Beautiful Captivity (The Club #1) (5 page)

Her

…

I wake up. The water in the tub has gotten cold and the day is fading. I don’t see Zane.

Thinking of being with him, I smile. It was exactly what I had imagined it would be like, and I strangely feel satisfied that I didn’t sleep with Keith. He would never have been able to make me feel the same. It’s disturbing what brought me to Zane, but I can’t regret what we did.

He cares for me. Somehow, he does. It may work to my advantage. Perhaps I can convince him to help me out of here.

Tonight flashes into my mind. I feel less fear because I know I’m not a virgin, but I don’t like the idea of being bought. I don’t want to be used. I want to make my choices. Submission does not sit well with me.

Maybe Zane will cancel the evening. I saw the way he looked at me.

Raven knocks on my door and comes in to help me get ready. I’m not dressing, but I’m to have my hair done, and I must be perfumed and made up. I could do it myself,  but I like the company.

“Samantha, do you ever think about leaving?” I ask as she brushes my hair.

“I told you. I’m Raven here. And no. I tried it. It didn’t work. And now, I would do anything to stay here.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighs and puts the brush down, turning me on the bench to face her.

“The clients we have… they want something specific. I’m not it. I’ve gotten older.”

“You’re not old at all,” I argue.

“Normally, no. But eight years of this does something to you. I’ve been used. I’m no longer new. They want new. They’ve done it all to me. I hold little intrigue for men who’ve been in every part of me, who’ve made me live out all their darkest fantasies. Now I’m just something that reminds them. They don’t want to be reminded of their secrets. Most girls stay here a year or two. Then they are sold to someone who does something else. Zed is different, though. He tries to keep us here. Because some of the men who buy the girls permanently… well, they want something terrifying. I only have one client who will see me anymore.”

“But if that’s the case, why not leave? If you get away, great. If not, what’s going to happen? The same that will eventually happen. Why would I stay here and be put through this, if a year from now, the result will be the same?”

Raven turns me back around and resumes brushing my hair. “Self-preservation is an incredible thing, dear. You do what you have to do. I’d rather live a year longer, if I have the choice.”

“Surely they don’t sell us to men who would
kill
us?”

She doesn’t make eye contact. “I had a friend. Her real name was Caitlyn. We called her Gypsy here. She resisted, and she was ‘returned.’ We only heard about what happened when someone overheard Zed on the phone yelling at someone. I know they found her with her feet and hands removed. She was nineteen.”

I shiver. “Why would Zed allow that?” I think of how he was with me, in bed, and then I try to reconcile that with a man who would send a teenager to be butchered.

“Sometimes he has no choice. There are rules. If we behave, we may be sold to someone who will keep us fairly well. Some girls have been kept in apartments and only used for sex. The more compliant you are, the more likely you will find a buyer who is less twisted than the rest.”

“It’s disgusting. Someone must be on to them,” I insist.

“I’ve been here eight years. Not once has a cop been here. Unless he was a client. We are only one house like this, Nichole. People have strange habits, and with money, nothing is off the table. With money, you can live out even your darkest fantasy. For those of us like you and me, we don’t have a voice.”

She finishes my hair and directs me to apply my makeup. I’m sprayed in some kind of perfume. Suddenly, the realness of what will happen tonight, along with everything she just told me, sinks in, and I run to the bathroom to vomit.

HIM

…

At five past six, I go to her room. Raven is still there. Nichole looks sick. Miserable. I dismiss Raven and take Nichole in my arms, carrying her to her bed.

“It won’t be as bad as that. And tomorrow, you will rest. You have no bookings after tonight for a couple of days. We felt you would need to rest after tonight.”

“How can you do this to us? To me? Girls are murdered. You kidnap us and make us do your bidding, and then you send us to die? How can you feel no remorse? I won’t go tonight. I don’t care. Do what you have to do.”

I turn her and hold her shoulders, pushing her into the bed. “Listen to me, Nichole. There are things at play that are bigger than you and me. If I could take you from here, I would. If I could save everyone, I would. But I do the best I can do.”

“I could have been in love with you. In a different world,” she says. It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever heard.

