Which is fucking stupid because I owe her nothing. I shouldn't be overly concerned with her protection if it can be gotten from a better source.
Still, I declined Woolf's offer by reasoning there was a chance Andrea didn't know about Kyle's undercover work and that it was something he should tell her and not us. He seemed to buy it and agreed. Turning down his offer certainly had nothing to do with the fact I liked Maggie in my house more and more every day.
The main building of the compound houses a large room on the first floor that has a built-in bar, several pool tables, and various pieces of furniture for members to sit on. The second floor houses bedrooms for club members to sleep or fuck in, and I know this because that's where Zeke had me perform with Kayla before.
Hitching the strap of my tool bag higher over my shoulder, I wind my way in and out of the partiers. Big, burly men with sweat-stained shirts, worn leather cuts, and reeking of booze and pot. Trashy-looking women in miniscule clothing and garish makeup holding on to said sweaty men in an effort to perhaps elevate from club whore to old lady. Other women, slightly less trashy looking, stand in small pockets talking to each other, without the need to command the bikers' attention. Those are the old ladies who've already captured the interests they wanted.
I nod at a few of the members I recognize, pushing my way to the bar. I surreptitiously sweep my gaze around, looking mainly for Kyle but also keeping a lookout for Zeke. I'm handed a beer from a woman behind the bar whose face is pockmarked and teeth rotted from meth, and take a sip before turning around to peruse the situation.
My gaze first lands on Kayla, standing with a few other old ladies near one of the pool tables with a cue stick in her hand. Even across the room, I can see the vicious bruise she's sporting around her right eye and cheekbone, and there's no doubt in my mind Zeke handed that out to her. If I had to put money on it, I'd bet he was not happy to have returned and found Maggie missing. He probably took it out on her. Not the first time I'd seen bruises on her. Hell, I'd put bruises on her at his direction.
Sweeping my eyes past her, I see Kyle walking in from the door that leads out back where I know the party will be raging around a huge bonfire. He looks at me, our eyes connecting for just a moment, and then he looks right past me. I watch as he walks over to a woman sitting on a low-slung couch that is probably stained heavy from beer and cum. He reaches down to grab her hand and then leads her up the staircase to the second floor. His message is clear. To everyone else in the room who may have watched, he's going to fuck this woman. To me, his immediate brush-off said he didn't want to talk to me. I have to assume he doesn't want to risk anything at this time.
A hand claps me on the shoulder, and I turn to see Zeke standing there. He's an average-built man standing at about five-ten or so, which has me looking down at him as I top him by several inches. Not too muscular but not skinny either. I'd guess he's in his late forties, early fifties, but it's hard to tell. His face is haggard and his dark, braided ponytail is streaked with silver, as is his beard. I've always thought his eyes were ice cold despite being a warm brown, and the thing that makes him somewhat intimidating is that they are filled with intelligence. He doesn't rule just with brute force, but he does so using his brain, which makes him a formidable opponent even though I could probably whip his ass with one arm tied behind my back.
"Right on time," he says gruffly, and then turns from me as he puts his forefinger and thumb in his mouth, giving a shrill whistle that's heard by everyone above the music. They all turn to the sound, but Zeke's eyes are pinned to a woman across the room who is sitting on a biker's lap. His hand is massaging her breast. She makes eye contact with Zeke, and he jerks his head for her to come to him.
Everyone else goes back to partying. When the woman comes to stand before Zeke, I feel the salaciousness vibrating off her. Her eyes are filled with a pathetic need to be recognized by Zeke.
"What's up, baby?" she purrs, stepping into Zeke and putting her hand on his crotch to rub him.
Zeke tilts his head to me. "This is Bridger. I want you to do whatever he tells you to do."
My skin tightens with unease. "Need her full consent," I tell Zeke pointedly, and we engage in a bit of a staring war. He wants to prove his dick is big enough to order a woman to let me whip her and that she'll do it with a smile on her face. But I don't back down, refusing to break eye contact or move until I have her full consent.
