I squirm in my seat. My heart's racing at the very thought of being bought. I won't lie to myself. If I knew it was safe...
“That’s why I’m telling you this,” Carla says, though I’m barely listening, lost in my thoughts. “Because you can get paid... if you're into that sort of thing, that is. I think you’d enjoy it. I’m pretty sure you need a good hard fuck. Or two. And I know you need the money right now.”
My ears perk up, and my heart stills in shock. Is it really that obvious? “How did you know-”
She shakes her head, dismissing my worries. “You’re new here, and these clothes are expensive. You don’t drive your car to work, though I know you have one. And when I gave you that purse, you acted as if I’d given you a five million dollar engagement ring with how scared you were of losing it.” Carla shakes her head again. “I might look like an airhead, but I’m not.” She reaches across the table and gently places her hand atop of mine. “I want to help you.”
I want to help you strikes something in me. My eyes focus on the table, and I’m absorbed by my thoughts.
All of what she’s said sounds exciting and erotic, and being dominated is something I crave more than anything else. But the reason for it is dark and twisted. Just thinking about it causes a horrific scene that used to be a constant in my night terrors to flash in front of my eyes. It’s been years, and I thought I was over this. But I’m not.
I can never get over what he did to me.
“Please stop,” I beg, my voice choked with pain as I struggle in vain. I hear my own voice pleading over and over in my head and it sends shivers down my spine. I close my eyes and try to ignore the memory. His heavy body on top of me. The smell of his foul breath as he told me to be quiet.
“I told you to be quiet, you little bitch!”
I clear my throat and breathe out deeply. I focus on remembering where I am today, and how it’s in the past. But the sound of his voice won’t go away. The memory flashes before my eyes. My body tenses remembering how I looked around for my father. How I screamed out for him to help me.
I tried to fight back, but it was useless. My heart beats rapidly at the memory, pumping cold blood through my veins. I wish I could forget.
“Dah?” Carla asks.
I jerk my hands out of hers, startled. My breathing is ragged, and anger tightens my chest.
“Is something wrong?” Carla is peering at me with concern, and I’m freaked out at how I so easily spaced in an instant.
I clear my throat and unclench my fists that I hadn’t realized were balled up. That fucking bastard. He’d taken so much from me, and hadn’t had to pay for it. When I told my father about what Uncle Tommy did, he just laughed, not believing his brother capable of such a horrible thing. He chose him over me, and he refused to take me to the hospital. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about what you’ve told me and how interesting it all sounds,” I lie. I’ve never told anyone other than my parents. I’m ashamed. I know I have no reason to be, but I am.
Carla looks unconvinced. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I wave away her concern and swallow the bitterness that forms in my throat. I’ve never forgiven my father for not believing me about what Uncle Tommy did to me. The incident caused so much friction in the family that my mom ended up divorcing him. That had been awful with all the screaming, arguing and accusations flying about. I liked to believe that my mom cared the most about what happened to me. After I saw how she focused on what assets she would get in the divorce instead of making sure Uncle Tommy paid for what he did, I began to feel like she’d just used me as an excuse to leave my father because she wasn’t happy in her marriage. “Please continue.”
Carla hesitates for a moment, studying me closely. She doesn’t buy it, but I can’t let her know what happened to me. I don’t want her to get spooked. I give her a nod, and then she finally continues. “So anyway, if someone does buy you, half of the final bid goes to the club. But when the minimum bid is five hundred thousand dollars, you won’t find much to complain about as far as the fees go.”
I gape with shock. Five hundred thousand dollars? It takes a long moment for that to even register. It’s a good distraction from where my mind was going. I don’t want to dwell on the past. I can’t.
“That much money?” I ask with disbelief in my voice. “You’ve got to be kidding!” I can’t believe they’d pay that much money.
Carla shakes her head. “I told you, these men are powerful and wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. For some of them, a million is like a dollar bill. But that’s not even half of it. They pay a hundred grand a month already for their membership; these men are absolutely fucking loaded.”
I’m too stunned to speak. Everything that I could ever want is right at my fingertips... if I could debase myself enough to become someone’s sex slave for a month. It’s an idea I should find shameful, an idea you’d think would repulse me to my very core even, but I find myself… craving it.
I need this.
Years after my traumatic experience, I’d grown up with the desire to be dominated. Which is ironic, because my uncle was never harsh or rough. He held me down, but then I gave up. The things I need to get off are highly specific.
At first these feelings brought me shame, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to be controlled by a powerful man to get off. There was simply no other way. This caused friction with some of my partners. My first boyfriend couldn't understand why I wanted him to force himself on me, why I wanted to be choked and slapped around while being fucked mercilessly. He could never know how I’d been violated, and how the very act had perverted me in ways I didn’t dare say to anyone. I didn’t understand either. I felt sick after every sexual encounter with anyone. With the help of a therapist, I started to cope with everything, past and present. I need to be dominated, but I need to know it’s for pleasure and know that I have control. That I can stop it at any time.
“Some Subs and Doms wear masks to protect their identities,” Carla explains, cutting into my thoughts, “so you can even opt for a mask if it makes you feel more comfortable.” She grins deviously. “It adds enormously to the spice and sizzle of a sexual encounter.”
Unconsciously, I think about being dominated by a masked man, held down and fucked until my insides are raw. The uneasiness from my memories starts slipping away. This could be good for me. This could help me in a way I’d never considered. I’m broken. I know I am. No matter how many times my therapist says otherwise, I know I’m broken. I don’t want to live like this, but I don’t have a choice. And maybe this is just what I need. A Dominant who knows what he’s doing, someone who can give me exactly what I need. I can picture it, and all the dark things that make my pussy clench and nipples harden play before my eyes.
“Dah?” Carla asks.
I snatch my hand away from my neck, which I hadn’t realized I’d been clutching while I was engaged in my fantasy, and shake my head. “This club sounds so crazy.”
Carla flashes a wide smile. “'Cause it is! Trust me, you’re going to love it.”
Chapter 5