Authors: Delilah Fawkes
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Mr. Alastair said. “As you can see, I have willing slaves ready to serve, but need strong-handed men who I trust to train them along side me. Men who will see to it that the exacting standards of the Club are met, and who… enjoy the work.”
Mr. Alastair snapped his fingers again, and the women stood without using their hands, struggling to maintain balance, then slid onto the two men’s laps, eyes still downcast, and red lips smiling shyly. Their nipples were hard, their dark hair swept up and away from their faces in tight knots, I assumed, so it wouldn’t get in the way, should their services be required.
I half expected the men to reach for their zippers, then and there, like Mr. Alastair did on that first day—talking to me while getting his cock sucked by his eager little toy. But they just politely held the women’s waists to keep them steady, eyes roaming their curves, but otherwise kept their hands to themselves.
“Both James and I have years of experience in the scene,” Damien said. “And would take great pleasure in helping you break these little slaves of yours. Although, they all seem well trained, already, Lucas. You really do only keep the best of the best.”
Mr. Alastair grinned, and put his empty glass back on my tray absent-mindedly.
“Tell me,” James said. “Where did you find this fetching creature with the red hair?”
He gestured toward me.
“Is it real, or is it decorative, like that beautiful mask?”
Mr. Alastair pulled me roughly onto his lap, and I screeched behind the mask, dropping my tray to the ground.
“It’s very real,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “I keep her shaved below, though, to better see that beautiful pussy of hers, but I assure you, that magnificent color is all natural.”
It was all I could do not to donkey-kick him right in the shins, but one look at the guard made me settle down, waiting for my moment once more. There was no way I could overpower four huge guys, even if my hands weren’t freaking cuffed to my sides.
“I see she’s got a little fire in her,” Damien said.
“Yes, she does,” Alastair said, his face just an inch from my own. “I’ll take great pleasure in breaking her.”
I growled beneath the mask, unable to help myself.
“Wherever did you get her, Lucas? She’s definitely not your usual,” Damien said. “She seems more like the real thing than these others. Untrained. Wild, even…”
Mr. Alastair laughed, and ran his hands over my body, kneading my breasts in a way that sent shivers of revulsion through my veins.
“Can you two keep a secret?”
James and Damien exchanged a glance, and I noticed them tense, then relax once more, calm smiles on their handsome faces. Mr. Alastair was too busy staring at my tits to notice.
“You know me,” Damien said. “Anything you say stays within these walls.”
“Absolutely,” James replied.
“Yes, your reputation does precede you,” Mr. Alastair said. “Your discretion is as legendary as your brutal honesty, Damien. And any friend of his is a friend of mine, James.”
He pinched my nipple, making me cry out in pain.
“I took her,” he said, his laugh high and loud. “I took her from that Max Pierce fellow.”
He pinched my other nipple, but I held my tongue, hating him so much I was giving myself a headache. What would these other men think? Would they help me? Or were they just like him? Monsters, in billionaire’s clothing?
“Took her?”
Damien looked almost bored, stroking the back of the woman on his lap as if she were a housecat.
“Yes. She wouldn’t submit on her own, I’m afraid, so I…” He giggled again. “I took her. She’ll learn to love it here, sooner or later,” he said, stroking my hair. “We’re made for one another, she and I.”
He looked from one man to the other, grinning like a madman.
“You understand what it’s like, don’t you gentleman? True love is a very powerful thing.”
“Mm hmm,” James said, his eyes lowered to the lap of the slave girl.
“Absolutely,” Damien said. “Sounds like you did what you had to do.”
Fuck! They are just like him… I’m surrounded by goddamn maniacs here! I was an idiot to think they might help me. No one is coming… No one.
The girl on Damien’s lap ran her hands up over his chest, teasing him, before sliding a hand between his buttons. She cried out, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away.
“There’s something under his shirt! Some kind of wire,” she said, turning to Mr. Alastair.
She tore at his shirt, ripping it open, revealing a cord taped to his muscular chest, running down to some kind of transmitter.
A microphone, maybe? What was going on?
“Steve!”
The guard at the door was there in a heartbeat, yelling for backup into his radio, even as he reached for James. In a flash, Damien had pulled a fixed silver blade from his jacket, and crouched, ready to slash at any attacker that came his way.
James turned and elbowed the massive guard in the solar plexus, winding him, and moved behind Damien, as the girls screamed, running toward Mr. Alastair. He jumped to his feet, and grabbed me by the hair, dragging me next to him. I screamed and kicked, but only connected with his thick leather shoe, which he barely seemed to notice.
Two more guards came rushing in to the room, and Damien whirled, slashing furiously at them until all three rushed him, knocking the knife from his hand. James knocked one of the guards out with an uppercut, but fell to the ground as one of the guards cracked his legs with what looked like a police baton.
Mr. Alastair reached into his desk drawer and drew out a slick, black handgun. I screamed, and the two men froze, hands in the air, panting as the guards grabbed their arms and held them fast.
“I ought to kill you where you stand,” Mr. Alastair hissed, aiming the gun first at James, then at Damien. “Recording me? Betraying my trust?”
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Damien said.
“Oh? And why the fuck not?” Mr. Alastair spat, his face twisted into an ugly grimace, hand shaking as he gripped my hair.
