by Hannah Ford
I slipped my feet into the black stilettos that had been nestled in the box beneath the tissue paper. They fit my feet perfectly, but the heel was so skinny I was sure it was going to snap under my weight. But it didn’t. In fact, the shoes felt very sturdy under me, and they lengthened my legs and made my waist look tinier.
I walked toward the kitchen, my hands shaking, hoping Noah would find me acceptable.
When I got there, he was at the counter, his tie loosened around his neck and his sleeves rolled up. He was going through a stack of envelopes, flipping through them rapidly. He took my breath away, that’s how gorgeous he was. Even doing something as mundane as going through the mail, he was beautiful.
He didn’t look up at first, and I jutted my chin into the air and waited.
When he finally turned, his jaw went slack.
“Holy shit,” he muttered.
“Is it okay?” I asked, pulling at the bottom of the dress self-consciously.
He crossed the kitchen in two long strides, took my hands in his and looked me up and down. His eyes lingered on my body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. “Fuck,” he said. “How the hell am I going to last until we get to the club? I need to have you right here.”
He moved his hands up my arms until he was touching my face, then pulled me close and kissed me. His kiss was soft as first, but it deepened in intensity, his tongue moving past my lips. Shivers of anticipation shimmied through me as he pressed his body against mine.
Noah pulled back and looked at me, the pad of his thumb grazing my lower lip. “How can I let you go out looking like this?” he asked. “Every man in that club is going to want you.”
“I doubt that.” My cheeks warmed, and for the first time in my entire life, I felt beautiful. Not just that feeling you got when you felt like you looked good, when your makeup was done and you were wearing a new outfit or had a new haircut.
No, this was different. I felt beautiful. I felt like Noah thought I was beautiful, like he really did see me as the sexiest women alive. It didn’t matter that my stomach wasn’t flat or that my breasts were too large, or that my nose was a tiny bit crooked.
In this moment, I could tell Noah thought I was gorgeous. And that made me feel like it was true.
“There’s just one thing… “ he breathed into my ear. His breath tickled my skin, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up and goose bumps break out on my arms. His tone was casual, but his voice was low, raspy, laced with mischief.
“What?” I asked warily. Whatever this one thing was, I knew I might not like it. With Noah, nothing was ever that simple.
“You’re wearing it wrong.” His hands reached up and grabbed the top of my dress, pulling it all the way down until it was at my waist.
He reached his hands behind me and slowly, almost excruciatingly so, began unhooking my bra. At first, I thought he was going to make good on his promise and have his way with me before we even got to the club.
But then I figured out what he was doing – he expected me to wear this dress, with the tears up the middle, with no bra on underneath.
“Noah,” I said, grabbing the cups of my bra and holding them to my breasts.
“Shhh,” he said, taking my arms and gently placing them back down at my sides. He carefully slid my bra off, until I was standing there with my breasts completely exposed. Noah took a moment before replacing my dress, drinking me in with his eyes. My nipples hardened under his gaze.
“Shit,” he said, his breathing getting faster. “Do you know how hard it is not to fuck you right here?” His hand reached out and caressed my shoulder, then continued down my arm, his thumb grazing my breast so softly I almost wasn’t sure he was actually touching me.
“Noah,” I said, swallowing hard. “I can’t –”
“Shh,” he said again, his finger moving to my lips. He reached down and pulled my dress back up slowly, until I was covered again, only this time, without a bra.
If I’d felt exposed before, it was a million times worse now. I could feel the air on my skin, through the rips in my dress, could feel my breasts straining against the material.
“Noah,” I said again, reaching for my bra. “I really don’t –”
He grabbed my hand, his grip tightening around my wrist. He leaned in again, pushing his body into mine. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his hold on me becoming stronger, “and you’ll wear what I say.” His voice was husky now, commanding. He pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Do you understand?”
I nodded.
He dropped my hand and kissed me softly on the lips. “Come on. The car is waiting.”
I was quiet in the back of the car as we drove to Force.
I was nervous.
Nervous about going to this club.
Nervous about looking for Audi James.
Nervous about hiding something from Noah.
How could I expect him to tell me things, to let me in, if I wasn’t willing to do the same? But he doesn’t let you in, I told myself. And he is hiding things from you – that woman who was out on his terrace, the way he refuses to talk about his case, to even help his defense in any way.
Noah had secrets. Lots of them.
And he was so damn protective with such a need to control everything. If I told him about the phone call, he wouldn’t take me to Force.
And I knew, deep down, there was a reason this anonymous caller had called me and not someone else. Whoever it was could have called Noah, or Professor Worthington, or Josh. But for some reason, they’d singled me out.
I wasn’t sure what that meant. But I knew I needed to make sure I did everything I could to help Noah. And my instinct was telling me that right now, I needed to go to Force. And I needed to find Audi James.
