Page 84 of His Pet

Lucky for me, Derek is pretty laid-back. “No problem, dude. I’m happy you’re happy. Now, tell me about the freaky sex you’ve been having. Are you a top or bottom? Oh, who am I kidding, you’re a total bottom. Did you use ropes? Toys? Tell. Me. Everything.”

He’s insistent, and that’s how it happens that the nurse finds us deep in discussion about prostate vibrators. Blushing so hard it feels like my face is about to melt off, I sign the release papers, wave off Derek when he asks if I need help, and step into a waiting Uber.

I have a plan. It’s not a good plan, and it’s definitely not a safe plan, but it’s a plan.

I considered going to the precinct, but given the way they brushed me off when I called, I don’t think it would make any difference. If anything, it would make things worse. I could also go back to Cameron’s place, but what would I do there? Not to mention, how would I even get inside?

That leaves only one place. The club.

I shudder as I think about going there alone. But Sin and Cameron are friends. Aside from the Russian guy whom I have no way of contacting, she’s the only one I can think of who might be willing to help Cameron.

I step out of the Uber in front of the luxurious restaurant I remember from when Cameron drove me to the club. It doesn’t take me long to locate the entrance to the underground garage. I’m sure there’s another entrance to the club, but since I only know this one, I take my chances. Fortunately, there’s no security to stop me from running down the ramp. A car honks at me, the driver knocking on his forehead as he passes by. I ignore him and head for the second set of gates leading deeper down.

The skin on the back of my neck prickles with awareness as I sneak under the gates. I’m being watched. I feel eyes on me, but I don’t see anyone. A few dozen cars are parked within walking distance of the nuclear shelter-style door I remember from last time, but I don’t see any people.

I feel a little silly as I approach the door. Last time, it opened before Cameron and I could get to it. Tonight, it stays stubbornly closed.

Great.

Praying it’s the right thing to do, I knock. “Hello?”

Nothing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the door was a long-forgotten remnant of a Cold War shelter, sealed off and never used. I do know better, so I knock again, with a little more force.

“Hey! I was here a week ago with Cameron Matthews. I need to talk to Sin. Sin, um…” I don’t know her last name. Hell, I don’t even know her first name. I doubt her driver’s license says just “Sin.” I probably look like an idiot, but I can’t stop now. “She’s the owner of the club. Please. Tell her it’s about Cameron Matthews. Tell her it’s urgent.”

Silence.

Shit. What am I supposed to do now? Talking to Sin and getting her to rescue Cameron was the best plan I could come up with. If I can’t get to her, I guess I’ll have to go to the precinct and bother the front desk person until they do something. Like arrest me.

“Come on, guys. Let me in.”

I raise my fist to knock again when the door suddenly opens. A hand grabs my bicep, steadying me as I stumble. “It’s not every day we have slaves banging on the door to get in,” a low male voice grumbles. It’s one of those big bouncers with a buzzcut. “Usually they’re trying to get out.”

“I… I’m not…” Fuck. I came here of my own free will. They can’t just keep me here, can they?

My stomach drops as I realize that they can. Free will means nothing here.

Somehow, the possibility of getting kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery again didn’t occur to me.

“I need to talk to Sin. Please. She knows me.” She thrust her tits into my face when I was impaled on Cameron’s cock. That warrants a level of recognition, right?

The bouncer ignores my stuttering and manhandles me into a small, functional office behind the reception desk. The difference between the club’s opulence and this room’s boring normalcy is staggering. The bouncer leans against the door with his bulky arms crossed in front of his equally bulky chest. I can see his weapon, and not the one in his pants. Damn, why am I making stupid jokes when I’m about to be tortured and raped?

“Please, I need to speak to Sin.”

“You will.” Before relief sets in, he adds, “Strip.”

“E-excuse me?”

His eyes narrow in a clear threat. “Slaves don’t wear clothes around here. Strip, or I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay. I… Okay.” I quickly take off my clothes. It doesn’t matter. After the time I spent with Cameron, wearing clothes feels weird, and everyone in the club already saw me naked anyway. If it gets me to Sin, I’ll be naked all day long.

The bouncer points to a corner where someone tried to remove a stubborn stain from the boring gray carpet. They didn’t quite succeed, and the result looks even worse than if the stain had been left alone. “Kneel.”

This time, I don’t argue. In fact, I barely even think about the command. My knees hit the stained carpet without conscious thought, which is a little scary. It’s one more thing I should probably be in therapy for. Kneeling for strangers who might or might not murder me later. It’d give Mark a hell of a headache.

The bouncer goes through my clothes, piece by piece. He turns my phone off and pockets it, then searches my backpack and steals a chocolate bar I bought for a late snack. He grins at me as he munches on it, like he’s daring me to complain. I know what he’s doing, and I won’t give him a reason to punish me. He might be a dick, but right now, he’s the dick I need.