Read SHAFTED: an erotic thriller Online
Authors: Rachael Hayden
Then, a hard, flat piece of plastic was slid under my free hand and an object that felt like a pen shoved between my clenched fingers.
“Hold it.” Dan said while still pumping. I forced movement into my hand, trying to get it working while such gratification was stemming from below.
“Sign your name!” he barked. I was on the very edge, teetering above a precipice of destructive pleasure. My right hand was gripping the pen and the clip board dug into the bone on my wrist.
“Ahhhh!” The sound tumbled from my mouth.
“
Come on, you know you want to!”
“Wha
?...”
“Do it.
Now.”
My hand moved involuntarily and I assumed my messy signature formed on the page and then the next and the next, wherever Candice guided me.
Then the pen and the board were gone.
“We did it,” said Dan’s
voice, raised in triumph.
Seconds later, his penis swelled in my
ass and he came in jolting bursts and a loud yell. He shuddered against me, pushing in to full length. I groaned with him, feeling turned on by his actions but not close enough myself to join him.
Then, the vibrator was removed from me and seconds later, Dan pulled out. I whimpered in frustration, having missed my orgasm, confused as to what I’d signed and having no idea what was going on.
The bonds were released and I dropped heavily onto the mattress, cowering in naked bewilderment, eyes still blindfolded and completely lost.
I listened to the movement. They didn’t spe
ak but I heard bags rustling, clothes being pulled on and then silence. I waited another few minutes to be sure they’d gone before tugging on the blindfold which came off easily.
My bedroom was empty. There was nothing to show they’d been there. I shifted and as I did, I felt something
scratch inside of my vagina. I explored with my fingers and pulled out a wet, rolled ten-pound note.
“What the hell?”
Bribe money? Some sort of payment? This just added to the obscure game I’d just been subjected to.
I threw the money on the floor and hurried to the shower where I scrubbed and scrubbed every part of me, grateful the commercial-sized hot water system. I was in there for an hour, trying desperately to expunge the strange torture I’d just endured.
Should I call the cops? But what would I say? “People I’d been sleeping with for months just tortured me in a twisted ritual of power and control. Well, I think it was torture… I’m not sure, I actually enjoyed it for a while.”
I checked my skin and I had noticeable redness on my thigh from the crop, along with a thin scratch where it drew blood that one time. It only hurt when I touched it, unlike my butt and my ego hurt. Yet otherwise I was okay.
But I was too humiliated to go to the police. How could I? I knew what happened to rape victims; one of my friends had been through the awful interrogation that implied blame. I wasn’t going to do it. I just couldn’t.
So the Baronets would get away with it. I would keep the secret and just pretend that weird sex ritual had never happened.
Outside the Baronet pleasure bubble, I now felt mistreated and abused. I crumpled to the floor of the shower and sobbed.
Two days later, it was early morning and I was having breakfast in the kitchen.
My ego was bruised and any enthusiasm I had for the house was gone. I’d spent the day before moping in bed and ignoring everyone in the house by keeping the door locked. Thankfully, they left me alone.
Having been so distracted, I remembered then I hadn’t sent in my resignation letter yesterday and was glad I hadn’t. I didn’t want to live near these people anymore; I found the place cloying and sad. Maybe I should just sell the house, pay off the £50K loan, buy a great little apartment in London and restore my life. I’d go on a trip somewhere far away, like Australia, and then come back a new me and
start my life over.
M
ight as well, I felt nothing for the house now. Aunt Bea wouldn’t have wanted me miserable.
I wanted to cry, yet again, into my measly bowl of cereal. The last five months all seemed so pointless now, along with all th
e emotional and sexual blackmail and finally the abuse of two nights before. Whilst never an overly ambitious or confident person, there was even less of me left now.
I was putting my plate and spoon in the dishwasher when the front door opened. I wanted to hide back in the kitchen, expecting it to be Freya but it was Candice that marched into the kitchen.
“Dan, she’s here.”
“What do you want, Candice? If it’s more sex, I’ve had enough.”
“God, no. I’ve fucked vegetables more alluring than you, especially now when you’re no longer useful.”
I faced her straight on.
“What?”
Dan walked in behind Candice and stood beside her. Now knowing what he was capable of, his once-handsome face looked menacing. He put his hands in his j
eans pockets and stood smugly.
Candice said, “
You’re no longer useful, Alex, and you’re living in our house. We’ll give you until midday to clear out your things and leave the premises or we call the police for trespassing.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? This is my house!”
“This was your house. You signed it over to us two nights ago for the grand total of ten-pounds.”
The money in my vagina.
