by J. L. Beck
He has a wife at home, but I get the distinct impression she’s not the one he means.
I just walk into the house. But god damn it, he was right about the moaning. It’s echoing all through the hall, and I can still hear it clearly in the living room. So much for not thinking about Kat anymore. I swear I can recognize her moans among all the others. And it makes me jealous, angry, and horny all at the same time. No amount of scotch is gonna make me forget her tonight.
Is she enjoying it? I hope not with all the pigheadedness of a Neanderthal, but for her own good, it’d be better if she did. This is her life now. It’s only gonna get more involved where sex is concerned. And thinking that makes my jealousy boil over into rage.
I grab the bottle of scotch and go back out on the porch. It’s getting dark and it’s cold, but it’s better than listening to Kat’s moans.
Five hours later I’m freezing, slightly tipsy, and lightheaded from all the cigarettes I’ve smoked. But I know one thing.
There’s no way I’ll just forget Kat. She’s not mine for the taking, but I want her, and goddamn it, I’m gonna take her.
5
Vin
The house is quiet as I walk in and lock the door behind me, punching in the code that’s needed to open it even if you have the key. The girls’ shift tonight was only five hours, since we want them to get adjusted to it slowly. Soon, it will be much longer. Guys get horny round the clock, and that’s how much they’re gonna work. I try not to think of that, as I climb the stairs to Kat’s room.
I turn the key slowly, so as not to make any noise. Her room’s dark, the only light coming from the street lamp outside, and the red blinking light on the camera signaling that it’s off. It should stay that way.
Kat is just a blanket-covered mound on the left side of the huge bed, and I can smell her and sex clearly in the room. She seems to be asleep, but I don’t think she is. I can feel her presence too clearly in the room.
“Kat,” I whisper and close the door behind me, but don’t lock it. “Are you awake?”
She takes a shuddering breath, but doesn’t reply. I walk closer to the bed.
“How was your first day?” I ask.
She stirs, lifts up and twists to glare at me, her eyes glowing in the darkness.
“How do you think it was? It was awful. Terrible. And now you’ve come to fuck me some more, because I don’t even get a night’s rest between shifts, is that it?” she throws the blanket off herself in a huff, giving me a perfect view of her long bare legs. “Well here you go. Just join me in bed.”
She’s not wrong about me wanting to fuck her. And the Neanderthal in me is quite happy to ignore the fact that she’s dangerously close to tears despite the anger and venom in her voice. But it feels nice to be nice to her, just as much as it feels good to fuck her and hold her.
“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” I say and just get an angry, derisive snort in return. Which I completely deserve, because look at where she is. But this wild anger of hers just makes me want her even more.
“What I meant to say was that I can’t stop thinking about you,” I say and sit down on the edge of the bed, which might have been a mistake, since it’s now harder to hold onto the reasons not to jump on her and fuck her until she screams. “And I’m done trying to.”
She gasps, and despite the darkness in the room, I can clearly read the confusion on her face.
I lay down on the right side of the bed and look at her. “I’ll go, if you want me to.”
She’s still just looking at me, her expression frozen, but her eyes growing bleary. I can literally see her trying to make a decision. So I sit up again, since making this even harder on her really wasn’t my intention.
“No, you can stay,” she whispers, and touches my forearm lightly to stop me from getting up all the way. Her fingertips are barely grazing my arm, but her touch feels a lot heavier than that, a lot stronger.
So I lie back down and she does the same on her side. But that won’t do.
I stretch out my arm and motion for her to come closer. She needs no words of encouragement before scooting over, resting her head on my chest and letting me hold her.
She starts shaking and her tears are soaking my shirt before I realize she’s crying. A woman’s tears make me more uncomfortable than facing five guys in a dark alleyway about to jump me. So I have no idea what to say or do right now. But my hand starts stroking her hair despite it.
“Come on, it’s not that bad, is it?” I ask.
“Yes, it is,” she hiccups and raises her head to look at me. “Can you take me away from here? Please?”
“Attempting that would probably get us both killed,” I say, and it’s not far from the truth. My father might go easy on me, but she’d be a goner, though not exactly dead. She’d be getting fucked 24/7 at one of those truck stop whorehouses until she was as good as dead, or at least wishing she was. Telling her she’ll just get killed right off is easier. And my father would never trust me with another command again. So my answer to her plea is no. But I don’t have to give it to her so harshly.
“It’ll get easier, I promise,” I tell her instead. “And besides, you can just think of me when you do it for those sleezeballs. Wouldn’t that be pleasant?”
I grin at her. Tears are still in her eyes, but at least they’re not flowing. The ones drying on her cheeks are glimmering as the light from the street hits her face, and I can’t hold back anymore. She’s too beautiful, and her sadness is making me sad. So I just kiss her before she can say anything, and then we just do that for a long while. Until even the light outside goes out and the only one left is the red blinking one on the camera. It flashes like a warning. But her lips taste so good, and her soft body feels like it was made to be embraced by my arms, and no warning is gonna change that.