“Love is an illusion. Almost all of these men who come here have been in love. They’ve married, made vows of love, and yet, when they have money and time, they seek pleasures from other women. Sick and twisted pleasures sometimes, because love means nothing. Sex is what people want. Sex and secrets and control and power. You could not have loved me, because sooner or later, you would have also realized how much power you have.”

“I have no power,” she cries.

“Do you? You have the power to make a man spend over a million dollars to take your virginity. You have the power to control them. They may degrade you physically, but you are the one who has what they want.”

“This makes me sick.”

“Well, too bad. I can’t help you.” I don’t want to feel guilty. I need to do my job. “Now, you will be brought down there shortly. As I said, they may ask to see you. They cannot touch. I will be there to make sure they don’t. When they are done, you will go to him. Remember. No speaking. Remain on your knees. And he wants to see you cry.”

“I’m sorry I let you touch me,” she says as I approach the door. I offer nothing in response and leave.

Of course, she’s sorry. I knew she would be, and yet I stupidly broke my own rules because I wanted to touch her. After tonight, any chance of forgiveness will be broken in her. By the morning, she will hate me as she should.

And there is not a damn thing I can do about it.

I ready the reception room, which looks like a cross between a theater and a boardroom. There is a large table at the front, flanked by long velvet curtains. It’s where the girls display themselves. Rows of chairs face the table, for the men to watch. They are allowed to inspect closer, but there is a chair near the table for me. In the event that the inspection makes them a little too frisky.

We brought in extra chairs tonight. Nichole, or Willow, will be our superstar. I just wish I didn’t want to love her instead.

Her

…

I wish I had the power he spoke of, but I don’t feel powerful at all. I feel scared. Anxious. Crying will not be an act; I have never wanted to do something less.

I hate the fact that I’m still grateful to Zane for taking my virginity. How can I be grateful to him for something so awful? When
he
is so awful? Yet I walk down the hall to the reception room feeling a little proud of the fact that this man, R, will not get what he wants. He can think he is getting it, but I also have secrets. And that makes me feel a little better.

Until I walk in the room and see Zane sitting in a chair, wearing a dark suit. He won’t look at my eyes and he simply gestures to the table, clearly indicating I should get on it.

“We will be opening the doors as soon as you are ready,” he says.

I’m not ready. I will never be ready. But I get on the table and I sit, waiting for this all to be a dream.

The men come in together. There are more of them than I had anticipated, and they look exactly like I pictured. Well dressed in tailored suits. Clearly used to being in charge at work. They feel the world owes them everything – and they have the money to get it. They sit down like this is a business presentation. It’s almost funny. Almost. Until I realize that the men in this room have gone behind their wives’ backs to take money to kidnap me and bring me here. To serve them. And it all becomes too real.

They make me spread my legs and bend over. I hear the chairs move, but no one touches me. It feels degrading and invasive, and I want to cry. I will have no problem crying doing this. When I was with Zane, it was wonderful. Despite my conflicted feelings about him as a man, I enjoyed him as a lover. I made the choice to be with him, and maybe the circumstances were odd, but if I were able to walk out of here now, I would look back on the act positively. I felt beautiful with him. He didn’t treat me as an object. And he used my name.

I don’t know how much time passes until Zane clears his throat and directs all of the men to leave. All except R. I don’t know which one he is until the room clears, leaving me, Zane, and an older man who has the cruelest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I think of what Raven told me, about the girls who were found dead. I know instantly that, were I not protected by the semblance of order and business that Zane has established here, R is the kind of man who would enjoy that. He wants to hurt me. He wants me to suffer. I don’t know what he is angry about, but he gets pleasure from pain. It’s evident.

“She’s even better in real life,” he says in a voice with no emotion. His steel gray hair and steely eyes are suited to him, as his expression and tone are as cold as a plate of steel. “I am looking forward to breaking her.”

Zane meets my eyes and I know he’s pleading with me to go along with this. I can’t understand how he can be okay with me hurting like this. I can’t understand how he could be so kind, so gentle, and now so careless. I don’t want to go. I want to beg him to protect me, but he turns and leads us from the room.

