Reckless: A Bad Boyz Anthology

by Anthology

  She shrieks when the cold water assaults her, and I ignore her. I leave her curled in a ball on the floor to retrieve the generic bar of soap from the built-in shelf. We’re running out of time, and although I try to keep myself calm, inside I’m beginning to panic.

  “Lift your arms up. That’s a good girl,” I coo while I wash her body. My lathered hands work quickly through her silky strands. It won’t be long before her hair is ratty and tangled. It’d do her good to chop it like most of us have.

  “Please, stop,” she begs, her hoarse voice cracking. “I want to go h-h-home! I’m s-sorry. Please.”

  I pause in rinsing to pull her tightly against my cold, naked body. “I know you are. I know. Shh.”

  “No,” she moans. “I can’t do this. I need to go.”

  “I wish there was something I could do, but it’ll be over soon.”

  Leaning down, I kiss her forehead before standing quickly to wash myself. The water is chilling, but nothing will touch the perpetual cold I feel inside. This is going to be the worst night of Chloe’s life, and there is nothing I can do to make it better.

  By the time we exit the shower, the other girls have left already. I try to rush Chloe through drying off, but she’s turned sluggish. The rush of the drug is wearing off, and she’s beginning to crash.

  I remember the feeling of my first time. They like to give every new girl one dose initially as a scare, and for me, it worked. I don’t ever want that poison in my body again.

  There are some girls who tried to fight the men, fight the system. In turn, they were drugged repeatedly until they were hooked. Now when they go through withdrawals, they beg the men for more, and will do whatever they say in order to get it.

  The old me would have thought it’s pathetic. A strung out prostitute begging for more, exchanging her body for another fix. The new me understands. The new me is terrified of ending up like those girls, so I try to be compliant.

  I made a fool out of myself earlier this evening with Mr. Holt, but I’m desperate. I just wanted him to want me enough to get me out of this hell. Foolishly, I thought his rugged good looks and strange demeanor made him different. That if I made him want me, he could save me. At least long enough to get me out of this place.

  He set me straight though. He’d never help me. He has a goldmine of women to choose from. Why would he risk it all for the cheap slut with sad eyes?

  “We have to go. Can you stand up?” I tug on her limp arm. The forward momentum has her stumbling towards me, but before I can catch her, she crashes to the ground.

  “I can’t do this alone. I’m going to get help, okay?”

  She moans loudly.

  “Shit, okay. Right. I’ll be back,” I tell her and rush to the stairs.

  With each step, the heat from upstairs burns through the chill on my skin. My steps quicken, because I’m fully aware someone is watching my every move. When I reach the top, I turn left to find the gated area where the other girls wait. Someone has to help me with Chloe. I can’t leave her there all alone.

  As soon as the others come into view, I know something is wrong. The fear in the air is as palpable as smoke in a burning building. It’s suffocating. The girls shrink back and cower as if they can hide from the emotion. My own instincts go on high alert. The hair on the back of my neck prickles to attention, my blood pumps harder through my veins, and my hands become cold and clammy with sweat.

  “Well look here. Where have you been, precious?”

  That voice.

  Our handler. Our owner. Our own personal Satan.

  The crowd of girls separate as if pushed apart by an invisible force.

  He steps fluidly into my view. Black hair slicked back into a ponytail, and dark brown eyes glittering in malicious delight. He’s dressed to the nines tonight, despite the heavy paunch that hangs over his belt. And although my skin slithers in disgust by his presence, he couldn’t be described as ugly but not attractive either.

  My chin drops obediently to my chest, the way we’re all forced to act in his presence, and he chuckles softly.

  “Very well, but your quick posture won’t save you from answering me. I asked where you’ve been,” he repeats sharply.

  “I went to bathe.”

  “Indeed. Why did it take you longer than the others?”

  “Mr. Holt came downstairs.” I can’t see Mr. G’s face, but by his pause, I assume he’s either gauging me for a lie or searching the men for Mr. Holt. Lying was out of the question. They’d whip me. I just hope Mr. Holt doesn’t punish me himself for using his name in my defense.

