Prisoned Series Box Set

by Marni Mann

  “Just like this,” I said, adding a third finger but overlapping them so that they were shaped like a triangle. “Do it hard, Layla.”

  Layla watched me as I thrust into the stripper. But, in my mind, I was plunging inside Layla instead. It helped that I didn’t move my stare from her. That we drove in with the same speed. That she was so close to me, I could almost feel her groans on my skin.

  “Faster,” I demanded.

  The stripper panted each time I pulled back to my nails and after every rotation against her clit. She was so fucking wet. And, as she tightened around me, I knew she was almost coming.

  I just couldn’t tell if Layla was there yet.

  “Layla, I want to hear you.”

  The stripper’s legs spread further apart, and she began to really ride me. I didn’t even have to move my hand, but I did, meeting her in the middle, twisting my knuckles, making sure she felt the grind of my palm with each stroke.

  “Rub your clit harder, Layla.”

  “Oh God,” they moaned together.

  “That’s it, baby,” I said.

  “Yesss!” the stripper screamed. “I’m coming.”

  Fuck, I loved that scream.

  It sounded so hot. A little painful. It was the perfect tone.

  “Layla, now, I want to hear you come. Scream for me, baby.”

  The stripper squeezed Layla’s nipple. It was the sexiest thing she had done since I got on the bed. And she tugged it so hard, Layla’s tit lifted and bounced.

  I slid away from the stripper and moved to the base of Layla’s legs, kneeling so close but not touching her.

  “Fuck that pussy, Layla.”

  Her moans told me she was getting closer.

  “Fuck it like you want to come.”

  And then I finally heard it. The noise I’d been waiting for.

  Her scream.

  I wanted to live in that sound. Wrap myself in it. Keep myself buried and never be let out.

  I’d found it.

  Again.

  My own personal fucking prison.

  The look on her face told me the pleasure had completely taken over her body. Shit, didn’t I wish I could replace that hand with my own. But, since I couldn’t, I stayed in front of her legs and watched her buck.

  “Look at me,” I demanded.

  Another scream.

  I almost unzipped my jeans and shoved my dick inside her to see if the vibrations of her voice traveled to her cunt.

  But doing that would be raping her.

  I was a murderer, not a rapist.

  So, I squeezed my dick over my jeans to calm the fucker down.

  Layla’s stomach began to shudder, her hips popping off the mattress. “Beard. Oh my God.”

  She ground out her orgasm, her movements slowing, her navel eventually stilling. When she removed her fingers, I leaned down and took them into my mouth. Our eyes locked the whole time as my lips surrounded her wet skin. Feeling her nails hit the back of my throat, I sucked every bit of juice from them.

  “Get over here,” I said to the stripper.

  She got on her knees and crawled closer.

  “Lick it,” I told her, pointing at Layla’s pussy. “Suck up every drop of cum.”

  I bent down further on the bed, so I could see the stripper’s tongue. After each lap, she swallowed.

  This was fucking torture. I wanted to feel Layla’s soft lips on my mouth. I wanted her thick sauce to be running down my throat.

  “More,” I barked. “Cover her whole clit. I don’t want any of it dripping onto the bed.”

  “Mmm,” Layla moaned, pushing her head into the pillow, her eyes closing.

  If it were my face down there, I’d quickly flick her hole, each swipe gently rising to her clit to get it ready for a second round and then gradually going back down to tease her again.

  It had been so long since I ate pussy.

  I’d fucked plenty. But eating was reserved for the special ones, and there hadn’t been many of those.

  “I got it all,” the stripper said. Her chin was all wet from Layla, her lips red and puffy.

  “You did good,” I replied, pushing myself off the bed and walking to the door.

  In the archway, I turned toward the two women. I didn’t know what the hell I had started here. I didn’t know what would happen the next time I came back. I didn’t know what would be said the second I left.

  I didn’t care.

  Layla was satiated for the moment. Her eyes were on me. And I liked everything I saw in them.

  My job here was done.

  “I’ll see you both later.”

  I moved out of the room and walked through the front door, never stopping once to look behind me.

  Eleven

  Tyler

  Five Years and Ten Months Ago

  I finished the fourth knock and pulled my hand away from the metal door. Within a second, it burst open, a masked man on the other side. Unlike my face and Dean’s, his was entirely covered in a scarf, a small hole cut out for his nose and lips.

  “Number?” he barked.

  “Twenty.”

  There was a shakiness in my voice. I wondered if the doorman could hear it or if the pounding in my heart just made everything feel like it was rocking.

  The man held a small piece of paper, identical to the one at the previous entrance, and it appeared as though he were scanning it.

  Our eyes finally locked, and his mouth parted. “Welcome to The Auction, Tye.”

  Goose bumps covered my skin, the sound of his voice booming in my ears.

  It was the first time my nickname had been spoken in here. Now, I was more than just a number. And, from this point on, I would have to prove my worth.

  “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, yerekha. Tonight is only going to make me prouder.”

  The man reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small TV remote. He made sure the face was pointed toward me. On it were three buttons, all in different colors.

