Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  “Hate me all you want, Sugar,” he said, “I’m the only ally you have.”

  “Ally…?” I whispered, “You’re going to hurt me.” I challenged him, hoping he’d argue. Even a small attempt at correcting me or proving me wrong.

  “I am,” he replied, so quickly that it smashed what was left of my hope. He lifted me off of his lap and pushed me across the bed as he moved to stand behind me. “Ass up.”

  I clutched the bed sheets as he pushed my face down into the mattress and manipulated me until I sat back on my heels. He pulled at the plug and I tensed. It was bad enough inside, but if coming out was as bad as going in, I’d rather it just stay where it was.

  “Don’t tense. It doesn’t matter how you feel, the only thing you have control over is your body. Learn to make things easier—and less painful—on yourself.”

  The plug gave with a sudden plop and he pulled it free, leaving me feeling awkward, used, and empty. What might have been a second of relief inspired new trepidation—no plug meant he was free to insert other things. Instead, he smacked my ass cheek and told me to roll over, chaining my wrist again.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes then we’ll get ready to go up to the Outlook. I trust that you can say quiet and obedient through dinner?”

  “Yes, Master.” My stomach grumbled in response to the mention of dinner.

  *****

  Ten minutes later, Kirk returned to the room with his hair still wet from the shower, and a towel draped around his waist. He opened the closet door and tossed the towel into the corner. I lowered my head, whether it was embarrassment or just stubbornness, I didn’t want to see his naked form.

  At least that’s what I told myself.

  Curiosity got the better of me and my gaze wandered up his body. Another snake tattoo decorated his leg, running from his ankle up to his knee. The tribal tattoo on his left shoulder extended around, touching his shoulder blade. Not a bit of him wasn’t sculpted and toned. His back muscles contracted as he slid into a black short-sleeve button down shirt, then I got a full-frontal view as he threw a pair of black jeans onto the bed.

  “You’re blushing, Sugar,” he teased as he slid on a pair of boxers then yanked on the jeans. “What am I going to do with a slave as red as a beet?”

  I looked down at my hands, keeping my jaw clenched shut.

  Kirk huffed and walked out to the living room, returning a few seconds later with a bundle of red material. He unlocked my wrist cuff and pulled me to my feet. “I assume you can dress yourself.”

  I grabbed the pile of red fabric and turned my back to him. Nothing more than lingerie—a lacy bandeau top with a matching skirt. It barely came to the bottom of my butt cheeks, and it did nothing to hide any of my bruises. A mesh overlay hung to the front of the skirt, designed to be pulled up and laced around my neck with a choker of silk ribbon. I pulled my hair and twisted it so it stayed on my shoulder while Kirk tied the choker.

  Kirk studied me for a second—looking at me more like he was examining some specimen in a zoo, than a girl in lingerie—then jerked his head to the door. “Bathroom.”

  I took a step, and he cleared his throat. My stomach twisted as I looked over my shoulder.

  “Until further notice, you crawl.”

  I wasn’t sure how long I could tolerate the feeling that I meant absolutely nothing.

  I dropped to my hands and knees and shuffled to the bathroom. I was going to have a bitch case of carpet burn soon, and that wouldn’t be the worst of it—my clothing wouldn’t cover much of anything if I had to crawl through the hallways.

  At the bathroom counter, he pulled me to my feet by my silver collar and handed me a comb and a bag of cosmetics.

  “We’ll probably have to round up some stuff that matches your skin tone, but this will do for tonight.”

  I glanced wide eyed at the bag of makeup. I could barely apply eyeliner on a good day without looking like I had drunk five too many cups of coffee. And that was the pinnacle of my makeup skills.

  I dragged the comb through my hair then applied a light foundation and red lipstick that almost matched my dress. I sorted through the eye shadows and eye liners.

  “Look, I really have no idea what I’m doing here,” I sighed.

  Kirk handed me the black eyeliner, and I traced my eyes as best I could. It was still jagged and uneven.

