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Staring at the ceiling, the soft breathing of my Niamh and Selene are the only sounds in the vastness of the room, but I am consumed by thoughts of Amira. The one who got away, the one I must reclaim.
CHAPTER TWO
Amira
THE ILLUSION OF sunlight gently nudges me awake, a digital sunrise crafted by pixels rather than the warmth of a true dawn. For a moment, as my eyes flutter open, I allow myself the fantasy that I'm waking up to a real beach in Bali, not just the vivid imagery displayed across the flat screen that serves as my window to the outside world. The synthetic breeze rustles through the digital palm fronds, and the sound of waves, though recorded, brings a transient peace to my heart. I linger in bed, caught between the reality of my confinement and the escapism the screen offers.
It's a far cry from the reality of the world I was used to waking up in—fear of what the day would bring, fear of my mother, fear of being alone. Loneliness has always tried to suffocate me. From the death of two brothers to the disappearance of a third.
Michael. My mind wanders to him. If he was alive, what would he be doing now? What would he think about me? I push away the vulnerable thoughts. No one will think about me, so I must think about myself.
As I sit up, the room greets me with silence. Every piece of furniture, every fixture, speaks of a taste and wealth that I didn’t have a say in but have become accustomed to. The professional touch is unmistakable, yet it's the personal touches I find myself missing the most. This isn't just a room; it's a gilded cage, beautiful but barred. I scoff at that thought as I climb out of bed; what personal touches could I possibly want? A bottle of vodka belonging to my mother hidden in some of my clothes or the bathroom closet?
No, this kind of impersonal I can get used to.
Yet, as I’m dressing for the day, it feels like I’m arming myself for battle. The clothes are another choice made for me, but I wear them like armor, a way to assert some control over my existence here. As I leave the bedroom, the guards stationed outside barely acknowledge me, their stoic faces a reminder of my status here. Not a guest, but not exactly a prisoner.
My hair, pulled back and secured, is the one thing I can control. It swings behind me, a silent testament to my resolve. The people I pass in the hallway step aside, their actions a mix of deference and fear. It's an isolation of sorts, a bubble of respect born from circumstance rather than genuine regard. The long, backless black silk dress sweeps along my feet, clad in gold sandals.
The doors I pass are like secrets, some silent and brooding, others whispering tales of what lies beyond. I've learned to navigate this place not with the sight of what's visible but with the sound of what's whispered. Each door represents a world, some in harmony with their inhabitants, others a silent battleground of wills.
The power I wield here is an odd one: respect without warmth, authority without freedom. As I walk, the weight of my situation sits heavily on my shoulders. Yet, there's a strength in me, a resolve that's been forged in the quiet moments of solitude and the loud din of expectations. I am Amira, defined not by my cage but by the spirit that refuses to be caged.
All of these rooms belong to Wolf’s business. There are young women being trained for marriage and some simply for the sex trade.
I open the door to one of the sex trade rooms, knowing I will find Wolf there at work like he is most mornings. I don’t close the door behind me but linger in the doorway. Wolf sits on a chair in the middle of the room, snapping his fingers at the woman giving him a blow job. He is instructing her, telling her how to do it just right.
“Relax your throat, and you will be able to take it all.” His head is slung back in ecstasy. Since my stay here, I have heard him use this line so many times. Another is to mind your teeth. I step into the room and close the door behind me.
No one glances my way. All the women pleasing each other are caught in capsules of pleasure. They’re bubbles in an unstable world. Most of the women are naked. Hair color and eye color are their biggest differences, but their slim, close-to-perfect bodies are the one thing they have in common.
I step closer, and Wolf notices me. His lips stretch across his teeth, his head rising so he can take me in. I’ve become accustomed to his smiles, and like a fish on a hook, this one drags a smile out of me.
“You look gorgeous in black, a goddess,” he compliments me.
I do agree with him. Black has always been a favorite of mine.
At our greeting, the woman stops, her mouth releasing Wolf’s meaty cock, and straightaway his smile melts off his face. He grips her cheeks tightly. “Who told you to stop?” he barks.
The women's movements are jerky, almost frantic, as she takes Wolf’s cock back in her mouth andcontinues sucking. He lets his head fall back again, and I weave between the other women in the room.
The air is thick with the smell of sweat and sex. Groans of pleasure hit me from every angle, and I find myself growing damp as I watch a woman buried in between another woman’s legs. Her licks and sucks are noisy but not as brash as the groans from the woman she is pleasuring.
“Jesus, mind your teeth.” Wolf barks again, and I can’t help but return my attention to him. I exhale a loud breath and walk over, grabbing the woman’s hair. I pull her head away from Wolf’s cock, and she rises as I continue to pull her away.
“Watch and learn,” I say.
Wolf raises a brow, and I grin at him before I gather my dress and sink to my knees. My hands run the length of his thighs before I grip his balls and give them a massage. I glance at the woman, making sure she is indeed watching; her scowl dissolves, but not before I see it. Anger whips at me. She has no respect; she must think we are equals. I stick out my tongue and flick it across the top of Wolf’s swollen head. He groans, and when his hand touches my hand, I stop.
“You must have patience,” I say.
His eyes darken, and as much as I want to show my power here, I know I truly have none when it comes to Wolf.
As if it is my decision, I wrap my lips around his cock, relax my throat, and widen my mouth, allowing his entire shaft to fill my mouth. I have learned to control my gag reflexes. I drag my mouth back up and tighten my lips against my teeth, making sure nothing nips his cock before I descend on his cock again.
His groans of pleasure make me excited and give me the confidence to keep going. My fingers keep touching his balls, running along the line that continues to his back passage.
“Oh, yes, Amira. Fuck.”