“That’s what it was for? I didn’t know what I was signing! You were torturing me!”
Dan grunted a small laugh. “Hardly torture. You were wet and wanting it.”
“No! No I didn’t.” I was confused and brushed back my hair. “Where are these papers, I want to see them.”
Candice calmly pulled from her bag some notated papers which I immediately
recognized as official. I took them from her and scanned the document. My signature, whilst messier than usual, was in all the right places. They were right. I’d signed over my house.
“I’m going to contest this.”
Candice laughed bitterly. “Please do. What are you going to do? Say you signed it while you were having sex?”
“This is criminal.”
“This is legal. That’s your copy by the way. You have until midday to get out. That’s very generous considering the only thing you’re entitled to in this house is your clothing.”
“You bitch.”
“Thank you. We’ll be back at midday and you’d better not be here.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“If you don’t leave, we’ll post the video on YouTube.”
“Video?”
If they meant what I think they did, I was about to have a heart attack.
“Yes, we filmed you signing the documents. It’s something of a masterpiece, really.”
“Mother fuckers.”
“
I’m grateful to you, Alex. You’ve given us the club we always wanted.”
“You wanted that from the start?”
“Of course. You deserved it for being so gullible.” She raised an eyebrow, swung on her heel and without a backward glance, left as quickly as she came. Dan waited a moment, watching me silently, observing my ashen face and wringing hands.
“Have you no soul?” I asked of him.
“We’ve had the dream to own an adult’s club for a long time. You were merely the facilitator. But I did enjoy fucking you, I didn’t lie about that.”
“Fuck you, Dan.”
“No thanks, I’ve never been into left overs. Besides, now you’re nothing more than a skinny, flat-chested whore.” And he turned and followed Candice.
“
Bastards!” I screamed after them both. I picked up a mixing bowl on the table and threw it towards Dan’s retreating back. It smashed on the door frame; brown and white shards scattering widely.
They were both laughing as the door closed. I burst into tears and
sobbed hysterically into a tea towel. My knees wobbled, dropping me to the floor.
It was then I became aware of someone else in the room. Standing in the corridor at the end of the kitchen was Freya, her stance conceited. I didn’t even know she was there. She was wearing a knee length black dress that gave her thin,
tall frame no shape, sturdy black shoes on her feet and her hair in its usual shiny, straight bob. This woman still scared me.
“I’m going to escort you to your room so you can pack up your things.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’ve been given instructions to see you from this property and to make sure you don’t steal anything.”
“I’ve never stolen a thing in my adult life.”
“I’m sure you haven’t. Now, let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. This is MY house”
“Yes you are. You are officially trespassing and the longer you wait, the longer your
jail sentence.”
“I’m NOT GOING!” I screamed at her, the loud sound of my voice echoing around us. I felt strangely replete after screaming, but it didn’t stop the progress of my eviction.
“There’s no need to shout. Let’s go to your room now. We’ll need it for guests next weekend and it needs to be fumigated now you’ve lived in there.”
My jaw dropped at her vulgarity. She was pointing towards the door.
“Alex, you will go upstairs,” she stated in a stern parent-type voice.
“No. I don’t have to do what you want.” God, if only I’d figured out how to say that a
year ago, I’d probably not be in the mess I am now.
“Yes, you do and you will.” Freya slimed across the room and towered over me. She stood straight and spoke in an emotionless tone. I
cowered under that gaze.
“I am giving you one more warning. Disobey and I’ll kick you out now and mail your clothes to you in shreds. It’s your choice.”
My eyes burnt from the effort of remaining composed.
“You crooks will be hearing from my solicitor.”
The first smile I’d ever seen crack Freya’s face flittered across her thin lips. She knew she’d won.
“Good. That will be a very short conversation.”
I turned from her, picked up the documents from the workbench and shuffled into the reception area. Her footsteps clunked close behind me.
“Fuck off, Freya. I don’t need you to watch over me like a child.”
She didn’t comment and neither did she leave. I slowly ascended, heart and body broken, my legs barely having the energy to lift my feet.
At my room (I refused to think of it as anything else), Freya stood at the door and with her hawk eyes, watched everything I put into my bags. Neither of us spoke and the silence was a stranglehold around my throat
.
It took about 25-minutes to stuff everything into my suitcases and I looked around my gorgeous room one more time, instinctively knowing I wasn’t going to see it again.
Freya didn’t help me take the suitcases down and it took three trips to move everything to the front door. I set off towards the library to get my computer.
“Where are you going?” my guard snapped behind me.
“To get my computer.”
