A drop of pre-come balanced on the fat head of his imposing cock. Closing her eyes and holding her breath, Leah opened her mouth and slid her lips over the head and partway down the thick, hard shaft.
In point of fact, despite his obnoxious, sweeping and incorrect statement that all American women love to suck cock, Leah in fact did enjoy the practice, and prided herself on her skill in that regard. She loved the swell of a rising shaft against her tongue, and the way she could reduce a man to trembling, moaning jelly in her hands.
But that was with men she chose, on her own terms, not when being held against her will and basically having her mouth raped. Get through it. You can do this. Focus on the slave girl fantasy. Pretend this is a dream.
The slave girl fantasy. What incredible irony! Leah, sexually masochistic and submissive by nature, had developed an elaborate fantasy in her teens when masturbating, in which she was the pampered and beloved slave of a fabulously handsome Dom. He would mark her daily with a whip or cane, keep her naked and in chains, and fuck and sexually torture her nonstop, all the while murmuring delicious, dangerous, sexy promises of what he would do next into her ear.
Now by a horrible twist of fate, she had become someone’s real slave, taken by force, locked in a compound and surrounded by dangerous men who, she sincerely believed, would kill her in a heartbeat if she got out of line. Or, more likely, they would sell her ass for sex, and she’d end up dead after a year from some horrible sexually transmitted disease.
Spurred on by the desire to avoid these potential fates, Leah made herself concentrate on the task at hand. At least the man was clean and not too hairy. His cock was smooth, the skin silky over the steel of his erection. Licking the sweet spot just below the head of his cock, she stroked his balls with one hand and gripped the base of the long shaft with the other. She felt his hand on the back of her head, pressing gently. Taking the hint, she lowered herself farther onto the shaft, trying to relax enough to take it into her throat as he’d commanded.
He moaned softly and pressed a little harder against her head, gagging her with the sudden movement. She struggled to stay calm and open her throat. He gripped a handful of her hair, twining it tightly around his fingers. He muttered something in Arabic and grunted, thrusting against her mouth while she tried to maintain her position.
She willed herself to ease into what she called the zone, letting her mind empty as her body took over. The man had considerable staying power and was probably holding off as long as he could to prolong the pleasure. Leah redoubled her efforts, licking, sucking and massaging his shaft with every ounce of skill she possessed, all the while stroking and fondling his heavy balls.
She felt him tense and a shudder moved through his body. “Y’allah!” he shouted as he climaxed, his jism nearly choking her as it shot down her throat. Pulling his wet cock from her lips, he fell back against the chair with a contented sigh.
Leah let her hands fall away and knelt back on her haunches, not sure what was expected of her now. She stayed quiet and still, even resisting the desire to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, not willing to find out if this was permitted or not.
The naked man remained sprawled against the chair with complete, unselfconscious abandon while Leah knelt before him, feeling both fearful and a little triumphant that she’d made the bastard come. Finally he deigned to open his eyes, focusing slowly on Leah, his mouth curling into a lazy, contented smile.
“You did well, little one. You have pleased me.” He clapped his hands three times in rapid succession, startling Leah. A young woman who barely looked to be out of her teens appeared suddenly from a side door Leah hadn’t noticed before. She had long, thick dark hair that fell in shimmering waves down her back. She was dressed in a series of veils that revealed as much as they hid. She sank gracefully down, forehead to the ground, hands extended as Leah had been taught earlier by the steward.
He said something in rapid Arabic to the girl. She rose fluidly, her eyes downcast, replying in a soft, sweet voice in the same language. When the girl disappeared again, Khalil turned to Leah.
“Naeemah will have the cook prepare you a small meal. I personally will feed you.” He said this as if she should be overcome with awe and gratitude at such a privilege. Still, she was very hungry, the three tiny sandwiches and wedge of baklava only a memory.
Taking a deep breath, she replied, “Thank you, Master,” the appellation forced from her lips by a sheer act of will, made easier by the promise of food.
