by Jenika Snow
Corruption
(Club Corruption, 1)
Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
www.CrescentSnowPublishing.com
Published by Crescent Snow Publishing
Copyright © July 2015 by Sam Crescent and Jenika Snow
Nook Edition
First E-book Publication: July 2015
Edited by Editing by Rebecca
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
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Club Corruption is not for the faint of heart, or for the weak; it will ensure your pleasure is delivered with a dose of pain.
Vicious, a dominant and sadistic wolf shifter knows he must posses Kitty, his mate, at all costs.
Kitty, a lonely striper, is just trying to feel alive and accepted in an otherwise lonely world.
But when Vic offers Kitty the ultimate way to feel alive, to experience what she desires in the darkest depths of herself, she doesn’t know if giving herself over to the MC affiliated wolf shifter will ruin her, or finally give her the life she’s always wanted.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Bound (Club Corruption, 2) Coming Soon
Connect with the Authors
This was her life, had been for the last five years. It wasn’t one she’d aspired to, wasn’t something she’d thought of having when she was a little girl. But here she was, stripping in front of these disgusting men, ones that only came here to see half naked women shake their shit on stage.
Tits and ass, shaking her shit for a few dollars, and then going home and just to come back and do it all over again was what Kitty did day in and day out. The pay was shit on the weekdays, but that was better than nothing. When they were short staffed, Kitty worked doubles, trying to make ends meet to survive in this shitty town.
“The crowd out there is dead, too dead for me to waste my fucking time. I’m calling it a night,” Butters, missing a tooth in front and one of the regular girls, called out to Larry, the owner of this dump. Larry didn’t care if she gave a little something-something to the customers after hours, not if he got his cut.
“You better come in early. I ain’t paying your ass to leave, even if there are only a few guys out there willing to pay extra.” Larry was a dirt bag; a dirty, scummy asshole who liked to cop a feel with the strippers, simply because he thought he had a right to. The last time he tried that on her, Kitty gagged so hard she threw up on his dirty ass. That had been the last time he pulled that one.
She grabbed her stuff and went into the makeshift room the girls had erected to change in privacy, although what was the point when they stripped? But for Kitty, she stripped so she had money, not because she enjoyed it, and certainly not to give her fucked up, disgusting boss a free show. He already watched them on stage, probably jerked off thinking about them bent over his greasy desk in the back room.
Nasty.
Yes, he really was that and more. Maybe one day she’d get out of here, go back to school, and make something out of herself. Kitty certainly didn’t want to be a twenty-year-old stripper that had no other goals in her life. If she continued on this path, one of these days she’d get raped in the back alley or get pregnant and have to deal with that. She wasn’t ready for any of it, wasn’t ready to be a single mom, a rape victim, or an old stripper that had nothing else going for her.
She put on an old pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt. She looked like shit in these clothes, but she wanted it that way. Looking unattractive and unseen was the look she was going for, even if she was half naked on the stage most nights.
She left out the back door, not saying goodbye to anyone, because she didn’t care one way or another. The strip club was rundown and dirty, and the people that worked there were the same. She didn’t want friends, didn’t want to have the one person she could lean on be a strung out addict that couldn’t stand straight, not even on stage.
The night was cool, the scent of trash from the dumpsters across from her pungent and rank. She held onto her backpack tighter, the sound of her worn and dirty sneakers making soft padding sounds on the cracked asphalt. Of course, the city where she worked was littered with drug addicts, prostitutes, and homeless. She had no car, and getting a taxi out here at this hour, in this neighborhood, was a shot in the dark on most nights. When the cops did their nightly patrol, trying to catch a drug deal, or pick up a girl on the corner, everyone scattered like fleas away from water.
She stopped at the corner where the building and sidewalk met, grabbed the hat she had stuffed in her bag, and put it on, tucking her hair under it. She only lived about seven blocks up the street, and although it wasn’t in the greatest neighborhood, it was a step up from this dump. The city kind of morphed into a nicer area about ten blocks up the road. It was strange, kind of like stepping into a parallel dimension where behind her was the trash of the world, and in front of her were actual hardworking, clean people.
She made her way past the whores on the corner, the pimps waiting in their Cadillacs on the side of the street, and the drug deals that happened in the darkened shadows.
Making her way past them all, her head downcast, and her focus on her feet, Kitty kept her hand in her purse. She had a bottle of pepper spray in there, as well as a pocket knife that probably wouldn’t do much harm, but would make an asshole coming after her think twice.
God, what would her parents think if they a saw her now? As immigrants from Poland, they probably would have been disgusted that they’d worked so hard to come here, to give her a better life, just for her to turn it all to shit.
