Escape From Paradise (15 page)

I screamed, coming almost immediately. Oh, God, he felt so good. It was a glorious, delicious feeling to be having sex because I’d chosen it and wanted it. I ground myself against him, needing more as the feeling of pleasure waned and grew again.

“More,” I said.

Josef stroked harder, slamming into me with his solid hips until my nerve endings were exploding again, and a grin shone on his sexy lips. His worries about not being able to make me feel good were being put to rest.

Josef leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. “Let me in your ass,” he whispered.

“No way,” I said said with a breathy laugh.

I flipped us so I was on top and I rode him, feeling him so deep. My third and final orgasm hit me with a violent shudder, my head falling back in abandon. He grasped my hips, his arms flexing. I felt him inside me, rocketing with his own pleasure release as the tendons in his neck stretched taut and he grunted. He was beautiful.

Our movements slowed and we were both panting. Fear and panic set in almost immediately as reality came crashing down.

“Oh, fuck!” I whisper-yelled, lifting off his softening cock and pushing him out of my bed. “What have we done? Shit.
Shit!
”

Josef fell into his bed like a lump. In the dark I could see his tired smile.

“It was worth it,” he said.

I huffed a laugh through my nose and shook my head. I was too scared to joke. Six months of sexual tension had been relieved, and raging bulls couldn’t have pulled me away from him during the ten minutes we’d been going at it. But now…now I was filled with fear.

In my mind, I ran through all sorts of scenarios. Marco and his staff had so much to take care of. Maybe nobody was manning the camera room right now. It was possible nobody would ever know.

I let out a deep breath. Nobody was breaking down the door to reprimand us, which was a good sign. Josef had already fallen asleep in his bed, breathing evenly and harder than normal in his peaceful state. He wasn’t at all concerned about punishment. I was being paranoid. Again, I let out a breath.

Nobody would find out. Everything was going to be okay.

The next morning when Jin and Mia came back to the slave quarters our breakfast tray had not been delivered, which was strange. A couple hours passed and it was clear they’d forgotten to feed us with Marco being gone. Nobody said a word. We went about our business, Josef doing his light workout in the corner while the three of us girls did our own things—showering, reading, painting nails. Sounded much more glamorous than it was. We were bored.

Not to mention the awkwardness between Josef and I. We’d yet to look at one another. I felt guilty, like I’d taken advantage of him. Not that he’d seemed to mind, but that was besides the point.

When noontime arrived and nobody came to get us for lunch I started to feel sick, both from hunger and nerves.

I met Josef’s eyes for one brief moment. I think we were both communicating the same thing:
They know
. He appeared resigned, while I began to panic. I forced myself to curl up on my mattress as if napping, and tried not to look guilty. My mind raced. Maybe we weren’t caught. Maybe something had happened to Marco. The thought of him being killed sent me on a roller coaster of emotion. I was elated at the thought we might be freed, then I felt guilty for being glad he might be dead since he’d been so nice, then I was pissed at myself for referring to my
captor
as
nice
. What the hell was wrong with me? I refused to go Stockholmy on Marco. I would never fall in love with him. It was more of a paternal feeling, which was just as disturbing in a different way.

Those were the screwed up kinds of thoughts I was having when the door to our quarters finally opened. We all got up and moved toward the entrance. I was expecting to see Luis, but it was Marco standing there with a stern face, Perla behind him. The other four of us fell to our knees with our heads down. My heart pounded.

Please don’t know, please don’t know…

In his customary calm, level voice, Marco said, “Angel, venga conmigo.” He was telling me to come with him. I was expected to recognize basic Spanish commands at that point, so I moved forward on my hands and knees.

I raised my eyes just enough to make sure I wouldn’t run into anything, and I saw Perla pass me, going into the quarters with a tray of food. My stomach grumbled with a gnawing emptiness. I reached up and grabbed my collar from the table at the entrance, securing it around my neck with shaking hands. Wearing a pink silk and lace camisole and matching undies, I crawled through the villa behind Marco. He led me to a wing of the house where I’d never been. Two armed men guarded the hall. What was going on? I was so nervous. Where was he taking me?

He stopped in front of a door and I watched his shiny black shoes turn to face me. I sat back on my heels, placed my hands on my thighs and kept my head down.

“Angel…my golden trinket…” His voice was even softer and lower than normal, which filled me with dread. “Do you think there is anything that happens in my home I don’t know about?”

My whole body became as heavy as lead and the breath I’d been inhaling got stuck in my lungs. A deep tremble began inside me, starting in my belly and radiating outward until my hands shook and my jaw chattered. I tried to clamp my teeth together. The hall was so quiet I could hear my breaths as they started back, practically hyperventilating through my nose.

“
Yo sé que tu hablas español. Siempre lo he sabido.
”
I know you speak Spanish. I’ve always known.

So lightheaded…I felt my weight dip to the side and I caught myself. My body wanted to pass out from fear overload.

He knew. Of course he knew. He’d probably read every article and seen every newscast about my disappearance. He would have read about my college major. I’d been playing stupid all along for no reason. A burning sensation shot through my sinuses, behind my eyes, making my nose want to run, and my throat need to swallow. My body was trying to cry.

No
. No tears. I kept my head down and swallowed hard.

In Spanish Marco said, “We will no longer converse in English. You will speak only Spanish, even to the other slaves. Do you understand?”

“Sí, Master.” The words tumbled out quickly. I was so terrified I would have done anything, agreed to anything he said.

“Come with me,” he ordered in Spanish. “I have something to show you.”

I heard buttons being pressed on a wall panel, and the door clicked open. I followed Marco into a high-tech room filled with a static ringing from hundreds of television monitors.

“You may look,” Marco said, again in Spanish, and I knew that’s all I’d hear from now on. I wondered if I’d ever hear or speak English again.

