Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series) (9 page)

The water tickles my chin,
lapping at my lips. This is it. Tilting my head up, I gulp in a
huge breath and hold it as I am submerged totally in the water. The
harness is released and the wires retract rapidly. The glass lid
slides shut above my head, sealing me in the illuminated column.

My life is now in my hands, in
my head. I gaze at the watery blur around me, and see my costume
start to dissolve. My body paint seems to explode into a myriad of
electrifying colors in the water. I wonder how I look to the
audience. Like a firework maybe? The effect should be quite
dazzling.

The Dazzling Drowning Damsel
in Distress.

Haha, but wrong!

Way wrong!

I am not drowning. And I am
not in distress.

I am fine.

I am just...

My hands flail around and slap
at the glass surface. It is getting difficult to see, and think of
anything else but my need to breathe. I puff out my cheeks, refusing
to open my mouth. The rainbow colored paint spiraling off my body
clouds my vision and disorientates me. I can't see anything anymore.
Not the bubbles escaping from my nose and mouth, not the murky
water, not the lights staring up from the rotating stage. Nothing.

I can feel my body start to
shake violently as I fight the urge to open my mouth and my lungs. I
know that once I start to gasp and swallow, I won't be able to stop.
Water will just gush into my body, pour unstoppably into my lungs. I
won't give in. I won't give up.

Weakly, I move my legs, kicking
myself to the top of the column. Reaching up blindly, my hand knocks
against the solid surface. The glass lid is still in place. How
much longer? I try to look down at my body but I see nothing.
Surely my costume would have dissolved completely by now?

My fists start to bang against
the lid as my lungs burn horribly in my chest. I am afraid that I am
going to explode any instant now. Let me out!

Suddenly, my fists smash above
the surface of the water and into the air. I surface with a loud
gasp, spluttering and choking. Something brushes my shoulder and I
let out a shriek, but when I blink, I see the black leather strap. I
grasp it with all my might, sobbing uncontrollably. It is the swing.
My ride out of this hell.

I am not sure how I managed to
sit securely on that leather swing, considering how hard I am sobbing
and heaving. But when my senses have returned sufficiently for me to
be aware of my surroundings, I find myself blinking into the
spotlights as I sway in the air, moving inexorably towards the
revolving stage.

I stumble off the swing and Mr
Toni grips my elbow to steady me. He directs me to a spot at the
front of the stage and I sag to my knees. There is a deafening buzz
in my ear, and my eyes don't seem to be working. Everything is
zooming in and out of focus, and I seem to be seeing double or
triple. The lights look magnified, and the figures and shapes in the
audience look bigger and more misshapen.

I close my eyes and just
concentrate of my breathing. Air, precious, glorious air. That is
all I need, all I want for now.

When I feel someone touching my
arm lightly, I snap my eyes open with a start. I exhale a shaky
breath, relieved to find that I have been placed beside Pam. Pam
tilts her head towards me and asks under her breath, “You
okay?”

My eyes round as I glance over
my shoulder at the churning column of water.

“
Yeah.” I attempt a
smile at Pam.

She gives me a quick smile back,
then looks blankly out at the shadowy audience. I follow her gaze,
blinking and squinting against the spotlights. I can vaguely make
out some faces and dark, gleaming eyes. There are men in military
uniforms smoking in the front row. Further back, I see a few
expensive suits and ties.

I can see the red glow of
cigarettes all around the Pit but I can't see the hands holding the
cigarettes, much less the faces smoking them.

I am guessing there are around
twenty patrons here in the Pit tonight.

A shrill whistle blows and
immediately the girls shift to their rehearsed position with their
hands cupping their breasts. I do the same, my eyes roaming across
the expanse of the Pit as the stage makes a full revolution. Another
whistle, and I lower my butt to the stage floor and spread my legs
wide. The stage rotates slowly and I can feel eyes raking down my
body, appraising and appreciating my shaven pussy. The heat creeps
up my neck, and I suddenly wonder if I can do this. Can I let any of
these repulsive men touch me and penetrate me? I feel I am betraying
Jaxon, yet it is because of Jaxon that I am doing this.

As we change position again and
I bend down to grab my ankles, I wonder if Jaxon will hate me. What
if I was the one who had gone missing, and Jaxon had to fuck other
women to save me? Would he do it? Would I hate him for doing it?

My chest constricts painfully as
the whistle sounds again, and I blindly follow the other girls and
arch my back. I won't hate him, but I will hate the other women. My
whirling thoughts send a sharp stab of jealousy and a jolt of hatred
through my heart. I already hate these imaginary women. I hate
these phantom women with a vengeance so fierce, I would claw out
their eyes, and scratch out their lips and rent their bodies in
half—eyes which I imagine have drunk in Jaxon's powerful, naked
body, lips that have tasted his and bodies that have been pleasured
by his skilful hands and mouth. I will hate these women so much!

As I strike the final pose, with
my fingers laced at the back of my head and my breasts jutting out
proudly for the patrons' inspection, I feel almost giddy and
exhausted from my wild conjectures and imaginings.

I blow out a painful breath and
shake my head. What the hell am I doing? I am being stupid, that's
what. Messing with my own mind, when I should be messing with
theirs.

I shake my head hard, in a
futile attempt to clear it.

It must be the lack of oxygen.

Being underwater for too long,
with my air supply cut off for so long has wrecked havoc on my
senses.

Stay alert, Zoey, stay sane.
I ball my fists.
Not Zoey. Ana! Ana, damn it!

Some of the patrons are
beginning to rise from their seats.

The red lanterns above start to
glow brighter, and I blink the moving figures into focus. All the
patrons are wearing black satin masks, obscuring the top half of
their faces. Some are in tailored suits, while others are dressed
less formally in jeans, long-sleeved shirts and cowboy boots. Yet
others wear nothing but chains and sashes on the top half of their
bodies. This looks like a bizarre costume party, where anyone can
come as anyone else.

