Magnus Albright sits at the round kitchen table that seats four. It's also done in a blond pine with dark knotholes patterned throughout. I'd never been to Wyoming before Magnus brought me here five days ago and moved me into this cute little western chalet just on the outskirts of Jackson. But I love everything about it so far, from the stunning peaks of the Teton Mountain range to the pine log homes that sparsely cover the vast landscape.
Yes, I love Wyoming from what little I've been able to see, but I hate why I am here.
Magnus is already showered and dressed, his thinning blond hair meticulously slicked and combed to the side to hide his impending baldness. His face is freshly shaven except for long sideburns that he doesn't realize went out of style back in the 1800s. Magnus is all about impressions, and he always dresses as if he's going to be handling "business" at any given moment. That means he's wearing a custom-tailored suit in dark navy with a pristinely starched white dress shirt underneath. His tie will be added later if he leaves the chalet, but I'm guessing he won't since he really has no place to go other than The Silo, and he doesn't even bother to drag me there until the late evening hours when the place will be hopping with horny customers.
His muddy-brown eyes shift up to me as he holds his cell phone to his ear, listening to whoever is on the other end. He rakes his gaze over me impersonally, as he is neither attracted to me, nor does he care for me. I am nothing but a business deal, which does make me important to him, but not in the way the heart works. I appeal to his mind and his ego, and he equates me to nothing but a good score.
I'm his long con that's going to be a decidedly easy trick to pull, even though it might take some time and effort to get all his ducks in a row.
I'm his pawn... his shill... and sadly, I have no choice in the matter.
"Well, I don't give a darn if he's demanding to cash out immediately," he says snippily.
I roll my eyes as I pour myself a cup of coffee because Magnus refuses to curse. He thinks it's impolite, which is ridiculous given the fact he made me suck some stranger's dick last night without blinking an eye.
"Tell him that the terms of agreement clearly state we get five days. You have to be tough, Mickey. I don't have time to come back and handle this."
Magnus listens for a moment, and then nods in affirmation of whatever is said in return. "That's good. And go ahead and deposit the Anderson investment into the outsource account, let it clear, and then on the fifth day, cash him out with a four-percent rate of return."
A slight pause, and then Magnus says firmly, "You heard me right. Four percent. The man may be insufferable but he's well connected. He'll refer more people to us."
Another slight pause and a nod. "That's good, Mickey. Now... would you like to talk to your daughter?"
My spine stiffens slightly and I turn around to face Magnus, my eyes dropping to the phone in his outstretched hand. Magnus gives me a cool smile and nods in encouragement for me to take it. "He wants to check in on you."
I reach a shaky hand out and take the phone from Magnus. Just as I start to tug it from his grasp, he tightens his hold on it to stop my momentum and get my attention. My eyes slide up slowly to meet his, and his look is clear. Don't upset your father.
Giving a curt nod, I pull the phone from Magnus. I then give him my back as I put it to my ear and say, "Hey, Dad."
"Hey pumpkin," he says in that faded Boston accent. He's been in New York for almost thirty years now, and it's hard to detect unless he says words like park, which comes out like pah-k. "How are things going?"
I swallow hard against my lie and hope my voice doesn't quaver. "Awesome. How are things with you?"
I purposely turn things back on him so he doesn't push me for more details. Not that he would. Deep down, my dad doesn't want to know the details and I'm happy for that.
"It's all good here," he says with a roughened breath. I can tell he's stressed. "But I'm holding it together."
"That's good, Dad," I say. My words come out shakily, and I know I'm about to lose it. So I lie again. "Listen, I'm on my way out the door... important business and all that. I'm going to hand you back to Magnus."
"Okay, baby," he says, but his voice is already fading as I turn on Magnus and shove the phone back at him. He takes it with a cool smirk to his lips and doesn't even bother to look at me.
I grab my cup of coffee and head back toward the staircase, to the safety and privacy of my room, just as I hear Magnus murmuring to my dad again. I'm sure my dad is pressing him for assurances that I'm truly doing okay, but Magnus will never give him more than the bare minimum to keep him pliant.
In my room, which is more knotty pine walls, furniture, and flooring, the monotony of which is broken up by a thick comforter with a Native American design done in taupe, coral, and muted greens, I take a sip of my coffee and look around. The walls are covered with western-themed prints of cowboys and Indians, the matting inside matching the colors of the comforter so it all ties in together. On the bedside table is a copper lamp with a bucking bronco etched into the shade. A large rack of elk antlers hangs over the bed, and while the decor sounds more masculine than not, it actually is very soothing.
I've pretty much been holed up in here when I'm not working it at The Silo, trying to drum up as much horny anticipation and fevered need to fuck me as possible.
After I take another sip from my cup, I set it down on the dresser that has a large mirror attached. I take a careful look at my reflection. My skin is clear and translucent, apparently one of the few things my mother ever gave me that was good. Magnus has forbidden me to wear makeup, something I very much enjoy doing, but he says it makes me look older and that would defeat his marketing prowess.
