Beautiful Captivity (The Club #1)

Beautiful

CAPTIVITY

…

Ashleigh Townshend

© 2013 by Ashleigh Townshend. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

This is a work of fiction. Any names resembling any persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

Published by Lamplighter Books

Her

…

It’s dark. I hear voices, but they’re indistinguishable and the words disappear in the steady dripping
that seems to be coming from overhead. Wherever I am is damp, which I suppose explains the drip. I reach a hand out, but something stops me. I’m chained, some kind of metal manacles keeping me pinned to the wall. I flex my palm and let the back of my fingers brush against the surface. It’s stone. Also damp.

I don’t know what I’m wearing, but it isn’t much. The chill of the place aches in my bones. I’m too young to be chilled by a wet room.
Where am I?
Lights and sounds swim in my memory, and I vaguely recall a club, a guy, a bathroom. Did I take something? How did I get here? Why am I pinned?

There is a screech as a door opens and a faint hint of light comes through. I can’t see beyond the opening, but a silhouette appears in the doorway.

“We’re going to blindfold you now. And then you’ll be brought to your master. Don’t resist or it will be bad for you.”

The voice is deep and it’s clear he doesn’t speak English fluently. Although his words are clear, a deep accent underscores them and he speaks as if he’s practiced the words. Almost like when you watch a film and the star memorizes the dialogue, but clearly doesn’t know what it means.

Although my nature tells me to fight back, to argue, to attack, I realize I’m at a disadvantage. Assuming I was even physically able to break free from them, I have no idea where I am. I don’t even know how I got here.

The stranger bends close to me and undoes my shackles. My hands fall to my lap and he lifts me. I’m surprised that my body doesn’t move of its own accord.
How long have I been here?

He carries me out into the light. I try to keep my eyes open, to memorize the details of where they have held me, but my eyes burn from the brightness and I cannot hold them open. Tears sting me and I have to shut them, trying to remember, trying to understand.

HIM

…

The men are late. I was told ten o’clock and it’s nearly half past. We need to get the girl, get back to the house, and get her adjusted for her reveal tomorrow night.

There has been great interest. As soon as they sent the photographs, I knew she would be perfect. She’s tiny, but not frail. Weak enough to appeal to the men who frequent our business, but not too weak to provide what they seek. Her hair looks like dark mahogany velvet and it’s long enough. It will be well suited to either pulling or being wrapped around her throat. She is also young. The right age. Barely legal and hopefully as innocent as her blue eyes appear. The men like them unbroken.

We serve an elite clientele. The house, from the exterior, appears no different than other wealthy brownstones in the city, yet people who have the address understand that there is far more inside than a few apartments. We are selective in the women we accept. It is a dangerous business and we need discretion. We also need the kinds of girls who will not have anywhere to run.

I’m not happy that they’re late. We take schedules very seriously, but there is little I can say. They do the dirty work, so we don’t have to. In exchange, we pay them an obscene amount of money. This girl will more than make us back what we paid. I have a very good feeling about this. As long as they actually show up.

Her

…

They’re rough in the van. I don’t have to worry about my eyes, because they cover my head with some kind of bag. I can breathe, but it feels terrifying. I want to scream, to cry out, but before they covered my head, I saw the guns. It was nighttime and I could see little else, except that they were masked. I could never identify them.

I didn’t think this was a joke when I woke, but I believed it was a misunderstanding. Now I’m scared. This is something else, something I can’t comprehend. My hands have been tied again, behind my back, and the seriousness starts to truly sink in. I wish I knew why I was here, what I did. I can’t remember much.

I try to focus on my last memory – the lights and sounds. The lights are multicolored, spinning. The sounds are a mixture of voices, music, and thumping bass. It’s a club. It all starts to come back now. And the fear becomes even more real.

“Seems like an odd place for someone as lovely as you,” the man said from across the bar. He was dark, and he moved like a wild animal. I was turned on by him, but it felt wrong, dangerous.

“Sometimes you need to get wild,” I told him, playing along. Keith had just broken up with me, for not wanting to have sex, for holding true to my belief that my virginity should be special. We’d been dating since high school but it never felt right and, when I refused to rush it on the first weekend at college, he left. As if that was the last chance.

My new roommates had me out clubbing the next night and I was sitting in a bar, with my fake ID tucked securely in my tight pants, flirting with a man who was far older than me. And way sexier than Keith.

“Really? How wild do you like to get?”

He was flirting with me. And I liked it.

“I don’t know. What do you have in mind?” I wasn’t planning on sleeping with him, but I wasn’t a prude, either. I would be happy to do a little something. It would serve Keith right.

He ordered two shots and slid one down the bar, as he walked closer. “You’re very lovely,” he repeated.