6
Kat
It’s been two weeks, since that first awful night when I had to perform sexual acts to a camera, getting typed messages on a computer screen as to what I should do to myself next. Vin wasn’t entirely wrong. It has gotten easier. But that’s only because he’s been sitting behind the camera watching me do it on most nights. And he spent almost every night in my bed too.
He’s watching me right now, as I rub my pussy over my panties and moan for the guy on the other side of the screen. This client is one of the easier ones to please, and he calls me almost every night. Vin’s eyes are dark and deep, menacing, but that’s because he wants his hand to be where mine is. The front of his pants is tenting up, he’s rock hard, but he won’t touch himself. He’s waiting for me to do that for him once my shift is over.
“Pinch your right nipple,” the command from my nameless admirer comes. I slide my hand up my belly and do it, moaning, my eyes locked on Vin’s. I’m doing all this for him. I hope he knows that.
“Now make yourself come. I want to watch you come.” I’ve gotten very good at faking this part, and I give the guy an excellent performance. But I’m saving the real thing for Vin later. I never have to fake anything with him. But I’m moaning and writhing so loudly anyone would think I’m having the orgasm of my life. Vin sits forward in his chair like he’s going to pounce on me and the camera be damned.
“Good girl,” my secret admirer writes and then the computer pings as he signs off. I have a queue of ten more already waiting their turn.
“Is he gone?” Vin asks in a harsh voice, but that’s just from his poorly controlled desire. I nod.
“You’re done for the night,” he says and gets up, slamming the lid of the laptop shut, and turning off the camera. “It’s my turn.”
He’s been doing that a lot too, having me sign off early so he can have his way with me. And it’s happening earlier and earlier too. It’s barely ten o’clock and this guy was only my fourth client tonight. Not that I’m complaining.
Vin pulls off his t-shirt and unbuckles his pants as he walks closer to me. I’m only wearing a pair of white panties, w
hich are soaked through. But my wetness has nothing to do with the guys and their texted commands, and everything to do with the hunger and desire in Vin’s eyes as he watches me perform them.
“Come here,” he says hoarsely, stopping at the edge of the bed.
I’m already on my knees, and I move to where he wants me without needing to be told twice.
He unbuttons his jeans and unzips his fly, finally freeing his hard cock while looking at me with a command he doesn’t even have to voice for me to obey. I take over, gliding my hand across his pulsing, velvety soft girth, before leaning down and taking his cock between my lips, eliciting a long sigh from him. It sounds like he’s letting out the breath he’s been holding ever since I started my shift in front of the camera two hours ago.
He lets me lick and kiss his cock the way I want to for a while, but I know from his stance and the tightness in his body he wants more. He likes fucking my face, as much as he likes fucking my pussy.
So I open my mouth wider and take as much of his cock as I can into my mouth, looking up into his face as I do it, just the way he likes it. He grins at me and grabs the back of my head, pushing his cock in deeper and making me gag. I’ve gotten better at taking more of him down my throat in these last two weeks, but he’s huge, and I’m sure I will always gag. I also think he enjoys making me gag on his cock.
He pulls out enough to let me catch my breath, then pushes back in, making my pussy twitch in need to be filled too. He keeps doing that, and I keep my eyes on his, enjoying his complete surrender to the moment, to me, that I see in his. I’m gagging on every stroke now, my eyes filling with tears, but it’s not bad, even though he keeps pushing my limits, as he rams more and more of his cock down my throat. My pussy is aching from my need for release, but I don’t touch myself. I’ve done enough of that for tonight, and now it’s his turn.
He jabs his cock into my throat a few more times, then pulls out abruptly.
“Turn around,” he says, and I do it immediately, arching my back at him. I like the way he commands me, and the way he takes me. The need he has for me, being his lover, is the only thing that makes this new life of mine bearable.
He squeezes my butt cheeks before pulling down my panties roughly. But his touch is gentle as he runs his hands up my back to my throat. I moan as his callused fingers wrap around the tender flesh of my neck. He squeezes but not hard. The head of his rock hard cock is already pressing against my pussy, so close yet so tantalizingly far away. I sway my hips and rub against him, because I need him to fill me. The orgasms he gives me are the only thing that makes the horror of my existence here vanish completely.
It’s all the invitation he needs. He pushes his cock into me, his hands gripping the sides of my neck now, but I hardly feel that over the warmth and bliss his pulsing, thrusting cock is waking in my pussy. It starts to spread higher and higher, as he picks up the pace, until the blissful warmth is in my throat, in my head, and I’m moaning and writhing, accepting every one of his thrusts, which keep going deeper and deeper, splitting me open. I love his cock inside me, the way it makes all the colors in the room blur together into a soft, welcoming, rainbow blanket of pleasure.
Nothing but that pleasure, that blinding, breathtaking bliss, exists as a powerful orgasm rips through me. I feel lighter than air and so insubstantial I could just float away through the bars on the window, which I still see clearly despite everything else being blurry. But that’s just an illusion, so I let go of that too, surrender to the pleasure and bliss that is now all there is. Let go of all desires except for wanting these orgasms he gives me to never ever stop.
When I come to, I’m lying in his arms, the light hurting my eyes as I open them. He brushes a lock of hair off my face, and kisses the top of my head.