“Because we’re streaming this live,” James said. “Not just recording, Lucas. The stream is being recorded offsite as we speak, to be delivered to the D.A. If you kill us, you won’t just be going away for kidnapping—you’ll be doing life for murder.”
“And is that really what you want,” Damien said. “In fact, do YOU want to be accessories to this?”
He looked back at the guards holding him, who exchanged nervous glances.
Mr. Alastair swore, taking a step back toward a large wooden bookcase. He was cornered. Nowhere to go. But still, he dragged me with him, making me stumble as he dragged me by the hair.
“Let Lucy go, and maybe you can still get a deal,” James said.
The guards were letting them go and backing slowly away.
“This doesn’t have to end badly, Lucas,” Damien said. “Give us the girl… Nice and easy.”
Mr. Alastair put me in a headlock, pinning me to him with the hand holding the gun, and groped behind him.
“Stay back!”
He yanked on a book, and suddenly, I felt cold air on my back as a passage opened up behind us. He pushed me, and I fell, my feet sliding over slick, stone steps before I tumbled into darkness.
A shot rang out, and a door closed behind me, trapping me in the black.
***
Max
Chase’s voice echoed behind me, but I didn’t listen, didn’t stick around to find out what he was yelling.
“Sent the tape!” I yelled, and ran, out in the cold, wet night, leaving the car door open behind me.
I ran like a man possessed toward the back of the Club, hoping to find a door I could break down that didn’t have guards, or a window I could smash my way through.
I ought to kill you where you stand.
Those words echoed in my mind—the last I heard before bolting from the car—making my heart hammer in my chest. The boys were found out, and now, Lucy’s life was on the line. I had to save her, had to get to her, even if it meant smashing through a wall to do it.
I rounded the back of the massive building, and paused, my eyes darting back and forth, searching for a weak spot. Just as I was about to make a run at climbing a balcony and breaking a window, a hidden door swung open just to one side of a hedge, and I saw two people rush out into the night—one shape dragging another.
I heard an enraged shriek, then heard a man swear as a foot made contact with his shin, making him stumble.
“LUCY!”
“Mmmx!”
The sound was muffled by something, but it was her, it was my Lucy, right there, calling my name not fifty yards away, being dragged away from me once more by that fucking psycho, Lucas Alastair.
“
I’m coming, Lucy
!”
“NO!”
I ran toward them, not hearing the shot until I felt something hot whizz past me, shredding a path through the sleeve of my leather jacket, missing me by a hair.
“Fuck!”
I crouched low, and serpentined, running from side to side, but still following, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
He has a gun.
Of course this motherfucker had a gun. Why wouldn’t he have a gun?!
I ran toward the danger, uncaring, ready to risk life and limb for the woman I loved. I’d be
damned
if I’d let him take her from me again, and be
damned
if I ever let her down.
“
I’m coming, girl
!”
I faintly heard her calling, and then saw the light from a car door as the fucker shoved her into the back of his Mercedes, and clambered into the front seat.
“Shit!”
My car was only a block away.
I ran, my legs pumping, lungs burning, listening to the sound of his engine roar, the image of Lucy’s face in my mind driving me on, on, on…
The Lamborghini door slid upward and I dove in, slamming the keys into the ignition. I peeled out, tires screaming, whipping around the corner just in time to see his taillights in the distance, drawing swiftly away.
Taking my Lucy with him.
I floored it, ignoring red lights in this secluded part of town, blaring around corners, catching up with him, little by little.
He may have gotten the jump on me, but Lucas Alastair was about to learn a very valuable lesson: No one, and I mean, no one, beats me in a race when I get behind the wheel.
Rubber burned as I shifted into high gear, bearing down on the man who dared lay hands on my beautiful, wild girl. Who dared to try to take away her freedom and crush her will.
I sped onward, hoping beyond hope that she knew I was coming, and knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’d keep fighting until the bitter end, whatever that may be.
I’m coming, Lucy… I’m coming!
***
Lucy
Mr. Alastair yelled into the speakerphone, bellowing orders over the sound of tires screaming as he took another corner at top speed.
“Yes, have the plane ready for take off immediately! I expect it to be gassed up and ready for an international flight in ten minutes, understood?!”
“Yes, Sir,” the man’s voice on the other end sounded tired. “Should I tell the pilot you’re in a hurry tonight, Sir?”
“Yes, I’m in a
goddamn fucking hurry
!”
“…Yes, Sir. Very good, Sir.”
My body ached in a thousand places from my tumble down the stairs, my lower ribs giving me a white-hot burst of pain every time I moved more than an inch. I lay across the backseat, unable to move much with my hands bound, the mask over my face chipped on the bottom and stabbing me in the lip.
We took another sharp corner, and I rolled, moaning at the pain, falling with my right hand stuffed between the back and front seats, along with one hip. I shifted, trying to climb back onto the seats, when my cuff caught on something and I heard a low
rrrrrriiiiip
.
I vaguely remembered catching that same cuff on the railing of the stone steps, and Mr. Alastair jerking me by the arm until it came free. Had he weakened the cuff?
Feeling around, I could tell it was caught on some of the mechanisms below the driver’s seat, sharp metal edges that I could use. Quietly, I began rubbing the cuff back and forth, suppressing a laugh when I felt it began to tear and give.
If I had one hand free, I had a chance.
I eyed the gun, lying on the front passenger seat, only a foot and a half away, and kept working, tearing at the leather little by little as my captor sped into the night.
***