Camille, Claimed

by Ginger Talbot

  Damion is sitting in the place formerly occupied by Augustus. There’s a wireless keyboard in front of him. He looks us all over grimly.

  “We have never, in the history of the charter, faced such treachery.” He sounds aggrieved, and his gaze flicks at me as if it’s somehow my fault.

  “That you know of,” I scoff, and his face flushes with anger.

  “I am the senior council member now, and we currently do not have a Patriarch. I am going to kill you right now, and after that, the things I’m going to do to your little bitch...” His finger hovers over the keyboard and a nasty, bullying grin twists his lips. The other men mutter and look at each other uneasily.

  A tornado of fury swirls inside me. Nobody touches Camille.

  “No you won’t,” Solomon barks at him. “Because it’s not in the charter, and we’ve had enough betrayal of our family traditions already. You’d be killing him out of petty spite, for killing your son, and that’s not how we do things.”

  Damion’s hand shoots out, and he tries to push buttons on the keyboard, but Thomas Franklin, sitting to his left, grabs his wrist and quickly shoves the keyboard away from him. Closer to me. He and Damion have a brief wrestling match, but the other men at the table shout at them and they both settle back in their seats.

  “We follow the damn charter,” Thomas growls at Damion.

  “He’s not one of us!” Damion raises his voice, looking around him for support. Some of the men look sympathetic, and some are scowling and shaking their heads. A family divided. Perfect.

  “Bastien came out on top,” Solomon says. “By right, he is now the Patriarch.”

  “Never!” Damion shouts. “Not while I have breath in my body!” And he lunges forward and stabs the keyboard, punching in a series of numbers, before Thomas and a younger man named Andrew pull him off. He flashes me a fierce grin. I hold my breath. Did my security hacks work? Everything rides on this.

  Everyone is staring at me expectantly, waiting.

  “I’ll take your little whore up the ass so hard she splits in two!” Damion screams at me. “You’re a traitor, and you—” He gasps in pain, his face reddening. “You—” He claws at his gut, and his voice goes high and shrill. “What have you done?”

  Everyone jumps up from the table, shouting. In the chaos, I lunge across the table and grab the keyboard.

  Several of the Franklin men move toward me. I yell, “I’ve reprogrammed all the codes!” And my fingers hover over the keyboard.

  They freeze, some of them still standing, some of them sliding back into their seats. Their gazes move between me and Damion, and back again.

  Damion falls to the floor, spasming and uttering horrible, gurgling screams. The other members of the council mutter amongst themselves and glare at me, but they all know there’s nothing to be done. Damion was a dead man as soon as the poison entered his system.

  “Move him out of the way,” I say. The men look at me with hatred. “I have to punch in codes in the next couple of minutes, or every last one of you dies,” I bark.

  Thomas and Andrew drag Damion’s spasming body to the end of the room, and they dump him on the floor and return to the table.

  Senator Franklin looks at me with deadly hatred. “You have no idea what kind of enemies you’ve just made.”

  “Oh, I have every idea. I’ve been researching the family for weeks now, as if my life depended on it.” My fingers rest lightly on the keys. “So you’re going to sit back and listen to me.”

  Their eyes bore into me, the air thick with hatred.

  “I hacked into your system, and I lied about Troy,” I say calmly. “I did kill him remotely, and I can kill any one of you, any time, anywhere, and all the guards who are on the system.”

  “But the chef!” Orion Franklin protests. “He fled with his family!”

  “Yes, because I told him that he could run or die.” I smile at them. Then I bend down and punch in the codes that will keep them alive – for a little while longer. I look up again. “Ten more minutes, and I need to punch them in again.”

  “We have systems in place,” Senator Franklin speaks up, his voice dripping with menace. “Men who have worked for our family for generations. They are well rewarded and well trained and fiercely loyal. They will kill everyone you love, horribly, slowly, over the course of months or years. Your family members will lose their minds long before they die. There will be nowhere they can hide. And there’s more. There are other branches of our family out there – people you weren’t told about, because you are an outsider, and we couldn’t trust you with everything. If we die, they will come after you and erase you and yours from the face of this earth.”

  “My family also has systems in place,” I say calmly. “And they have now been fully informed of what’s happening. But it doesn’t have to end this way. We can all walk out of this room today – well, other than him.” I flick a glance at Oswald, who’s weeping and sniveling at the end of the table, with the huge dildo protruding ridiculously from his buttocks. I can only imagine what’s in store for him later. “We can thrive and prosper, and we can honor the charter—with a few changes.”

  A babble of outrage rises, and I hold up my hands. “Don’t give me any bullshit about how you follow the charter like the Bible. Even people who follow the actual Bible make allowances for changing times. Do you know many Christians these days who literally believe ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’, or believe that those who masturbate should be killed? No. And as for your charter, did Isaiah have razor wire around the woods, and guards, on the day he killed his cousin?”

  They all mumble and look at each other uneasily.

  “Isaiah claimed women who sinned against him or his family members, and kept them in his cabin. Did he do it with shock collars that would zap them unconscious if they crossed the property’s boundaries?”

  “We’re adapting to modern times!” one man protests angrily, but he looks defensive, because I just forced him to admit my point.