R walks behind me. I know I’m naked, but I feel like he can see through me. When we get to the stairs, he presses himself against me and I feel his erection against my ass. I don’t want to do this. I want Zane to save me. Why won’t he even turn around?

We make it to the penthouse and the door is already open. Inside, there is a giant bed, with mirrors on the ceiling above it. A large table is laid out, with toys and implements I have never seen before. I don’t get much of a chance to look around more, until R pushes me to the floor.

“You stay on your knees, bitch. I am going to ruin you. Little girls like you need to be broken. And you will beg me to stop. I will hurt you, and destroy everything you are.”

He unzips his pants and pulls his cock from his pants. “I want you to suck it. Now.”

I shake my head and he grabs me by the hair. His face is close to mine. If Zane was not here, R might hit me. But it wouldn’t be like it was with the belt. He would hit me to hurt me. “I gave you a command.”

Before I can reply, he forces himself against my mouth. I try to force my mouth shut, but he pulls on my hair until I cry out, and then shoves himself through my lips. I nearly choke as he starts thrusting.

I don’t even have to fake it as the tears stream from my face. Zane looks at me once, and closes the door, leaving me to my fate.

HIM

…

As soon as I leave the penthouse, I run to the bathroom to throw up. I want to go back there, to stop him. I know what sort of man he is. I also know that Nichole will be Willow by the time I go to get her in the morning. Whatever I saw in her will be dead the next time I see her. I’ve seen girls broken before, but I have never touched them, nor have I ever cared. I always told myself they would end up doing this anyway, but she called my name. She let me make love to her. It wasn’t fucking. She isn’t a broken whore.

Stop it,
I tell myself, picking myself up off the bathroom floor. What can I do? Reagan has the money to do what he wants. Even if I offered to pay him for her, which I can’t possibly do, he would only raise his bid. This is what he works for – to be so powerful he can get away with anything he wants.

I go to my office and take several aspirin. Her eyes when I walked out… she was crying, and it was real.
Who cares? Focus on what you need to be doing
. The voice is right, but my body is jumpy. He’s going to do things to her that I can’t bear to think about.

Opening his file, I settle into the chair. His wife is a few years younger than him. What bothers me most is that he has three daughters. His son is thirty, and I wonder if Reagan has passed along his peccadilloes. The oldest daughter is thirty-two, but he has two daughters who are the same age as Nichole. Twin girls. How does he live with himself?

I think of Nichole, and my mind can’t help but go to Bella. She belongs here in Nichole’s place. An empty, willing slave.
You have to get over this. She’s already been bought. He’s probably already been inside of her by now.
I look to the clock. It’s only been an hour. Reagan will draw it out, hoping to intimidate her, wanting it to be as horrible for her as possible. I’ll never understand the things these men do.

I begin pacing, because the night cannot end fast enough. I want to go to her, to take her away, but I don’t. I just pace and I wait. Hoping that she will still have some of the light in her eyes in the morning.

The sound doesn’t register at first. I think it’s a car alarm, until I see the light under the speaker. I’ve only seen the panic button used three times, and it’s almost immediate. I look at the clock again and somehow four hours have passed. It’s unheard of for a girl to get this far into her booking, and then panic.

Fear snakes up my spine, and I unlock the cabinet under my desk. I keep my gun in there for emergencies, in the event a client gets a little too out of control. I’ve never had to use it.

Running up the stairs, my heart pounds in my chest. What if she’s hurt? What could he have done to her?

The scene in the penthouse disturbs me. She is face down on the bed, and I can see her hand hanging limp by the dresser. She must have used all her energy to hit the button. She’s bleeding, and Reagan is hitting her. He doesn’t even have a whip. He’s just pounding on her. He’s naked and I see that he’s erect. I don’t know what he’s done to her.

My mind doesn’t even process it when I see him kneel between her legs and move to enter her. I lift the gun and, in a single shot, Reagan falls to the floor, his life slipping from him. I am well trained with weapons.

Nichole is barely conscious and I gather her in my arms, running with her to her room. We don’t have time to clean her up, so I throw a robe on her. It won’t be long before more clients arrive and I’m covered in her blood.

I don’t waste any time. I take Nichole to my car, and leave. I will be hunted, and there will be hell to pay. But I am going to save this girl.