Zeke finally turns to the woman and says, "Bridger is going to put on a show with you for the boys. It will probably involve a whip. Most definitely is going to hurt. He might fuck you or have one of the boys fuck you. Could be in any hole you got. Could be multiple guys. Now do me a fucking favor... tell him you consent."
The woman turns to me. I note with a measure of relief that her eyes are clear and she appears lucid. She smiles at me. I'm surprised that it's a pretty smile with straight, even teeth that tells me she had braces in the past. "Darlin'... I'll take anything you throw at me. Make it hurt good."
"I'll give you a safe word--" I start to say, but she shakes her head in denial.
"I don't need a safe word," she says, sliding a brave look toward Zeke, who she's clearly trying to impress.
"You'll have one or I walk out of here," I growl at them both, and Zeke laughs.
"Fine," she huffs, looking extremely disappointed I won't let her shine in front of Zeke. "What's my word?"
"Let's go with 'stop'," I tell her with an incline of my head. "It works universally."
"But that's so ordinary," she huffs.
"And yet, it works just fine," I point out and take her by the elbow. "Just don't say it unless you mean it."
*
I never did find out her name, but the woman Zeke thrust upon me to do a show is a true champ in every sense of the word. Even now, she continues to take it even though my part is long done. I didn't do anything all that unusual. Well, at least not unusual for me, but by the hormones and lust permeating this place right now, I'm guessing most here have never seen the likes.
I used a cue stick as a spreader bar, tying her ankles securely toward the ends so she was splayed open. I then bent her over the end of one of the pool tables, tied her wrists together with rope, and secured them to the legs at the opposite end. She couldn't move and she couldn't escape, the only thing saving her from my flogger was the word 'stop'.
She used many words as I landed blows against her tan skin, but 'stop' was never one of them. We drew a crowd all tightly packed in a circle around the pool table three men deep, the women all seeming to melt away who either didn't want to watch or were too jealous over the attention the girl was getting. I especially noticed that Kayla walked outside as I was tying the woman up. Not five minutes into my performance, one guy crawled onto the pool table and made her suck his dick. It was comical watching him trying to get his pants down enough, while figuring out how to get his dick within reach of her mouth since she was stretched flat against the felted surface with no wiggle room. Even funnier was watching his head knocking against the pool table light as he contorted his body into a painful-looking position.
But apparently not too painful as she made him come in like a nanosecond.
Then it was a free-for-all, and she was getting fucked in every hole just like Zeke promised her. Guy after guy came up behind her, most not even worrying about condoms, and pounded her pussy or ass. The truly adventurous tried to get their dicks sucked while battling with the pool table light.
The woman moaned the entire time. When her mouth was free for a few moments, she would encourage other guys to step forward. She clearly liked being gang banged, and while normally that thing is a turn on to me in the right circumstances, it just wasn't tonight. I suspect in part because I kept thinking about Maggie and all she'd endured from this hellhole, and also in part because these assholes are nasty. It isn't about eroticism or sexual freedom to them. It's about busting a quick, raunchy nut while your buddies egg you on in between belches of cheap beer. Thank God Zeke didn
't demand I partake in the sex because I'm not sure I could have gotten it up.
Zeke was the first guy to fuck her, and I wasn't surprised he used a condom. Kayla's his old lady, and I'm sure he's not about to bring some crotch crud home to her. He started with the woman's pussy, which I have to say was glistening so she was clearly turned on. Like a true gentlemen, he managed to spit on the end of his dick before he fucked her ass. Next guy gallantly came in her ass sans condom, so the lube situation there was taken care of.
Yeah... the woman is enjoying it, but there's no doubt she's going to be walking funny tomorrow. I don't feel compelled to stick around now that my part is over, and because I saw Zeke walk outside after he was done, I look around the room for Kyle. A jolt of surprise runs through me when I lock eyes on him. He jerks his head toward the front door of the compound.
Without hesitation, I grab my tool bag and walk that way, sensing Kyle on my heels. When we clear the door and step out into the crisp air, Kyle immediately addresses the two bikers who are standing guard. They're young recruits and probably have to do all the shit work.
