Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
The car slides up outside the Embassy, and I am brought back to cool reality as Marcus opens his door. The air has a chill in it, too much for my scantily clad frame. I need a coat or a stole or something, but the only fur on my body is connected to a plug in my ass—and there’s no chance of being able to wrap that around me in a way that will warm me up.
Marcus opens my door for me and offers his hand. He acts like such a gentleman. You could truly forget that he is a ruthless kidnapper and probably a murderer.
I smile up into his face out of reflex, not because I am pleased about any of this. The motion of getting out of the car makes the plug really move about inside me and gives me an unfortunate pulse of sensation. My ass is starting to get used to being filled, and that means that the feeling of the plug moving isn’t entirely unpleasant. I don’t want to get turned on right now. I need to be able to think.
He leads me into the main foyer of the Embassy, where the other rich and impossibly corrupt people he calls both friend and enemy are milling around. There are plenty of young women being degraded here. I see two of them bound together and being used as a tabletop. They are entirely nude and covered in sushi. Fish and rice and little pieces of seaweed cover strategic portions of their bodies, at least until the ravenous male members pick them off.
There is a look in the eyes of the kept women here. A sort of glaze. I wonder if they are content and happy, or if they are simply in some state of deep dissociation, doing what they have to do. It is hard to tell the public expression of submission from one of reluctant subjugation.
As Marcus and I enter, the patrons of the Embassy all turn to look at us. One after another, they swerve and rotate, and their gazes roam over us. I feel very exposed, very observed. The glittering eyes of these creatures are devouring me, and I am afraid there will be nothing left once they are done with me.
I press closer to Marcus, but he does not allow it. He moves away and nudges me just a little bit away from him. Just enough to put me thoroughly on display.
Something is happening. I can feel it in the air. There is anticipation where there should be nothing but mild interest at best. They have cleared a space in the middle of the floor, I notice. And Marcus is guiding me into that space.
“My little pet is a very smart girl,” he announces. “And like all smart things, she is trouble.”
My stomach starts to do flips. I look at him askance, wondering what the hell is going on. He looks back, and I see something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. A coolness, perhaps even a bitterness. Or is it vengeance? Whatever it is, it makes my blood freeze in my veins.
“Charlie,” he says, using my name in a way that makes me feel immediately exposed. I know all these people could probably find my name without too much trouble. They probably already know exactly who I am. But the fact that he just used my name as if they all have some access to it, that freaks me out. It’s the little things, in every situation, I am discovering.
“Yeah?”
I hear a snort of amusement from somewhere in the crowd. Most of these people probably demand to be called Master or whatever, but I guess Marcus hasn’t trained me that well. He’s blindsiding me, and I am not going to play along. My gut is twisting with nerves. All I want to do is bolt for the door, but I am certain that would only precipitate an attack of some kind. I am prey, and I am cornered.
“Charlie tried to turn me into Libraryleaks yesterday,” he says.
An absolute roar of laughter goes up around the room. My vision is a blur of open mouths and toothy grins flashing white between crimson red lips. The merriment goes on for such a long time that I have to imagine this is news to the assembled people—which means he got them all to come here for some secret drama. These people actively feed on the crises Marcus seems adept at generating in their midst.
There is silence finally, in which people seem to want to see how I am going to react. I haven’t said or done anything yet. I suppose I’m frozen.
I look around, and then I look at Marcus. Fuck this guy. Fuck everything about him. He could have handled this privately. But he wants to make a spectacle out of me. If it’s a show he wants, it’s a show he’s going to get.