“You are the most beautiful and the most exciting woman I’ve ever met,” he says, smiling at me. He’s gorgeous with a straight face, and a million times more when he’s smiling. I could watch him smile all day long. “I might just have to move into this room permanently.”
The suggestion that he should free me, so we can run away together is on the tip of my tongue, but he doesn’t like it when I say those things. I don’t want to ruin this moment, or chase away the last traces of the mind-numbing orgasm he gave me, which mentioning that will certainly cause, so I don’t.
“I’d like that,” I murmur instead.
“Would you now?” he asks, still smiling despite the doubt in his eyes.
“Yes, I would,” I say, smiling at him too. “I think we could be very happy together in this room. After all, we already are.”
His eyes turn a darker green like a cloud is passing over a valley. Maybe he thinks I’m lying. But I meant every word. Because as long as he’s here, holding me, desiring me, kissing me, even this life is OK.
So I just hug him tighter, lay my head on his chest and close my eyes again.
Do I want to be free? Yes, I do. But I want Vin more. And that might be the stupid Katarina raising her voice in my head again, but I don’t think so. Is it stupid to try and make the best of a bad situation? Vin makes me feel good, makes me feel wanted and cared for.
7
Vin
I’m in the city for the first time in weeks, because I’m about to meet Tony and my father for our weekly lunch at one of my father’s restaurants in Little Italy. My mother’s plans for me were to work as a chef in one of dad’s restaurants, of which there are twenty just in NYC alone, some of which are world famous. In reality he just uses them to launder the money he makes from the thousand and one criminal endeavors he’s running. Mom’s plan actually sounded good to me right up until I hit puberty. After that, all I wanted was to be one of his men. Five years ago he finally relented and took me into his organization despite my mother’s protests. And now he’s finally letting me advance up the ranks.
Which means Kat is staying right where she is, no matter how much she wants me to save her. And I know she does, even though she hasn’t made her plea for a couple of days now. The more time I spend with her—and it’s pretty much all day everyday, and all night too—the more I want to give her exactly what she wants. Buy a house and move in with her. Take her to nice restaurants, and on tropical vacations, buy her expensive gifts and just have her all to myself forever and ever. But it’s even more than that.
I’m perfectly happy being with her right where we are, in the master bedroom of the whorehouse in Queens. I think she meant it when she said she’s happy there with me too. But how can she be? She’s a prisoner there. I’d even be happy living on the streets with her, under some bridge, or out the back of a car. If we do run away, that’s what we’ll be doing for the rest of our lives. Running. And anyone who ever tried to run from my father never got very far.
I arrived early, and the minutes before lunch starts are starting to drag. I want to go back to Kat. I wish she was here with me, that I could take her to a nice dinner, and an expensive club afterwards, and then to my apartment in East Village. I should at least bring her a gift when I get back, but I have no idea what. A nice dress? She has nowhere to wear it to. Some nice underwear? I’d like that, but she has plenty of nice underwear, and I prefer her naked. Maybe I’ll get her some flowers or perfume, but she already smells better than anything they sell in a store. Than anything I’ve ever smelled actually.
“Vinny, you’re early,” my father says as he walks up to the table. I was thinking about Kat so hard, I didn’t even notice him come in. His two bodyguards take their positions by the door, even though this place is tiny and closed for regular business whenever my father eats here.
“Yes, I made a poor prediction as to how heavy the traffic would be getting in,” I say, as I stand up and shake his hand.
Tony walks in just as we’re sitting down, but his two bodyguards stay out in the street. Only Dad’s guys are allowed inside when he eats here. It’s not like Tony needs bodyguards. He’s young, barely thirty years old, and besides he’s nowhere near as importa
nt as my father is. Though he does have a tendency to trample on a lot of toes in his day-to-day dealings with others.
“I’m not late, am I?” he asks jovially, flashing me an angry look like I deliberately tried to upstage him by being early. He squeezes my father’s shoulder in greeting before sitting down across from me.
The waiter brings a bottle of red wine and pours each of us a glass. There’ll be no ordering of food, since they’ll just bring out which ever of my father’s favorite dishes they decided to make today. Judging by the faint smell coming from the kitchen it might be Osso Buco. No one makes that better than my mother, and it is one of my father’s favorite dishes. She used to make it for him often when he visited our house while I was growing up. Which was pretty much every other night. Sometimes every night.
Tony and dad are talking about some important job that’s supposed to go down tonight, which I know nothing about, so I’m happy just sitting here and trying to decide what to get Kat. I could bring her some Tiramisu from this place, it’s the best in the city. But my mom makes it just as good, and she made it last weekend. Maybe I could get Kat a cat. Then she’d have some company when I’m not around. I almost chuckle at the thought.
“And how’s your charge working out, Vinny?” Dad asks. “Are the girls settling in alright?”
My brain freezes on the thought that he knows something about Kat and me for a second, but there’s nothing in his eyes to suggest it, as he waits for my answer.
“Surprisingly, yes. Much better than I expected they would. They haven’t broken any rules yet, or tried to escape,” I tell him.
“They’ll start making trouble, if you keep letting them have the run of the house all day,” Tony says.