Page 12 of Savage Desires

I chuckle at how foolish he is. There is no such thing as a completely anonymous payment if someone wants to find out bad enough. There are always people like me who know how to follow digital breadcrumbs. But with Todd's invitation, a mask, no names, and his bank account… it could work.

"Is the auction at Mecca?"

He shakes his head. "No… it's not in the city."

"Well, Todd, you're proving to be quite helpful," I say, flicking the butane torch off and setting it down. "Tell me everything you know about the auction, and we can part ways quickly."

"Y-you'll let me go?" he asks, shocked.

I smile at his naivety, but my smile isn't a reassuring one. "Something like that. Now talk."

CHAPTER FOUR

WILLOW

The hours slip by too quickly. Saturday comes too soon, and the reality of what's to come weighs heavily on my spirit. I'm not sure if knowing what's about to happen is better or worse. In some ways, it's good. I can reassure Georgie and remind her to keep surviving no matter what. She feels guilty about not telling the other girls that are about to be sold, but I convinced her it's better this way. Not everyone would be able to hold their tongue when they find out they're about to be sold for slaughter like a farm animal. If she tells them, it will only take one word from one of them to end with Georgie being punished or worse.

I'm not sure what time the guards will come for us. It's impossible to track time without windows or clocks. The only thing we can use to discern time is when they feed us, but we haven't been fed since yesterday, and I'm not sure what meal that was. Time means nothing here. Hours bleed into days, days into weeks, weeks to months, and months into years. I can only guess the month because the last event I worked upstairs was Valentine's Day. It could be March… maybe April?

"I hate this," Georgie says sadly.

"I know. Don't worry about us. You're allowed to be selfish. I want you to be selfish."

She sighs. "I had a dream that the police raided the club and saved us all."

Dreams are dangerous things for people like us. She still has faith in the judicial system. After seeing corrupt cops, lawyers, judges, congressmen, and more, I have zero faith in any of them coming to our rescue. Too many people who are supposed to help people are monsters in disguise.

"There are no knights in shining armor coming to save us."

"I know… I wish there was someone, though."

"It would take a monster worse than them to help us. Someone who has no fear and is willing to destroy all of them to save us. I don't think anyone like that exists outside of movies and books," I say wistfully.

It would be a lie if I didn't think about some dark hero killing our captors and setting us free. It's a fantasy I only indulge in when something happens that makes me wish I was strong enough to hurt them myself. I know I could never win against even the weakest of them. I'm only five foot two, and I'm too thin. As fierce as I feel inside sometimes, my outside is too weak to do anything to save myself. I hate it because I used to be so strong. A trained fighter who could take down grown men as a teenage girl. Now, the only thing I can do is obey. Surviving has always been contingent on obeying.

Unfortunately, even being a good little slave hasn't been enough to save me from my fate. One misstep that wasn't my fault, and that's it. I should hate Kisten for being the catalyst of my demise, but I don't. Those few moments with him are the best I've had since before I was taken. I have no idea who he is or why he was at a club like Mecca, but deep down, I know he's a good man.

As my client was whipping me, more than a dozen people stood by and watched. They didn't know I didn't consent to the scene, so I shouldn't blame them for not intervening. But I do. Even the most masochistic person wouldn't enjoy being whipped like that. No human would. It's not the first time I've had a public scene that went beyond what anyone could consider consensual, and never has anyone stepped in.

Until Kisten.

He didn't care that I hadn't used a safe word—not that I had the luxury of using one. I could have screamed red until one of the observers stopped things, but the punishment for that would've been ten times worse than what the client was dishing out. I've seen what happens when someone tries to escape a scene with the club safe word. I decided then and there to never, ever test it.

"Then I'll start praying for a monster worse than the ones that own us," Georgie murmurs.

"I can see the blood running down the walls when he ends them all. He wouldn't go easy. He'd make them hurt as he kills them…" I close my eyes, visualizing the violent images, enjoying them way more than I should. I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, I'm startled awake when the door slams against the wall. Vlad stands in the doorway, taking up the whole space.

"Let's go."

Georgie and I both get up and stand in front of him, waiting. He turns without a word, and we dutifully follow. He leads us to the room where we're made to get ready for clients. The other girls are already inside, standing in a line, awaiting instruction. We line up with them and wait.

It doesn't take long before I hear the tell-tale sound of Madame's heels coming from the hallway. She breezes into the room wearing skintight leather pants and a corset that leaves nothing to the imagination. She's only missing the whip, and she'd look like a sluttier version of Catwoman. I've seen her wield a whip, so it's not that far of a stretch. She walks in front of us with a look of disinterest.

"There's an exclusive event tonight at the mansion. Lucy, Reghan, Willow, Tabitha, and Stacia will be going to the mansion. I want full body prep, makeup, and hair. You've got three hours. The rest of you will work in the VIP room. Georgie, make sure they're ready on time. You're serving, and you'll clean up the VIP rooms between clients."

"Yes, Madame," Georgie says.

Madame strides out of the room, leaving Vlad and Martin guarding the door. As soon as she's gone, we let out a collective breath. We move into the shower room to avoid the steely gaze of our guards.

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