Dark Obsessions - Volume I: Four Intense Capture Fantasies in One Sizzling Collection

by Claire Thompson

  “I’m sorry.”

  He wasn’t so sorry that he did anything to help her, however. Turning his back, he left the yard, locking the gate behind him.

  Perhaps an hour had passed. Leah was sitting on the edge of the trampoline, several dogs once again curled contentedly around her. All at once, the dogs lifted their heads, looking toward the gate. Several of them leaped from the bed and raced toward the fence, barking excitedly. Leah saw the two guards who had beaten and then dumped her in the kennel approaching.

  She stiffened, her heart jumpstarting into a pounding beat as she watched them unlock the gate and enter the kennel. The German Shepherd had remained with Leah. Perhaps sensing her anxiety, the dog growled softly as the men came near.

  “Come,” the shorter of the two men said, gesturing toward Leah.

  Leah slid from the low trampoline and stood, wrapping her arms around her bare torso. She was almost sorry to leave the dogs—at least she’d been safe among them. And who knew what new horror awaited her?

  ~*~

  Devin approached the front desk. The woman behind the check-in counter looked up. “Yes, sir?” She smiled pleasantly.

  He’d tried to file a missing persons complaint with the police, but they’d refused to lift a bloody finger, saying it wasn’t their job to keep tabs on tourists who went missing for a few hours, and blandly suggesting he check back in the morning if she still hadn’t appeared. He’d spent a nearly sleepless night pacing his hotel room, calling her mobile repeatedly, with no results.

  He must have finally fallen asleep at some point, because he awoke to the sound of the alarm blaring at seven. After a quick shower to wake himself, he rushed down to the lobby, this time determined to get results.

  “I need to connect with one of the guests,” Devin said firmly. “Her name is Leah Jacobs. She is checked in to room 232 but I’m afraid she might be missing. Please call the room for me at once.” He’d already decided to insist they take him up to the room and open the door, so he could see for himself she wasn’t in there. He drummed the counter anxiously while he waited for the woman behind the counter to pull up the information on her computer.

  After a moment she looked up with the ubiquitous Thai polite smile. “I’m sorry. We have no one by that name registered at the hotel.”

  “What?” Devin frowned, his stomach clutching. “She was here as of yesterday. I’m certain of it. Look again. It’s Jacobs. Leah Jacobs.” He spelled the name, trying to keep his impatience in check.

  The woman tapped again on her keyboard, staring at her monitor. “That is correct, sir. She checked out yesterday morning.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Devin contradicted. “Her group isn’t scheduled to leave until today. You’ve made a mistake.”

  “Excuse me, is there a problem?” A Thai man dressed in a shiny silk suit, his dark hair slicked back from his forehead, appeared beside Devin. The gold metal tag pinned over his breast pocket read Concierge.

  “Yes. There’s a group of Americans traveling together. Leah Jacobs, a part of the group, is staying in room 232. Ms.—” Devin glanced at the woman’s name tag, hoping he was pronouncing it correctly, “Jetirawat is telling me she checked out.”

  “Ah, yes. I know the lady. Blond hair, blue eyes, early twenties. She checked out yesterday morning. I personally handled her checkout. She was heading on to…” The man squinted at the ceiling, as if trying to recall a conversation. “Ah, yes. She told me she was heading to Bangkok.”

  Devin shook his head. What the hell was going on here?”Look, I was with the lady yesterday morning. We made plans to meet again last night. There is no way she checked out. You’re just plain wrong.” Devin realized he was clenching his fists. His heart felt as if someone were squeezing it.

  The concierge offered a bland, sympathetic smile. “Ah, pretty girl, so young, eh? These Americans, they do what they like.” His smile curved into something more knowing, his eyebrows lifting with supposed understanding. Devin wanted to sock him in the jaw. “Forget about that silly American girl,” the man continued. “There are so many lovely ladies here in Pattaya for you to choose from. I can recommend some excellent clubs—“

  “There was nothing silly about her,” Devin snapped, furious at the man’s presumption and rudeness.“And I’m not interested in random young women. I’m looking for Leah Jacobs. Don’t you understand? She might in trouble. How dare you talk to me like that!”

