by Alta Hensley
Focus on the end game. Focus on the money. Focus on all it could give Virgie, and all it could give me. I would not be trailer trash any longer. I would not be hungry. I would never need again. Focus. Focus. Focus.
I could do this. I could do this.
I could fucking do this.
“Yes,” he answered frankly. “Though I may not beat you if you do everything I ask, and follow each of my commands the first time. I hate repeating myself.”
I fiddled with my hands in my lap, but I did not cry. I did not plead. I wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of seeing how afraid I was. Though maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he wanted to see my tears and lick them off my face. Maybe by the time the night was over, I would be sobbing and begging for pity.
I could do this. I could do this.
Fuck, what had I done?
I looked up into his pitch black eyes, blanketed with thick lashes. I couldn’t read him. Stone. He was pure stone. He walked over to a window and stared out of it for several long, agonizing moments. Marco’s lack of emotion unnerved me. He seemed angry, though I was giving him no reason to be so.
His action of staring out the window unnerved me. His back was to me. I could escape if I really wanted to. There was enough distance between us. I should get up and leave. I shouldn’t go through with this. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I staying? My brain, reason, and common sense were all battling it out.
How long would I kneel here?
Should I run? I could sense it was going to begin.
He was going to begin. What would he do?
I could feel hell rolling in like a thick fog. It bristled against my nerves. It was coming. It was coming.
Marco stormed over to where I kneeled and grabbed me by the hair, yanking me off the ground and throwing me against the wall. Pictures fell from where they hung, shattering glass all around me.
I gasped, but did not scream. I whimpered, but did not cry. I shook but did not crumple.
He pressed his mouth to mine, thrusting his tobacco-tasting tongue past my lips, tempting me to bite, to shove, to struggle against such an intimate touch. I was prepared to be sexually tormented and treated like an animal, but not a kiss. Don’t fucking kiss me!
He grabbed my breast and broke away from the kiss so I could watch his lecherous expression. He pinched my nipple hard, and waited—staring at me. Was he waiting for a cry, a scream, something I was not willing to give? His pupils dilated and his mouth opened slightly revealing his yellow-stained teeth. He pinched my nipple even harder, showing his determination to hear my cry of pain. He wanted me to hurt. He wanted to hear it, see it.
Feeling as if I were losing this battle, I finally cried out, hating the sound of my weakness.
Satisfied, Marco lowered his hand and pressed his finger into my pussy without any warning at all. My lack of wetness made the invasion painful, and when he forced my legs wider, I cried out again in response. I wasn’t going to survive this. I would lose my fucking mind.
I was a fool for doing this.
I was a fucking fool.
Thrusting his finger up inside me as deeply as he could, he growled, “You should be fucking terrified of what I am going to do to you.” He thrust again, and then again. Each thrust harder than the last. The smell of him, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the way his spittle hit my cheek as he spoke, all brought bile to the back of my throat.
How could I have thought I would maybe even like this? I wanted to walk along the edge of darkness laced with pain, but this was just disgusting. Nothing about this had any erotic element. I was nothing more than a piece of garbage discarded in a decomposing junkyard, and the smell was suffocating.
I cried out loudly—no longer caring about my dignity—with each aggressive movement of his revolting hand. When would this end?
Two weeks.
I would die before the night was over let alone survive two weeks. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this.
I had signed the devil’s contract and stamped it with my blood. I had no one to blame but myself.
With his other hand, Marco grabbed my throat and began to squeeze. “I could kill you right now. If it weren’t for that contract stating no permanent harm could come to you… I could kill you with my bare hands.”
With rage in his eyes, he flipped me around to face the wall.
I cried, I whimpered, but I did not beg. No words could come even if I wanted to. Disgust swallowed me up whole.
He slapped my ass hard, forcing a squeal of pain to burst from my lips.
Taking a hold of my hair again, yanking hard at the scalp, he swatted my ass fiercely again, and then again. Normally, I liked to be spanked. I liked the delightful sting of each erotic swat. But this was different. His palm was like the branding iron marking me forever. Marking me with this nightmare. Destroying me. Ruining any chance of having sexual desire again.
He continued to spank my ass with a brutal force. How his hand could have so much painful strength, I did not know.
I would not win this battle. I was afraid of this man, and he would know it by the time the night was over if he didn’t already see it in my eyes, hear it in my cries. I thought I would be strong, but I failed.
But I held on to one fact. He wanted to break me. And yes, I was broken, but I had been broken long before him. I was nothing more than a million crushed opaque pieces in pitch blackness, and there truly wasn’t enough in me to break any further.
Though he would try. I knew he would try.
Hating myself more with each spank of my ass, I couldn’t take it anymore. And just as I was about to scream for mercy, he shoved me down to the ground, looming over me. “Look at me,” he shouted. “You are mine now. I own you. You are my slave, my pet, my animal to do with as I please. Do you understand that?”
I stared up at him, desperate to cover my naked body from his glare. I was done. No more. I couldn’t take this anymore. I was a complete fool to think I could do this. No money was worth this sick humiliation.