Khalil left Leah kneeling on the small rug while he moved around the room. Her knees were aching by the time the food arrived. Khalil had pulled on a pair of dark blue silk lounge pants, leaving his chest bare. A low table that held several covered dishes was wheeled into the room by a male servant, bringing with it heavenly aromas of cardamom, cinnamon and roasted lamb. He lifted the lids from the dishes, revealing a steaming bowl of yellow rice with chunks of potato, carrot and peas and a plate with five small skewers of grilled shish kebab. There was a bottle of white wine beside the food, a single glass beside it. Leah’s mouth was watering and she swallowed hard as she stared at the feast.
She almost didn’t mind being fed, and forgot the pain in her knees as Khalil spooned the flavorful rice into her mouth or offered a morsel of the tender, spicy lamb. She chewed quickly, eager for each offered bite, grateful for the sustenance. Unlike her previous experiences since the abduction, she wasn’t denied food after a few mouthfuls. Khalil allowed her to eat her fill, alternating bites of food with the wine, a fruity chardonnay.
She was actually full when he’d emptied the platters, and a little drunk from the two glasses of wine. She felt almost grateful to the man who purchased human beings for his own amusement. Almost.
Leaning down, Khalil removed her barrettes. He stroked her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ears, smiling at her as if they were lovers. She stifled the urge to scream, praying her face didn’t betray her fury. “You will sleep at my feet tonight, little one.” Leah wasn’t sure if he meant on the floor of his bedroom or literally at his feet on the huge, high bed, but figured she’d find out soon enough.
He allowed her to use the bathroom in private and even provided her with a new toothbrush. When she emerged, having stayed in the bathroom as long as she dared, Khalil was sitting on the edge of the huge canopied bed. He’d turned off the overhead light and the room was lit by a stained glass lamp that stood on a small table inlaid with mother of pearl beside the bed.
He beckoned to her with a crooked finger. Leah approached hesitantly, still not sure if she was supposed to lie down on the floor or the bed. “Come closer, little one. Do not be shy.” He swung his legs from the bed and stood, naked again, his cock at half mast. He pointed to the end of the mattress and Leah saw the chain wrapped around one of the posts with several metal clips attached.
“Lie down and put your wrists together. The chain is long and will allow you to move as you sleep.” He smiled again and lifted his chin, as if waiting for her to thank him for the great gift of a long chain. To cover her bases, Leah forced herself to thank him, supposing she should be grateful. Sleeping on the bed was definitely better than being shoved beneath the stairs or thrown in a dog kennel. She would rather have been left to her own devices in the room she’d been taken to after her bath, but apparently she’d done such a good job sucking the dickwad’s cock that she had earned the privilege of sleeping with his feet in her face.
She did as she was told, lying down on the soft sheets and holding her wrists obediently together while he clipped the O rings to the chain. There was enough play in the chain to allow her to move, though she was pretty much limited to lying on her side. Khalil placed a light coverlet over her body. Leah would have liked a pillow, but didn’t dare ask.
She almost sighed aloud with relief to realize she’d made it through the day alive and relatively intact. She was exhausted and couldn’t wait to escape the terror of this ongoing ordeal for at least a few hours. The
healing peace of a good night’s sleep would hopefully give her courage to face whatever lay ahead.
Khalil climbed into bed above her and with a flick of the lamp, the room was plunged into darkness, save for the silvery glow of the rising moon outside the window. Leah’s eyelids were heavy, aided by her full stomach and the wine. She let them close and tucked her hands beneath her head for a pillow, the chains clanking as she moved.
Khalil’s next words made her eyes fly open and set her heart pounding. “By the way, I am especially fond of nipple torture. I am curious to see how long you can last, little one. My most accomplished slave girl endured more than thirty minutes before she could take no more. In the morning we will take your measure and see how you compare.”
Any hope of sleep had vanished. Long after Khalil had begun to snore, Leah lay rigid and wide-eyed, staring at the moon until it disappeared from view.