  The concierge shrugged his shoulders, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I beg your pardon if I offended, but what can I tell you, sir? The girl is gone. Long gone.”

  ~*~

  The men flanked her on either side, each taking hold of an upper arm as they propelled her from the kennel. She was desperately thirsty and would have begged the men for water if she hadn’t been gagged.

  They led her back into the large house, though this time, instead of taking her back into the main room, they took her up a narrow staircase just inside the back door. When they reached the top of the stairs, Leah was terrified she was going to be beaten again and thrust into another cupboard, but instead she was led into a large bathroom.

  The floors and walls were tiled in white marble shot through with strands of silver, gold and green. There was a huge sunken tub that took up one side of the room. It was filled with water, a fragrant steam rising from the surface. Leah’s skin, covered in dirt, dried sweat and dog hair, itched with longing.

  She was directed to a toilet set discreetly behind a screen. She sat, embarrassed to go in front of these thugs, but aware she’d better seize the opportunity. When she was done, they led her back into the main bathroom.

  “Kneel.” The taller man pointed to a thick bath rug beside the tub and Leah sank gratefully to her knees on the soft pile, staring longingly at the bath. To her relieved delight, the man unlocked and unbuckled the leather harness, removing it from her head.

  Leah touched her jaw, which was wet with sweat and aching with disuse. She opened her mouth carefully, reveling in the freedom to do so after so many hours.

  “Drink.” The guard handed her a glass of water. Leah took the glass and gratefully drained it.

  “Get into the tub, filthy girl. Alex will take care of you.” The shorter guard was pointing to the bathtub. If she was filthy, he and his thug partner were certainly to blame, but Leah held her tongue. Gingerly she climbed into the water. It was hot, but not too hot, and moved like silky heaven over her skin as she lowered herself down.

  The taller man went to a counter and lifted a small brass bell. Its tinkle echoed against the marble walls and within a few seconds a tall solid-looking man with long, lank brown hair pulled back into a ponytail entered the room. Leah presumed this was the Alex the guard had referred to. He was wearing a dark blue robe that resembled a kimono, his feet bare. He wore what looked to Leah like a slave collar made of silver metal around his neck, a large O ring at its center. There were matching cuffs around his wrists and ankles.

  The guard who had rung the bell pointed toward Leah. “She’s to have a full grooming. She is to be presented to the harem steward for inspection.”

  Harem steward! Did harems actually still exist? Weren’t they the province of the Middle East, not the Far East? But then, Khalil was almost certainly an Arab, or at least of Arabian descent. Thailand might be his home base, but she could only guess how far this sex slave trafficking web she’d fallen into reached.

  These thoughts flitted through Leah’s rational mind at lightning speed, but were quickly edged out by raw emotion, the top one being fear.

  Alex nodded calmly and knelt gracefully beside the tub, his movements somehow feminine. Lifting a tube from the side of the tub, he squeezed a dollop of what looked like shampoo into his hand. “I will wash your hair,” he informed her. His voice, too, was feminine, both in tone and quality. His large brown eyes reminded Leah of a deer and his beard, if he even shaved at all, was very light.

  Leah would much rather have washed her
own hair but she didn’t protest, the memory of the beatings at the hands of the men now standing guard far too fresh in her mind. Instead, she dunked her head back into the fragrant water, closing her eyes with pleasure as it sluiced over her.

  When she lifted her head, Alex leaned over her and rubbed the shampoo into her scalp. The shorter guard brought over a large pitcher and stood waiting. Alex massaged her scalp gently as he shampooed the tangled mess of her hair.

  Looking up, he nodded toward the guard holding the pitcher, who poured fresh warm water over Leah’s head. They repeated the process. Alex then selected a washcloth from a pile that rested on the wide rim of the huge tub. Using a bar of sweetly scented soap, he washed every inch of Leah’s body. Unlike the stoic, masklike faces of the guards, Alex smiled in a rather absent way as he cleaned her body. Leah had the odd feeling of being bathed by a kindly but disinterested grandmother.