Noah reached out and took my hand. “Why so serious?” he asked.
I shrugged. “No reason.”
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, Charlotte.”
“I’m ready.”
His fingers intertwined with mine, and I felt myself instantly relax. I marveled at how someone who was obviously hiding so many things could make me feel so safe.
We didn’t talk for the rest of the drive. But it didn’t matter – somehow it was enough to just have him holding my hand. His touch was more powerful than any words he could have said.
When the car finally came to a stop, Noah got out first, then held his hand out to me.
I stepped out, steadying myself on my stilettos and glanced around.
We were on a short side street, one that was empty and deserted. Usually, even on the side streets of the city, something would be happening. There would be delis or bodegas or apartments, delivery trucks or people bustling by as they cut through to the main roads. But here there were just two huge brick buildings, one on each side of the street. There was no sign of the club anywhere.
“Where is it?” I asked, looking around. The way people talked about Force, I’d expected music filtering out onto the street, people dressed in costumes waiting in a long line outside, bouncers and security guards flanking the doors.
But there was none of that.
Just Noah and I, standing in the street.
“Here,” Noah said, pointing to a brick door shaped like a half-circle that blended in with the building. On the bottom of the door, in tiny little stenciled letters were the words FORCE. You could barely see them, they were so small and faded.
“Wow,” I said sarcastically. “They’ve really spared no expense.”
The side of Noah’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. He gave me a long, appraising look. I saw a flash of doubt move over his face – it was subtle, and it didn’t last long, but it was definitely there.
“Noah,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I want to be here with you more than anything.”
“Say that after we go inside,” he said.
He opened the door.
A long hallway stretched in front of us, the walls painted a da
rk cranberry color. The floor was black and concrete. There were doors leading off the hallway, but everything was silent. There were no sounds coming from anywhere.
I swallowed, suddenly nervous. Where were all the people, the sex, the whips and chains and ropes?
Noah’s hand tightened around mine as he began leading me down the hallway. Lamps hung down from the ceiling, shedding a dim industrial light over everything. The faint smell of must and smoke permeated the air.
When we reached the end of the hallway, the corridor forked off into three different tunnels – one tunnel was right in front of us, one was to our left, and one was to our right. All of them were lit with the same dim flickering light, the walls painted in a swirling abstract pattern of black and blood red that made me feel dizzy. As we got closer, the sound of something scurrying came out of tunnel to the right. A man in a gimp suit came skittering by, crawling on his hands and knees as he passed by.
I almost screamed, not because he was in a gimp suit, but because it was so shocking and surprising to have the still, almost eerie quiet broken so suddenly.
Noah turned and led me down the hallway to the far left, and I was relieved that we weren’t going down the hall the gimp had just come from.
There were doors off this hall too, and the hall became twistier, branching off into what seemed like a million different directions. Noah took turn after turn, and I had the sensation of being led further underground, almost like the floor was angled downward.
I wanted to ask him where we were going, where he was taking me, but I forced myself to trust.
After what seemed like forever, I finally heard the distant sound of music, a slow sensuous rhythm that seemed to reverberate off the walls. In the distance, I could see a clearing, a huge room with voices and a spotlight that seemed to be moving lazily over the crowd.
As we got closer, one of the doors off the hall opened and a man wearing leather chaps and holding a whip came walking out, followed by a line of girls, their hands shackled together as they walked single file.
I watched them as they passed – each of them was dressed in a gold loincloth with tiny gold tassels over their nipples and nothing else. Their skin had a translucent look to it, and their bodies glittered under the lights. All of them wore matching gold eye shadow and dark eyeliner.
I studied their faces as they went by, but their expressions were blank.
“Where are they going?” I whispered to Noah, afraid that if I talked too loud, I’d be forced to join them.
Noah glanced over, disinterested, like a line of almost-naked handcuffed women was an every day occurrence. “To the auction,” he said matter-of-factly.
“They’re getting auctioned off?”
“Yes.” He looked at me with amusement. “Would you like to join them?”
I shook my head no quickly, and Noah laughed. “Come on,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
He pulled me toward the music, and once we were in the main room, I breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be away from the winding corridors that felt like a basement maze.
There was a built man with a mustache sitting at the front of the open doorway, and he stood up when he saw us. His head was freshly shaved, his arms a sleeve of tattoos. When he saw Noah, he nodded and let him pass into the room.
It was filled with people, men and women of all shapes and sizes, some of them in costumes or masks, most of them dressed in black. There were scuffed metal tables and folding chairs scattered throughout the room, and the word FORCE was written in huge black letters across the low ceiling. I stayed close to Noah as we pushed through the crowd. The men in the room watched me as we passed, their eyes moving up my body, ogling my breasts, my legs, my ass.
Noah led me to a row of doors that were lined up across the back of the room.As we went, we passed a beautiful woman spread out on a table.
