by Jamie Magee
Tuesday patted me on the shoulder when I walked out. She dressed me in lace shorts, a low cut sky blue bra, fishnet stockings, and heels. The lessons began then.
Kneel. Never make eye contact. Speak when spoken to. Perform on demand. Swallow.
“You’re a possession. Make them want to possess you,” she said as she showed me how to elegantly kneel and rise then walked me through the most embarrassing conversation ever about giving head.
“The pills aren’t working...I still care,” I told her when she scorned my tears for messing up my eye makeup again.
She gave me half of another pill and promised they’d kick in soon enough. “If they don’t, I hope you can act...I’m serious. You make this choice, no one else can.” She eyed me somewhat suspiciously. “Zee never allows new girls at these meetings. But you match a type of girl a man he wants to impress has requested.” When I said nothing, had zero expression she went on. “You mean nothing to Zee now, so change that. Do as you’re told.”
I swallowed the half pill right as a man came to the door. He was dressed in a suit, refined in a gangster kind of way. He looked me over indifferently, then directed me only with his glance. It was something Tuesday told me would happen.
Feeling my dignity crumble away, I lowered to my knees and bowed my head. He moved toward me, then I felt the collar go around my neck. A leash was clasped to it. My hands and knees burned as I crawled behind him through the train. I did my best to focus on the pain and not what I was moving toward. Burn, burn, burn, burn...
I slipped somewhere deep inside my mind. At first, I was a kid playing in the yard, not a care in the world. But that took me far too close to my grandmother, the shame I was sure she’d have if she saw me this way. I moved my mind forward to the field parties I went to. The backseats I visited and the lines I crossed that I knew I was too young to cross.
I let myself linger there; in that innocent time that I was sure was a detrimental sin when it happened. Old boyfriend’s faces flashed in my mind. Slayton’s tried to dominate them all, but I wouldn’t let it. The anger in his eyes made me tremble. Tuesday told me not to shake, not to cry. Be submissive.
When we stopped, I was in a room with five other girls. None of us looked at each other, but I knew I was the odd one out. The one who still had her will and dignity that I thought I could pick up off the floor when this was over. We were left there in a line. Like a dessert tray waiting to be presented later.
In the next room—or cart rather, I was still on a train—I could hear men talking. It sounded like a business conference. They were complimenting each other just as much as they were insulting. The mood was calm, almost surreal.
“You come alone, a sign of trust,” a man’s voice said.
Others laughed. A harder tone said. “It will be a long while before trust is in play again.”
I leaned to my side. The high I was hoping would come had arrived. Which had me doubting that I knew that voice, even though I was positive I did.
“I’ve brought my finest tonight. You’ll have first pick. Compliments of my crew.”
“Not here for your bullshit,” the hard tone said in a fading voice. It sounded like him and the guy he was talking to were walking away.
The higher my mind took me, the harder I fought it. I knew that more than likely that wasn’t the wisest thing to do, that I’d need all the help I could get to make it through anything coming at me, but I couldn’t shake that I knew that voice. I kept trying to piece together where I was in the city, what I’d heard others say around me all the days I’d been drugged into a stupor.
All my thoughts halted and yelled out when I felt a slash across my back. I fell forward on my hands. Two more lashes came before I realized I was being whipped. Before I remembered my lessons. To not cry, not make a noise.
Someone jerked me back in place. “Sway again. Cry again, and you’re out.” I was sure it was the guy who had put a leash on me, but I wasn’t dumb enough to look up and get a positive ID.
I sat there, feeling the sting across my ass, hips and back with racing thoughts and a blank stare as the girls with me were lead into the next room. After each one there was always some kind of uproar, the clanking of glasses, vulgar words, then it would die down. I was sure I’d heard a moan just a second ago. I wasn’t high enough to not feel the sick twisting in my gut.
I took my mind back to the field parties, to the backseats. The sins I could live with. Sins I was cool with tainting and never digging up again.