“Answer me,” he demanded. “Do you understand that I can do to you whatever I want?”
Shaking with fear and fury blended, I answered, “Yes.”
Fuck! Why did I say that?
My tiny naked frame lay crumpled on the floor, still pressed up against the wall, yet I didn’t scream no. I didn’t demand he stop. There was no safe word from my lips. It was in that contract. I could use it. I believe it was red. Yes, red. All I had to do was scream red and this was all over. Scream red, you goddamn idiot.
But I didn’t.
He slapped me across the face once, then again. Bending down, he grabbed me by the neck and squeezed, staring into my eyes. What was this? Who was this man? Would he kill me? Was this contract just a way to trick me into his house so he could murder me? Was he a serial killer?
Luckily, he released me as I struggled for breath. But it wasn’t over. No, it was far from over.
Marco unzipped his pants. The time had come. He was going to fuck me with more than just his finger. But he couldn’t. Not in my pussy. Shit. It was either my mouth or my ass. I couldn’t decide what would be worse.
I broke my stare into his ruthless eyes to look at his cock… if that is what you would even call it. The saggy flesh was semi-hard. Thin. Small. His balls were almost larger than his dick. Pathetic excuse for a man.
Now was the time. He was going to fuck me in the mouth or ass, and I knew it. I could do this. I could do this. He just better not fucking kiss me again. But if he wanted to shove that flaccid body part into me for a few minutes of grunting and thrusting, I could survive. I would just close my eyes, zone out, and survive.
But he didn’t move. He didn’t pounce. He didn’t mount me like a mangy mutt. Instead, he took hold of his dick and peed. The liquid splashed down on my exposed body, covering me in his waste. The golden stream flowed out as I struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. Marco Nunez was pissing on me! His repulsive piss s
howered against my once clean and creamy-white flesh, tainting my purity of never having such an act done to me with his toxic pollution.
The wetness coated my flesh, dripped from my nipples like pus from a wound, and dampened the tiny little curls on my mound. He continued to pee on me with an evil smile, humiliating me, shaming me, splashing me with the worst smelling liquid imaginable. I sat immobilized by the shocking darkness of my situation.
I wanted to puke.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to kill him.
Big droplets of my misery cascaded down my face—getting into my mouth—as the last of his piss rained down on me.
Fuck yes; Marco had won this battle.
Fuck yes; there was more to break inside my broken soul.
But I would not allow this again. Never again. When I got up and cleaned this waste from my body, I would leave. I would escape. I would take his fucking money and run from this monster and never look back.
I was silently screaming red. Red. Red. Red.
Marco just didn’t know it. But he would. When I was long gone with his money, he would know. I would flee before he even saw it coming.
Red, motherfucker. Red.
9
Kenneth
I had been grinding my teeth so hard, I wasn’t sure if there would be any enamel left as Tennessee told the room of founding members the fucked up situation we were in.
“She left.”
“What the fuck do you mean, she left? Where did she go?” I asked, feeling as if I were about to snap any minute.
Tennessee, shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone from Marco’s camp called us and said the bitch ran with the money. They said Anita went to the bathroom to clean up, and then no one saw her again.”
“Doesn’t she still have two weeks on that contract?” Matthew asked as he sipped from his drink. No one around the table seemed as concerned as they should be. Curious yes. But not really concerned.
“Did that prick Marco hurt her?” I asked.
Tennessee shook his head. “He claims no. Said she never said the safe word. Not once. She simply disappeared.”
“And we trust the man? I find it hard to believe this was a calculated move on Anita’s part.”
“From what Marco’s man told me, Anita demanded the money up front in the car ride over. She claimed she was scared and it would make her feel better knowing how much she was actually going to get and see it. Feel it. She told Marco she was new to Spiked Roses and still didn’t trust that this entire contract stuff was legit. She was getting scared of being screwed out of the money. So Marco, not giving a fuck about the money, and more focused on what dirty things he had in store, gave her the money. One hundred thousand dollars.”
“What?” I asked, surprised. “The contracts were for fifty thousand for that tasting.”
Tennessee nodded. “Apparently our delicate flower who likes the thorn negotiated for double that amount.”
I had to hand it to the girl. The women were allowed to negotiate the contract as they saw fit, but most girls attended several tastings before having the guts to ask for anything, let alone more money.
“So, Marco is pissed and sending his goons to find her,” Tennessee said. “And he isn’t pleased with Spiked Roses right now.”
“Fuck!” Michael Price said. “If word gets out that our staff steal our members’ money and run off, we are done. Say goodbye to our reputation.”
I nodded in agreement as did the rest of the men around the table.
“Did he threaten us?” Harley asked, showing anger for the first time this evening. “I’ll fucking put a stop to all this right now. Say the word.”
“If Marco’s men find her, they will hurt her,” I said more to myself than to the other men.
“Kill her, would be a better word,” Harley corrected. “Men like Marco Nunez don’t like being stolen from. If it were me, I would kill her but only after I got my money’s worth.”
“Then we need to find her,” I said. “Before his men do. We’ll bring her back, or bring back the money. We don’t need a murder on our hands, nor does she deserve that. She fucked up, and we’ll fix it. But we can’t let Marco and his men have their way with her.”