  “Yes, he did pay a hefty sum to keep you to himself this evening.”

  He did? Ice water swims through my veins. It’s not unheard of for one of the guards to pay for a girl, but to keep me for an entire evening, especially the night of a party? Why did he treat Chloe the way he did if he paid for me? I have more questions than answers. One thing is clear though. Mr. Holt is a jackass, flaunting his power and wealth over us. Maybe he isn’t so different than the others.

  “But it seems someone else is missing,” he continues when I don’t respond.

  I jolt back to the moment and out of my thoughts. Shit, Chloe.

  “Where is our new little pet? She’s missing all the fun.” His voice is ripe with sick amusement.

  “She must still be showering,” I lie.

  “Why don’t we go have a look, shall we?”

  He’s not really asking, so without a word, I turn back to the stairs. I can feel him slithering behind me like the snake that he is. The first step creaks beneath my feet when a voice rings out.

  “Wait.”

  “Holt, are you here to join us?” Mr. G. turns to regard him critically.

  Mr. Holt just smirks. “I just wanted to make sure you were getting the whole truth here, G. She tell you I was down there earlier?”

  “She did.”

  I can feel Mr. Holt’s eyes taking me in. “And did she tell you I gave our new girl her first dose?”

  A cold rough hand clasps around my upper arm tightly enough to bruise. I can’t contain my gasp of surprise at the assault. The handler spins me around to face him.

  “Now why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

  I can feel the precise moment that Mr. Holt realizes his mistake. While he came to make sure his own ass was covered, he only succeeded in uncovering my own.

  “It wasn’t intentional,” I reply, eyes cast down towards the floor. Escape scenarios of fighting my way out or throwing myself down the stairs flash rapidly through my head. They’re useless though. Fighting at all is useless.

  The hand around my arm thrusts me forward to the stairs. “Well let’s see what we should do about that.”

  We descend the stairs back to the basement, and I spot Chloe where I left her. She’s lying on the ground, shaking and mumbling incoherently. My arms ache to snatch her up and help her, but I can’t.

  Mr. G leads me towards the dirty mattress we use as a bed and stands me beside it. “Be a good pet and wait here,” he says. Then he lifts his hand, his calloused fingers wrapping around my chilled breast.

  The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth when I bite my cheek to keep from whimpering. I want to lift my head in defiance and stare into his cold dark eyes, show him he will not break my will. But then I remember that he already has, with my eyes cast downward and my arms limp at my sides, and I let the fantasy of putting up a fight drift away until the next time.

  “Hey, G, what about my payment?”

  The evil fingers on my skin clench tighter, digging into the soft flesh of my breast. Mr. G continues to watch his work without looking at Mr. Holt. “I’ll give you a refund,” he replies coolly.

  “I don’t want a refund. I want the girl.”

  “Unfortunately for you, you don’t make the rules.” As if to prove his point, Mr. G leans in and drags his foul tongue along the side of my neck, my jaw, to the crest of my cheek. His hot breath smells horrendous, and I beg my
self not to gag.

  “Come on, G. You don’t ever back out of an agreement.” Mr. Holt tries again. Either I’m imagining things, or there is a hardened note of desperation in his tone.

  “Ah, I’m merely,” he pauses to lap grotesquely across my collarbone. “Renegotiating.”

  “Which typically involves two parties.”

  Mr. G suddenly bites down where my shoulder meets my neck and the surprising shock of pain forces me to cry out. “Wrong again.” He spins us until my naked backside presses against his front, where he pushes his erection into my back. This time, I can’t stop the whimper of disgust. It’s quickly forgotten when the cold barrel of a gun presses against my temple.

  The air goes stagnant. Nobody makes a sound besides Chloe mumbling on the floor, unaware of what’s happening a few feet away.

  It’s impossible to keep my eyes cast to the floor. My gaze is fearful when I lock onto Mr. Holt’s platinum gray eyes. I want him to see what he did. This is his fault, and he deserves to experience my fear.

