DID HE HURT ME? NOT even close. That blowjob was a drop in the bucket compared to the things I’ve done and the abuse I’ve been subjected to. Maybe if I was normal, I might have found it erotic or even arousing. But sex is my job. It has been since I was sixteen.
Jett is everything Sasha told me he would be. Gorgeous, sexy, seductive, considerate. Sometimes dominant men intimidate me, but Jett has made me feel at ease. Not an easy feat for any human being.
He cups my face, moving it at his will as he looks over my features with his alight turquoise eyes. They’re the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen.
“Go back to your room and rest. Take a shower then be back here at six thirty. The other girls will help you get ready for tonight.”
I nod. Right, the social. This should be interesting.
He holds my face, as if he wants to say more, but only silence clouds around us. Why is he looking at me like that? Like he’s mesmerized. Like he’s captivated.
I don’t say a word. He’s my boss, and I need this job. I need the hideout. So I’ll let him stare at me all goddamn day if he wants.
He finally releases me, my heart fluttering.
“Go.” He sends me on my way with a jerk of his blond head.
I take a few steps backward before I turn and walk out of the lavish room. This house is unbelievable. It reminds me of a life I once knew. When I was innocent. Expensive furnishings, crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and extravagant décor. Ostentatious and over the top is how I would describe it.
I find my way back to my room and disappear inside. It, too, is plush and over the top. Extremely feminine and warm with its white accents and antique-looking furniture. It’s a space I would decorate myself if I ever had such a luxury.
I climb into bed and collapse on the rich comforter with the baroque pattern scrawled across the top.
I close my eyes and wish for sleep, but I know it won’t come. There are too many horrors when I close my eyes, so I just rest my body and try to adjust to my new surroundings. To my new boss and the idea of the new men I’ll meet tonight.
I’m safe, I assure myself.
At this moment, I’m safe. I curl into a ball.
I’m safe.
A knock and someone calling my name startles me awake. Did I actually fall asleep? I look around the strange room disoriented. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.
I’m safe, I remind myself as I look up at the sparkly organza draped over my bed.
“London?” Another knock and a woman’s voice.
“Coming!” I rub my eyes and rush to the door. I open it to find a tall brunette with striking features on the other side.
“Hi.” She smiles warmly. “Sorry to wake you, but Jett said we were supposed to help get you ready for tonight.”
“Tonight? What time is it?”
“Six forty-five.”
Oh no. Shit, I’m late. “I’m sorry.” I stumble out into the hallway. “I fell asleep. Jetlag,” I lie. And insomnia.
“It’s fine.” She grabs me by the arms to steady me. “I figured. But let’s go so we can get you dressed.”
“I didn’t shower,” I confess.
“Don’t worry. You can wash off in the dressing room. Everyone is dying to meet you. I’m Amber.” She puts her hand out.
“Nice to meet you.” We shake.
Before I know it, I’m walking back into the extravagant dressing room. This time, it’s bustling with females. I freeze in the doorway as multiple heads turn in my direction. They’re sizing me up, no doubt. I’m the new girl and that never usually bodes well. New blood, new competition.
“Everyone, this is London,” Amber announces. A moment of silence passes before I’m met with a warm reception. A shockingly warm reception. Several half-naked girls surround me to introduce themselves.
For a second, I’m overwhelmed, scrambling to remember each of their names.
“Hey!” Amber lets out an ear-piercing whistle. “Don’t give her whiplash. One at a time.”
The room goes silent, and then there’s an eruption of giggles.
Amber rolls her eyes before she points at a brunette. “Nadia, you go first.”
The bubbly brunette smiles brightly. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she’s wearing a skimpy bodysuit made of flesh-colored nylon and black and pink lace dotted with rhinestones. “Well, I’m Nadia, like Amber said. Also, I go by Cinnamon.”
Another girl pipes up and voices her name. She has long, wavy, sandy-blonde hair and big green eyes. “I’m Jenna, a.k.a., Spice.” Her voice sounds youthful. Like she’s barely eighteen. She, too, is scantily clad in lingerie.