But then they’d died, taken out of this world far too soon. She didn’t like thinking about it, of course, because they were all she had. Getting that phone call two years ago telling her that her parents had been killed in a drunk driving accident would haunt Kitty until she died. She knew that.
She’d had friends growing up, kids from school, kids from the neighborhood where she’d lived, but that all changed when Kitty just up and left. She’d packed what she could, taken the money her parents had left her and all of her savings, and left everything behind. She couldn’t have dealt with it any other way, couldn’t deal with the memories that surrounded her. That was over a year ago and six thousand miles away.
So here she was, stripping even though she didn’t really need to.
She still had a bit of the money that her parents had left her, but it certainly wasn’t enough to live on. They hadn’t exactly been living the life of luxury, but they had been comfortable.
She walked quicker, finally moving out of the real bad part of town. Kitty had tried looking for other work, had looked at waitressing, sales, anything else. But there was a apart of her, maybe a sick, demented part that liked that she was in danger constantly, that at any given moment she could die, or worse, be mutilated by a tweaked out junkie.
Maybe a part o
f her longed for that rush of adrenaline that coursed through her veins every night, every time she looked at the men watching her, knowing that her life could be snuffed out, and she wouldn’t have done anything to stop it.
This twisted part of Kitty just wanted to let go, to stop trying, because what was the point? She had no one in this world that loved her anymore. The friends she’d had years ago would look at her like a piece of trash…the same piece of trash she saw nightly on the street corners.
She’d not only lost her parents that day, she’d lost a piece of herself, a piece of her humanity, her sanity, hell, her dignity.
She was no one anymore, just a girl living each day at a time, not caring what happened, even though she should. She might tell herself being safe was right, the smart thing to do, but deep down, Kitty couldn’t have cared less. That’s how deep in the rabbit hole she really was, and she couldn’t see herself getting out.
The club was dark, smoky; the sounds of moaning, grunts of pleasure, and whips flying through the air then slapping against skin filled Vic’s head. He was hard, needing to find some pussy to ease himself, and not caring what female he found that pleasure in.
Corruption was a BDSM club, catering to clientele that liked their pleasure mixed with a good dose of dirty pain. He and the MC he was affiliated with owned the business. Like him, the members of the Lupine MC were made up of wolf shifters, bad motherfuckers that, if crossed, had no problem shifting into their animal forms and tearing a bastard’s throat out.
This was the world they lived in, the life they led. It was eat or be eaten, and no fucking way was Vicious going to allow some prick to step all over him and what he’d worked for, worked toward.
He checked out the girl in the center stage, the spotlight on her. Deacon, one of the Lupine MC members, and a sadistic sonofabitch, was beating the hell out of her. Blood ran down her spine, welts and open wounds marred her back. But she was a pain slut, loved the broken skin, the agony that led to her ecstasy.
Vic moved past them, past the St. Andrew’s cross, away from the spanking benches, and past the VIP rooms that let the Club Corruption members take a girl to a room and do whatever the fuck they wanted to as long as it was consensual.
But hell, sometimes he knew there was force, knew there was men that liked it rough, and the women that liked to get a little bruises and marks on them. It was all part of the game, all part of the pleasure.
It was Club Corruption at its finest, and fuck but he liked the depravity of it.
Kitty passed the dark, almost obscure looking club. If someone wasn’t from here, didn’t know what it actually was, one would think it was closed, rundown, out of business. But she knew what it was. Everyone in town, hell, in a hundred mile radius knew what it was.
Club Corruption.
The two windows in the front were blacked out, and the only indication of what it actually might be was the large, dark CC hanging above the door. But the sign wasn’t even lit up, wasn’t showcased. This club was exclusive, elite even, and she knew big names, bad names frequented it. What was inside wasn’t a mystery either, but she didn’t know the specifics, wasn’t sure she even wanted to.
Kitty stopped, stared at the front door, knowing it was better to keep moving, to keep her head down, and not draw attention to herself. But hell, it was hard not to be curious, not to wonder what would happen if she tried to walk through those doors. Would they let her in, like a pack of ravenous wolves about to devour the sacrificial lamb? She knew the local MC gang, actual ravenous wolves, owned part of this place. Their badass, corrupt, and dangerous reputation should have had her running in the other direction.
Kitty ran her hands over her thighs and pictured what danger could be lurking inside. She knew this BDSM club had hardcore sadists inside, those wanting to beat the flesh off a masochist, wanting to make them scream…bleed for them.
A shiver worked over her, and she tightened her hold on her backpack strap. This twisted part of her wanted to just go in there, let them do what they wanted, because at least that pain, that degradation, would make her feel alive…would be real.
That would be the epitome of living on the edge, not knowing what would happen, but being a willing participant to it all.