Freya was close on my heels and stood over me while I picked up my laptop and cable. When I grabbed my folder containing the financials, she slapped my hand away.
“What the hell?”
“Those belong here.”
“They’re mine!”
“They belong to the house. You must leave them.”
“Then, I’ll be sure my solicitor asks for them when I take you to court, won’t I.”
“You can do whatever you want. Those documents stay.”
“I’ll send you copies. How’s that?”
“If you don’t leave that folder and the house immediately, I’m going to send the video of Dan fucking your
asshole to your boss.”
I halted, words once again betraying me.
“How-how’d you know about that?”
“I should know. I filmed it.”
I couldn’t take the surprises any more. I was destroyed completely and utterly.
“You’re a bitch, Freya. I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”
“And you’re a weak slut. Now, get out.”
Pride stinging, I got my car from the barn and brought it to the front of the house where I loaded my things in.
The last sight of my house was in the rear-view mirror. Its immaculate façade was stunning at that moment, lit by the morning sun peering over the trees. It taunted me with its beauty as I drove away.
Freya was standing under the portico, as unmoved as the trees on the property.
An hour later, I stood outside the solicitor’s interior office in the local town, the same one I’d seen Candice in all those months earlier, struggling not to lose my composure. The back of my throat burned with the effort and I was shaking and breathing wobbly breaths.
I’d lost it. My house. My beautiful house. It was gone; taken by petty thieves who’d used and abused me. And so it turned out, I was still liable for the £50,000 loan, too.
I was staring down the barrel of bankruptcy and destruction of my own doing. For the first time in my life, I understood why people committed suicide.
Aunt Bea would have been disappointed in me. I was disappointed in me. I hated myself at that moment, the dingy corridor closing in on me, squeezing with incrimination.
I had to get out of there.
As I passed through the front reception area, I nodded a goodbye to the receptionist whose concerned gaze followed me out. I’d taken about hurried ten steps down the street, anxious to get to my car so I could cry in peace, when I heard my name called.
Sending a glance over my shoulder, the receptionist had followed me out of the office.
“Ms Osborne. Are you okay?”
Keeping the shaking out of my voice was impossible.
“Fine.”
“No, you’re not, I can tell. Listen, I’m about to leave for lunch. Could I buy you a cup of coffee?”
The unexpected kindness was too much and the water pipes burst noisily. The receptionist fluttered her hands and awkwardly pat me on the shoulder.
“Oohh, no.
Don’t do that. Stay here, I’ll just get my bag.”
She was back a minute later with a bag over her shoulder and a little packet of tissues. I inelegantly mopped my face, smiling in gratefulness.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, sniffing heavily.
“I’m Emma, by the way.”
“Thanks Emma.”
“There’s a great coffee shop around the corner. Come with me.”
We sat at a back corner table where we were unbothered and able to talk comfortably. By the time the coffee arrived, I’d settled enough to speak.
“Must have been some news,” Emma started. “I’m not allowed to ask for specifics of the case, but are you okay?”
“Honestly?”
Emma nodded.
“No.” I rubbed my eyes. “Some bastards stole my house and I’ve just found out there is nothing I can do.”
“You can’t go to the cops?”
“Possibly, but it’s not that simple. I actually signed it over to them.”
“That’s coercion.”
“You could call it that.”
“But that is illegal.”
How much should I tell her? Could I trust her? She came across as someone trustworthy, but I’d also trusted Dan and Candice and look where that’d gotten me.
I assessed her for a second. She was younger than me, probably mid-20s. She wasn’t pretty,
nor plain; light brown hair had been tied into a low, short pony tail and her face was framed by a fringe. She wore studious-looking glasses above a rounded nose, curved cheeks with low cheek bones and an ordinary mouth. Intelligence radiated from her and to my shame, my eyes welled up yet again.
“Probably… but how do you tell a magistrate I signed it during sex?”
Emma’s eyebrows went up.
“It’s still coercion. I’m a fourth year law student so I can tell you, you definitely have a case.”
“It wasn’t meant to be like that. You see, I’d inherited the property from my late aunt and went looking for a builder to help me restore the old house. The builder was… is… gorgeous and I let my loins get the better of me.”
And so, I started telling her the G-rated version of what happened. It felt great to finally unload the confusion of the last
five-and-a-half months, even if to a virtual stranger. Emma, bless her heart, just sipped her coffee and let me babble.
“Thing is, if Dan didn’t bear a striking resemblance to James Purefoy, who I just love, it probably wouldn’t even have started…”
Emma’s expression registered something familiar. The cup she was tipping towards her lips halted and her brown eyes grew large behind the black-framed glasses.
