Somewhere in Chicago…
The chains chafed my wrists, making me wish I were still in my cage. Though it lacked privacy, the cage at least had a bed, and in there I wasn’t restrained with my arms above my head. But I was in Domenico’s domain. The small bedroom-like area was created from a previous office. There was a lamp and a mattress with a blanket, but those were the only creature comforts. The rest of the room retained both the look and smell of the rest of the decaying structure.
With no way to tell time, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been there. All I knew was that I was tired. Being held against my will caused spikes in my adrenaline, and the subsequent crashes left me drained. The small panic attacks had lessened over the past few weeks, but there was an undercurrent of strife, and I feared what would happen if things got out of control.
I stared at the bed, wishing I were on it. All that did was cause the memories of him inside me to come slamming down. The absolute owning of my body by him and him alone. The way he made me come undone.
Feelings that I shouldn’t have with his touch, but I did.
Feelings I drowned in as he consumed me.
I am Domenico’s…for now.
And that was the thought that always sent questions spiraling out of control and a spike of fear to run through me.
I was a caged bird. A pet awaiting a sentence bound to be more grim than any fairy-tale horror.
Another day, another dollar, and another strip in front of a horde of men. Hopefully more than a few, but working in the shitty, low-income part of town wasn’t the most enticing for big spenders. Being a stripper, every dollar I made counted.
When I was a little girl, the reality of taking my clothes off in front of half-drunk men was never even a possibility. Not even as a teenager, but life doesn’t always go the way you planned.
“Belle, you’re on in five,” Al called out.
I caught his eye in the mirror and nodded. Returning to my reflection, I fluffed up my hair and added some lip gloss. I slipped on my six-inch patent-leather platform heels and stood, making a quick adjustment to my blue mini dress, perking my breasts up in the deep V of the collar.
Castle Lounge was a topless strip bar, and it drew in a decent crowd despite the lower-income community that surrounded it. Chances were the crowd would probably grow larger if it was full nudity, but it wasn’t like the little thong covered much anyway. Tips were always good, but that had a lot to do with my looks: bright-blue eyes to lure them in, an hourglass figure to make them salivate, and olive skin they could envision their cum contrasting against with not a blemish in sight.
And all of it, including my name, was a lie.
“Give it up for Belle!” Al’s voice boomed, signaling my arrival.
The lights were blinding, but the path to the pole was one I was familiar with. One step with an exaggerated sway of my hips was followed by another as I ran my hands up and down my body. A little twirl, a dip, add in a flip of my hair, and the whistles and catcalls boomed out over the music.
The seats around the stage were crowded as they were every Friday night. A good-sized crowd also occupied the tables filling out the room. There were regulars I recognized as well as new faces.
I let the music flow through me, using it to lure them all in, to hook them. My eyes popped wide, and I gave a look of mock surprise when the top of my dress slipped down, exposing my breasts.
Their eyes raked over me, the lust coming off them intoxicating me, driving me to tease them more. Each undulation of my hips and parting of my lips cast a spell on the men.
The harder they were, the more bills they threw my way. A smile here, a wink there, a dip right in front of their faces.
Shake my hips and flirt with every man who looked at me.
It was all a play for power, and on the stage, I made the rules. I was the queen of the castle, and they bowed before me.
I wrapped my fingers around the pole and gave it a sinuous twist. Then I let my weight drop at my hip and spun around.
On the pole was where I felt free. All my thoughts slipped away as I let go.
Dancing had been an escape when I was younger, but I never envisioned I’d be doing it on a stripper pole for dollars to make ends meet at a topless bar.
Each rock of my hips against the bar pressed the hard metal against my clit. I bit down against my lip as I did it again and again.
I got off on their lust, on the power over them. They couldn’t touch me unless I said—only look and want and fantasize.
I made the rules.
Slow rocks of my hips as I pushed the dress down my torso, a swirl of my hips as the dress stretched over them, and a slow bend at the waist as I pushed it down to my ankles.
I could feel dozens of men staring at me, at the place they all wanted to be. Standing, I kicked the dress to the back of the stage, then grabbed the pole again.
That was when I spotted them from across the room, their eyes glued to my body as I swung around the pole. A jolt of fear pulsed through me and I lost my concentration, landing on the stage wrong. My knees hurt, but I pushed past the pain as I spread them wide for the hungry eyes of an overweight, middle-aged man. My hips jutted out, gyrating as my hands moved up my torso until they cupped my breasts. I gripped them tight, my gaze never leaving theirs, and straightened both my middle fingers.
They could go fuck themselves. I made the rules, and I wasn’t going to let them scare me.
They stood out in the crowd of lust-crazed men pining for just a taste of my skin or a bat of my eyelashes in their direction. Fuel for their next masturbation session to ease the growing tightness in their balls. Most barely made it to their cars before their cocks were out and they were stroking them with fervor.
The two I was currently flipping off and glaring at weren’t there for the show. Messengers in crisp black suits, their gazes were impassive, though I was certain the dark blond one twitched his lips up into a smirk.
I turned my attention back to the men around me, making sure to pay special attention to each one. Legs in splits, ass in their face, a wide-eyed bite of my bottom lip for that innocent edge, though I was far from innocent. I had long ago learned sex was a way to get what I wanted.
Bills flew upon the stage along with a few business cards and words of pleading. Then there were the offers—marriage, sugar daddy, money for the night—that I ignored. I wasn’t looking for any of that.
I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew it was none of them. Leaning down, I gathered up my dress as Jimmy picked up everything my admirers had dropped and cleared the stage for the next girl.
I slipped the blue mini-dress over my head. It barely covered my ass and tits, so it wasn’t for any sense of modesty, but I knew the power of clothing and how to use it to tease.
Angel’s music cued up and the crowd’s attention snapped back to the stage. I could still feel the lingering gazes of a few men, including the two dipshits at the back wall. I refused to let them intimidate me, though inside I wasn’t as confident, and I headed up to the bar for a drink.
“Hey, Mac,” I said, signaling to my favorite man in the place.
He held up a finger as he finished with a tray of drinks. A blinding smile met me a minute later as he turned his attention to me.
“Water?” he asked, and I nodded. I liked watching his muscles flex as he moved around. We had an attraction and had shared more than a few nights of fun, but neither of us was looking for more. I trusted Mac more than most, and that still amounted to little more than the trust I had for my worst enemy.