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I suck in a breath, trying to steel myself for whatever lies ahead of me, then exhale before knocking on the door.
“Get in here, Boo,” Alan growls from the other side of the door.
My hand trembles as I turn the handle. Slowly, I push open the door and step inside, finding Alan sitting on the edge of his bed, his hair still askew from last night. One of his kinks is having me pull it while he does as he pleases with my body. It’s a small sacrifice to make if it ends my torment quicker.
Not looking at me, he demands, “Where were you?”
“I took a shower.” My voice wavers with each syllable. “I didn’t want to wake you up, so I used our shower. I must have fallen asleep. I meant to come back to your room after.” The lie rolls off my tongue far easier than it should. Alan’s piercing gaze shifts over to me, as if he’s analyzing my body language to determine if I’m telling the truth. “I was alone,” I add. “Ask Tammy. She found me there.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask someone else to track you down.” With a hard shove, he’s on his feet, his naked body on full display, the thick hair on his chest matted from sweat. A deep frown forms on his face as he cups his large hand over the bruise on my cheek. “I wouldn’t have to hurt you if you’d just fucking listen.”
“I know,” I murmur, casting my eyes down to avoid his. “I’m sorry.”
The words feel like acid on my tongue, because I’m not sorry. The only person I should be apologizing to is myself, for allowing this to happen. For not seeing the debt my uncle was collecting at an alarming rate, and not seeing his intent to use me to pay it until it was too late.
“I went easy on you this time, but if you don’t start behaving, Boo, I won’t be able to control my temper.” Caressing my cheek, he places a kiss there. It takes everything in me to keep from recoiling from his touch. It’s like millions of stinging fire ants crawling all over my skin when he touches me. “You know what happens when I get pissed off.”
The scars on my back from his whip are proof enough that I know that answer. Torture of a different kind. It’s one thing to fuck my unwilling body, but it’s another to cut into it, leaving marks I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, however long that may be.
“Try to behave today, won’t you? Big Dick is on edge with our new guest.”
“I understand.”
“Good girl.” Releasing me, he steps away and starts getting dressed. Once he’s finished, he grabs me by the arm and drags me back out into the main room. I dutifully follow along until he deposits me outside of the kitchen and disappears inside. When he returns a few minutes later, he hands me a plate of mush.
“Come with me.” Grabbing hold of me again, he leads me down the opposite hallway, toward the cells. My stomach lodges in my throat. Is he putting me back into the cells? Is this my punishment? How did taking a shower regulate me to this?
Alan doesn’t stop until we reach the heavy outer door. He releases me long enough to jerk it open. It hits the wall so hard, it makes me jump. Once open, he grabs me again and yanks me inside.
My skin crawls at the memory of my time here. My first three years with the Screwballs, this was my home. I’d only been taken out to get cleaned up or to clean the clubhouse. I was ten years old. Far too young to be a plaything like the other girls. Big Dick had said my cell was for my own protection, but in reality, it was to keep me under lock and key until they broke me and made me compliant. Only then was I allowed free rein inside the main areas of the clubhouse. The only freedom I’d ever been given.
We stop outside an occupied cell. On the other side of the bars, a figure lies on a tattered cot, curled into themselves in a protective cocoon against the damp cold. The familiar sight of dark, matted hair is the only way I recognize him. It’s the man from the Black Hoods they had brought in last night from God knows where.
“What am I doing here?” I whisper.
“You’ll see.” His words set off warning signals inside my head, and my heart nearly stops. He’s really going to lock me up here, again, over a fucking shower.
“Alan, I didn’t mean to piss you off,” I start, but he hushes me.
“Enough, Boo. Just watch.”
Pulling down a small flap, he takes the plate from my hand and pushes it through, onto the floor.
The man on the cot never moves. “You’re to feed him once a day,” Alan orders. “Only that. In and out. You got it? Don’t speak to him.”
“Wait, what?” I’m confused. Why are they trusting me with this task? Surely this responsibility is better suited for someone like Tammy. Someone who wants to please the club.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Boo. You know how much that irritates me.”
“Yes, sir,” I submit. “Once a day. Don’t talk to him.”
“Good girl.”
“Who is he?”
“None of your concern. You just make sure he has a meal each morning.”
With a jerk, Alan tugs me behind him, leaving the man alone in the cells once more. He brings me back to the main room and releases me before stalking off to join a few other Screwballs at the table. Cherry slides over the bowl she’d made for me as I take my spot with the women. They chatter away, but my mind is a million miles away.