Mr Toni adjusts his shimmering
white suit and runs a hand over his bald head as he takes off his
pink top hat. “And now, gentlemen, please take your pick. The
ladies are ripe for your picking!” he announces, waving his hat
at us.

The men in cowboy boots and hats
at the front booths are the first to move forward and walk round the
stage slowly. When they see a girl they want, they reach out and tap
her on the shoulder. The girl rises mutely and walks down the stage
to stand behind them. Some of the men choose more than one girl, and
once they are satisfied with their selection, they fasten leather
collars around the girls' necks, leash the girls and herd them out
of the Pit.

A man wearing black jeans and a
silk red shirt with ruffles in front walks up to the stage. His
small, black eyes shift constantly behind his mask, and his oily,
black hair is combed neatly to one side. He is not very tall, with
thick arms and legs. There is a heavy gold chain hanging round his
neck, and his stubby fingers are adorned with precious gems. A
twisted band of silver and gold is wrapped around his left wrist. He
raises an arm and I see that even his cuff links are diamond studded.

Ostentatious. Obviously
showing off his wealth.

It seems it is true then. Money
can't buy good taste.

He strolls around the stage with
a deliberate, exaggerated gait. A group of men in military uniforms
have already selected the girls they want, and moved off, but still
this man is lingering, strolling up and down, rubbing this chin as he
slowly circles the stage.

There are less than a dozen of
us left kneeling on the stage. Another cigar-chomping man in a
purple turban taps the trembling brunette on my right and snaps his
fingers impatiently. As Jennifer moves off, I spot Kylee kneeling a
few feet from me.

The man stops in front of me and
I avert my eyes quickly. Don't choose me, don't choose me!

He stretches out a finger. And
taps Pam on the shoulder.

My head jerks up as Pam rises
silently to her feet. Before I can mouth something to her, the man
gives a throaty laugh, and points at me. “I want you as well.”

I snap my eyes to him. He gives
me a smirk, taps my shoulder with more force than necessary and
strolls to Kylee. “And...you.”

The man holds our leashes in one
hand and saunters out of the Pit.

I stumble after Pam and Kylee,
as the man leads us out into the shadowy corridor. He seems to know
his way about the Red Lantern very well, so he must be a VIP, a Very
Important Patron.

We turn a corner and the man
sweeps a beaded curtain aside with one hand. I duck through the
tinkling curtain and almost trip down the winding flight of stone
steps. The shiny beads and crystals wink and blink in the dim
lighting, like hundreds of soulless eyes strung up on light,
transparent strings to watch our descent.

Emerging from the stairwell, we
walk past rows of translucent sliding doors. The doors are plain,
with no ornaments or decorations on the frosted glass save for a
single black number. Striding up to the door marked with the number
five, the man taps a gold card at the plasma panel at the side and a
small green light blinks twice. A soft click is heard, and the man
pulls the door open for us in an exaggerated show of gallantry.
“After you, ladies,” he purrs.

I step across the threshold and
hear the door slide shut behind me. Stealing a glance over my
shoulder, I see the red light come on at the plasma panel, activating
the lock with a click. The man pushes past me with a low chuckle,
and calls out, “Take your pick, my lovelies. Choose your
poison, or rather your pain.”

I don't like the sound of that.
The lights in the room flick off suddenly, leaving just an orange
light flickering at the wall, imitating a medieval torch. I blink
quickly, forcing my eyes to adjust to the eerie, gloomy lighting. I
can finally see the whole room clearly, and what I see makes all the
hairs at the back of my neck stand as a chill slithers down my spine.
That imitation flame torch may not look very authentic, but the rest
of room number five takes the medieval theme very seriously. Much
too seriously. It looks too realistic.

If there is a theme to each room
in the Red Lantern, then it seems that the theme of Room Number Five
is medieval torture chamber.

The single window in the room is
closed so that no moonlight filters into the room. The cavernous
room is lit only by that flickering orange light, so that strange,
gnarled shadows shift and stretch across the walls with our
movements. There are hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling,
cuffs and manacles on the walls, and all sorts of restraining devices
on the floor beside a bedded platform in the middle of the room.
There is a large wooden wheel in a far corner of the room, with ropes
and leather cuffs dangling from the spokes. I manage to recognize a
stretching rack, a whipping post, a leather noose before everything
starts to spin around me, the torture devices twisting and churning
in a violent cyclone around me.

A hand grabs me roughly by the
elbow, just stopping me from spiraling to the floor. “You—will
come with me,” the man says, his black eyes glinting with
anticipation.

He starts to pull me away, but I
resist, digging my heels into the stone cold floor. With a snarl, he
whirls on me. “You will obey me, satisfy my every whim.
Understand?”

I can only blink at him.

“
What is your name?”

I open my mouth a few times
before I can find my voice. “Ana.” I gulp, remembering
what I have to do. “And...how do I address you...sir?”

“
You may call me Master
Dell.”

“
Master Dell, y-you're
very...strong. Are you a soldier?” I ask, keeping my voice
meek and soft.

He snorts loudly. “Soldiers
are paupers! They're just bred to fight and die. They have no
wealth, no status, no real power.”
Unlike me
, are the
two words he leaves unsaid.

I take a shuddering breath,
refusing to give up. I have to try to find out more. “Of
course, you are absolutely right, Master Dell,” I answer
sweetly. “But I hear that sometimes the Commanders of the
Imperial Army seek out rich and powerful men like yourself to aid
their cause.” I pause and lick my dry lips. “Do
you...would you happen to know any Commanders, or ex-Commanders of
the Imperial Army?”