I’d blown through almost three hundred dollars on my perfect date with Rose, and I didn’t regret it. I’d eaten my fill for the first time in weeks and spent quality time with a woman who deserved it. I’d made her come in a public bathroom with just my fingers and tongue, and it felt fucking fantastic. It’d been a long time since I’d done something like that and not expected anything in return. The next time we met, I had no doubt there would be fireworks—some major fireworks. Rose Hathaway managed to break me out of my vicious addiction cycle, and I wasn’t even showing any withdrawal symptoms. She could be the key that set me free. Sex with Rose was off the charts, unlike anything I could’ve imagined. It was intimate but rough. Fast and slow. Passionate and mind-blowing. There were a million words I could probably use to describe our encounter, but none seemed to do it justice.

By the time I got home, it was almost midnight. I opted to not stay the night. It didn’t feel right, and I didn’t want Rose getting the wrong idea about us.

My fridge was still empty, but my heart was full and my cock, emptied. Twice.

What a fucking night.

I was feeling peckish, but since I only had about five bucks left in my pocket, I decided to just sleep off the hunger.

When I woke up in the middle of the night to pee, I checked my phone, hoping Rose had texted me while I was asleep.

She had.

My heart soared.

Rose: Thanks again for last night. Want to grab drinks tonight? I get off work at seven.

She wanted to see me again. For a dinner date. Which meant I’d likely get laid again. I felt so giddy I smiled at my phone like an idiot.

Theo: Where?

Rose: I’ll meet you in front of my hotel at 8. Just gotta shower and change first after work.

Theo: See you then. Can’t wait. ;)

I sent her a winky face. I never did that. Rose was so incredible. I never wanted to sleep with another cougar again. Just her. Only her.

But that wasn’t very realistic, though. After all, she’d be leaving in a week, and my life would go back to the way it’s always been. I put down my phone and fell back asleep.

When I woke up, it was only 8 a.m. Which meant twelve long hours till I saw her again. I looked over at the crumpled fiver on my night stand. I had a few coins left over from playing slots two days ago. Two days. I’d made it through all of yesterday without touching a slot machine.

Holy crap.

This was new.

This was progress.

Progress was good. Great, even.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d resisted temptation like that. Rose really was my lucky charm. When I was with her, I was so intoxicated I didn’t need gambling to get me high. I was naturally high off her scent, her laugh, her symmetrical dimples. Six months ago, she’d saved my life. Now, she was a walking rehab center, and she didn’t even know it. When I spent time with her, I was a better man. More confident, strong-willed. I smiled and laughed, for real, and not because someone was paying for that reaction. I actually enjoyed eating her out, because it hadn’t been a gig; it’d been for fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed myself this much. I was real when I was with Rose, not some gigolo paid to play alpha male. I didn’t have to pretend when I was with her, because she liked me for me. Cliched, but true.

But it would be twelve whole hours till I met her for drinks. How would I kill time?

I packed up my gear and did a few impromptu street performances for some quick cash. Technically, it wasn’t legal, but I had specific busking times in specific areas and didn’t get caught, so it was okay. After my two-hour gig, I returned to the crossroads where I’d stood a few days ago, sandwiched between Harrah’s, McDonald’s and a Walgreens. And you know fucking what? I skipped Harrah’s and went straight to McDonald’s. Bought myself a Big Mac meal, polished it off, and then went straight into Walgreens for groceries. Legit. I strode through those automatic doors and actually loaded up a basket with real fucking food. Not dumpster shit or discounted leftovers. I got the fresh stuff, with good texture and vibrant colors.

Holy fucking shit. If that wasn’t an improvement, I didn’t know what was.

I could beat this. I didn’t have to be a slave anymore. I had a real shot at freedom now.

Rose was my saving grace. With her in my life, I had a real chance at beating my addiction and leading a normal life again. I’d try my damnedest not to forget that. And when we parted ways, I’d make sure to let her know exactly how she saved my ass. Gratitude. I’d show gratitude, which was another big step for an ungrateful prick like me.