The rest of girls introduce themselves in a rush—Aimee, Deborah, Alicia, Rose—all with nicknames of their own. All together, including Amber and myself, there are eight of us.
“Okay. Now that that’s out of the way, we need to get you dressed. Stat.” Amber addresses me. “Nadia, Rose, please pick out something for London to wear. Shoes and all. Size eight, correct?”
I nod.
“Figured.” She smirks before amicably pushing me toward a door to the left. “Let’s get you showered quickly.” She opens a drawer under the sink. The bathroom is immense with a white and purple marble vanity, crystal fixtures, and a large, round soaking tub inset in a bay window. “We have twenty minutes before we have to be downstairs.” She hands me a black elastic band. “Hair up, wash off,” she instructs.
Amber turns the shower on as I wind my red strands into a bun. I look at her as I’m about to strip. She doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Noticing my confusion, she states matter-of-factly, “Oh, go on, there’s no room for modesty here. We may very well be naked with each other later on tonight. I have a feeling you’re going to pique a lot of interest.” She casually checks her lipstick in the mirror. I’m not modest by any means. As I pull my dress over my head, Amber pauses, eyeing my bare body through the mirror. No bra or underwear underneath. There’s a keen sense of intrigue glazing over her stare. I’m used to that look by both men and women alike. Desire. Lust. It’s like those two things follow me everywhere. They’re my curse and my saving grace. They placed me in my current predicament and simultaneously saved my life. A life I’m still trying to figure out how much is worth.
I slide into the shower and wash off, with Amber’s eyes glued to me. Her stare doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It provides an advantage. She’s attracted to me, and I know how to manipulate that.
“How long have you worked here?” I probe as I pour some liquid soap into my hand.
“A little over five years. I’m the last original.”
“Original?” I ask as I lather up my body. Slowly, directly facing Amber.
“I was one of the six original girls hired by Jett when Mansion was established,” she explains, highly aware of the movement of my hands over my perky breasts and flat stomach.
“What happened to the others?”
Amber shrugs one shoulder. “They moved on. Jett pushes us all to be better. To be more. To have goals. They all reached for them.”
“And you?” I wash the frothy soap from my body, inhaling the calming scent of eucalyptus percolating from the suds.
“I haven’t found my more yet. I’m content for now.” Amber looks down at the ground, a melancholy tone in her voice. I wish I could feel for her. I wish I could feel anything, but my empathy button has been broken. Smashed to smithereens is more like it.
You’re nothing.
No one.
I turn the shower off with a chill. It’s not from the cold; it’s from the emptiness. Amber hands me a towel as I step out.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” There’s a softness in her eyes. It’s a little bit sad, and a little bit sympathetic. No matter how nice your surroundings or expensive the clothes or elite your company, you’re still only one thing. An object. To use, to play with, and then discard. Like a cheap plastic toy. There are no feelings or investment in who you are. You dispense pleasure. That’s your sole purpose for existing. To fuck and be fucked.
Spread your legs, and shut your trap.
I suppress the memory, drying off in a hurry.
“Why do you all have nicknames?” I wonder aloud.
“Jett gives them to all the girls. Adds to the fantasy aspect. It’s sort of Mansion’s unofficial slogan. Live your fantasy. Whatever sexual request the client has, Jett is pretty talented at delivering it.” Amber takes my towel and tosses it into the corner once I’m dry. “Didn’t he give you one?”
“No.”
“He will, I’m sure.” She devours my naked body with her eyes before taking my hand and leading me back into the dressing room.
“Clothes are on the seat,” one of the girls, I think her name is Alicia, points at a vanity.
“Perfect.” Amber hurries me over. “Quick, put this on.” She scoops up the ensemble before she starts digging around in multiple drawers. I slip on the scrap of material made entirely of fine lace. The violet and champagne scalloped neckline plunges past my belly button, delicate ribbon is used as a halter to keep the sheer bodysuit in place, and the cherry on top—a healthy slit cut in the satin material covering the sweet spot between my legs. Talk about easy access. A few kisses of cold air and I’m going to be soaking wet. Part of the appeal, I’m sure.