Chapter 8
Devin ran his fingers through his hair and stretched his neck with a groan. He’d been at it for hours. The papers from George’s files were spread all over the desk, with more fanning out on the floor beside him. He had nearly used up the packet of index cards he’d purchased for the purpose, filling them with notes from the files.
He stared again at the dozen or so photos of various properties that George had rounded up when trying to pinpoint the location of the slave compound. From his own work in real estate, Devin was familiar with several of the properties owned by Asian and European millionaires whom he doubted had anything to do with slave trafficking. There were gorgeous villas, built on beautifully landscaped terraced cliffs overlooking the ocean. An aerial view of one sprawling property included a garden filled with life-size sculptures of wild horses that appeared to be carved from marble. Another boasted a pool terrace with a glass-bottomed infinity pool that spilled over into the sea.
Devin had what he hoped were several promising leads to pursue, but he needed to organize his thoughts better and figure out a strategic plan of attack. His head ached and there was a dull pain in his stomach he realized was from hunger. In his single-minded focus on George’s files, he’d completely forgotten about food. In fact, he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since Leah had gone missing the day before.
Devin knew he should get some dinner, though he didn’t have much of an appetite, despite his hunger. Still, he wouldn’t be much help to Leah if he didn’t keep up his strength, and so he reached for the room phone. “This is Mr. Lyons in room 1404. Please send up a steak, rare, and some chips. Oh, and a bottle of Guinness.”
While waiting for his meal, Devin organized his index cards into piles—one pile with the names and information on the people George had interviewed in relation to the abductions, one pile with what little information there was about the compound that was the suspected hub of the slave trade, and one pile about sex trafficking in general, and the Thai sex industry in particular.
Devin looked at his watch. It was nearly eight o’clock, and the exotic dance and strip clubs would be opening for the evening. As soon as he ate and showered, he would go to Pattaya’s red light district, the neon-drenched strip known as Walking Street, which stretched from Soi 13 to 16. In reviewing George’s notes, he’d found the information about the Thai girl who had been abducted but then released. According to the notes, she worked at Happy GoGo Club. Devin had his fingers crossed that she was still there.
Room service arrived and Devin forced himself to eat, though he barely tasted the food. As he ate, his mind drifted over the one perfect night he had shared with Leah. As he thought of the lovely woman he’d left sleeping like an angel in his bed, the unwelcome thought that he might never see her again slithered into his brain like a snake. Even if he found out what happened to her, it might already be too late.
“No!” he shouted, refusing to let his thoughts move to their inevitable conclusion. “Hang on, Leah. Just hang on. I’m coming to find you.”
The Happy GoGo Club was dimly lit, except for the spotlights trained on naked girls gyrating on the elevated stage that stretched along the center of the room. Pulsing disco music pumped through the smoke-filled air. Chairs lined the perimeter of the stage, most of them occupied by men who watched the girls with expressions ranging from open-mouthed admiration to world-weary boredom.
Devin made his way to the bar at the back of the room. The bartender was Thai, with longish, greasy hair slicked back from his face. Devin ordered a beer. As the bartender set it before him, Devin put some baht on the bar. “Keep the change.”
Palming the money, the bartender asked, “You want lap dance?” He pointed toward the section of the room that contained freestanding tables, a few of which were occupied by men with naked or nearly naked women sitting on their laps. “You pay me. Girls get the tips.”
“Actually, I’m looking for a particular girl. Her name is Jaidee. She goes by the name of Lotus Flower.” Jaidee was his best hope for pinpointing the actual location of the compound. Assuming Leah was even there. Devin knew his theory was crammed with way too many assumptions, but what else did he have to go on?
The bartender eyed Devin suspiciously. “No Lotus Flower here. You want lap dance? I got lots of girls, best in Pattaya.”
“I’m looking for Jaidee. I just want to talk to her.”
The bartender shook his head. “She no here. No more. I got better girls. Much prettier girls.” He cupped his hands at his chest to indicate gargantuan breasts. “My girls know what a man wants.” He winked.