When I got home with four bags of groceries, I unpacked everything with deliberate slowness. Milk on the fridge door. Butter in the compartment below that. Peppers, spinach, carrots in the bins. I even arranged all the canned goods in order with their labels facing forward.

I glanced at the clock. It was only four. Still had three more hours to kill before my date. I’d made eighty bucks at my morning gig and after all the groceries and the Big Mac, I still had twenty bucks left and some change. Enough to buy some drinks, and maybe even a small meal later. It was a small win, but a win nonetheless.

Baby steps, right?

Not to mention, I actually had enough cereal to last me a couple weeks, some ham and cheese in the fridge, and a loaf of bread in the pantry. A few oranges, bananas, and apples too. Healthy ingredients, for once.

And it hadn’t even been that hard.

Now I just needed to pay off the overdue rent and utilities. Maybe I could even afford wi-fi next month, and gas! Public transit was fine, but gas would make things a lot easier on my body. Less walking in the heat, for one. A plan was coming together, one I felt confident I could execute.

I pulled out my phone and tapped out a text to Rose.

Theo: How’s your first day going?

She replied a few minutes later.

Rose: Shitty. Got there late because I had to get a new rental. Got in trouble. Now I’m in the middle of the most BORING meeting. Ugh.

Theo: I promise when we meet later, I’ll spice up your day. ;)

Rose: Looking forward to it. ;)

I took an apple out of the bag and bit into it. Felt its sour-sweet juices ooze against my tongue and between my teeth. I looked at my hands and no tremors, completely relaxed. My body didn’t feel tense, my neck muscles didn’t hurt, and I wasn’t sweating. I felt better than fine. I was eating an apple on my couch for fuck’s sake. I wanted to cry, because it’d been a long time since I’d done something like this. For the first time in long time, I felt like a normal human being who regularly ate fruit at home, and not like a loser who whiled away every free second of his time inside casinos where time ceased to exist. I felt so motivated, I decided to clean up my place and take out the trash. Maybe recycle the mountain of aluminum cans I’d collected off the streets. If I had time left over, I could bust out the flyers and clip a few coupons, too.

My phone lit up and thinking it was Rose, I unlocked the screen.

It wasn’t.

I had a new voicemail. I hit a few numbers on the keypad and listened to it.

It was Hester.

FUCK.

Her slippery voice cooed in my ear. “Pup, come over tonight at eight. I need your help. Call me back. Mwah.”

“Fuck—fuck—fuck!” I swore out loud. Anyone else, and I would’ve refused, claiming a prior commitment. But Hester? I couldn’t say no to Hester. Whenever she called, I came running. Didn’t matter if I had a gig, or if I was in the middle of lunch. I had to go. Eight months ago, she’d wrapped a spiky collar around my neck and paraded me around her house on a leash. ‘Sit, Pup,’ she’d command, and I’d sit. ‘Roll over,’ she’d say, and I’d roll the fuck over. Because she owned me. I was property, nothing more.

No one refused Hester Lancaster.

“Shit!” I threw my half-eaten apple across the room. It smacked against the faucet and landed inside the sink with a thud. I stood up and rammed my foot into the mountain of aluminum cans, kicking them so hard they flew everywhere, splattering sticky droplets on my carpet. A roar tore through me, anger and adrenaline making my veins pop. Of all fucking days.

Once my breathing evened out, I pulled out my phone and thumbed out a text to Rose.

Theo: Sorry, last minute emergency came up at work. Rain check?

I hated every fiber of my being as I hit send. My hands were shaking so hard I thought I was having a seizure. Fuck. Hester.

Rose’s reply came seconds later.

Rose: No worries, Theo. I’ll have dinner with some colleagues instead. Hope everything is okay. :)

Theo: Everything is fine. Thanks for understanding. Are you free tomorrow night?

Rose: Sure. Same time, same place?

Theo: You bet. Have a good night.

Rose: Night, Theo. :)

I set the phone down and pinched the bridge of my nose. I never thought I’d be a lapdog till Hester Lancaster crammed obedience down my throat. Now I felt like a hamster running forever on a wheel that got him nowhere. What could she possibly want from me this time?