I was the last to be led in; keeping a blank stare was next to impossible to do. The train car was lined with red velvet seats; a long table filled with liquor bottles and crystal holding divine food was sitting in front of some of the seats. There were lush chairs in the center of the room. Poles with girls dancing on them were in rows down the center.
I didn’t count them, but there had to be almost twenty men, and only half that amount of girls. I told myself not to faint, to not move when I watched one of the girls crawling toward a short, heavy, balding man. He kept his cigar in his mouth as she slowly seduced him, rocking her body up like a wave, dancing to the sultry music that was playing in the background as she worked him. When her head went down, and he watched like it wasn’t odd to get sucked off in public I lost my balance on my legs, and slipped to the side. I tried to recover, but I was trembling too hard.
I felt the collar choking me then pulling me to leave. Even though it was exactly what I wanted to happen, I knew this was the end. I was crawling to my death. Whether it was coming fast or slow I didn’t know, only that it was promised.
Then I heard a casual voice say. “Where are you going? What happened to me getting first pick?”
The man leading me stopped. I tried to make out the conversations above me, but the drugs, adrenaline, and fear made it harder than I can explain. They sounded like an echo, not only were their voices hollow and far away but I was sure I was hearing them seconds after they spoke.
“Ah, I promised you the best. This one is being unruly it seems...”
“Makes it interesting for them to be in there somewhere.”
“Are you insulting my girls?” a harsh tone asked.
“If I was, why would I be asking you to not take one away before I got a look at her?”
“Malcolm liked the girls I sent him, eh? Better for the fighters—trained, clean. You boys need girls that won’t cut your dick off in your sleep.”
“Maybe.”
I knew that voice, but I hadn’t been told to sit much less been given permission to look up.
“You have big fights coming, let me cater your party,” the host said.
“Fine.”
“Good. Good, then come I’ll make sure you feel right,” the host said in a tone that I was sure had a degree of relief in it.
“I want to look at this one.”
The command was given for me to sit and I did. The command for me to look up came a second later. I was slow to raise my gaze not only because I was told by Tuesday that was how I needed to be, but because the rest of me was starting to feel like their voices were far away. Something I was only aware of a second after it happened.
He was tall, how long it took for my eyes to travel up said as much. Young; how fit he was backed that notion. When I first saw his face, it was all a blur, but I knew he was blond. By the time I did focus, and recognition struck me, my face was in the palm of his hand, so I doubted many beyond him noticed my shock.
Channing.
“You like them mysterious, young,” the host said like he was matching a fine wine with a meal. “I have someone perfect in mind for you.”
Channing’s blue eyes were steady on mine, his jaw was clenched, but that was his normal. Intimidating as hell. I was starting to think it wasn’t him, that or he didn’t recognize me under all the makeup they’d put on me.
“Her,” he said.
“No.”
Channing let my chin go, and before I bowed my head, I saw
him settle his hand on the gun at his side.
The friendly, once relieved sounding host’s tone grasped firmness. One that told me he didn’t come into command over this crew with a soft heart. “I will not send Malcolm a girl I haven’t tried yet. I will not insult him that way or further test our alliances.”
Channing stepped closer. “You will not tell me what you will and will not do. We don’t have an alliance. We’ve decided to give you grace. Allow you time to clean up your crew. Something that would be easier to do if you were not always looking for something to stick your cock in.” Even as high as I was, I picked up on the tension. “Send whatever girls you want to Malcolm, but I’ve told you once, I want to try this one. And if I fucking like it, you’ll gift wrap this whore tonight and send her on her way.”
Silence.
“We clear?”
Nothing.
Channing walked away. I had to tell myself not to follow him. My mind was scrambling, trying to figure out if this was good or bad. If he’d take me to Slayton, or use me as a pawn, or fuck with me just because he was the cold bastard everyone believed he was—or maybe all of those.