  He lifted my chin. “You’re going to have to work on that, but you’re lucky the room will be dark. Let’s go.”

  With a leash attached to my collar and me crawling like an animal on my hands and knees, he led me to the elevator and up to the twelfth floor. As soon as the doors opened, it looked like we were in the middle of a millionaire’s nightclub. There was glass all around, even in the floors and ceiling. Men and women dotted the room—many of the women kneeling on the floor, or serving food and drinks to others.

  There was no violence, no commotion. The slaves tended to follow their men around, and either sit at their feet or crawl into their laps—generally looking content.

  Their contentment nauseated me. I wanted to run up to all of them and shake them until they saw what was happening.

  Kirk jerked my leash, and I realized that I’d stopped in the center of the room. I pushed myself forward, following him to a center room that was encased in glass. Above, the moonlight shined through the glass ceiling, and below, sections of the floor had been replaced with glass, overlooking the sex scenes below.

  My stomach clenched, and I must have jerked the chain, because Kirk pulled it up and glared at me. He took a seat and pointed to a spot near his feet. “Sit.”

  I did, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see my glare while he unfastened the leash and draped it over the back of his chair.

  “I’m surprised you’ve made such fast progress, Kirk.” Suit said as he took a seat at the head of the table with a trio of women around his feet.

  I clenched my teeth—the anger flowing through my nerves created the sensation that I could rip out of my own skin at any moment.

  Two more men entered and sat across from Kirk, followed by the same dark-skinned man who’d joined forces with Kirk in the hallway and a blond-haired slave at his feet. When he sat, the girl immediately sat on her heels before him.

  Another wave of nausea rolled my stomach, almost choking me. I felt off balance and disconnected from myself, like my body had been taken over by some distant instinct. Only survival mattered, not the revenge or escape that swirled in my brain.

  Kirk tapped my temple and pointed to the floor in front of me, reminding me that I was supposed to keep my gaze on the floor in front of me. Now I was reduced to something only worthy of crude hand gesture.

  I am not a damn object to just sit at your feet and obey! But, instead of speaking my thoughts, I dropped my gaze, knowing that if I screwed up in front of all of those people, I was done.

  “Finally found a girl worthy of your feet?” A brassy tenor voice said from behind me.

  “She was unintentionally acquired.”

  I couldn’t believe how many times I could be reminded of that in a single day. I had a “Master” who didn’t even want me, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he even bothered. It would have been easier for him to shove me off and let me be someone else’s responsibility.

  Except that wouldn’t be as effective in pissing off Gabe, and I suspected that was his main goal.

  I heard the men behind me snicker. “Do you think Ross just keeps him around because he talks like a damned professor?”

  I peeked up and saw Suit smile, I assumed he was Ross. He touched the heads of two of the slaves at his feet and pointed to the two lone men behind me.

  I tried to take in as much as I could without being obvious, hoping to find some clue or weakness that would help me escape, but all it did was serve to show me that there were even more people around than I had imagined—and every one of the men would probably bring me right back if I dared to run. And, they’d eagerly stand in line to bea
t me if I messed up.

  Kirk nudged me with his foot and I stilled, returning my gaze to the floor. Even that wasn’t helpful since there was a glass square a few feet away overlooking a room where two men shared a curvy redhead.

  I couldn’t do that—I couldn’t do this.

  Hard as I tried to fight it, my pulse spiked and my body shook with equal parts anger and fear.

  Above me, a conversation continued between the men, as casual as a family getting together over pork chops. My chest clenched as I wondered what they’d do when they noticed my anxiety. Then came another flash of anger at their disinterest in any of us. We were there to do their bidding—whether it was kneeling at their feet and being completely ignored or putting on a show. Like a toy set up with limited functions. Perform on cue, but wait on the shelf until someone tells you to do otherwise.