“Wow!” Amber gives me a once-over. “You fill out that teddy like it was made for you. The guys are going to lose their minds.”
I glance in the vanity mirror. The material hugs every single curve I have, my skin is peeking through the sheerest parts, and my breasts are pouring out of my cleavage. I’ve been dressed up before, paraded around in next to nothing, even auctioned off to the highest bidder, but I’ve never received a compliment before. When I look at my reflection, I don’t see someone beautiful. I see someone broken.
“Thank you.” My reply is uncomfortable. It isn’t genuine as much as I’d like it to be.
Amber smiles sweetly. “Let’s finish you off.” She holds up a tiny brush.
“Close your eyes.” I do, and she dusts my eyelids several times with powder. “Open.” Again, I listen, and she sweeps my eyelashes with a few thick coats of mascara, finally finishing with blush on my cheeks and gloss on my lips. The whole process takes less than ten minutes. “Voila!” She turns me toward the lighted vanity so I can see her masterpiece in the mirror.
“You are going to knock them dead.” She pulls out my bun and lets my purplish-red hair fall freely around my shoulders. “Don’t get too used to the royal treatment. It’s your first night. We don’t want to disappoint the boss.” She winks. “Next time, this is all you.”
I nod. I can handle that.
“Ladies!” Jett waltzes right into the room, no knock, no nothing. He stops short for a split second when he sees me but doesn’t skip a beat. “It’s show time.” He never peels his eyes off me as he addresses us. “I’m expecting all my little vixens to be on their naughtiest behavior. You know the drill—entrance, enrapture, entrain. Then blow their fucking minds. In every sense of the word.” He smiles cheekily. All the girls file out half-naked and in high heels. I slip mine on as I follow behind Amber. I stop just as I meet Jett in the doorway. He ingests me from head to toe. Does he like what he sees? Why does it matter? Because he’s the only thing standing between your safety and the outside world. Displease him, and you’re out. You’re vulnerable. You’re susceptible.
You’re basically screwed.
“Do you approve?” I swallow my fears and all my insecurities.
“I do.” His eyes flash, and something courses between us. My nipples harden, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
Jett sucks on his bottom lip, our bodies only inches apart. I start to panic but breathe through the attack.
“Why don’t I have a nickname?” I ask, hoping to ease the suffocating tension.
Recognition crosses over his pretty features. I haven’t been attracted to a man in a long time, but something about Jett intrigues me. That rouses something inside me.
“You do. I just haven’t shared it with you yet.” He gestures with his head to follow him. The rest of the girls are already gone, so I have to follow him to our destination. We walk down the long carpeted hallway, descend the stairs, and make our way through the overly extravagant house. We come to a large sitting room filled with well-dressed men and all the other girls. Everyone is mingling and flirting, some already being pawed.
“Gentlemen.” Jett takes center stage, gaining everyone’s attention. “I’d like to introduce you to our newest addition.” He glances back at me as I stand somewhat behind him. “Sugar.”
And there it is, my pet name. A dozen and a half pairs of eyes all fall on me. I know the drill, act confident on the outside even though you’re falling apart on the inside. This is what I’m here for. This is my survival.
“Go mingle,” Jett whispers. His hot breath tickles the shell of my ear, causing my already hard nipples to pull tighter.
I do as I’m told as he walks to the edge of the room. I spot Amber sharing a drink with an older man. He has his hand on her butt as she clearly charms him.
Nadia isn’t very far away from her, laughing, touching, and caressing a younger guy. He’s extremely handsome, with black hair and exotic features. He has his hands all over her, dotting light kisses on her neck as she smiles.
The calculated ratio of men to women is two to one. I walk the room, highly aware of Jett’s astute gaze.
A middle-aged man approaches me. Good-looking, with dark hair that has wisps of gray. Dashing is how I would describe him. His salmon dress shirt is impeccably pressed, as are his black trousers. He absolutely stinks of money.