  “Exactly. Isaiah said that a true man only ate food that he caught and killed with his own hands, and only lived in a house that he’d built with his own hands, and only wore clothing sewn by either a bride or a Sinner that he had subjugated. How many of you follow those rules?” None of them. They all live in mansions and buy their clothing from the finest haberdasheries.

  “It’s a metaphor!” Orion protests. “We earn our own money. Our women launder our clothing and press it for us. We honor the spirit of the charter in all things.”

  “But you don’t follow the charter word for word, and you admit that you have changed with the times. And so will we. Number one. We will, of course, still have hunts, and my father and I can help bring you many men here to hunt. Not only that, but you can visit him in Europe and hunt there, in the forest land that he owns.”

  They’re looking at me suspiciously. I need to sell this or Camille and I and my father are as good as dead.

  “Number two, we will still punish Sinners, but we’re raising the bar on what sins they must commit. Because of that, we’ll be expanding our collection of Sinners beyond those who just sin against the family. Solomon?”

  As I speak, Solomon has been hooking his laptop up wirelessly to a projector at the back of the room. He presses a button, and a picture of a slender, beautiful bottle blonde appears on the screen. She’s shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue.

  Simon and I have been tracking down these women for the last few weeks, ever since I first learned about how the Franklin family operated.

  “This woman flooded her house with carbon monoxide and killed her husband and children for insurance money, and she never got caught. But we’ll punish her.”

  Now the men are looking interested. Their eyes rove greedily over the blonde’s beautiful figure. “A woman who smites down her family is a terrible sinner indeed,” Orion says to Thomas, who nods. Thomas’ gaze is fixed on her perfect little ass. “She should be punished,” he murmurs.

  Solo
mon calls up another video. A beautiful Hispanic woman is in her bedroom, making out with a handsome, muscular young man. “This woman conspired with her stepson, whose tongue she’s swallowing right now, to kill her husband. She’ll be visiting us very soon, and so will he.” Several of the men perk up considerably at that. Augustus told me about the Franklin men who enjoy sexually violating other men. And this man is a beautiful specimen, darkly exotic, with caramel skin and bulging muscles. There’s something for everyone here.

  Solomon shows them more pictures of women who are absolute knockouts and absolutely evil. Gorgeous Colombian female gang members who lure in rivals to be butchered. A female doctor in Russia who snuffs out patients on the operating table in exchange for a hefty fee from family members who stand to benefit.

  I can see the lust in their eyes. They’re licking their lips, moving restlessly. I’ve got their attention.

  “Your requirements for those who could be claimed as sinners were actually holding you back. I heard you complain that there weren’t enough of them. We’ll be bringing them in from all over the world now, as many as you can handle, and more. My father and I will guarantee that by the end of this month, we’ll have twenty new Sinners here. And we will keep you well supplied.” I let that sink in as the men look at the flashing pictures of the new Sinners, with naked hunger. I show them pictures that emphasize the women’s beauty, their raw sensuality. I watch the men’s faces, their tongues running over their lips, as they picture what they’ll do to these women.

  “Now, here are the other changes. No more deadly ordeals for your sons. No more children dying to prove their worth.”

  There’s another swell of rebellious shouts, but a lot of them look relieved. The parental instinct is a strong one, too strong even for a lifetime of brainwashing to erase completely. Most of these men will be happy to know that their children will not die brutal, unnecessary deaths.

  “And no more claiming, or rather kidnapping, women to make them your wives. Not unless you want to marry a Sinner, a woman who has done something so horrendous that she has earned that fate.”

  That raises shouts of protest. Men jump to their feet, arguing, bellowing.

  “Never!” Thomas shouts at me. “Never! This is a violation of the very core of the charter! I’ll die first!”

  “Now?” I say, my fingers sliding across the keyboard.

  He stands there, jaw working, face flushed red with rage. He glances around him for support, and the men across the table are clenching their fists and tensing. I knew this would be a sticking point, but I’m not backing down on this one—because I know that Camille and my mother will have to be told everything and wouldn’t be able to live with the kidnapping of innocent young women. They would die rather than tolerate that – so I will risk my life to bring about these changes.

  “I will make a concession that those of who you who have already claimed brides won’t have to divorce. I am doing this because if you set them free, they would inevitably talk and bring down the entire family, and also because if they have children, that raises some thorny issues. You will be monitored, though, and you may not lift a hand to them ever again. You will not share them with others, and if they choose not to have sex with you, you will honor their refusal. And every one of them will be informed of their new status.”

  I’ve set off a bomb with my words. More shouting, more cursing and threats. Many of the men look as if they’re ready to come over the table and murder me on the spot—if only they could. I haven’t even discussed the current “Sinners”. These women will have to live out their lives on the property because of their neck collars, and because they, like the kidnapped “brides”, would tell people about the family if they were set free. However, I am calling a halt to the rape and torture of the current group of Sinners, because their “sins” were not severe enough to warrant it, and a good number of them haven’t done anything wrong at all. They were merely the unfortunate descendants of other ‘Sinners’. There will be no more breeding, and those who are pregnant will be allowed to keep and raise their own children here on the estate.