I looked up and held in a gasp. Every freaking corner of the villa was being watched. A man sat in front of the screens with an earpiece and a gun, watching every movement on the property.

“This room is never empty, Angel,” Marco crooned. “Nothing escapes me.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” whispered, and my voice cracked. I knew I was speaking out of turn, so I wasn’t surprised when Marco smacked me across the face.

I dropped my eyes and held my sore cheek. Marco put a gentle hand on top of my head.

“Watch with me,” he said.

I slowly lifted my eyes. Marco nodded to the man, who pushed a button, and a blank screen came to life. It was mostly dark, but my eyes focused on the moving figures and I had to clasp a hand hard over my mouth. It was Josef and I fucking. He turned the volume up. We were
loud
. I couldn’t believe that was me—primal, graceful, wild.

“Hmm…” Marco made a sound of interest when I came in the video for the third time. “You are beautiful when you take your pleasure, Angel. Why is it that you do not come for my patrons?”

I bit my lip and dropped my eyes. I couldn’t tell him the truth…that I refused to enjoy them, even in the few instances when the sex was decent. I couldn’t tell him that his patrons disgusted me, the way they looked through me, and used me. That I felt strangely sexy all the time, but not because of them.

“Do I treat you poorly?” he asked.

“No, Master.”

He was thoughtful and quiet for a moment.

“I thought if I allowed you to keep your few, precious things…your language…your books, you might be more comfortable, but all it has done is made you hold on to the past. You must let it go, Angel. You will never leave my home. I have spoiled you. The others…” His voice trailed off, as if gathering his thoughts about the other slaves. “They came from poor circumstances. Terrible lives. They were grateful when I took them in—grateful to me. But with you…” He touched my head. “I wanted to win you over. For you to see how good life can be for you here. But you cling to your past and cannot see the beauty in front of you. What must I do to win your loyalty, Angel?”

I looked at him, and I swore his eyes held a sort of desperation, or maybe exasperation. I bit my lip, unable to respond because I had no answer to that question.

“Do you know what my business partners do in cases like this? They sell their slaves to rougher masters who can handle them. Shall I sell you?”

“No! Please!”

“Other masters drug their slaves. Make them rely on them to feed their addiction. Those slaves will do anything to make their masters happy. Is that what you want? Do I need to drug you?”

“No!” Panic flooded me at the thought of losing my mental facilities to an addiction. “Master, please. No drugs!”

“I fear you must learn the hard way.”

A sound escaped the back of my throat. I wanted to speak out again, to apologize and beg, but I held my tongue as he continued.

“There is no reason why you should not enjoy the attentive men I choose for you. From now on, if you are too stubborn not to come for my patrons and you find yourself needing release in the evening hours, you must practice self-control. Or, if you’re willing to swallow your leftover pride, you may call out to me and I will be notified. I will send someone of my choosing to pleasure you. How does that sound?”

Awful. Like it would never work.

“Bueno, Maestro.” It was so strange to speak Spanish to him, but I did. “I will never, ever touch Josef or myself again. I swear—”

“Silencio.” His voice. So soft. It sent a chill down my back because I knew what was next.

“It’s time for your punishment.”

He let the words settle over me, making my breathing ragged, tremors of sickening anticipation lancing through me.

“Vamos.”

When he said let’s go, I followed, crawling, terrified of what was to come. It would be worse than the belt, that much was certain. Would they cane me? Scar me?

All for three orgasms? Josef was wrong. It wasn’t worth it. Not to me. I could never let myself get to that desperate state again.

When we got to the punishment room I felt numb and stiff all over. I don’t know how I got myself to crawl inside the dark, creepy room with its black walls and gleaming instruments.

I sat at Marco’s feet barely containing my urge to grab ahold of his ankle and beg for mercy.

“Are you ready, Angel?” he asked in Spanish. Always in Spanish now. I missed my mother tongue already.

I needed to answer, but all that came out was a strangled whimper as I shook my head.

“Look up, beautiful.”

Slowly, warily, I raised my eyes and I nearly vomited. Two chains hung from the ceiling. In the chains was Josef. His arms were spread and he stood on the balls of his feet with his calf muscles flexed. Naked.

My eyes shot to Marco and he petted my head.

“Don’t worry, Angel. You will feel no pain.”

My head whipped back to Josef, his back to me, his head hanging, his muscles tensed. Yes, I would. I would feel pain, and Marco knew it.

“What do you think?” Marco asked me. “Ten lashes for every orgasm the two of you had? Forty total?”

“No, Master, please! I’m sorry!” I threw myself on his feet now, pressing my cheeks to his shoes, hugging around his ankles.

Luis pulled me off him and forced me back on my heels.

With a nod of his head, the giant, nameless man who I thought of as Brutus, stepped forward. The man who whipped me. The man who people only spoke to in nods. A big, scary, hairy bastard. He held a thin, leather riding crop in his hand, and with a
whizzing
sound he whacked Josef across the middle of his back with it. Josef hissed through his teeth and clenched his fists. I covered my mouth to hold back pleas to make it stop. I tried looking away, but Luis pushed my face back up to the horrid spectacle.

With each lash Josef’s resolve weakened and his pain-filled noises grew louder. Red markings began to show, vivid across his smooth brown skin. Moisture filled my eyes, but didn’t fall. The worst moment was when someone murmured “twenty” and I realized we were only half-way through. It felt like he’d been hit a hundred times already.

I wanted it to end more than I’d wanted my own whipping to end six months ago. This was all my fault. This is what my stubbornness had caused. Josef’s knees gave out after the thirtieth hit and his holler was so sad, like a young boy. Brutus kept going, cracking Josef across the shoulder blades with a sickening sound.