  Two women in black leather bikinis served platters of food to each of the men at the table. I felt my stomach rumble in response to their neglect. As if it wasn’t bad enough that none of the men cared, not even the other slaves seemed to acknowledge each other’s existence. Above, the men began cutting into something that smelled like steak—apparently Kirk had been correct—and my mouth watered.

  “Is the new girl going to perform for her dinner?” One of the men behind me asked.

  I lowered my head even more, so that my hair fell around my head and hid my glower. And, I hoped, my fear.

  “Not tonight,” Kirk said, “It’s her first day, and she’s still working on the basics.”

  I had half a mind to show him basics. If he wanted to treat me like a dog, I could growl and bite his finger off.

  Instead, I dug my nails into my palms, momentarily taking my mind off of everyone else.

  “Yes,” Ross drawled, “first day and already causing a fair share of trouble, no less. You better train her to be worth it.”

  As I tried to calm the ball of tension in my gut, the conversation turned to business. I tried to latch on to what they were saying, hoping for a small nugget to help me figure out exactly where I had ended up, but it was either too vague or specific for an outsider to understand much of anything.

  I learned that the men across from Kirk were brothers, Taylor and Demetri, and the dark-skinned man—the damn oaf who had helped Kirk torment me in the hallway—was Miles. He was also apparently second in command. Kirk seemed to be more of a PR intelligence man—the brains behind the twisted boss and his grimy brawn.

  Lucky me. I’d been claimed by the voice of reason within their fucked up world.

  From what I could tell, the operation really was close to the self-sustaining hive as I’d guessed, but like all criminals, there was more power and money to be gained, and that required making deals. They probably had hands in the pocket of every politician, big business, and otherwise influential person in the area, which explained why the authorities weren’t rolling down on the operation yet.

  Just as I began to tune out, Kirk touched my cheek. I jumped and sat up to look at him. He held a piece of steak for me. Not only was I being ordered around like a dog, I had to eat like one, too. My stomach grumbled and I decided against protest, scarfing down the food before the offer was rescinded—bits of fries, broccoli, and more steak followed.

  Despite the circumstances, it was the best steak I’d ever eaten.

  I snuck a peek at the other girls—all being fed the same way and apparently basking in the attention, rubbing against their master’s legs and smiling as their masters patted them on the head.

  I had to get out before I was that far gone.

  Goals, I thought, trying to focus my thought. Kirk, well, to be honest, he could be worse. I could bide my time by being a good girl and hopefully he’d focus more on other things.

  But there was still the sex…. I hoped not to be around that long, but I convinced myself that I could play along—if necessary—until I found a way out.

  Then again, I couldn’t play along too well. Kirk was smart enough that he’d realize something was up, or get the idea to as one of the brothers suggested, make me “perform for my dinner.” I could only imagine what that would entail, and what my mind conjured was bad enough. I didn’t want to know what could be conjured by the dark minds surrounding me.

  With a partial survival plan set, I felt a little more confident until Miles moved to stretch out his legs and positioned his slave between them. She unzipped his pants and took him in her mouth as if he was the most delicious dessert she’d ever tasted.

  There went my confidence.

  I felt queasy just thinking about what they’d make me do, and now that I had food on my stomach, the nausea seemed like a more troubling problem.

  Kirk touched my chin, and I shook my head as much as I dared. I kept my head down, feeling the tears threaten to brim over. At the edge of my vision, I saw him glance over at Miles as if he hadn’t even noticed what was going on then he looked back at me. His finger traced my jaw line, lowered a glass of wine, and put it to my lips.

  I hated wine, but it smelled bright and fruity and I didn’t delay in swallowing it down. It tasted like I had licked the inside of a barrel filled with stagnant fruit, and burned my throat.

  Wine for the pet. It didn’t seem like anyone was surprised by the gesture and I figured there were things they were willing to concede to have a compliant pet.

