I wait just a moment before I move, just to send the message home that she is now under my control. She bolts out the door and back up to my aunt’s house. Her training has officially begun…
Chapter Ten
Selena
I look in the mirror, staring at my reflection one last time, before I begin the process of taking the pills—one handful at a time. I listen to the bass reverberate off the walls and imagine one of the strippers gyrating on the pole as old men, college frat boys, and the bachelor party group in attendance tonight get their jollies. I gulp down the glass of wine on my make-up table and repeat the process. Take a handful of pills, wash it down with Merlot, and snort a line of cocaine. What is the old adage? Wash, rinse, repeat.
For some odd reason, I eye my perfectly manicured hand with admiration. I have everything women covet. I wear designer clothing. I have a stylist and a driver. Hell, I even have a fucking bodyguard. None of those things make up for the fact that I sell my soul to the highest bidder each and every night. Diego doesn’t run his stable the way most pimps do. His whores are high class escorts and we live the lives of the rich and famous. It still doesn’t change the fact that I sell myself like a piece of meat or, rather, I should say Diego sells me.
I’m very good at what I do. It’s the reason Diego won’t let me go. He is intrigued by the fact that I have the ability to convince the men I swindle that they are the answer to each and every one of my fantasies. I lie and tell them how good they make me feel. I tell them I’ve never felt so amazing and that I’ve never come so hard. None of Diego’s women can feed a man’s ego like I can. He likes to watch me wrap these men around my little finger and empty their wallets of everything they hold. More so than the money, the mind-fuck is what gets Diego off. He watches me work my magic and then he watches them fuck his number one lady. To put it simply, Diego is a voyeuristic, kinky ass freak. He enjoys watching me get fucked by other men. He has a room where he sits behind a two-way mirror and watches me. The johns don’t know it, but he tapes every session just in case he needs it someday. I would give anything to have a man who loves me and only me, a man who didn’t share me and pass me around like a common slut. It’s never going to happen, though, because what decent man would ever want a woman who has played the whore for every man with money in the area?
I think today will be a nice day to end my life. I decided today was as good a day as any to die. After all, it’s my birthday.
Soon I will escape this life of selling not only my body, but my soul, to the men who are in and out of my bed night after night. No one will miss me. There is no family, no boyfriend, not even a friend. No, I have spent the last few years of my life making money and now I can’t even take that with me.
I fumble as I grab a handful of pills and repeat the process. Pick up the pills, put the pills in my mouth, wash them down with Merlot, and last, but not least, do a line of cocaine.
Wash, rinse, repeat…
Black Rose
I’m hungry. I’m hungry like a wild animal on the prowl for prey and I find myself walking through the streets of downtown Louisville. I’m surrounded by whores, pimps, drunks, drug addicts, and derelicts. The craving to wrap my fingers around someone’s throat and take their breath away just because I can is overwhelming. Suddenly, my sweet, little kitten’s face flashes before me in my mind’s eye and I quickly turn towards the parking garage where my vehicle is parked.
I am making my way back to my car when I look up and see three men. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” I watch as one of them takes a can of spray paint and paints over the camera lens that probably doesn’t work anyway. His friend confirms my thoughts.
“That fucking camera doesn’t work. If it did, they would have caught us robbing that last white boy.” He looks at me as he continues to speak. “It would have caught the nasty blood bath we subjected that man to. We just about beat him to death according to the news reports.”
I finger the switchblade in my pocket, anticipation thrumming through my veins at the prospect of shedding blood. I’m so hungry for this that I feel almost feral. I want blood and their timing is perfect. Let’s just say, they fucked with the wrong white boy.
The three men now have me surrounded in a circle in order to prevent my escape. Is this when I’m supposed to be afraid? I can assure you, it isn’t fear I’m feeling right now; it is excitement. Oh yes, my need for blood and breath will be sated this evening.
I twirl in a circle as I grab the switchblade I will use to cut a man’s throat tonight. My coat flares out like a cape of sorts and I use the second of distraction to grab one of the men and hold the knife at his neck.
“Watch very closely,” I taunt, as I pull the sharp blade over his throat. It cuts through his jugular like hot butter.
“Fuck, man! That mother fucker is crazy,” one of the boys yells out and the two remaining thugs take off running. I reach down, grabbing items from the boy’s pocket and walk back to my car with my head down. I hadn’t planned on this and I can only hope that the shitty security system isn’t working. I reach up into a mesh cage covering the light bulb that serves as low grade lighting. I hit it with the heel of my palm, taking out the only source of illumination the parking garage provides.
My hunger for blood has been sated but my hunger for breath has not. I drive to my aunt’s home and quietly make my way into the apartment that houses the woman I keep there. I peel out of my clothes and jump in the shower to wash away any evidence of my kill.
I exit the shower and head to her closet to retrieve the drawstring pants I will put on. She isn’t aware of the fact I have purchased clothing for myself and placed it here. Visions of wrapping my hand around Melanie’s throat and fucking her senseless continue to invade my thoughts.