  He looks back determinedly, shifting his focus between Mr. G and me.

  “You trying to tell me what to do with my property, Holt?” Mr. G asks, spittle flying angrily from his mouth.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then what the fuck?”

  “I want what I paid for. I’ve been looking forward to this sweet piece of ass.”

  Mr. G tightens his grip around my body, and the gun presses deeper against my temple. “That’s too bad, my friend. Her little lies have lost her that privilege. Tonight, she’s playing pony.”

  My eyelids drift closed as I soak in that information. They’ve never forced me to play pony before, but I’ve heard stories and seen some of the other girls after they’ve had a turn. The results were never pretty.

  I wonder if Mr. G is trying to punish Holt or me more, because this punishment doesn’t fit the crime.

  “That sucks for me. You know I don’t like to share.”

  With the gun now at my back, Mr. G shoves me towards the stairs. “That’s too bad. This is going to be fun.”

  Holt

  WHAT HAVE I done?

  I can’t break the staring contest between Brandi and me as G pushes her towards the stairs. The last look she gives before she turns her bare back to me is nothing short of a punch to my gut. I really fucked up. I thought she was going to spin a lie. If G thought I paid for Brandi but fucked another girl, he’d probably shoot my ass, no questions asked.

  Once again, I proved to be the selfish monster I’ve become. Only worried about saving my own skin when there’s a room full of naked girls owned by one of the country’s top sex traffickers.

  When did I stop doing my duty as an undercover detective and start only caring about myself? Some shit is necessary to avoid detection, but this is a new low. Since the beginning, I’ve only done what I’ve had to do. Today, that all went to shit and there isn’t a damn way to fix it without blowing my cover.

  The only thing I can do is make sure she doesn’t deal with this alone. I got her into this mess, and I’m going to make sure she comes out on the other side alive. Even if she wishes she were dead.

  The upstairs seems brighter than before, making my eyes hurt from the overhead chandeliers. The warm, acrid smell of cigars and cigarettes burns my nose. Everything is too harsh, too much. The atmosphere is the opposite of how I feel inside—isolated and numb.

  My feet carry me towards the private room at the end of the hallway without my direction, to where G is leading Brandi. Before we reach the room, the door opens and Brandi is shoved inside. She falls to her hands and knees, and my body locks in an attempt to go after her. I can’t. Not unless I want to get myself killed.

  A chorus of deep laughter rings out. The participants are already here. Brace, Holt, I tell myself and approach the doorway. With one forearm resting against the frame, I lean in and scan the room.

  Six. Six men preparing to stand and unbuckle their pants. Seven, once Gutierrez joins in.

  If I believed in God, I’d ask him to knock her out to save her from the horror she’s about to experience.

  Gutierrez walks up behind Brandi and places a heavy booted foot on the small of her back. “Stay down, pet. The less you struggle, the easier this will be. Actually, please struggle. I like a good challenge.”

  She gasps as she collapses beneath his weight.

  Gutierrez drags his boot down her ass, smearing dirt and mud on her skin. The dark brown filth is a stark contrast to her milky body.

  I want to vomit, and the worst hasn’t even begun.

  “Will you be joining us, Holt?” G asks smugly. He crosses the room to a cherry colored armoire and pulls open the double doors.

  The question throws me for a second. My thoughts are a blank canvas, waiting to be painted with the agony of Brandi’s cries. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  G cocks his head but doesn’t respond.

  I focus on the sound of items shuffling from his searching, instead of the heavy pants falling from Brandi’s mouth. I need to fucking sit down.

  This room is as sparse as the rest of the house. Plush white carpet covers the floors, meeting the blood red walls and white trim. The cherry furniture is neatly polished; a faint smell of lemons lingering in the air. Various chairs, ranging from wood to overstuffed, ring the room in a semi-circle. Without a preference, I grab the seat nearest to me. My ass ends up in a brown leather wingback, but I wouldn’t have cared if it were a seat of nails. No physical discomfort could compete with the war waging inside of myself.