  “Green,” he said, his finger next to the top button, “is to bid. Red is to cancel. Black is to call for help.”

  I reached for the remote, and he stopped me.

  “Don’t press the black button unless it’s an emergency. We don’t fuck around with those types of calls.”

  As I nodded, he set the remote on my palm, and I closed my fingers around it.

  “Come on in, Tye.”

  With Dean still clinging to me, I led him through the door and stopped when we were just a few feet inside. It didn’t matter how detailed the girls had been; nothing they’d said could have prepared me for this. It was unlike anything I had imagined.

  Even though there weren’t any windows, the space didn’t feel like a basement at all. It was draped in reds and grays with elegant chandeliers, contemporary paintings, and a scent that just smelled like wealth. All the men and women wore scarves in varied prints. They held their remotes and sipped cocktails, standing at high-top tables or sitting on leather love seats. Bars and food stations were scattered throughout. But the focal point of the room, the place that held everyone’s attention, was the far back wall. That section was a stage, sitting several feet higher than everything else, and blocked off by a glass partition that prevented any of us from entering.

  At least six women were on the stage, each of them dressed as a different animal. Some had horns. Others had ears. They all had masks on their faces, body paint covering their skin, long tails dangling by their heels.

  “Meow,” Dean whispered.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. Fortunately, an announcer came through the speakers, so I didn’t have to.

  “Turn your eyes to the fox.” The announcer’s voice was monotone and gentle. “Item number eight-seven-three-nine-six-five is now up for bid.” He paused while we found the woman he’d described, a spotlight turning on above her. “This is an Andy Warhol original. Perfect condition. Bidding starts at eighty-five thousand.”

  There was
a single beep. Not too loud but loud enough to get our attention.

  “Bidding is now ninety thousand.”

  After every beep, he would come back on to tell us the new price. And, the whole time, the fox held on to the wooden frame of the painting, her sly movements mimicking the animal almost exactly.

  I wasn’t ready to get to work just yet. I needed a few minutes to get a feel for this place, to take a little bit of this edge off. I didn’t want a buzz, just something tasty to wet the dryness in my throat and calm the thickness in my chest. Every time I moved my hand, I would be reminded of the remote and the button I would eventually need to press. And of Mina, who I knew was somewhere in here, probably watching me, waiting for me to either succeed or fail.

  “Let’s grab a drink,” I said to Dean, escorting him to the closest bar, feeling him shuffle extra fast to keep up.

  “Pinot grigio,” I said to the bartender. “A reserve if you have one.”

  He was tall, broad, and chiseled with brown paint covering his chest and a large white circle near the base of his neck. His mask was a deer skull, the horns extending several feet on both sides. His abs rippled as he moved. His horns bounced.

  He just lifted a bottle out of an ice bath, filled a glass halfway, and then set it in front of me.

  “Do you want some water, Dean?”

  He stood next to me at the bar, staring down at me rather than the captivating animals on the stage.

  “Dean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like—”

  “Yesss.”

  He was so high.

  “Water, please,” I said to the bartender, searching for his eyes. I wasn’t able to see them. There was only darkness within the holes of the skull. It gave me a chill.

  He placed the glass before me, and I handed it to Dean.

  “Let’s find a place to sit,” I told him, swishing some of the wine over my tongue.

  Dean and I walked over to an empty love seat, and we both sat down.

  “Home?”

  “Not yet, Dean.”

  He was still looking at me, his concentration much more intense than I had expected. Since he seemed so interested, maybe this was the right time to tell him why we were here.

  I turned my body toward him. “Dean, let’s talk.” I paused, waiting for some type of strange response, but he said nothing. “I brought you here before taking you home because I want to get myself a special present. Something beautiful. Something I’ll keep for the rest of my life to always remind me of you. Wouldn’t you like me to have something like that?”

  He nodded.

  We sat so close, the outside of my thigh touched his. My lips wouldn’t go anywhere near him, and I really didn’t want my hands to either, so I leaned just slightly into his arm. The new angle gave him a much better view of my chest.

  “Look, Dean.” I pointed at the stage. “Do you see that?”

  “An animal?”

  I smiled even though he couldn’t tell with the scarf blocking my cheeks. When he finally glanced back at me, I said, “Yes, an animal is up there. And all those animals are holding extra-special presents. One of the presents is going to be just perfect for me.”

  The announcer’s voice clapped through the speakers as he moved on from the painting, and dings followed until the bidding closed. None of it seemed to capture Dean’s attention.

  “You want it?” he asked.

  “Yes, I want it, and I’d like you to buy it for me. Do you think you can do that?”

  He nodded again and tried to stand up, but I stopped him.

  “No, Dean, you can’t just go up there. You have to use this.” I showed him the remote. “When something comes on the stage that you think I should have, I want you to tell me, and I’ll hit this button.” My finger hovered over the green one. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, what do you want me to have?”

  He gazed at the stage and watched the giraffe holding a box that contained a man’s watch.

  “No,” he slurred.

  At least he knew that wouldn’t be the right gift for me. Maybe he was processing this better than I’d thought.