"You guys want to go inside and jump in on a little gang-bang action, there's a juicy cunt all tied up and spread over a pool table for you," he says to the men. I wince over his crudity, making me wonder if this is the true Kyle talking or undercover Kyle. He pulls out a joint from the breast pocket of his leather cut and lights it. "I'll watch the door for you."
Both men's eyes simmer with lust, and they give nods of appreciation as they push past us to head inside. When the door closes, Kyle steps in closer to me so he can talk in a low voice. "That will give us a few minutes of privacy. How's Maggie?"
"She's fine," I tell him. "Healing nicely."
"Good," he says on a genuine exhale of relief. Any doubt I might have had that Kyle is truly batting for the good guys is dispelled.
"How long before you bring Zeke down?"
He shrugs, not in a careless way, but in a clueless way. "Waiting for confirmation from my handler with the ATF, but I can't communicate with him regularly. I've got a meet set up with him later this week, but we were just waiting for this last run. They're going to tell me when so I can be ready to assist."
I nod. "And what happened when Zeke came back yesterday and found Maggie missing?"
"Not happy," he said, his voice dropping even lower and sounding more urgent. "He put all available members, even from other chapters, on the hunt."
"Looking for Maggie or Belle?" I ask.
Kyle gives a small jerk of surprise, and I'm betting he didn't think Maggie would share the full story with me. "Mostly for Maggie, but he's getting desperate. He might start looking at her family. Is Belle safe?"
"Supposedly," I admit with frustration. "She hasn't shared with me where she is."
"Look," Kyle says softly. "I'm fairly confident Zeke has no clue I'm the one who got Maggie out of here. I was pretty rough on her, and even acted as if I enjoyed what Kayla was doing to her, and I made sure I was vocal about it so others wouldn't suspect me. But Zeke is fucking smart and suspicious by nature, so trust me... he knows someone in this compound got her out. So this is the last time we talk, okay?"
"Fine," I say in agreement, but I impress upon him something very important. "But I can't keep her hidden away forever. She deserves a life, and frankly... I deserve my life back too. If this doesn't go down soon, I've got to be able to do something."
"Don't do it unless it's an absolute emergency," Kyle warns me. "My handler is Joseph Kizner; he's originally out of Chicago, but he's been here for the last three years posing as a used car salesman over in Driggs. But do not contact him unless you think you or Maggie are in immediate peril. Understand?"
"Got it," I say just as the front door to the compound opens.
Kyle smoothly puts the joint to his mouth and takes a deep hit, holds the smoke in, and passes the blunt to me. He turns casually as he exhales. We see Kayla standing there looking at us with pure suspicion on her face.
"What are you two doing?" she asks.
I take a hit off the joint, but not as deep as Kyle. I hate this shit and the way it makes me feel. As I blow it out, Kyle says, "Bridger had some good weed he wanted to share with me, so I gave the guys on door duty a chance to get in on that sweet little gang bang Zeke arranged."
Kayla's face pinches with anger, and I can tell he mentioned the gang bang to rile her up. She tries to school her features into impassivity as she turns to me. "Can I have a hit?"
"Sure," I say as I hand her the joint. She takes three successive drags, burning half of it down into her greedy lungs as we watch her.
When she exhales, she passes the joint to Kyle but asks me. "When can Zeke and I expect you for a private show?"
"Few weeks," I answer tersely, but I add on, "I've got some traveling to do."
"I'm thinking Zeke might want it sooner," she challenges me.
"Well, that's something Zeke will have to get over," I tell her smoothly, but there's a hard edge to my voice. I don't want her to ever think that she or Zeke have a hold on me. My debt to him for helping to identify Cat's attacker is paid in full as of tonight.
"We'll see," is all she says, but there's no denying the silky taunt in her tone.
Kyle hands the joint back to me, but I shake my head. "You guys finish that up. I've got to head over to the Wicked Horse and check in."
He shrugs, puts it to his mouth, and sucks in a drag. "Later, dude," he says on an exhale. "Good show too."