I plaster on my fake smile and accept the glass of champagne he offers me. Alcohol is always the perfect icebreaker.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” He eyes me lewdly. If I wasn’t already half-naked, I’m sure he’d be mentally undressing me. He takes a sip of his champagne before he leans into me. “Do you know what I love about these socials?” he asks.
“No.”
“The variety,” he indulges me. “The buffet of beautiful women to choose from, and a chance to experience someone new.”
I lift my eyes to meet his and catch Jett circling the perimeter of the room. Although his movements are causal, his gaze is heavy, watchful. Weighing directly on me. Is he evaluating me? I turn up the interest, engaging the man the way he wants. Entrance, enrapture, entrain. Before long, I have the man eating out of my hand. Touching me, laughing with me. Wanting me.
I don’t hear one thing he says. I don’t even care. I just want to do my job and survive another day.
Before long, the room starts to clear out. It’s obvious what for. That two-to-one ratio begins to shift, and soon, it’s one to four. Four men and one woman. And that woman is me. The four remaining men circle like hungry sharks.
“This one will do just fine, Jett.” The man I’ve been entertaining all night pipes up.
“Wherever you want her.” Jett offers me up like the human sacrifice I am.
“Someplace spacious.” He glances over at Jett lurking in the corner.
“Will the dining room table do?”
“Just fine.” The man drains his third glass of champagne, and I realize now he never even told me his name.
“Sugar, come,” Jett calls me over like a dog. Not the first time I’ve been degraded, and I’m sure not the last.
I slip away from the four prowling men, my heart beating a mile a minute. I can guess what I’m in store for. Jett takes my hand, and we leave the room.
“Were you lying when you said you didn’t have any issues with group sex?” he asks as we enter an opulent dining room with a wood table long enough to seat twenty.
“No.”
“Good. First night and you attract the furious four.”
“Furious four?” I question.
“Not to be blunt, but they’re my gangbang crew. This is what they live for. I knew Trent had his sights set on you the minute you walked into the room.” Jett plucks me off the floor and places me on the table.
“Lay down. Be sexy.” He pauses. “Not like that’s hard for you to do.”
“Be sexy?”
He places his hands on either side of my head and hovers his face over mine. “Yes. It’s like you’re dripping with seduction.”
I inhale anxiously.
“Are you nervous?”
“No.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, then growls almost grudgingly, like he doesn’t want to give me away.
Jett pushes off the table and reminds me, “Sexy,” as he walks out of the room.
Sexy, right. I place my hands over my head and bend one knee. Can’t get sexier than a half-naked woman sprawled out on an enormous dining room table.
I hear footsteps as I’m surrounded by testosterone. Four men, two flanking each side of the table.
“You never disappoint, Jett,” Trent voices arrogantly. “Look at you.” He nods, and one of the men moves to the head of the table, where my hands are lying. He pins them down, ensuring I can’t move. I look straight up at the ceiling and count the grooves in the crown molding as I mentally prepare to take on four men at once. This is my job. My only purpose. I retreat into that shadowy place in my mind. The one that keeps me sane during moments like these. More footsteps pull me back. The click-clack of heels against the wood floor. I look down to see Amber climbing onto the table, like a seductive cat. Her black hair is falling over her shoulders in waves as she stalks over to me.
She flicks her eyes over at Trent as he and the other men begin to undress.
“You know what to do. Get her nice and wet. Make her ready for us.” His timbre rolls over my body as she takes control.
Amber frees my breasts, easily manipulating the scalloped lace, hooking it to each side. The same desirous look returns to her face as my pert nipples are exposed. She leans in to suck one into her mouth, and a collective moan echoes around us.
I arch into her, letting her tongue set me at ease. Women are always so much softer, so much more giving when they touch you.
With my arms still restrained, she moves to the other nipple, licking it lightly with the tip of her tongue. I feel the sensations between my legs as she massages one breast and worships the other.
“So hot,” someone mutters as she continues to work me over. She moves her mouth up my chest bone, over the curve of my neck, then plunges her tongue into my mouth. I kiss her back, spreading my legs as she settles between them. There’s heavy breathing all around as we put on our show. As our pelvises grind and our tongues dance and her hands grope. She tastes good, she smells good, she feels good.