The men above me whispered back and forth. It was all about my pedigree. Where I came from, what I was on. What I’d seen. Knowing I was basically on valium and not crack gave me some peace. Hearing no one was looking for me, that my ID said I came from a nowhere town four states away hurt. It made me realize I was utterly alone in this life.
Once the host was confident that I wasn’t planted in his operation and clean, the tension in his tone faded a bit. When the guy unhooked my leash and tugged at my collar, I had no idea what he said to me. If it was to not fuck up or make sure that I did. Channing had taken a seat in the back. It was still in the room but not in the center of the others—which had become an orgy fest.
The crawl to him might as well have been a million miles away, that’s how heavy my limbs felt. I swear I felt the stares of the room weighing on me. Once I reached Channing, I sat the way I was told by Tuesday, a toy waiting to be animated by my master.
For a long while, Channing did nothing but stare at my bowed head and drink. Whatever he was drinking it was straight. Moments later he beckoned me to rise with his fingers. Shakily, I did so. I landed my hands on his thighs and eased them forward. His groaning response was tense and tight, but then he flicked his stare across the room and relaxed a bit.
What he said to me was under his breath which only made it harder to pick up with my altered senses but I got the gist, it was somewhere along the lines of, “You better make this good, little girl.”
Little girl, those two words took me back to Slayton. To our first night when I was both terrified and turned on by him. Channing didn’t turn me on, there was no rush. Fear wasn’t doing a damn thing for me this go ‘round. Figures.
My mind pushed Slayton to the forefront. I saw his anger, the jealousy and rage he’d have for me when he figured out what I’d done.
I’d wronged him again...
Right then, I couldn’t gauge Channing. I could not pinpoint if he was a savior or the final nail in my coffin.
See him...Slayton. Some wise—or unwise depending on how you look at it—part of me thought. There was no other way for me to get through this. No, I wasn’t a virgin, yes I loved the feel of a man’s touch across my flesh. But I’d never once touched, or let someone touch me that I didn’t feel a connection to. Slayton was different than the other guys I’d gotten close to. With my past boyfriends, I built something. I knew them for years, dated for months—sex was our next step. Slayton was instant. I swear I felt that boy jar my soul the first time I looked him in the eye. I felt his stoic strength. I felt his stubborn determination. I sensed his uncanny loyalty. Above all, I felt how drawn he was to me, how our pull was mutual. Almost supernatural.
I didn’t want to taint his memory, use him to fight this demon before me but I knew there was no other way. I had to see him, to pretend...
My life depended on it.
My hands seductively moved up Channing’s thighs as I moved my body trying to entice him. My eyes welled as I slowly went through the paces. My hands fumbled, they shook, I felt sick, but I moved through the steps. The good girl in me, the one that still believed I was protected, that angels walked with me, was waiting for one of those benevolent beings to step in and save me from the course I was on.
It didn’t happen.
Worse yet, I was sure I was failing at seducing Channing. He was still in the state of mind to not only pour a drink, but also take two more shots. He poured a third then held it to my lips. I wanted to refuse it, but it was another rule of Tuesday’s—take what they give you, never refuse and make sure you’re grateful. I swallowed the shot and moaned as I did. It wasn’t an act. The burn, the taste, took me back to those field parties I was trying to pretend I was at before. It helped my spinning head lose a few more ambitions.
Channing’s thumb traced my bottom lip, taking the drop that had escaped. His eyes were glazed over, but I saw dark desire there. Still holding my chin in his fingers, he leaned back, a gentle call for me to come with him. As sexy as I could manage, I crawled up his body.
I sighed out of shock, not pleasure, when his hands landed on my breasts, kneading them until they fell from the tiny cups they were shoved into. When his lips landed on my chest, the entire room spun, and I gripped him for support. When I felt his erection pressing into my belly, my mind struggled to sober, but then I decided letting go was my only choice.