“Wait. Is the guy Dan Baronet?”
“Yes. You know him?”
Emma set the cup down and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Yes, I do.” She paused for a moment. “Alex. Oh God. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you’re talking about the Baronets. It all makes sense now.”
“What? Why?”
“My
family are neighbors with Dan and his wife. I know them.”
“This is a small
place, I’m not surprised you know them. But why are you apologizing?”
“Well… I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Everything. I have to know.”
“Ok then. Well,
rumors have been floating around for a long time about their activities. Although nothing was mentioned specifically, their… er… sexual preferences were whispered about.”
I thought for a moment. “But there is nothing wrong with adults liking sex.”
“They had really unusual living arrangements.”
Intuition tightened the muscles across my collar bones. I knew this information wasn’t going to make me feel better.
“What type of living arrangements?”
“The Baronets are into BDSM.”
“Pfft. That’s not a surprise.”
“They have live-in sex slaves.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know what was happening when I was younger but later, all those strangers coming to and from their house made sense.”
“Well, that explains two days ago,” I mumbled.
“What
?”
“
Never mind, please continue.”
“Fair enough.
Anyway, when I was 18, I was in the front yard reading when Dan came in to see dad. The bastard propositioned me by inviting me to his house, telling me I’d love it. I was pretty naïve at 18, but I knew a creep when I saw one… no offense.”
“
None taken.”
“Anyway, after that, I avoided
the prick and his wife as much as I could and I kept my ears open.” Emma took another sip of her coffee then picked up her knife to play with it while talking. “Now, you’re not hearing this from me, okay?”
I nodded.
“Where I work, the walls are thin but I don’t listen in, it would be unethical.” (I purposely ignored the fact she was being unethical talking to me like this… I think she did, too.) “So one day, I heard the Baronets mentioned and I automatically turned in, given my hatred for Dan. My boss was chatting to his partner and saying a woman was trying to sue the Baronets for sexual misconduct and Peter, my boss, had been asked to be the woman’s defendant.”
“Naturally,” I said bitterly.
“He declined.”
“
What? Why?”
“I honestly don’t know. Peter is ruthless and I’ve seen him take on a mining corporation, but he wanted nothing to do with this case. It was very suspicious.”
“And then what happened?”
“I didn’t hear anything more and I never heard about the case again. They’re scary enough that even Peter wanted nothing to do with
the case. Given what the Baronets are like, they probably had some dirt on him.”
“I can attest to that, especially Candice. She’s well and truly in charge.”
“Candice?”
“Yeah, his wife.”
“Candice isn’t his wife.”
The
color left my face and bile bubbled up my throat.
“What?” I coughed.
“Candice is a slave. His secretary, I think. His wife’s name is Freya.”
I was going to vomit and I swallowed heavily. My forehead started to burn and my stomach rolled.
“Is Freya tall and thin with black hair?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God. I’ll be right back.”
I barely made it to the toilet and my stomach heaved its contents through a throat burning with humiliation.
I’d been such a fool – a fucking fool. I’d been played from that very first phone call.
It took ten minutes to get back to Emma and she was nearly ready to head back to work.
“I’m sorry I took so long.”
“Are you okay?” I must have looked how I felt.
“I don’t know yet.”
“I have a few minutes left but I can go if you want.”
“No. No, please don’t.” I sat down opposite her and rubbed my tired forehead. Was this nightmare going to end? “I just don’t get it. Dan was so sweet and gentle while Candice was such a bully. How can she be a slave?”
“I don’t know much about
their lifestyle but I can guess it was part of a role play.”
“So Dan was in charge that whole time.”
“Dan? I doubt it. Rumor has it that Dan is Freya’s sub, despite being married to her. Freya’s the one in charge.”
I could feel my stomach start to heave again. This was too much information to handle at once. Losing my house
and learning about the sick players in this game. They’d taken all of me.
No… I’d given it all to them.
It was my fault
.
“Emma, ummm.
Thanks, really. For the listening and for the information.”
“Of course, any time. I’m really sorry about your house.”
“Thanks, but it wasn’t your fault.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay. These people are psychotic.”
“I’m not sure about that. The way they played me, they’re nothing short of brilliant.”
Emma patted my hand. “Listen, I have to go, but here’s my number.” She scrawled some digits on a napkin. “Give me a call if you need to know anything else.”
“You’ve been so nice to me, thank you.” Tears hit my eyes again.
“Have you got somewhere to go?”
“My flat will be vacated on Monday. Until then, I’ll stay with a friend.”
“Okay. Take care.”
And she left.