  She regarded the man surreptitiously as he worked, noting his chubby, beardless face, pudgy fingers and feminine gestures, and suddenly realized what she was seeing. This man was a eunuch!

  Leah, familiar with Muslim and Turkish history, recalled that eunuchs were employed in a sultan’s harem to keep the ladies in line, while harboring no sexual desires of their own, or at least no ability to act on them. She had no idea such a barbaric practice as castration still existed, but then, she’d had no idea harems still existed either.

  The experience of being bathed by this castrated man while the guards stood by was strange in the extreme. When Alex was done, he nodded toward the taller guard.

  “Get out,” the guard ordered Leah. Turning to Alex, he added, “Do a good job. If the steward finds her worthy, she will be presented once again to the Master.” Leah imagined she could actually hear the capital M in the way he said the word.

  What if she was found unworthy? Would they kill her outright? More likely they’d put her to work as a prostitute, in conditions far worse than this luxurious marbled bathroom hinted at.

  Having little choice, Leah stepped out of the tub and stood passively as Alex toweled her dry. The guards then led her to a sink, directing her to stand beside it with her legs shoulder-width apart, her arms extended over her head. Soft cuffs that closed with Velcro were secured around her wrists and clipped to chains hanging from a fixture in the ceiling.

  For a moment Leah was afraid she was in for another beating. But instead of producing a whip, one of the men filled the sink with hot water and dropped a washcloth into it while Alex rubbed a thick, creamy paste under Leah’s arms. She tried to stay very still as he used a razor to scrape away any stubble.

  When he was done, he knelt in front of Leah and began to snip away her pubic curls with a small pair of scissors. He rubbed her mons with a damp cloth and then smoothed more of the shaving cream over her sex. Leah closed her eyes, her face burning with humiliation as the man shaved her pussy while the implacable guards stared down at them. Alex was gentle and careful, still appearing completely disinterested in what he was doing, as if he were peeling a piece of fruit or washing one of the household pets. The objectification was at once unsettling and a relief.

  Apparently satisfied, Alex eventually moved on to her legs, shaving them smooth. His touch was careful and expert, as if he’d done this many times before. When he was finished, the guards led her to a padded stool in front of a mirrored counter and had her sit, Alex following behind.

  On the counter were several large trays filled with all kinds of makeup, including numerous bottles of foundation, blush, lipsticks, eyeliners and mascara, as well as a dozen hairbrushes and combs. Alex selected a round brush and produced a blow dryer from beneath the counter, with which he proceeded to dry Leah’s long, thick hair.

  As he worked, Leah stared into her own large, frightened eyes in the mirror. There were blue smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes and her skin was mottled with sunburn from having spent the morning out in the kennel. Her lips were reddened and chapped and her mouth was pinched with fear.

  She looked away.

  When Alex was done with her hair, he pulled it back into a hairclip and pivoted the stool so she was facing him. He began to apply makeup, something Leah almost never wore. He started with foundation, using a small makeup sponge and moving it in circular sweeps over her throat, cheeks and forehead. He added blush, eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara and lipstick, taking a long time on her eyes. Leah imagined herself being turned into some kind of absurdly over-painted whore.

  But when he spun her back around to release the clip from her hair, Leah was startled at the transformation—the blue smudges were erased, the sunburned smoothed to a dewy glow, her lips a soft, inviting pink. The blue of her eyes was set off by kohl blue eyeliner and sparkling silver eye shadow.

  Finally, using a small brush dipped into a pot of rouge, Alex painted Leah’s pink nipples to a dark rose color. Next, she was led to a large wardrobe set against the far wall of the bathroom. A white silk robe, so sheer it was see-through, was draped over her shoulders.

  “The steward will inspect you for flaws. If you please him, he may invite you to dine with him. If you displease him…” The guard trailed off, and Leah almost thought she saw him shudder.

  This involuntary action, more than anything he could have said, caused an icy rivulet of terror to trickle along Leah’s spine. She had a horrible feeling her punishment would go far beyond just being denied the chance to share a meal with this steward person. She knew she’d damn well better please him, whatever it took.