“Where do you think she’d run off to?” Tennessee asked.
“Where’s that hick town she is from?” I asked. “Give me the name of that from her hiring papers. Also all her emergency contact names. We’ll start there.”
“You want me to handle it?” Harley asked. “I can hunt her down.”
Yeah this was right up Harley’s alley. He could do this blindfolded, but I also didn’t completely trust the man. The assassin had demons. Ruthless demons. And I didn’t want to risk having Anita piss him off and end up murdered anyway. No. He was not the man for the job.
I shook my head. “No, I will. I hired her. It’s my mess to clean up.”
“Don’t fuck with Marco,” Harley warned. “He’s a mean son of a bitch, Kenneth. This isn’t the courtroom. This is my domain.”
“I don’t plan on fucking with him. I’ll make sure this gets handled and Spiked Roses is clear of this shit. I’ve got it handled.”
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I didn’t have the time for this bullshit. But fuck. If you want something done right, do it your damn self.
Anita
I couldn’t believe he was standing in the middle of Virgie’s living room. I mean… I wasn’t exactly being smart when it came to coming back to Muckaluk, but I really didn’t expect anyone to follow me or really care. Sure, I knew Marco would be mad, and going back to New Orleans ever again was out of the question. But a hundred grand was just a drop in the bucket for these people. Would they really put a bounty on my head? I hadn’t thought so. I hadn’t thought it was necessary to go into hiding. Apparently, I was wrong.
And I really hadn’t expected my boss from Spiked Roses to do the dirty work. Kenneth Saxon was here. He was here! And he was pissed. If looks could kill… And he was fast. I barely had time to change my clothes, hide the money, and start planning on what I needed to do to get Virgie out of Elko Regency.
“Did you really think you could just sign the contract, take the money, and run? And I’m disappointed in you, Anita. Back to your hometown? In the house you used as an emergency contact on your hiring paperwork?”
“I didn’t think you rich fucks would really care enough,” I defended. “Not to come to the middle of nowhere Nevada to find me. That’s for sure.”
“Well I did. And I’m not happy about it.”
“I’m not happy about it either, so we are even.”
Our eyes locked, and neither of us would dare back down and look away. We were having our own stand off.
“You have two choices. Come with me, and honor your contract, or terminate the agreement, and give the money back. Simple. Your choice.”
“No,” I said with zero emotion.
“No?” His firm and rigid expression was only slightly altered with the rise of an eyebrow.
“You heard me correctly. I will not give the money back.” I meant every single word, and there was nothing this man could do to make me change my mind.
“Fine. I don’t care. But you will return with me and honor your two week contract then.”
I shook my head. “I won’t do that either.”
Kenneth’s jaw clenched. “You are saying this as if you have a choice. You don’t. You return the money, or I return you.”
“Consider this my resignation,” I said without so much as a flinch even though my heart beat a mile a minute. “I quit.”
Kenneth gave a slow and sinful smile. Fuck the man was handsome, even when he appeared terrifying at the same time. “Very well. I shall accept your resignation. But that does not change anything. You owe a very dangerous man a lot of money, or you owe him you. The choice is yours, but it is one or the other. You can’t just quit Spiked Roses and run home to hide. There is no hid
ing from this man. Do you understand that?”
“I’m not giving the money back!” I snapped. “I consider the money payment for services rendered. He pissed on me!” Bile formed in the back of my throat just thinking about it.
Kenneth smiled again with humor twinkling in his dark eyes but said nothing. Was he going to laugh at me? Yes, the fucker wanted to laugh at me!
“It’s not funny! He pissed on me, he choked me, and he expected me to act like his pet. I’m not a fucking animal! I didn’t sign on for that.”
Very calmly, Kenneth asked, “Did you read the contract?”
“Yes,” I mumbled, hating how the man had full control of his emotions when I wanted to scream and throw a fit like a damn toddler.
“Then you knew what you were agreeing to. You initialed next to noncon, did you not?”
“Yes, but—”
“You initialed next to Master/slave? To pet play? To whatever aggressive act aside from permanent bodily harm, correct? And were you not paid in cash? A large sum of cash to perform Marco’s out of the ordinary desires?”
“I didn’t know he was going to pee on me!” I took a few steps back and shuddered at the memory of Marco’s ammonia-scented urine raining down on my naked flesh.
“Clearly you got in over your head on this. Tennessee warned you, but you were too stubborn to listen. Or maybe too greedy. But whichever the case, you were warned.”
The fucker was right. I’d had no idea what I was getting myself into. But I’d wanted the money. I needed the money, and I wasn’t going to give it back. I should be paid for what was by far one of the worst experiences of my life. The image of piss shooting from Marco’s ugly limp dick would forever be ingrained in my mind.
“So give the money back and end the contract. You know that either party can walk away at anytime. You could have said the safe word, which you didn’t. You can’t be so stupid as to think that you can walk away and keep the money. So give it back to me, and this mess is over. I don’t have time for this shit. Hurry up so I can get back to New Orleans.”