  It takes several minutes for the shouting to die down to a dull roar.

  I know Camille and my mother are going to hate that part of the bargain. They would want the women to be freed. But I also know there’s only so much I can ask of these men, and I am risking my life making the demands that I have. Life is full of suffering and injustice and ugly compromises. This is the best I can do.

  “Quiet!” I yell. “And finally, Solomon will be the Patriarch! I have no interest in the position. I withdraw my challenge. I will be the security consultant for the family, and believe me, you want someone like me on your side. You’ve all seen what I can do—you’ve seen how I broke past your defenses.”

  Solomon and I agreed on that. The Franklin Family Council wouldn’t accept me as a leader, no matter what the charter says, especially with the drastic changes that will be forced on them. But there’s a chance that they’ll follow Solomon, because he’s one of them

  It’s a long, bitter afternoon. The air is thick with hate and threats. The men are furious, and most of them balk. However, Solomon and I stand firm. They have no choice. If they don’t concede, they will die. Yes, they’d go on to wipe out me and my entire family, but it would be a hollow victory, with every last adult male member of the Franklin family dead, along with their legacy and their traditions.

  I force them to let me make outside calls, staying in regular communication with Simon throughout the afternoon, giving him the appropriate code words. If I didn’t, he’d trigger the GPS capsules as per my instructions.

  By the end of the day, we reach an uneasy agreement. I know that not all the men are in accord with the new terms, and I know several of them will try to find a way to wiggle out of it, but finally, for the time being at least, they accept what we offer. It’s that or die. For all their macho bluster, they don’t want to die a slow, excruciating death, and they’ll still live their lives largely the same way.

  And finally, finally, they agree to my terms, and they let me return to Camille.

  Epilogue

  Bastien

  One year later…

  Dark Desires is thrumming with life tonight. It’s a Saturday, and Solomon has come to visit. He enjoys the type of release that’s available here—anonymous, with no attachments. He sits at a table in a pool of shadow, allowing an eager blonde to service him with her hands. He doesn’t even glance at her.

  My wife, Camille Durand, sits by the bar near the stage, wearing the dress I picked out for her. There’s a big sparkly ring on her finger and a delicate diamond-studded collar around her slender neck, pronouncing my proud ownership of her. Men and women look at her appreciatively, but they steer a wide berth. Nobody would dare lay a finger on her.

  She meets my gaze and winks at me, with a hint of a smile curling the corners of her mouth. The black Lycra dress that I selected for her is very short, but I was nice and allowed her to wear panties. Her nipples are hard, and she squirms on the seat. She’s a little scared, but she’s impatient. She wants me to do very bad things to her.

  I will, after I finish berating Simon, who is standing next to Camille.

  “Simon, for a smart man, you’re really a fucking moron,” I growl at him. Two of the Franklin men were communicating with each other via handwritten notes carried by a guard, trying to plot a coup against Solomon. They nearly succeeded.

  They’re being tortured to death as we speak. They violated the charter. They should have challenged Solomon, but they weren’t strong enough, so they tried to figure out a way to poison him. Instead, my eavesdropping software caught them, and they will be violated in unspeakable ways for days on end until they die.

  The rest of the family has fallen into line. There has even been a wedding this year—Andrew Franklin, twenty-two, wooed and married a woman who was in his class at law school. He didn’t pick a woman from the orphanage. I allowed the orphanage to sta
y open, and they’re still raising “respectable Christian women who preserve their virtue”, but no more sending “Sinners’” babies there to be raised and then raped.

  Andrew was inspired by the changes I made and decided to marry for love. He did still marry a virtuous young virgin, so his father accepted his choice. It’s the first time anyone from his family has ever had a traditional courtship and wedding. She will know nothing of the family traditions, of course. He’ll carry those on in private.

  Simon is wilting under my barrage of abuse. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Really? How sorry would you have been if your massive fuck-up had ended in my death? Why do I even keep you employed? I could hire a fucking brain-damaged gibbon and get better results.”

  Tears fill Simon’s eyes.

  Camille slides off her seat. I keep berating Simon until she presses up against me.

  “Bastien. There’s no need for you to be so mean to him,” she murmurs in my ear, just like she did when we were fifteen.

  I am instantly rock hard.

  I turn to her with a cold smile. “Really? Should I be mean to you instead?”

  “If you must.” The words come out on a sigh of surrender. Her emerald eyes are luminous pools, sparkling with desire.

  I grab her arm and steer her to the steps that lead up to the stage. She struggles a little. “You could be mean to me in your office! Or in a private room!” she protests, but her breathing has quickened with arousal.

  “Of course I could. But you wouldn’t hate it anywhere near as much.”

  I march her over to the middle of the stage and affix her hands to cuffs that are dangling from the ceiling. She whimpers a little as I push her skirt up. A crowd is gathering, entranced.

  “They love this, baby,” I whisper in her ear. “They’re all watching you.” And I slide my hand between her legs, stroking her dewy wet pussy. She tries to move her body to hide behind me, but I step aside so she’s exposed, and I fumble with the dress’s zipper. It springs open, revealing her lithe, glorious body to the crowd.