I do, in fact, love playing with makeup and putting it on because it does make me look older. This I like because I believe I look abnormally young for my age. Even though I have large breasts, and, if you saw me naked, there's no denying I'm a woman fully grown, my face could sometimes pass for a teenager. Magnus says dirty old men like that.
I shudder, hoping to God he doesn't auction me off to some old perv. Every night in The Silo has been an absolute torture as I wait to see what he'll make me do. For the past three nights, he's kept it fairly simple. The first night he did nothing but parade me around, fully clothed, which lulled me into a false sense of security.
The next night, he struck up a conversation with one of the other patrons and quickly found out he was a cattle baron, which are frankly a dime a dozen out here, but they are incredibly wealthy. Hell, all the patrons at The Silo are sinfully rich.
They'd have to be to afford the $50,000 membership fee.
So with the cattle baron looking at me with undisguised lust, and Magnus calculating mentally how much I could sell for, he decided it wouldn't hurt to give the man a "freebie".
Now, since my "virginal" status is what's being peddled, the freebie did not mean sex. Magnus made it very clear when he told the man--whose name I do not even know because we were never introduced--that there could be no penetration of my vagina.
I mean, that's literally how he said it in that formal, polite way. "You may not put anything in her vagina."
I winced because it sounded so clinical. I also winced because that left a lot of other things the man could do to me, and while blow jobs were not unknown to me, I did not want anything near my ass.
Turns out my worries were for nothing, because the man was more than happy to accept a blow job.
And it was awful.
I mean... blow jobs aren't awful, if you're with someone you are genuinely attracted to and maybe even have a measure of care for. But sucking a stranger's dick who you are in no way attracted to is just nasty, and I suppose the only good thing is that the man put a condom on and I was spared from having to swallow.
He was also a fast shooter so I didn't need to suck more than a minute or so before he was blowing, so that was good too.
Last night though, Magnus upped his game. He told
me as we pulled into the parking lot he wanted me naked for the night. I immediately balked and told him to go to hell.
He just clucked his tongue and chastened me, "Now, Lee-Lee... you know you have to do this. You know you have to do it right. You know I won't accept anything but full effort from you on this deal, and I don't have to remind you of the consequences if you don't."
So I got naked.
Because I didn't need the reminder.
And Magnus led me around, introducing me to patrons, letting them ogle my breasts. After the first fifteen minutes or so, I lost the red tinge of embarrassment from my cheeks and I let my alter ego take over. I had developed it over the last few days, and it wasn't a chore.
Acting came naturally to me, and if I needed to act like the innocent seductress, I could do it. So I lowered my eyes a lot, knowing my fabulous black lashes stood out starkly against my pale skin, and I fidgeted shyly when one of the patrons would roam his eyes all over my body.
Magnus even let one of the members pinch my nipple. "Just to get a feel of how firm they are," he'd said.
My nipple didn't even react, just stayed soft and yielding. This didn't even seem to register with Magnus--who never really looked at my naked body--or the other man, who didn't care if I was turned on or not. He was just trying to get in good with my "owner" so that he'd be in the running for that evening's "experience" with me.
Yeah, it shouldn't be a surprise that nothing about this experience would turn me on, given that this was something I was not fully on board with, and that I was sort of being coerced. Being paraded around and forced to bestow sexual favors, knowing that made me a filthy whore because money would eventually change hands, really wasn't conducive to stiff nipples or wetness down below.
That is... until he walked in.
No clue his name, but I saw him on the first night Magnus brought me in. Saw him on the second night too. Last night, he was still just as beautiful and just as perplexing.
Oh yes... he's beautiful. Dark hair, slightly longish and messy like he just doesn't care one bit about how it looks. A goatee surrounding beautiful lips. His skin olive toned, his jaw solid, and his cheeks angled.
Those eyes though.
From the color...
Hazel with subtle shades of green, brown, and gold.
To the level of pain I saw within them...
Deep and consuming.
To the way in which he communicated his emotion...
Confidently and without ambiguity.
Those eyes captivated me from the start. The rest of his packaging was beautiful as well, as he was tall and built. There wasn't a woman in that circular house of perversion who didn't have their tongues hanging out when he walked by.
But it was his eyes.
They simply spoke to me.
For the past three nights, this stranger, with a heavy burden on his shoulders I'm not sure anyone else truly recognized, played a subtle game of secret communication using stolen glances and subtle body language.
It's not that we spoke on any deep level using the power of our gazes, but there was clear meaning.
Lust, intrigue, frustration.
I took one look at the beautiful man with the soulful eyes and my nipples got hard. They did that each night I saw him.
Even as I was sucking another man's dick, they were hard. I looked at him once in mid-bob, and I hoped he understood my message.
I wish this were you.
I understood his response. It was short, and then he stalked off.
I wish it were me too.
But it never would be. I didn't know the man at all... not even his name... but I could tell he didn't have the money to be a real patron at The Silo. His jeans were always worn and some of his shirts a little frayed. I heard Magnus talking with the owner, Bridger, one night, and he said that some of the men and women in The Silo are Fantasy Makers. Extra people who are on hand to add to the numbers of people wanting to fuck and be fucked. They are paid employees, I guess, which probably made the beautiful, sad man as much a prostitute as I am.