“Thank you. For the compliment and the shot.” I downed it, and although it burned like hell, I said nothing. I was angry and Keith wasn’t going to be right. He’d told me I was an uptight bitch who would never have any fun, who could never satisfy a man anyway. Well, fuck him. Or actually… not.

“Would you like something a little stronger?” The man smiled and it was predatory. A part of me screamed out in my mind to leave, to find my roommates, but I didn’t. I just smiled and nodded.

“Before we do, would you mind if I took your picture? Like I said, you’re lovely.”

He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a photo. I was flattered. Dressed like a slut, I felt so uncomfortable, but I liked the way his eyes traveled over my body.

It was stupid to follow him to the back, to a table in a dark corner, but he was sexy and I was heartbroken. I never even asked his name.

I remember little else, except something in a packet, more drinks, and then the cold, damp room. I don’t think he touched me. I think I’m still a virgin. I’m just scared of what their intentions are.

HIM

…

Her body is fantastic. It’s the first thing I see when they take her from the van. Her head is covered and she’s bound, but the thin smock they have her dressed in is nearly transparent. She will be our bestseller. Her breasts are round, soft, pert.
I grow hard watching them rub against the fabric of the covering.
Yes, she will be great for business. Perhaps I will try her first.

I know the thought is ridiculous. Her sale came conditional. She’s been checked and confirmed a virgin. The auction for her included a very special rate for her first time. The final bidder has spent over a million for one night with her. More impressive was that the rest of the bidders maintained their bids as well, meaning she will be very, very busy in the first week. But the priority is her first night. Tomorrow. Her reveal to our customers.

The men lead her to me. She doesn’t make a sound. I’m satisfied, as I prefer them quiet. Complacent. Easy to bend to my will. If she were to show signs of struggle, I know that I could break her. Still, I prefer not to have to do so. It is messy and they go to our customers with their eyes deadened. Although the men pay for control, they want to believe the women desire to be there.

“She has been prepared?” I ask.

One of the men shakes his head. “There was not enough time. You accepted her faster than the others.”

I nod. Normally the auctions take days. As soon as her picture was uploaded to our site, the demand was higher than ever. It has not yet been a full twenty four hours.

“That is fine. But your fee will be prorated.”

He nods. “I understand.”

My assistant brings the case and the men check to see that the funds are there. Seventeen million dollars. Fortunately, she will earn it back within two weeks, based on the bids, but it is a fortune, even in our business.

I lead her to the limo, not wanting to talk to her yet. She shouldn’t know a thing until we arrive. I plan to have one of the other girls explain. Then I will meet with her.

She doesn’t make a sound for the entire ride. It’s the first time I’ve felt slightly guilty about what I do. I shut it out, though. It’s just business.

Her

…

A woman removes the bag over my head and my eyes adjust. The room is dim, only a small lamp on the table by the bed for illumination.

“We don’t have a lot of time. You need to be readied for him,” she says, as if this will make sense.

“Where am I?” I ask. I notice for the first time that my hands are no longer bound and flex them. I gaze down at myself. I don’t know what happened to my clothes, but I’m wearing nothing but a thin sheet of fabric.

“I’ll explain while I help you wash.”

She leads me into a bathroom, which would be a dream in different circumstances. A claw foot tub rests on pink marble tiles, and the steam from the bath makes the room humid and comforting. Despite everything, despite my fear, and what I’m wearing, I walk to the bath and slip into the perfectly warm water. I try to convince myself that everything happening to me is normal.

The woman pulls up a plush stool and sits beside me, filling the bath with a liquid that smells of lavender. “What’s your name?” she asks as she turns off the taps.

“Nichole.”

“Nichole, I’m Samantha. But outside of this room, I’m Raven.”

I take in her black hair and light skin. It’s a fitting name. “What’s outside this room?”

“We’re the most elite fantasy service in the city. New York is full of men with money, and sometimes women, and we provide what other services… lack.”

“What do we provide?”

She smiles. “How did you get here?”

“I don’t remember,” I confess. “I was at a club, I think. I remember a club. And a man. I was angry at my boyfriend.”

“I was on vacation. My parents wanted alone time, and they took me from the beach when our cruise was docked. It was nearly eight years ago.”

I can’t imagine being taken and being somewhere against my will for eight years. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-four.”

“So you were only sixteen? But that’s illegal.” It’s not possible. There are laws.

She laughs, a soft tinkling laugh that seems both out of place with her in general and in this place. “Like I said… we provide something other services lack.”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone,” I tell her and she takes a towel down from the door, handing it to me before she speaks.

“Get out and dry off. It won’t be long and there are things you need to know.”