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“Perfect.” So he loaned her the money she needed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to pay it back any more than any of the other girls—and occasionally young men—who eventually end up working in one of my establishments.
Everything is the way it’s always been. We have it down to a science by now.
So, why does this feel wrong?
“Have you seen Chloe tonight?” I ask.
He seems surprised by the sudden change in subject. “Yeah, she’s on the floor.”
“Tell her I want her up here now.” He knows better than to ask why.
There’s a knock from outside the office a minute later, but still not soon enough. I need something, anything, to distract me.
I press the button, opening the door, and am pleased to find the leggy redhead I requested. She’s tried a few different personas over the months she’s worked as a stripper down on the main floor and does best as a sexy businesswoman type: buttoned-up blouse, leather pencil skirt, garters, and stockings—the whole nine yards.
No matter how unique men think they are, I’ve never met one who doesn’t respond to a powerful but hot woman. Even I get off on them under the right circumstances, whether or not I’m the one doing the fucking.
“You wanted to see me?” She steps up to the desk, wearing a pleasant smile. It’s been a while since I’ve requested her company, and I already can’t wait to watch her at work.
This is who I am. This is what I do. I make money, I provide a service, I get off whenever I feel like it.
I don’t think about the girls I use. It’s not like they don’t get anything out of it.
“I want you to dance for me. Let me see those tits.” I lean back in my chair, making myself comfortable as Chloe backs into the center of the office. The music playing downstairs isn’t exactly audible, thanks to the soundproofing throughout the building, but the bass comes through.
She uses the beat, swaying her hips while running her hands over her body—ass, hips, tits, then over her face and head. In one quick move, she slides the clip out of her hair, shaking her head to let the red waves fall past her shoulders.
Her fingers work the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one at a time until she reveals a black lace bra barely strong enough to hold back her double-Ds. She massages her tits, pinching her nipples through the lace, and I’m reminded of the perks of my job as my cock stirs.
Perks too valuable to fuck up for any reason.
3
Rowan
“Take off all your clothes.”
That was the only instruction Alexei gave me before closing the door and leaving me alone in this dark basement room. I have no idea what’s going on in the other rooms—soundproofing again. The doors were closed as I walked down the hallway, so there was no getting a look inside.
I have no idea what’s going to happen down here.
I only know there’s a table in the center of the room—a table with straps hanging from the sides, and a light directly above it.
Okay, so the guy likes to restrain his girls. I guess I can deal with that. It’s not like I’ve never felt helpless before, though I wasn’t getting paid for it then.
Still, stripping down to bare skin isn’t easy. Goose bumps rise up all over my body as I unzip my dress and shimmy out of it. Why bother getting me dressed up if I’ll be naked when the client comes in?
No questions. I’m here to do, not to think.
Off comes my bra and panties. I fold them neatly and tuck them inside the dress, hiding them—like at a doctor’s appointment. Then, finally, the shoes. My feet thank me for it while my heart pounds loud enough for me to hear it in my head.
I don’t know what’s worse: the waiting or the dreading what might happen once the waiting’s over.
They can’t make people do really bad things. They’d never stay in business if they did. Of course, being in this basement room with its black walls and floor and no windows, it’s not as easy to believe what I told myself upstairs.
The door creaks open, and I immediately fold my hands in front of my shaved mound. Like it matters. Like he’s not going to see all of me if he wants to once I’m strapped down.
The man walks in, and at first sight, my insides feel all loose and shaky.
I don’t like this. I don’t like him.
And he doesn’t like me.
Sure, he smiles, but it’s a cold, nasty smile. There’s nothing behind his eyes but blank emptiness. I know that emptiness. Eric used to look at me that way before he’d hurt me.
It’s like being with him all over again. Only there was never a contract involved back then. I always knew in the back of my mind that he’d never hurt me badly enough for the rest of the world to know what he was capable of.