Amber’s face is suddenly ripped away. I open my eyes to find Trent with a grip on her hair. “That was a good opening act, but we’re ready for the main event.” Using the hold he has on her, he moves her face down my body until it’s hovering between my legs. “Don’t make her come, just make her wet. Very. Fucking. Wet.”
I look down my outstretched body as Amber does as she’s told, spreading the slit in the material over my pussy so she can lap me up. The first flick of her tongue is like liquid fire. The second feeds the flames, and the third has me blistering in an inferno. I moan for the men around me. I moan because of the woman pleasuring me. I moan because my life is tragically not my own. Amber dips a finger past the cut material and into my wet pussy, causing me to shudder. I could come right now. I could come so easily from just the soft swirls of her tongue. But this pleasure isn’t for me, it’s for them. For the men jerking off all around us. For the men preparing themselves to use my body for what it is. A vessel of one-sided pleasure. They don’t want me to come, not because they want to save that act for themselves. They don’t want me to come because they want me needy. They want my pussy tight and straining and pulsating. Not loose and relaxed. Where would the twisted pleasure be in that? Little do they know, my pussy has never once been loose or relaxed while a cock was inside it.
With slick fingers, Amber slips a digit into my ass. With her mouth securely on my clit, sucking firmly, she prepares that restrictive little hole for the fat cock to come. I start to fuck her face and her finger as the want grows. I’m wet, I’m throbbing, and I’m squirming all over the table, so ready to be put out of my misery.
“That hot mouth and those insistent fingers feel good, you little whore, huh?” Trent bites one of my protruding nipples. I whimper from the sting of pain. “Tell us how bad you want us to fuck you. Tell us you want a cock in every needy hole.”
I fight back the lick of disdain as I tell him what he wants to hear. It’s all part of the show.
“I need you to fuck me,” I whine. “Fuck every single hole all at the same time.”
“Because that’s what little sluts like you want.”
Amber scissors me open, and I repeat what Trent said. “Because that’s what little sluts like me want.”
I sigh excruciatingly as a kiss of an orgasm begins. I beat it back, even though all I want is to come all over Amber’s face. To release.
“Enough,” Trent snaps, and Amber pulls away.
“Go,” he snarls at her.
Amber extends one last look at me, lust pouring out of her dark eyes, before she slinks off the table. My breathing speeds up and not from excitement. The man holding my wrists releases me, as the others begin to plunder my body. It’s a free-for-all. Hands, fingers, tongues, mouths all descending on me at once.
I lose all sense of direction as my pussy is eaten, my nipples are sucked, my ass stretched, and my mouth invaded. The sound of ripping wrappers has my head spinning. The moment of truth has finally arrived. I’m roughly flipped onto my stomach and pulled onto my hands and knees. I keep my head down as Trent slips underneath me.
He’s breathing wildly, sheathed with a condom. The mesh of my lingerie is suddenly ripped in two before I feel another man behind me, his cock pressing rigidly against my worked little butthole. Together, they enter me at the same time. I snap my head back from the overwhelming intrusion and let out a shrill cry. My entire being is trembling by the time they both force their way inside.
“So fucking good.” The man buried in my ass grunts, forcing me to drop my head. When I open my eyes, I meet Jett’s heavy gaze. Has he been here the whole time? My jaw drops, and I expel a forced moan as Trent and his buddy go to town, beating into both exacerbated holes. The other two men move in, one shoving his cock in my mouth, the other guiding my hand to his straining length.
I take them all, all at once. Every orifice getting used as my kneecaps bang against the unforgiving wood. Jett and I never break eye contact. Not once the whole time. Not as my jaw is stretched to the max, or my hand pumps erratically, or even when Trent forces me to come with an abrasive rub of my clit. Every part of me is invaded, and he watches the whole time.
When the furious four are finally finished with me, they leave me limp and tattered on the table. Everything hurts, but that’s nothing new. Sex is never truly pleasurable, not with one man, or two, or four.