Page 21 of God of Monsters

We come to a stop in front of a tall sculpture of a naked man, one very familiar from history books. “The Statue of David.”

“Not the statue, that was destroyed, along with every other relic, of course.” She reaches out to run her finger over the tip of his manhood. “Good likeness, wouldn’t you say?”

Having spent my entire life within the walls of Szolen, luxuries are something I’ve grown accustomed to, but aside from the statue of Szolen himself, nowhere in the community are there relics carved from marble like this. This woman seems to live inside her own bubble, while the rest of the world scrapes at the edges.

“You allow men inside this place to sleep with them? Strangers from the outside who could easily overtake this place?”

A chuckle flies out of her and dies to a sigh. “Your father was a soldier, wasn’t he? Only the daughter of a soldier thinks of such things. Mine was, as well. Fought in the Vietnam war. Therefore, I’m not as stupid as you seem to think.”

With a jerk of her head, we keep on through the house, up a staircase beneath where a crystal chandelier hangs as yet another reminder of this absurdity.

The room she shows me to is large enough to fit two of mine back home, with thick, crushed velvet covers and crisp, white sheets. Long drapes have been pulled back around the view of the waterfall outside, and the scent of lavender lulls me into a long-awaited calm.

“There are clothes in the armoire, and I’ll have the cook bring you something to eat. Perhaps you’d like to bathe first, my dear. I’ll have Yasmin come wash you.”

At the mention of a bath, I twist around to find an adjacent bathroom, more elaborate than I’ve ever personally laid eyes on, with beautiful mosaic tiles leading up to a large porcelain tub.

“I’m capable of washing myself.”

“Of course you are. But there is pleasure in being washed thoroughly. You have the freedom to come and go as you please. Enjoy my home and all its amenities.”

As subtle as I can muster, I lift my attention toward the beastly man waiting at the door. “And your men? Can they be trusted?”

“More than you’re accustomed to, I’d wager to guess. My men are aware that if they so much as lay a finger on one of my girls, said finger will be severed.” The moment the words fall from her mouth, I shift my attention to Henry’s hands, where all ten are intact and accounted for. “Men are such simple creatures, really. Feed their basic needs, and they’re quite content.”

There’s something out of balance here, though. How does this small, fragile, old woman keep these men under her control? If they wanted, they could band together, kill her off and live like kings. Even as sheltered as I may be, I’m no stranger to such primal motives.

“You’re overthinking, dear. I can practically hear the wheels turning inside your head. Get some rest. Eat. Bathe. Everything will make sense, I promise.”

* * *

Cool water trickles down my skin, as Yasmin drags a cloth over my back. Arms crossed over my breasts, I lean forward, every nerve alive with discomfort.

“Nudity is nothing unusual here. You don’t have to be shy.” She works the lavender soap into a lather and paints gentle circles across my back.

“Do you …. I mean, are you happy here?”

“I grew up in a small hive that was raided by marauders. I’d take this over the Deadlands, any day of the week.”

“You work for her? Madame Beaumont? As a …” Clearing my throat chokes back the word I hesitate to say.

“Whore? Only when she asks.”

“She asks?”

“Of course. No one is forced to have sex here.”

“Then, why would you?”

“It’s the condition of staying here. We all pay our way, and in return, we live better than most.”

I can’t presume to know how much worse the Deadlands could possibly get, considering my experiences so far of having been nearly raped by a Rager and picked up by a band of criminals.

“It’s a pretty fair setup, if you ask me,” the girl adds.

“How does she keep the men in line?”

“Henry, mostly. He’s extremely loyal to her. And all the men respect him. Just seems to work out.”