"Later," I say as I turn toward my car, which I had parked across a small gravel parking area that runs the length of the compound.
Kayla doesn't say a word, but I don't care. My mind is already turned to Maggie and the renewed danger she's facing now that Zeke is back and on the hunt.
Chapter 8
Maggie
The front door to Bridger's house opens, and he walks in as the clock is getting ready to strike one AM. He looks exhausted and the lingering flicker of disgust in his eyes tells me he did not enjoy his work tonight.
Woolf pushes out of the recliner he'd been sitting on and walks to Bridger, who remains by the door with it still open, a clear indication Woolf can leave. He's a nice guy... Woolf, but he wasn't overly talkative. I tried to get him to tell me more about Bridger and the sex club, because Bridger admitted to me this morning Woolf was his best friend and had started it with him.
I still can't believe Bridger has a sex club. My mind ran away last night as I tossed and turned in bed, trying to imagine what all could possibly go on in such a place. And did Bridger partake? Was he with a different woman every night?
And what about the BDSM? I don't know much about it... had a few tie me up, a few others spank me, but Bridger talked about whips last night and I sort of got the impression it's not something you take casually or lightly. While I don't mind a hot palm on my ass because it makes things interesting, I can't even imagine handling the type of pain a whip would cause.
I also can't imagine Bridger being the one to hand out that pain. Everything I've come to learn about him the last few days has led me to believe he's a kind man. He's provided me with a safe home to live in and promised to protect me. It's almost inconceivable to me that he would whip a woman.
And he told me last night, It's what I do. I have to do it.
What does that even mean?
Woolf and Bridger only talk for a few minutes in lowered voices while I hold my usual place on the couch sitting cross-legged. I nervously fiddle with the hem of my t-shirt, which has become almost my standard uniform, along with yoga pants. Finally, Woolf turns his head to me and says, "Later, Maggie. Nice meeting you."
"You too," I say softly as he walks out the door. Bridger closes it and locks it before setting the security alarm that protects us at night along with his guns.
When he turns around, he walks immediately to the couch, taking a seat beside me. He sinks back into the cushion, rests his head there, and sighs as he stares up at the ceiling.
>
"Rough night?" I ask hesitantly.
"For the woman I worked over... yeah... it was a rough night." His statement is pointed. Clearly, it was just another day on the job for him, but it still makes my stomach curdle to think that Bridger hurt someone tonight. And because my imagination has always run rampant, and I am envisioning all kinds of awful things, I push at him to tell me more as I'm sure it can't be worse than what I'm already imagining, and if it's better, I'll have peace of mind.
"What did you do to her?" I whisper, wishing my voice were stronger and more demanding so he wouldn't think to dismiss my need to know.
He turns his head to look at me, still resting on the back cushion. "You really want to know?"
"I can't envision you hurting someone," I murmur in bewilderment. "I can't reconcile that with the man I know."
"You don't know me, Maggie," Bridger says gruffly. It's an unkind statement. His eyes are hardened, and it's meant to put me off.
"I know you took in a total stranger, had sex with a man to get me medical treatment, and then nursed me back to health. You've provided me a safe environment while I healed, and you're putting yourself in danger by hiding me. I think I know a little about you."
Bridger's eyes warm slightly, turning from dark bronze to golden whiskey. "How much do you know about BDSM?"
"Not much."
"Well, the people who participate in and like it... they get off on pain. It's sexually gratifying to them. So yes, while I provide that pain, it's because they want it and pay for it. I'm good at what I do, and I provide people with something they desperately crave. It's as simple as that."
"And the woman tonight?" I ask, because I can tell tonight was a bit different. The way he sits on the couch, looking totally defeated, tells me tonight wasn't ordinary for him.
Bridger sighs, turns his face away, and stares back up at the ceiling. "I have no clue what her experience was, but she took what I handed out like a champ. Never used her safe word and orgasmed a few times. I think she enjoyed it."
"Enjoyed what?" I press him, now not really understanding why I want the details. I think perhaps I'm fascinated by the concept that Bridger can make a woman orgasm but takes nothing for himself.
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