tell myself I will prepare her, so that she is not broken before we can earn back her cost.

It has nothing to do with concern for her,
I lie to myself.
It’s about the money
. Another voice whispers her name.
Nichole
. It suits her. It’s beautiful, as is she.

I think of her body under the silk nightgown. It was thin and I could see her breasts. As she cried, they heaved, and it took great strength to leave my hand on her shoulder, and not let it fall over her skin, touching her intimately. I can’t believe I touched her at all. It’s in my policy. Although some of the other managers make use of the wares, I do not. I do not feel anything. It’s how I’ve lasted here.

I gather the list of requests for tomorrow as well as the booking schedule and bring them to my bedroom. I need to rest.

Lying in bed, I think of her again.
Nichole
. I allow my hand to slip down over my naked body, under the sheets, and I feel desire stir as I remember her. Her eyes, her hair, her body, her
name
. I stroke myself, her name falling from my tongue as I do. I imagine her underneath me, using my real name, as I use hers. I picture sliding into her, her tightness taking me in, her relinquishing her innocence and purity to me.

No,
I argue with myself.
Her name is Willow and she is sold. You cannot touch her.
It may be true, but the fantasy does wonders, and I come quickly as I touch myself to her name.

It takes several sleeping pills to fall asleep. All I can see is her.