* * *

Hester’s mansion was a thirty-minute bus ride away. She’d inherited it, along with $50 million when her eighty-two-year-old widower dad unexpectedly died in a car accident. Hester’s father had been multi-millionaire Duncan Lancaster, owner of several porno studios around Vegas. Hester was somewhat of a small-time celebrity herself, having starred in a few lesbian films produced by her father’s company. I’d seen her naked plenty of times (against my will), and she had a fine body, but beneath that spray-tanned skin lay one of the most demented souls I’d ever met. Most importantly, she had a reputation for being a psychopathic bitch. She was fucking crazy to begin with, and when she inherited all that money, it went straight to her head and made her insane.

As I walked up the road leading to her sprawling estate, I couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of what she’d make me do tonight. She had me by the balls, literally, and I was indebted to her.

What she said, went. Always.

Her voicemail sucked out every ounce of willpower and strength I’d gained from being with Rose. I fell right back into my old self, a washed-up loser who owed too much money to all the wrong people.

“Theo! Bay-beeee!” Hester called from the front door, as if she’d been waiting there for my arrival. Her cloying voice washed over me like hot honey laced with poison. She waved to me, and I returned the gesture with a crooked, half-hearted smile.

“Hester. Good evening. You look ravishing.” The compliment was not a complete lie, even though it tasted like straight up baking soda in the back of my throat.

Hester was wearing a shimmery, leopard-print silk robe, loosely tied around her skinny waist. As usual, she sported six-inch stilettos (even inside the house), which emphasized her toned calves, a by-product of all her fitness classes. Her poker straight black hair hung down past her silicone double D tits. She was a phenomenal-looking eighteen-year-old woman by any man’s standard. Hester pulled me into a loose hug, mashing her melons against my chest. “Come in, honey bear. I’ve missed you. How are you?” she said, her voice so buttery I could spread it on toast. So greasy I wanted to gag.

“I’ve been okay. You?” I didn’t understand why we always exchanged these pleasantries whenever I came over. We both knew I was nothing more than a glorified servant.

“Marvelous. Just marvelous,” she crooned. (Wasn’t she always? How could she not be marvelous?)

I cut to the chase. “What can I do for you today?”

“I’m throwing a surprise birthday party for my girlfriend,” Hester said. “I wanted you to be the star of the show. Wow us with your tricks.”

“I didn’t bring any of my magic props,” I said, already knowing what she’d say in return.

“That’s okay, you don’t need any.”

If things had been as simple as performing magic tricks in front of some tipsy ladies, I would’ve been more than happy to help. But Hester’s parties were…well, coked-up orgies. And she always expected me to do the shows naked. Not to titillate or arouse, but to humiliate and objectify. I was her toy to play with, her tool to use, an object to abuse at her leisure.

Hester pointed to the door leading to her backyard. “Why don’t you strip and meet me by the pool?”

I nodded, my veins cold as ice. I slipped into the powder room and began unbuckling my jeans. Back when Duncan had been alive, Hester didn’t go around gallivanting the way she did now. He’d kept her in line. Put his foot down when she acted out of turn. But now that she was mistress of the house and Duncan’s empire, she threw reckless, extravagant parties every night of the week, got shit-faced and fucked anything that moved, basically.

After I’d stripped off all my clothes, I walked to the pool, knowing full well what awaited me there. My cock shriveled at the thought. Once I opened the glass door, all eyes focused on me.

“Magic Man’s back!” someone crowed from the other end of the pool. “Show us some fucking tricks!”

One of the blondes threw a foam basketball at me. “Fetch, boy!” she screamed, screeching like a hyena.

I slowly got down on all fours, rage making my jaw tight. Then I shuffled along the rim of the kidney-shaped pool, picked up the wet ball between my teeth and threw it back into the water. It tasted like chlorine and smelled like piss.

“Well done,” Hester said. “Good Pup.” She made a show of ruffling my hair. “Roll over, Pup.”