I make my way to her bedside and stare down on her sleeping form. I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath that she takes.
The corners of my mouth turn up in a sadistic smile as I realize that I control even the breath she is breathing right now. I’m hungry and I’m here to take her, to bask in her sensuality. I’m here to feed on what, up until now, has been mere fantasy fodder. No longer will I have to endure watching her from afar and dreaming about her at night. Now, she is mine for the taking.
I slip my hand over her mouth and plug her nose with my thumb and forefinger at the same time. My cock hardens when her eyes fly open and I am able view the terror in them.
“Shh, you’re going to be quiet when I remove my hand, right?” Her head shaking in the moonlight as her eyes connect with mine is all I need for assurance.
I tug at her hair as I whisper threats in her ear. “I’m a vile, twisted, sick fuck, Melanie. You can’t fix me, or change me, and you damn well had better not tell anyone about the things I do to you. I have more money and lawyers than necessary to make you look like you are an unstable woman who is trying to blackmail me for money. Are you going to play nice, Melanie? I want to taste that sweet, little pussy of yours. Now, be a good girl and grab the bars of that wrought iron bed. That’s a good girl.”
I bend her knees and shove her legs back as if I’m folding paper. My fingers spread her apart with expert precision and I flatten my tongue, lapping up and down at her slit. She tastes like innocence—innocence I’m defiling for my twisted, sick, fucked up entertainment. Maybe I’ll tell her she can’t come and then make her, just so I can beat her ass. Then again, I don’t need a reason, or her permission, to whip her. She’s my property now; she just doesn’t know it yet.
I listen to her groans, resonating from somewhere deep in her chest. I gently suck at her clit that has now hardened and become fully engorged with her arousal. I purposely bring her right to the point of coming and stop.
“Noooooo, please don’t stop,” she cries out.
“Don’t you dare move your fucking hands from those bars. I will discipline you if you do, my love,” I growl.
She watches as I peel my drawstring pants off and sheath my
cock. I will be getting both of us tested so I can feel every inch of that hot little opening of hers. I purposely stand over her, staring at her, as I stroke my cock. When she attempts to turn her head away in embarrassment, I viciously grab a handful of her hair and force her to watch me.
“I like embarrassing you, forcing you to do things you are uncomfortable with. I can promise you that you'll crave my cock like a drug by the time I’m finished with you. You will come to a point that you will enjoy begging me to defile and demean you.”
I pin her legs back by her shoulders and watch her eyes cross as I push my hard, thick cock into her. She feels so good, so tight; it’s like she hasn’t been fucked in forever. I lift my upper body, raising myself above her and staring into her eyes. I begin teasing her by barely entering her opening and then I roughly ram into her like I want to split her open.
“Rub that clit for me, baby girl.” The slap of my hand comes as a complete surprise to her as it hits her cheek when she hesitates. Now tears are streaming down her face as she obeys me, rubbing her clit as I fuck her like I hate her. My red handprint appears on her cheek and I feel no remorse, only a desire to fucking take her—heart and soul.
“How can this feel so good?” She questions me like she can’t believe she’s getting off on my rough treatment of her.
My sadistic laugh rings through the air as I inform her that there will come a time she will beg me for the brand of defilement and degradation she can only receive by my hand. I’m going to subject her to things she has never imagined and she is going to like it, crave it, and beg for it. Her days of sexual innocence are over. A new day of darkness is upon her.
“Please let me come. Please, please…” Her cries pleading with me for mercy are music to my ears but I deliberately ignore her. I bend down and whisper in her ear, “No matter what I do to you, you better not move your hands from those bars.” I’m a man given over to his sadistic enjoyment of subjecting her to my torment.
I watch as she vigorously nods her head up and down. Hell, she would agree to anything right now I have got her so worked up.
“I’m going to lick that sweet, little pussy of yours now and I want you to come for me.” She groans in agony as I pull my cock from her. I know instinctively she feels empty without me filling her core.
I push her legs back like I am diving into a smorgasbord and began alternating licking her slit, sucking on her clit, and fucking her with my tongue.
By the time I shove two fingers up into her and begin pumping them back towards my direction, she is thrashing on the bed and telling me that she will do anything that I want.
I stop and eye her, taunting her, “Are those hands still up there, girl? Oh yes, you will fucking do anything for me.” I know it and now she knows it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“Yes, fuck yes. Don’t stop, pleeeeeeeze.”
“That’s a good girl.” I go back to lapping and sucking at her juices until her very essence is pouring out of her and onto me.
I roughly shove her legs back and thrust my cock into her once again. I’m so hard I feel like the skin on my cock is going to split open. She is holding onto those bars so tight, her knuckles are turning white.
“I’m going to turn you into my dirty, filthy, little fuck toy. I’m going to use you whenever I want and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.” What she says next shocks me.