I needed Channing to be faceless, a dream I’d wake from. I pulled his belt loose; I struggled with the button, but I blamed him for it, his grip on my boobs was so hard that I felt it even as blazed as I was. I was turned on by the intensity of it, him kissing the nape of my neck wasn’t helping either.
I didn’t want pleasure and as soon as I screamed that in my thoughts I went back to work. Slowly leaning down to kiss the glistening head of his erection. The groan he let out told me I was sober enough to remember how to do this. My hand went to the base of his length as my kiss met my hand over and over, slow then fast.
His hands framed my face, his fingers pushed through my hair, pulling it from the pins Tuesday had in place. He lifted his hips meeting me. There were a few seconds where I let myself become enthralled by his action. Where I felt powerful enough to make this man crumble without even trying. Those seconds were fleeting and all part of the high. Then it was over. I did as I was told before. I swallowed. Worked him until he was lax.
I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do after. If I sat obediently, crawled way—I had no idea, and my back was to the room so I couldn’t turn and look at what the other girls were doing. Channing patted his lap answering my question. I crawled slowly up and perched on one side. He poured me a shot; before I drank it down he’d poured another one.
Other men came close, spoke to him...but I was gone. At first, I only slipped into that echo of my mind. But then I felt myself swaying.
All I remember was being grateful that I was permitted to walk across the pavement instead of crawl. Even though I did so poorly. I wasn’t even sure what pavement it was.
Then darkness came.
SEVENTEEN
I puked before I ever opened my eyes, which didn’t earn me any favors. I heard a score of gasps and ridicules. When I finally did focus, I had no idea where I was but figured out it wasn’t the train, the room was big. Not clean but not a slum either. It was almost industrial, the floor was a sheen marble, one wall was metal the other three were drywall that had been poorly painted over. The lights were fluorescent and hung low, each one stabbing my eyes with light and pain.
There were girls everywhere. At least fifteen. A few faces I recognized from the night before. Now that they were not leashed or collared their entire demeanor had changed. They were flaunting their sex appeal and aggression. Most in the room were nearly nude, in scraps of lingerie. Every glance, grin, comment, was full of challenge. It was clearly ever
y girl for herself, and the stupidest thing in the world was for you to think that being nice and sweet was going to win you a friend. I thought the men were the evil in this outfit; as it turned out they were just another flavor of a devil in this evil hell I was traversing.
A blond I’d never seen before was the first to say anything to me. “Clean that shit up.”
I squinted my eyes in her direction; she was holding a bucket with towels and a cleaning bottle. The only thing worse than puking is cleaning it up right after, swear. Hearing the jeering. “Too much come, princess? Does your jaw hurt too?” only made it worse.
I found the bathroom, stumbled in and puked some more. The same girl with the bucket came in and turned the shower on. She nodded for me to get in and when I did I squealed under the cold water. She didn’t get in like Tuesday did, there was very little compassion in her eyes if any at all.
“Where did you come from?” she asked as I started to down the water that was washing over me. I had a horrible taste in my mouth and a pounding head.
“A train...”
She shook her head. “None of the girls that came with you know you. They said you just got there.”
I grimaced, still refusing to let myself remember how I landed here. “I met a friend from school at a bar...I don’t know the rest.”
She sneered, and never bothered to give me my privacy as I turned the water to scalding. No matter how hot the water got, I could not shake the sleazy feeling clinging to me. Worse yet, I was starting to recall what happened with Channing. What I could not un-live or hide in the dark corners of my mind.
I was horrified. Terrified to see Slayton. Petrified not to. I didn’t know what any of this meant. When I dried off, the girl handed me two pills. I glared at her. I was sick of going up and down. Of not knowing what I was doing to myself.
The girl rolled her eyes at me. “It’s fucking Tylenol. But fine by me if you like the pounding.”
I read the pills before I took them, which only seemed to insult her more. She pushed a sleeve of crackers in my hand. “High dose. Eat some shit.”