Obediently, I rolled over, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. It was just the chlorine, and the scent of their cheap perfume, I told myself. That’s why my nostrils stung, and I felt like gagging.

Just one more night, I repeated the same vow I’d told myself so many times. Then I’d get the fuck out of here.

“Now, swim,” Hester said. With a sharp kick, she shoved me head-first into the pool. I made the mistake of opening my mouth, and ended up inhaling pool water. When I resurfaced, I felt hands all over me, tugging, stroking, flicking, and squeezing. Hester’s friends had descended upon me like sharks on live bait. Helplessly, I stood there, allowing them to fondle me, counting down the seconds until it’d be over. Any other man might’ve enjoyed being touched by fifteen different women all at once. Might’ve relished the attention and basked in it.

Not me.

I knew what Hester’s gaggle of crazy porn star friends wanted. And it wasn’t to glorify the male form or put me on a pedestal.

They wanted to bully me. Break me.

Someone’s sharp acrylic nails dug into my shaft and scraped. Fucking felt like she was trying to slice my dick off. Someone else’s small, soft hands wrapped around my cock and tugged. Despite the pain, I found myself getting hard. I clenched my jaw and looked over at the house. All the lights were off, and the mansion looked like a dark leviathan waiting to swallow all of us up.

“He’s getting hard!” someone proclaimed. “Look at it!”

I turned away, embarrassed that my body had betrayed me.

“You should make him come!” a bottle blonde with silicone double Ds screeched.

“Not in my pool,” Hester said, frowning. “Take him somewhere else.”

“Alicia’s coming. Quick, everyone, hide,” the bottle blonde hissed. “When she walks in, we scare the shit out of her.”

Everyone scattered, leaving me with an unbearable hard-on. I didn’t have enough time to get out of the water, so I ducked down until my entire body was submerged. I held my breath and counted down the seconds. I could do this. I could play nice and get this over with.

Five.

Rose feathering my lips.

Four.

Rose’s perfect pink nipples.

Three.

Rose’s symmetrical dimples.

Two.

Rose’s orgasmic moan after eating a good meal. And during sex.

One.

Rose coming all over my face.

Zero.

“Surprise!”

I resurfaced, gulping down cold air, replenishing my lungs with much-needed oxygen. I wiped water from my face and watched the women as they swarmed around Hester’s girlfriend of the month, Alicia. Alicia’s wavy black hair hung past her breasts. Her lurid yellow-green cat eyes, a product of exotic contact lenses, flickered over the colorful party banners and the gold and silver confetti, which clung to her clothes and scattered around her feet. Everyone was focused on her, and it would’ve been so easy to slip away. Except, I couldn’t. I couldn’t go anywhere until Hester said so.

“I got you a present,” Hester announced excitedly. She looked around, spotted me lingering in the pool and pointed in my direction.

“Who’s that? A stripper?” Alicia asked, squinting in my direction.

I balled my hands into fists under the water.

“No, he’s a gigolo,” Hester said. “Best in all of Vegas. Look at those lickable abs.”

“Why didn’t you get me a girl?” Alicia asked, disappointed. “He’s not even that hot.”

“He’s so much fun, though, trust me,” Hester reassured Alicia. “He’ll do anything you want.”

“Interesting.” Alicia took a few steps toward me, her magenta lips curling into a smile. “What’s your name?”

Before I could answer, Hester said, “Call him Pup. He likes that moniker.”

I hated being called Pup. I was no one’s fucking Pup.

A wide smile spread across Alicia’s face. “Pup, can I fuck you in the ass?” She looked giddy in her gold paper crown and sparkly pink eyeshadow. Up close, I noticed her eyes were already glassy, and had this faraway look to them. She had five cartilage piercings, and a lip ring as well, which she chewed while she watched me.

I had some hard limits. Anal was one of them. Hester knew this.

Hester looked me straight in the eye as she said, “He loves anal.” She stuck out her pierced tongue and licked the air.