  While Dean continued to gaze at the stage, I took a peek around the room. Mina hadn’t told me that much about the operations of The Auction. I knew we weren’t allowed to just show up. Reservations had to be made well in advance, and our information had to be provided to whoever ran things here. But details—such as who all these people were, where they’d gotten these items to sell, and how the police didn’t find out about this place—I didn’t know.

  And I didn’t think I ever would.

  “Turn your eyes to the tiger,” the announcer said. “Item number eight-seven-three-nine-six-nine is now up for bid.”

  I felt something on my arm. When I looked down, Dean was rubbing my elbow with just the top of his knuckles. It didn’t come across as sexual, more like a gesture to get my attention.

  “That,” he said, nodding toward the stage.

  My eyes flitted to the back of the room where a tiger stood in the center. Hanging around her neck was a diamond on a simple silver chain. Even from all the way over here, I could tell how large and beautiful it was.

  Excitement sparked in my stomach. “You want me to have the necklace?”

  “Yes.”

  I held my thumb over the green button. “Tell me when to press it, okay?”

  “This is a five-point-three-carat diamond,” the announcer said. “Cut, round. Color, D. Clarity, IF. Bidding starts at sixty thousand.”

  Dean rubbed my arm a little harder. I took that as his way of telling me to hit the button, so I did. Then, I heard the beep immediately.

  “Bidding is now sixty-five thousand.”

  Dean’s finger pushed further into my skin, and I responded.

  “Bidding is now seventy thousand.”

  I knew the limit on his credit card, his annual income, how much he had paid for his house, that he hired escorts to come to his place on the nights he didn’t feel like going out. So, I knew he could afford this necklace. I just feared the price would get too high, and he would start having second thoughts. Before that became an issue, I needed to give him a little encouragement. If the man loved sex enough to pay for it, then that was something I could use to my advantage. And, just because I promised it didn’t mean I would ever follow through with it.

  “Dean,” I groaned into his ear, “how would you like it if we went to your house after this? If I walked you to your bedroom, sat you on your bed, and slowly took off all my clothes until I had only the necklace on?”

  “Bidding is now eighty thousand.”

  “And then I took that diamond and stuck it on my tongue, getting it all nice and wet, and then rubbed it so, so gently over the tip of your dick.”

  “Bidding is now eighty-five thousand.”

  “Would you like to see how pretty that diamond looked on my naked body? And how it would feel on top of my tongue when I sucked you off?”

  The sound of his breathing told me that he liked the thought of it, and so did the way he dug his nails into my skin.

  I tapped the button.

  “Sold to number twenty.”

  I had won the necklace.

  More importantly, I had gotten Dean to spend eighty-five thousand dollars.

  Wynter hadn’t told me how much she’d earned during her first auction. My total could have been so much lower than hers, making me look like a complete fool. Or maybe my number was much higher, and Mina would be prouder of me than she’d been of Wynter.

  Dean gazed at me, his finger still on my arm. I wasn’t sure if he remembered what number we were.

  “We got it,” I told him. “The necklace is ours.”

  “Yours.”

  God, I loved the sound of that. “Yes. Mine.”

  A man approached our love seat in a costume identical to the bartender’s—a deer mask on his face and brown paint on his torso. “
Number twenty”—he wasn’t asking—“please come with me.”

  Dean and I followed him through the crowd, and I noticed all the employees were dressed as deer, even the women. The only other animals were the ones on the stage. And, because of the reach of the skull’s horns, they all seemed to walk so gingerly.

  The deer stopped along the side of the room, close to the partition of glass, and pressed his hand somewhere near the floor. A door opened—one that blended in so perfectly, I never would have known it was there.

  The hallway we stepped into was dark. Like the entrance, sconces lit the way until we reached a small room with a table and computer.

  “Your signature is required at the bottom,” the deer said, holding out a piece of paper.

  I grabbed it, placing it in front of Dean. I couldn’t predict what Dean’s response would be, so I thought, if I translated what needed to be done, it would move along faster.

  I lifted a pen off the table. “Before we can go back to your house, you need to sign this, Dean.”

  Dean took the pen and scratched his name on the required line.

  “Cash or credit?” the deer asked.

  “Credit,” I answered. I leaned into Dean’s ear. “Pay the man, baby, so he’ll give us the diamond, and I can put it on my body.”

  Dean took out his wallet and handed the deer his credit card. The deer went over to the computer, typed something into the keyboard, and returned a few seconds later. He asked for another signature and went back to the computer. With Dean being a little more talkative out in the main room, I expected him to say something even if it were just a word or two. But his lips stayed closed, his eyes on me, his knuckle still on my elbow.

  When the deer came back a third time, he handed us a small velvet bag. Before I got a chance to thank him, he turned around and left the room. Just as the latch clicked into place, a couple walked in. The woman’s long dark hair was in a messy braid resting on her bare shoulder, and I noticed tattoos on the man’s fingers. Both had on bright pink scarves.

  “Tye,” the woman said, stepping closer to me.