  In fact, she was certain her very life depended on it.

  Chapter 6

  “I tell you, Reg, I’m worried sick. I think something’s happened to her.”

  After another fruitless visit to the local police, Devin called his longtime friend, Reggie Smith, who had lived in Thailand for the last decade and owned a string of convenience stores that specialized in British and European goods. They agreed to meet at a local pub that was a favorite among the British expats in Pattaya. Reggie had ordered lunch for them both but Devin had no appetite.

  As Devin began to relate the story of the missing Leah and his suspicions that there was foul play afoot, Reggie joked, “I know you’re god’s gift to women, Dev, but could it be the lady found a better offer? Did that even enter your egotistic mind?” He quickly sobered as Devin filled him in on the details, including the fact Leah had now been missing for at least twenty-four hours.

  “Wait a minute. Which hotel did you say it was?” Reggie asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “The Pattaya Gold. I’ve been staying there while I closed a beachfront deal.”

  “The Pattaya Gold, huh?” Reggie squinted at the ceiling, pursing his lips. “That name rings a definite bell. Let me just check something.” He pulled out his smart phone and busied himself for a few moments while Devin stared at the untouched food on his plate.

  Reggie looked up from his phone. “I thought so. That’s the one that was in the news last year. An American woman by the name of Jane Erwin disappeared from that very hotel. Caused a big stink in the international community. She’d checked in alone—her husband was to join her later in the month, once he’d finished up some business or other—but she apparently checked out four days after she’d arrived, according to the staff. Disappeared without a trace. The local police, notoriously corrupt, couldn’t find a single lead. The husband, at his wits end, hired a local private investigator who I happen to know, but I don’t think the guy made much headway either. Odds are pretty good she was sold off to one of the sex rings that run rampant in this country. Either that or she’s dead.”

  “Oh my god. Do you think that’s what happened to Leah?” Devin heard the panic in his voice.

  Reggie leaned forward, his expression serious. “These sex traffic rings are insidious. They mostly focus on local girls—girls who won’t be much missed, or whose families need the money so badly they just hand them over like chattel. But every once in a while you see a story in the paper about a European or Ameri
can disappearing. Probably for every one that makes the news, there are two dozen others never reported.

  “I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to find her! The police—”

  “I wouldn’t waste any more time there,” Reggie interrupted. “I have a better idea. You should contact that PI I know—see whatever happened with that case. Maybe he could provide some direction.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “George Sirir-something or other I could never pronounce. Wait a second.” Shifting, Reggie reached into his jacket and extracted a long, narrow wallet. Opening it, he rummaged for a few moments. “Aha. Here it is. I have his card. He did some surveillance work for me in a couple of my stores where some employee theft was going on.”

  Devin took the business card and read it: George Siriratsivawong: Investigations. Discretion Assured. “I won’t even try to pronounce that,” Devin said.

  “We just call him George S.”

  “I recognize that as a Thai surname, but George?”

  Reggie shrugged. “His mother’s British, father is Thai. I’m afraid he’s more Thai than British when it comes to having his palm crossed with silver for information. I know he got pretty heavily involved in the investigation for a while there. No doubt the money, and hence his interest, dried up before anything came of it. Still, it’s a place to start. Just make sure you bring plenty of cash.”

  Devin looked at the card again. “There’s a phone number but no address.”

  Reggie nodded. “Yeah, he does a lot of bar girl checks. Discretion is the name of his game. He vets anyone before letting them get too close.”

  “Forgive my ignorance, but what are bar girl checks?”

  “A lot of guys who fly in regularly from abroad meet girls in the go-go bars. Most of these dancers are hookers on the side, which is where the real money is. Some of these blokes like to have one special girl when they come to town. They will pay for the girl’s rent and other stuff in exchange for a promise that she doesn’t step out with other guys for money while he’s away. But you know,” Reggie gave a broad wink, “once the cat’s away, the mice will play, especially when there are mouths to feed. These losers get suspicious and hire George to check out their bar girl’s story. They want to make sure they’re keeping their legs closed.”