Devin put his hands on the bar, leaning forward. “I don’t want a lap dance. I’m looking for Jaidee Anantasu.”
“I tell you. She no here.” The bartender started to turn away, a scowl on his face.
Devin reached again into his pocket, withdrawing a wad of baht, which he slapped onto the bar. Forcing himself to speak politely, he said, “Perhaps you have some information that would help me track her down. I would greatly appreciate it.”
The bartender turned slowly back, his eyes on the money. “She quit two months ago. How I know where she go? I don’t own these girls.” He placed his hand over the money and looked at Devin, the scowl now replaced with a smile.
“Maybe you could give it some thought. It’s a matter of the utmost importance. Any help you can offer would be most appreciated.” Devin waited. The man, his hand still on the money, regarded Devin with raised eyebrows.
“I think I might remember,” he said slowly. “It’s been a while though.”
“Perhaps I can help jog your memory.” Devin slid another packet of Thai money across the bar, praying the man had the information he was desperately seeking.
The bartender put his other hand over the second pile of cash and slid both from the bar. “I have maybe something. No promises.” He moved toward the cash register. Reaching beneath the counter, he pulled out what looked like a small, black leather address book, stuffed with loose pieces of paper. Opening it on the counter, he riffled through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Taking one of the scraps of paper, he pulled a plastic pen from his shirt pocket, crossed out whatever was on the scrap and scribbled something beneath it.
Looking at Devin, he slid the piece of paper across the bar. “Last I hear, she at The Blue Dream. Vastly inferior club, over on Second Road. My girls better. You stay for lap dance, eh? No charge.”
“Another time.” Devin took the scrap of paper on which the bartender had written the address of the rival club, clutching it like a lifeline.
~*~
Devin felt as if he were in a kind of surreal nightmare, with this scantily clad girl wiggling on his lap while Leah might already be dead. He’d been at The Blue Dream for nearly an hour waiting for his turn with Jaidee, who was apparently quite popular.
It was awkward trying to interview the girl from this position, but she’d refused to sit at the table, darting glances in the direction of the bartender, whom Devin suspected was also her pimp. “I dance for you, yes? Make you happy.”
She was a pretty girl, with high cheekbones, large, dark almond-shaped eyes and a pouty little mouth. Devin had been trying for ten minutes to tease any information out of her about her abduction experience, but she either didn’t understand or refused to discuss it. Finally she put a long-nailed finger over his lips. “You want talk, we go to back room for naughty play. Fifteen hundred baht, cheap! I talk dirty to you, yes? You like that?”
She placed a small hand over Devin’s crotch. Devin stood, lifting the girl in the process and setting her on her feet. “Okay, fine. Let’s go to a back room.” He tried to keep the frustration from his voice, aware she was only doing her job.
With a wide smile and another surreptitious glance at the bartender, Jaidee held her hand out to Devin, who took it. She led him through a door that opened onto a narrow hallway with doors along one wall, each painted a different color. She stopped in front of the red door. The small room was decorated rather as Devin had expected, most of the space taken up by a bed, the lamp beside it covered with a red lampshade that cast the room in a pinkish glow. There was a small, rickety looking bureau, over which hung a large mirror that faced the bed.
The girl stood smiling politely, her head tilted as she regarded him. “You please to put the cash there.” She pointed to the bureau. Devin pulled out his wallet, thinking briefly how much he’d spent so far in what he prayed wasn’t a fool’s errand. He set the bills on the bureau.
Devin sat on the bed, suddenly realizing how exhausted he was. He ran his hands through his hair and over his face. His eyes felt gritty and he wanted to take a hot shower and climb into bed, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d found Leah.
Jaidee slid the spaghetti straps of her flimsy sundress from her shoulders. “No, that’s okay,” Devin said, holding out a hand with its palm toward her. “I told you before—I just want to talk to you. I need some information.”
Dark Obsessions - Volume I: Four Intense Capture Fantasies in One Sizzling Collection Page 31