  If I could spare her.

  If I could take her place.

  If I could get her out of here. Shit, I would.

  But there is no possible way to help her without compromising myself and the investigation. I can’t. Too many years and too many people depending on me.

  I can’t explain what it is about this girl that has me thinking these thoughts now. I’ve put up with watching and knowing what was happening in this place for years.

  Maybe I’m getting weak.

  There’s no denying the strong girl with the cognac eyes has captured my interest. As long as she knows I’m as much of a monster as the rest of these bastards, she’ll be safe from me.

  But who’s going to protect her from them?

  “Ah, this will do.”

  The sound of Gutierrez’s voice snags my attention. I’m as curious to what he’s doing as everyone else in the room. The maggot turns around holding a black leather open mouth gag.

  Jesus, fuck.

  I can’t see her face, but I know the moment Brandi sees the gag because she squeals. On hands and knees, she propels herself towards the door.

  Darnell, another one of G’s top men, seizes the opportunity and moves swiftly to the exit. His thick, grimy fingers clasp around Brandi’s narrow hips, stopping her.

  She bucks, trying to free herself. A crimson flush covers her face and neck from the power she’s exerting. The sound of skin against skin rings out when Darnell slaps her ass.

  “Now I get why you call it pony, boss.”

  Words don’t leave her lips, and her inner strength astounds me. Brandi plants a foot in Darnell’s chest and manages to flip herself onto her back. She kicks and wiggles, her ankles slipping from his grasp as she tries to get away.

  “That’s enough!” G shouts, drawing the attention of the room long enough for Brandi to be recaptured.

  With a fist in her short hair, Darnell yanks her head back. The force pulls her neck at an awkward angle.

  “You’re going to behave, or you won’t make it out alive. Now open up.” He advances.

  Brandi tries to pull back, but there’s nowhere for her to go.

  My muscles clench and flex with the need to help her. This unbearable fire burns deep inside of me, and the only way to extinguish it is to help her. Leather gives way to my fingers when I dig them into the arm of the chair.

  “Todd.” G’s signal is almost imperceptible. It wo
uld have been, had I not known it was coming.

  Todd eagerly climbs from his seat and hands the syringe he’d been preparing to Gutierrez.

  “This will ensure your compliance.”

  Brandi jumps as though she’d been shocked. The needle slides into the side of her neck, and G depresses the plunger.

  Game over.

  I decide right there that I’m to be her anchor. Her constant. My eyes will never leave her tonight. The guilt and shame are my cross to bear.

  Mere moments pass before the drug takes effect. Gutierrez approaches her again. “Open your mouth, slut.”

  Her jaw opens tentatively at the same time her eyes close. He forces the gag into her mouth and fastens the leather straps around her head, pulling them tight. Bending down to eye level first, he then runs his index finger along the metal ring in her mouth, pausing to press the pad against her tongue.

  “Taste good? I think it’s time to begin.” He unbuckles his pants and stuffs himself into her mouth.

  She moans quietly, the sound obviously not one of pleasure, but of discomfort. G takes hold of her hair from Darnell and fucks himself at his own pace. I don’t need to look at anything other than her face to know that Darnell just took her pussy.

  The scene plays out in front of me. The game the boss calls pony, because “you need a ticket to ride.” Six men chosen to be here tonight, and they’re all in for a reward. Something they’ve done lately has landed them in this spot. Whatever it is, the boss considers those good deeds a ticket to his special fucked up show.

  I keep my promise to myself and watch, even though my insides are shredded. Time seems to stand still. There’s no guarantee when this particular ride will stop and Brandi can get off. More men stand from their seats to gather closer. To watch. To salivate over the piece of meat. To anticipate the moment they can force their cock into the most convenient orifice.

  G shoves his pelvis into Brandi’s face with a final grunt, holding himself down her throat while he cums, forcing her to swallow. He pulls away with a wet, sloppy sound.