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“Say yes, thank me, and kiss my hand.” He put the back of his hand near my mouth.
Even in this there was menace. His eyes narrowed as I leaned forward.
As if I wouldn’t. I kissed his fist. “Thank you, sir.” You utter pukeworthy bastard. Your mother was a fucking pig and so are you. I put on a fake smile.
“Good.” He patted my head. “You’re a lucky, lucky woman. Someone has taken a liking to you. You’re going to be part of a show that should last a few weeks. As long as you perform.”
Perform? My fear spiked up a notch. “What does that mean?” His hand drew back as if to slap me and I hurried to add, “Sir?”
He chuckled. “You will see. Tonight, perhaps, is your first time.”
My throat closed. I held my breath and rested my laced fingers in my lap.
“Be good, remember? Hmm?” He ran his fingers down to my cheek. “You have to be an angel for me. We mustn’t disappoint the customers, must we? Not like the last girl.”
Slowly, I shook my head. The bracelet on my wrist was cold, as if it had recently come from a fridge. A tiny red spot on a link speared my attention. Oh fuck. My reply was soft. “No, sir.”
I prayed he didn’t have the final say in this – in assessing whatever I was to do. Someone liked me. I shut my eyes. Liked. Maybe they just wanted me to dance or do a striptease?
Panic was there in my mind, coiled up, ready to explode. I screwed it down tight. I mustn’t. I mustn’t.
This wasn’t going to be a dance.
Late that afternoon they came for me.
Their standard procedure, I discovered, was to have my wrists cuffed together before me and a heavy bag over my head – strapped around my neck over the top of the steel collar. The only light and air came from some neat round holes down near my mouth. When I breathed, the bag sucked in. I’d had asthma as a child. It’d left me with a fear of being unable to breathe. A little desperate, but trying not to draw attention, I plucked at the fastening strap.
If they tightened it, I might choke. The potential for pain, for death, for nastiness, was so ripe in the air here that I might suffocate from that alone.
Someone breathed, from an inch beside my ear. I froze. They were watching me.
“That’s so you can’t see. Leave it alone, my angel.”
Him.
I lowered my cuffed hands, shut my eyes, and tensed. Even my pussy clenched in. I had no underwear on. Also standard operating procedure with these men, like the bag, like the ever-present danger.
“Walk,” he added.
They drew me onward down some maze of corridors until we entered a room. I could tell from the openness, the echoes. My attempt to see through the holes at my mouth revealed the concrete block on which they’d displayed me when I arrived here.
He’d done nothing to me that time. Only scared me. This time...
From somewhere in front of me, he spoke. I raised my head.
“Jazmine, we have a rich client who wants to see things done to you. I don’t have all the details, but I think they want to see you hurt, in stages. You might think this is bad, but it’s not. Do you want to know why?”
Fuck, no, I don’t, you asshole. I curled my toes in, feeling the hardness of the concrete.
He poked my breast with his stick. “Nod, girl.”
I nodded.
“Most of the clients love the sex with the girls, along with the power games. They like having a slave who will do whatever they ask. The ones who like to watch shows can be a little different. In this one, I sense, maybe anger? You must give them screams and crying. Give them a big show. Yes?”
A show? Was he crazy? Tiredness sifted into my flesh, weighed down my limbs.
“Are you wondering why, Miss Jazmine? It’s because I think, at the end of this, you will not be happy.” He clicked his fingers. “You must make it last.”