She was on top of a man, spread eagle, as he moved his cock in and out of her ass. He held her hands tight behind her, keeping her pinned so she couldn’t move. Another man, muscular and tattooed, had unbuttoned his pants and pulled his cock out, getting ready to enter her pussy. I averted my eyes right before he did, but I could hear the woman’s moan, a guttural mix of pain and pleasure as she was filled by two cocks.
My heart began pounding again, and the spotlight passed over the room, making me feel slightly dizzy.
“Can I … I need to sit down, I think,” I said to Noah.
He nodded and quickened his pace, pulling me through a door at the back of the club. It was quieter back here, and less dungeon-like, with a leather couch pushed up against one wall and a gold wardrobe standing in the corner.
“Are you okay?” Noah asked.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Here, sit down.” He led me to the couch and I sat down.
He sat down next to me. “Do you want to leave?”
I shook my head no. Although now that I was here, I had no idea how I was going to even begin to find Audi James. With all the corridors and hallways and paths, it was going to be impossible. There were people in masks, people in costumes, their faces obscured…it would be hard enough to find someone in this place if no one was wearing masks and you knew exactly where you were going.
“I want to give you something,” Noah said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. He handed it to me, his eyes locking on mine, the electricity between us almost palpable. “I wanted to get you something to commemorate this night.”
I opened the box slowly. A delicate diamond bracelet stared back at me, its stones shimmering in the light. I gasped.
“Do you like it?” Noah asked, pulling it out of the box and fastening it around my wrist.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. I had never owned something so gorgeous. All the jewelry I had was purchased at Target or cheap accessory stores, the kind of jewelry that turned your skin green and ended up rusting.
I turned my wrist, staring at the delicate chain that looped the stones together.
“Not as beautiful as you.” Noah raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly.
“Thank you,” I said. “Really, thank you.”
He tilted my chin toward him. “Look at me,” he said. “Really look at me when I tell you this. I know it’s not easy, being with me. But I want you to know that you coming here with me tonight, it really does mean a lot to me.”
I nodded. “It means a lot to me, too.” Guilt was blooming in my chest, threatening to take over every other emotion I was feeling. How could I be here, with him, accepting this gift, and not tell him the true reason I wanted to come here?
I couldn’t.
If I was willing to trust some stranger on the phone more than I was willing to trust Noah, then I shouldn’t have been here with him.
And that’s when I decided I wasn’t going to try to find Audi James.
I was going to be here, completely, to give myself to Noah in whatever way he wanted to take me.
Noah stood up and walked over to the side of the room. There was a small wooden chest sitting on the floor, and he twirled the combination lock until it popped open. He took something out of the chest before crossing the room back to me.
“How did you know the combination?” I asked.
“This is my room.”
“Your room?”
“Yes, Charlotte. The rooms here are private, assigned to different members. You’re not allowed to enter any room without being invited.”
I nodded, trying not to think about Noah being a member here, trying not to think about all the other women he’d had in this room. Dani and Nora, of course, the two women who’d been killed. He’d met Dani at Force, and Nora had been his fiancé. How many others? Had he come here after work most nights, picked a girl out from the crowd, brought her back here and done what he wanted to her? Had he attended the auction, paid money for one of those beautiful girls with the dead eyes so he could owe her for a night?
How was I different?
Was I even different? And if so, why? It was still hard to wrap my brain around the fact that Noah could have any woman he wanted and yet he chose to be here with me.
Noah sat back down next to me and set a book down on my lap.
It was a thin volume, but heavy, and bound in black leather.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Open it,” he instructed.
I opened the book. The first page was a title page, the words written in a swirly calligraphy script, the letters sparkly gold and slightly raised off the page.
“Contract of Domination/Submission,” it read. “To be entered into between Noah Cutler and Charlotte Holloway.”
I ran my hand over the words, tracing the loopy C of my name. “Our contract?” I asked.
“Yes.” Noah took my hand and held it. His touch was warm and comforting. “I had this made the night I met you.”
I turned and looked at him, our eyes meeting over the page.
“It outlines very specifically everything I require of you,” he said.
I flipped through it, reading.
“…sub agrees that dom will be in charge of her diet…”
“…sub agrees not to travel on public transportation or put herself in situations deemed unnecessarily dangerous…”
“…sub shall not socialize with persons that have not been approved by the dom…”
“…sub shall agree to a minimum of eight hours of sleep per night…”
“…sub shall be available to the dom at his discretion, whenever he requires…”
It went on like that, pages and pages of rules and restrictions. I bit my lip, wondering what kind of person voluntarily signed her life over to another person.
A person in love. A person who wants to make the man she’s with happy. A person who wants to go deep with that person, to experience what it means to trust someone completely, to give themselves over to someone fully, to explore their darkest desires as a couple.