“I want you to use me so you don’t have to fuck a different model every night.”
“Your days of innocence are over, little girl.” She has no idea that I could care less about fucking anyone but her. She is a drug that’s now in my system and no other woman can give me what she does. Maybe she is my redemption but, then again, maybe I don’t want to be saved.
I grab her throat, choking her as she comes. “Your fucking breath belongs to me now.” Her terror filled eyes are begging me for mercy as I pump my seed into the condom. I fall down over her body, stroking her hair gently as I speak. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve never come so hard in my life. You scared the shit out of me and I loved it.”
I roll off of her, spent, and whisper in her ear, “You can move your hands now.”
Melanie
I can hear the low rumbling of his threats in my ear. He is beckoning a dark part of my soul to come forth and play as his fingers interlock around my throat. I’m feeding off of the fear he is causing me. I can feel it working on my system almost like an aphrodisiac and I am enjoying the terror he is instilling in my being. Who is this woman who is basking in the affections of a dangerous predator? I don’t know who this man is, but I do know, instinctively, that he is dangerous. I’m playing with fire but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
He is calling to a slumbering beast I never knew existed within me—a dark forbidden part of me that enjoys the danger of being stalked and taken.
Some sick part of me wants and invites this mad man to bed me like some emotionally crippled woman who needs obsession and not love. Maybe he sees that trait in me. Perhaps that is the reason I have been brought here.
He is calling forth a part of me that craves danger and obsession. I welcome this man into my mundane life to serve me up a helping of adrenaline laced fear with a side of terror.
This other woman in me, who has been hidden in the dark recesses of my being, doesn’t want to be wooed with red roses and champagne, she wants to be threatened with black roses and knives.
I liked what he was doing to me. He is creating a hunger and a craving for more darkness and danger. He is creating an addiction to the high off endorphins and dopamine that only he can provide me with.
I see a look come across his face and into his eyes, like a light bulb goes off and he knows what I am thinking.
“You like what I do to you; I can see it in your eyes. Oh yes… I’ve finally met my soul mate. I knew the first day I saw you that you were the one. I could smell it on you.”
“What?” My voice trembles as I speak.
“You. Are. Prey.”
Dr. Ozment
I lean against the hospital ER wall, casually talking to a nurse who seeks out my attention on a daily basis. Though she is cute in her own way and as pleasant as any man would want a woman to be, she just doesn’t strike that chord in me. I guess if I had to describe myself I would say that I have a hero complex. It is going to take a certain kind of woman to intrigue me—one who needs to be saved.
I guess, by a woman’s standards, I would be considered a handsome man, but I really don’t give it much thought. The nurses certainly act as if I am quite the catch around the hospital. It never ceases to amaze me how everyone wants to be married to a doctor… That is, until they are married to a doctor. I have my sexual escapades to curb the normal male libido, but I haven’t found that special someone. Of course, I’m not looking very hard because I’m married to my job.
I push off the wall with the foot that has been resting on it when I view the ambulance pull up to the ER door. They rush a Latina woman in on a gurney with an apparent overdose.
“I need some help over here,” I call out as I rush in to save yet another life.
And so begins another night at Mercy Regional…
Three hours later, I’m seated in a chair watching the sleeping woman as I do paperwork. My heart wrenches at the thought of her attempting to take her own life. Things have finally quieted down but it was touch and go for a while. I had to pump her stomach and give her a charcoal based concoction to soak up any remnants of the drug in her system. Though I have been able to physically stabilize her, it is evident that she is not emotionally well. The heart of a hero tugs painfully in my chest as I observe this poor girl’s plight. My mind wanders as I stop working on the file in my lap.
What in the world would make a beautiful young woman want to take her own life? Why has there been no family, no friends to come and visit her?
Well, I’m going to wait and talk to you before I call Psych in to evaluat
e you.
I go back to my paperwork. I will stay here for the night. No one should be alone during a time like this…
Melanie
I ease out of bed, once again allowing my curious nature to take over. I manage to get Charles’ wallet from his pants pocket while he is sleeping and that is all I needed to open up a plethora of information.
Charles Wentworth III isn’t just some crazed stalker. He is a man of wealth with impeccable social standing. That fact, in and of itself, sets off warning bells in my head. Why in the world would a man, who can pretty much have any woman he wants, want a single, broke, mother of one? I decide I need to do some research on this man who was proving to be quite the enigma.
I make my way to my computer and boot it up, looking over my shoulder to ensure he is still asleep so as not to get caught. I begin to Google and dig up every article I can find. The computer is spitting out a ridiculous amount of information when one thing leads to another and finally I hit pay dirt.
A newspaper article reveals what I perceive to be the reason for Charles’ odd behavior.
Local teen, Charles Wentworth III, witnessed a brutal homicide and barely escaped with his life after becoming trapped in an alley.
Black Rose Page 6