But before she could move away, head back to her crappy little apartment, alone with the sounds of the city around her, the front door opened and out stepped this man—shrouded in shadows. The only thing she saw at first was the brightly lit tip of a cigarette, or maybe a joint, he had between his lips. He stopped, inhaled deeply, and even from this distance, she saw his massive chest rise and fall.
When he lifted his head and all she could see was the glowing whiteness of his eyes, she knew this wasn’t a man at all, but a wolf.
Shifters were normal in her world. They were feared, controlling, and anyone that thought to challenge them usually came up dead. But in this part of town the criminals outnumbered the good guys, and the shifters could make the worst of humanity look like a walk in a field of flowers.
He inhaled his joint, which was probably what it was, his glowing eyes watching her. Speaking of his wolf genetics, this man could shift right now, become this massive, towering wolf that was far bigger than a natural, normal animal, and devour her. No one would miss her. No one would even know she was gone. She was just Kitty, the stripper…the one no one would miss.
Finding a strength she didn’t know she had at that moment, Kitty turned, and made her way toward her apartment. She felt this awareness, felt this zing of electricity, this intensity. It was all because of that man, that animal that watched her.
Another shiver wracked her body, stole her breath. She hadn’t felt this alive, this aware in a long time. And that danger, that promise of what might happen if she tempted the wolf, made her want to be his Little Red Riding Hood.
Vic couldn’t believe that he was following the little morsel that had tempted him outside of Corruption. The scent that had come from her had called to him in ways no one outside of the pack ever had. He’d never been a man, or wolf, to go hunting for humans. They broke too easily for his pleasure. The woman who had stared at him had caught his attention, and he’d not been able to hold back. He followed her scent all the way to a rundown apartment building.
The wolf within him didn’t like the apartment complex where she lived. Fuck, he didn’t even know the bitch, and she was causing him and his wolf problems.
He should be at Corruption, picking a woman to torture for the night. Instead, he was hunting the female who’d captured his attention, and now he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. Vic needed to have her. He needed to see what her full ass would look like, bare, and covered in welts that he’d given her. Two of his favorite toys were the whip and the bamboo cane. The more evidence he left the better.
Not only had he been attracted to the scent she’d given off, the woman had been turned on by the club. She’d been curious about what was inside, and when he’d looked into her eyes, he’d seen that she had a desire for it, a lust to see what was inside, to sample, and just explore what it had to offer.
If she didn’t want to play, she shouldn’t have gone near the club and stopped to take it in, she shouldn’t have been interested. She should have kept her head down, her eyes on the ground, and not bothered herself with what Corruption had to offer. That small spark of interest was what had lured him to her. He followed her up the multiple flights of stairs to her shitty apartment. She probably paid a fucking fortune for the place.
Vic stayed behind, waiting for her to shut the door. He closed his eyes, opening his senses, and heard her fumbling around the apartment, tripping over her table. She’d worn the crappiest clothes he’d ever seen on a woman, but it hadn’t taken away from her natural beauty. Whoever the woman was, she was a looker all right.
She’d look so damn good strapped to a spanking bench for the club to see. The wolves would do anything for a taste of her ripe pussy. She smelled…clean, which seemed impossible for
the neighborhood she’d been walking in. In his world, nothing was clean. Nothing was pure.
Knocking on the door, he listened, anticipating seeing her beautiful face. Of course, this wasn’t something he should be doing; he shouldn’t have followed a female home just because she was curious about Corruption. The truth was her scent had inflamed him, aroused him, and had him curious for more. He always relied on those instincts to see him through, to make the right decisions, and they’d never steered him wrong. He was going with his gut now, too.
Her door opened, and she recognized him, that much was clear by the scent in the air and the expression on her face.
“Yes?” she said.
He didn’t wait to have his way with her, to corrupt her. “Why don’t you come to the club?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“What?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play coy with me.” She shot him a glare, and it only served to make him smile. “I’ve got a whole club of bitches to play with, but I want you, and judging by the fact you were curious enough about Corruption to stop and stare, to stare at me, I know you want to play, too.”
“You followed me.”
“Points for you.”
She crossed her arms underneath her breasts. Without shame, Vic checked out her rack. She was packing some great tits. His wolf started to wake and pay attention. That’s right, boy, look what’s on display.
This woman was on offer, a sweet offer to him. Every word he spoke, turned her on.
“Get the fuck away from my apartment,” she said.
“Playing hard to get?”
“Go fuck yourself.” She went to slam the door closed. Vic stopped her, by pushing his way into her apartment. The moment he stepped over the threshold, her scent saturated him, surrounded him. He felt the lightest of touches from her hand on his forearm, and Vic knew what his problem was. He knew why he was obsessed with this woman with only a glance.