That is something we have in common.
Perhaps why we understand each other with just the merest of glances.
A knock on my bedroom door startles me out of my thoughts, and I look down to see if my nipples are poking out against my robe. They are... straight out and completely reflective of my wayward thoughts toward a man I'll never be able to touch.
I open the door just a crack and peer outside, keeping my traitorous body from his view.
Not that he'd look.
I don't think Magnus is into women.
Or men for that matter.
I think he's just into money.
"Yes?" I ask crisply as I open the door. He knows I don't like being around him when it's not needed.
"We're going to leave a little early tonight for The Silo," he says coolly. "I want you to wear that pink dress tonight."
I grit my teeth and nod, thankful on one hand I'll be clothed since he's choosing my wardrobe, but also on edge, because I know he has something different planned for tonight.
The dress is pretty and demure with a flowing skirt that comes to just above my ankles. He had bought a pair of pale, pink ballet flats to go with it.
It is demure and virginal, and he wants to remind everyone at The Silo that he's got a product to sell.
Fresh, tight pussy.
"And leave your hair long," Magnus adds on.
I nod again and stare at him with hard eyes.
"We're upping the "wow" factor tonight," he says thoughtfully, almost as if he's trying to get a rise out of me. Which is ludicrous. Magnus does not like to fight and does not like confrontation. He merely expects obedience. "I want you to really put on a show for the crowd."
"Understood," I grit out, and then I shut the door in his slimy face.
Oh, I'll give a show all right if that's what he wants. If I can do anything to facilitate this matter so we can just get it over and done with, I'm all for that.
I'm going to see this through to the end, because I have no choice in the matter.
And when I'm done, I'm done.
Finished.
Never coming back to this life again.
And in my new life, I'm going to make it my mission to find a way to make Magnus suffer for what he's doing to my family and me.
Chapter 3
Logan
I walk into The Silo tonight tense and on edge. I spent all day out on the Snake River with a father and son visiting from Maryland. The boy was eleven years old and the first cutthroat trout he pulled out of the water had him screaming with excitement. I maintained a lucid smile on my face while I removed the hook from the corner of the fish's mouth, trying not to show how much it hurt when the father reached an affectionate hand out and ruffled his kid's hair with pride.
Those twinges of pain are to be expected, but are usually alleviated by the mere fact that my job during the summer and fall months consists of taking tourists out on float trips down the Snake River for a taste of some Wyoming fly fishing. While I certainly can't speak for all careers and professions out there, I can say, without a doubt, this is probably the best job I've ever had. Even more so than fucking myself into a stupor at The Silo.
There is nothing more peaceful or restorative to my soul than three or four hours spent floating lazily down a meandering river with blue sky and gentle breezes washing your worries away. Now granted... that restorative fix is usually destroyed by my nightmares, but I can say that there are great chunks of my day that are pleasant and even happy at times.
Today was no exception, except that as the evening got nearer and I knew I'd be heading to The Silo, I started to get knotted up with unease. This was very strange because I go to The Silo almost every night, and I fuck almost every night. I love sex. It's amazing and addictive and freeing and numbing.
So I try to do it as much as possible.
It is something that causes my steps to become lighter once
I walk toward a guaranteed orgasm within that building.
But not tonight.
I walk in that door, and I immediately tense up with wondering what Auralie will be wearing. How will she smell? Will her hair be up or down? Nipples hard or soft? Will her eyes look at me with the same meaning as last night, and will I absolutely hate watching her touch and taste another man if Magnus so deems that to be the night's main attraction?
I'm late getting here, perhaps even subconsciously hoping that Magnus will have already paraded her around before I arrive, but the minute I step into the circular opening of The Silo, my eyes are immediately drawn to the pale pink of Auralie's dress.
I know what Magnus is doing. He's playing up every bit of youthful innocence she possesses, and I have to say, it's a brilliant move for most of the perverts in here that want to pop her cherry.
Who wouldn't want to be the big, studly man who gives the virgin her first sweet orgasm?
I hate to break it to these fools in here, but I know something about Auralie that they don't. I've never talked to that beautiful woman once, but I know that she knows exactly what an orgasm feels like. It may not be by a man's cock if Magnus is to be believed, but she's had a finger, tongue, or vibrator up against her tight bud before.
I can tell.
It's in her eyes.
She may not like sucking the dick she's had to suck, and she might not like having her flesh peddled--all things that are patently clear--but when she looks at me and she conveys that message of want and desire for yours truly, I know it's because she knows how fucking good an orgasm feels and she's imagining one with me.
God knows... I've sure as shit been fantasizing about it from my end.
Her slender back is to me with her long hair that is so black it shines blue hanging down her back almost to that rounded ass, but she stiffens slightly when I walk in. Almost as if sensing me, she turns her head slightly and lets her gaze roam the room until it comes to a complete stop right on me.
She gives me a soft smile, but the real meaning simmers in those cobalt eyes. You're here. I'm so glad.
I'm not trying to be a dick, but I'm angry and frustrated by these circumstances, and I can't help my return look. I'm not so glad. I can't have you, and it's going to kill me to watch you be given to someone else.
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