Sam

As I followed Sid into the Steel Cage, a big burly Hell Hound, who I think they called Hammer, lumbered out of one of the private rooms down the hall to my right. Mandi followed behind. Her right eye had a dark bruise. She recognized me, and I recognized the look in her eyes. The same as mine. Humiliation. Defeat. Fear. She looked away from me and stared at the back of Hammer’s legs. She was planted on Hammer’s lap by one of the little bar chairs up at the front of the stage where a blond woman was moving to the beat of Nine Inch Nails.

Sid wrapped his hand tightly around my upper arm.

“Come over here, Bitch. We’ll sit with Hammer and the wildcat.”

He planted himself in a chair next to Hammer with me on his lap. He reached up to hug my thigh, and he squeezed. Hard.

“Mm... Still soft. Still pliable…,” he mumbled against my check.

Hammer chuckled as his huge tattooed hand did the same to Mandi’s thigh.

“Hot damn, Sid! This one here is a wildcat. Just like you said. She sucks a mean cock.”

Suddenly Mandi’s head snapped back as Hammer grabbed a fistful of her hair.

“I’m showing all the brothers that video I just shot of you chokin’ on my big dick,” he busted out with a loud chuckle.

Mandi didn’t speak. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth tight, her jaw jutting out.

Bile rose up the back of my throat. I was too numb now to be terrified. Numb. Defeated. Alone. Afraid. My throat started to feel constricted. Tightening up like I couldn’t catch another breath. And I wished at that moment I could just give up the will to breathe.

“Now don’t get jealous, Sam. You suck cock good too. I’ll pass you around from one Hound cock to the next. Hammer can make a video for us too,” Sid jeered up at me.

“Whatever you want, Sid,” was all I could muster.

He rubbed his stubbled jaw, pondering something inside his sick head.

“I’ll save that show for another time. I’m giving you a break tonight. You’ll work the bar. Hell Hounds are celebrating tonight. Our sheep have come home.”

I didn’t know how much longer I could keep the tears from falling. Sid’s hands disgusted me. Then I pictured Ratchet’s big warm hands touching me… His gentleness… His russet brown colored eyes gazing at me. The scent of smoke, leather, and his own male musk brought images of wrapping myself around him as we rode his bike.

A broad-chested man appeared within my view. He looked like he could be old enough to be my father. He had very short greying hair, with light colored eyes and he was a wide man.

“This is Vik. He owns the place now. Vik, this is the sweet little lamb I was telling you about.”

Vik’s eyes roamed my face and body as he grinned down at me, shoving a half-smoked cigar between his teeth. He swirled his tongue around the wet end.

“Nice little lamb you have there, my friend. She will do good behind the bar tonight.” Vik had a slight accent. He sounded Russian. He raised his hand toward me. Rubbed his thumb across my lower lip, grinning at me.

Sid pulled me back, away from his thick stubby thumb on my lip.

“Maybe I’ll let you get a good taste of her sometime soon. But not tonight…”

I was off Sid’s lap, and he pushed me ahead to lead him to the bar. A couple of women worked, wearing bright colored tights and black halter tops.

“Don’t you bitches fight over the tips.”

I lifted the bar hutch, stepping through and shutting it back down in front of Sid. This gave me a barrier away from Sid. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep from throwing up.

“It’s Ratchet with another Chaos. Just pulled in,” that dark-haired Hound that followed us back here yelled over the loud thumping music.

Sid turned toward me and glared. His eyes were cold.

“How did those motherfuckers get here that quick, Bitch?”

Kat. She called Ratchet the moment we left the bookstore.

“I’ll tell him to go away,” I stammered out.

“Yeah, you do that, Little Lamb. Going to sit back and enjoy this,” he sneered, walking back to his chair next to Hammer with Mandi still on his lap.

Ratchet appeared out of the darkness through red and blue strobes of disco lights. He stalked toward me. With purpose. Gunner was right behind him. He moved quickly, passing through the cigarette smoke, between the bar tables.

Sid’s Hounds stayed back. The dark-haired Hound turned to me and leaned over the bar

“Just tell him you’re cool with this. Hounds don’t give a fuck about you or him,” he said as low as he could above the noise of the thumping music.

I nodded to him. He stepped away toward the other end of the bar.

Ratchet opened the bar latch, and his powerful hands curled around my arms

“You’re leaving with Gunner and me,” his voice was sharp and clipped.

I looked up at him, trying so hard to calm my racing heart. My throat ached to prevent the tears from coming.

“No, Ratchet. I’m staying here. I don’t belong with you. There’s nothing you can do. Nothing you should do. Just let me be. I belong here.”

“No, Sam! Fuck! Not doin’ it.”

I jerked myself out of his grasp. My hand shot out, and I slapped him across the cheek. The loud music muted the sound of the slap, but we both felt it. His eyes became hard when he turned to face me again.

My voice came out loud and cleared, “Just go away, Ratchet! I’m not a fucking charity case! Yeah, we fucked and all that. But I like to fuck! A lot! That’s what I do. It was fun, but I’ll make more money with the Hounds. Better than working at some boring as fuck ass bookstore!”

The next thing I said was like a knife stabbing at the long felt guilt.

“I know your mother didn’t like that fuck-fest with your father’s club. But she wasn’t a club whore like me. Whores love to be passed around. That’s just what whores like me do.”

“I don’t believe you, Sam. I know what you’re doing. And you’re still leaving here with me. Now.”

“No. The little lamb is staying right here, Chaos King”.

Vik appeared, the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of Ratchet’s head.

Gunner’s revolver was already out, aimed at the back of Vik’s head, “He goes down? You go down.”

Sid started to chuckle. Ratchet closed his eyes and raised his arms.

“Ok,” when he opened his eyes, they were filled with so much pain, “I’m leaving Sam. If you run again, I’ll be there to catch you.”

He crushed me up against him and roughly claimed my lips, invading my mouth with his tongue.

He released me. Defeat in his eyes. Vik lowered his gun.

Ratchet turned, walking away from me, “let’s go, Brother.”

Gunner’s gun was shoved back into the front of his jeans. He followed. Then they were gone.