  His fingers slid through my hair and I stiffened. One drink wasn’t going to make me that tipsy. I heard a low grunt behind me, but despite whatever was going on below the table, the men kept talking. I heard scratching as they moved things across the table above me, then the table groaned and shifted slightly.

  I looked up before I could stop myself as Kirk slid his chair away from the table. I dropped my head as soon as I saw his blue-grey eyes connect with mine.

  Please, I squeezed my eyes closed.

  “You’re not leaving already?” One of the men behind me asked.

  “I’ve been kept from my business most of the day,” Kirk said.

  I heard the chain of the leash in his hand, and as he fastened it to my collar, I realized how much I was shaking in comparison to his steady hands.

  He touched my jaw and I raised my gaze expecting anger, or the same straight emotionless face he always had, but there was something else there, a softness creeping out around the edges.

  He looked exhausted.

  My insides clenched as another chair scraped across the floor and Miles drew the blond girl into his lap. “You work too much.”

  Kirk scoffed as he stood. He nodded to the men behind me and pulled me toward the door. As I crawled along behind him, I stole a glance back, noticing that the two girls who Ross had brought for the guests were now on their knees on top of the table, fondling one another.

  The leash jerked and I crawled faster—it wasn’t possible to get out of that room fast enough.

  *****

  A bundle sat outside the door to Kirk’s apartment and, after he opened the door, he kicked it inside, apparently unconcerned with its contents. After locking the door behind us, he unhooked the leash then pointed to the bundle. “Take it to the bedroom and spread it out on the floor against the wall next to the closet.”

  “Do I have to crawl while I’m carrying it?”

  “Push the damn if you want to.” He draped the leash over the door knob and rubbed his hand over his short hair. “Don’t act like it will be that hard.”

  The rolled up bundle was taller than I was on my hands and knees, but didn’t have much weight, so I rose to my knees pushed what I assumed was my new bed toward the bedroom door.

  I laid it out near the closet. Even though it was nothing more than a rolled up cushion—like a pet bed big enough for an adult human—it was soft at least, and it came with a blanket and a pillow.

  It also meant that I didn’t have to share Kirk’s bed, so I counted that as a double win.

  I spread everything out, neatly arranging the only little thing I could reasonably call my own.r />
  My mind wandered, going over how much everything had changed over the last several hours: waking up in horror surrounded by a sex-obsessed brute squad, and being thrown into life with Kirk.

  All I wanted to do was go back to normal, but it seemed so far away that I wasn’t sure that would ever be possible. I had to find a way back while there was still hope—before I became a complacent slave with no hope. Until then, I’d find benefits where possible and hope that Kirk wasn’t feeling frisky after watching the sex fest.

  I turned to see him watching me, no doubt wondering what was going on in my head. “Satisfied?” I asked.

  “I could ask that of you.”

  My mouth dropped open. “How would I be?”

  “You’re alive,” he tilted his head, “and I presume, no longer hungry.”

  “There’s that,” I conceded. But if we balanced that with being forced to give up my own life and live in this nightmare, satisfied wasn’t exactly how I would define it.

  “How’s your pain?”

  I turned away and fidgeted with the edge of the bed. I couldn’t figure out why it bothered me more when he seemed concerned.

  “Silver, I just want an honest answer.”

  “I got beat up this morning. I hurt, okay. You weren’t concerned with that when you shoved that plug up my ass, or when I had to kneel through dinner, or crawl through the hallways.”

  Kirk shook his head and disappeared. He returned and handed me two more red capsules and the rest of the water from the nightstand. Instead of just dropping them off and leaving me in peace, he crouched beside me. “I can be reasonable, but you need to stop considering the impossible. You can’t go home, you can’t escape, and I can’t let you go. It is what it is.”

  It is what it is. I hated the fucking bastard. Anger tightened my muscles and tendons and clouded my brain—sending it into overdrive. “Go to hell. You don’t really give a damn about me.”

  “Don’t press your luck, Silver. I don’t have time for this, but I won’t stand by and watch you get beaten to death for no reason.”