A round of applause filled the air, and I wondered if this was a nightmare. If I would wake up right before Alicia violated me and breathe a sigh of relief knowing my worst fear wasn’t coming true.

“I’ll get my strap-on,” Alicia chirped.

After Alicia skipped back into the house, I looked up at Hester, eyes watering. “Please,” I choked out. “Don’t do this.”

“Hold out your hands,” Hester instructed, joining me inside the pool, wearing nothing but a skimpy gold bikini.

“Why?”

“I need to make sure you cooperate. Wouldn’t want you hurting my girl, now, would I?” She twirled a pair of furry handcuffs around her index finger, grinning like Harley Quinn. Another woman standing behind her held up some rope and a blindfold. What looked like a kinky threesome scene from some bad porno was about to become the scene of my rape.

“No,” I yelled. “I won’t.”

“No one says no to Hester.” I wanted to vomit in my mouth when she referred to herself in third person.

“I just did.”

“You do realize what will happen if you refuse?” Hester taunted, knowing full well I knew what was at stake.

My chest wanted to collapse. “I do. But I’d rather be gum under some schmuck’s shoes than work for you a second longer.”

“You are nothing without me,” Hester said. “If you leave tonight, I will make sure every single establishment in Vegas kicks you out. You will lose everything: your trailer, your clients, your clothes, your magic gig. My goons will hunt you down and beat you up every chance they get, until you wish you were dead. You will be a wanted man till the day you fucking die.”

I stared into Hester’s cold eyes. “I know.”

“I will sue your thieving ass and make sure you go to a prison where you’ll get fucked in the ass by tatted up beefcakes every single night for the rest of your miserable existence.”

“I know,” I grunted out. I clenched my hands so hard I thought my knuckles would split open. Hester gestured wildly, as if my reaction to her threat was unacceptable. She waved her five-carat diamond ring around wildly, like an unhinged cockatoo flapping its wings. She swiped at my arm, trying to shove me around, but I caught her wrist mid-air and squeezed it as hard as I could. “Stop,” I said. “Enough.” I forcibly lowered her arm and she cringed when water splashed over her breasts.

Six months ago, she’d humiliated me so much I wanted to kill myself. I wouldn’t let her win this time. This time, I’d fight for myself. This time, I’d stand up for my basic human rights.

Hester spat at me before twisting out of my grip. She grabbed her bejeweled iPhone off the edge of the pool and began tapping numbers. “I’m calling the cops right now. I’ll give you a thirty second head start, pretty boy. Next time I see you, you won’t be so pretty anymore.”

I scrambled out of the pool, my balls tingling, and my cock so shriveled up it looked like a dehydrated mushroom. Loud, wet slaps echoed as I bouldered my way through the crowd to the bathroom, where I’d left my clothes. Of course, when I opened the powder room door, my clothes were gone. Hester would never have let me off that easy. Luckily, whoever stole my clothes had dropped my wallet. I scooped up the tattered bifold and clutched it as if my life depended on it. It had no cash or cards in it, but at least my driver’s license was still there. I contemplated running upstairs and grabbing some of her clothes, but nothing would fit, and I’d be wasting valuable time. With no time to second-guess my decision, I made a run for it, out through her front door, down the gravel road barefoot (since she took my shoes, too) until I hit the end of the driveway. There, I pivoted right and hid beneath some hedges to catch my breath. Each inhale and exhale sounded like a tornado gusting through my frozen body. Pins and needles exploded up my calves. I sat down and massaged them while I planned my next course of action.

I said no to her.

The last time I said no to her…it did not end well.

My actions would come with severe consequences, but I didn’t care anymore.

I half thought Hester wouldn’t call the cops on me. That she was just bluffing. But when I heard the sirens about a mile out, I knew this time, she was out for blood. I dug in my heels and kept sprinting through the undergrowth, wondering if I should risk hitchhiking. If I sprang out and stuck out my thumb, there was probably a good chance I’d get run over. Either that, or I’d cause a car crash. If Hester wanted me dead or behind bars, she’d make damn sure it happened.