Elena nods in agreement. “Of course. We don’t harbor disobedient girls here.” She raises the crop. “Would you like to do it? Or shall I?”
“I’ll do it,” the rich guy interjects.
The man I’d bitten stares at him like his favorite treat had just been stolen from his grasp. “No,” he says mulishly. “She bit me. I get to do the punishing around here.”
“As much as I’d love to watch,” Rich Guy drawls, “I have a feeling it’d be a pretty fucking pathetic show. I said I’ll do it.”
“You rich guys are all the same,” the other man says hatefully. “Think you run the world just because you have a little more cash than the rest of us.”
“A little more?” Rich Guy grins at him. “That’s just wishful thinking, man.”
Elena considers Rich Guy. After a few seconds, she nods. “Of course, Mr. Brutal.” She hands him the crop.
Mr. Brutal. I almost laugh, because I recognize the fucking name.
Drake Brutal is one of the big tech guys in New Bristol. He runs one of the biggest software firms. I don’t particularly care about tech, but it’s hard to escape the name when you’re reading the news—or when you’re at university, surrounded by people who wish they were hotshot tech types.
I knew he’d be a dick, but I didn’t figure he’d be the kind of guy who slums it with cheap whores.
“Oh, come on, Elena,” the other guy whines. “I’m here all the time. Why should he get to punish her?”
“For fuck’s sake. Can’t you take a goddamn hint?” Brutal complains, only to turn around and punch the guy right in the jaw. “Get out of here before I do worse to you than you should’ve done to her.”
The guy cries out, stumbling back a few steps. “What the fuck? I should—I should sue you!”
Elena seems to realize the situation is getting out of hand because she steps between the two men. “Please calm down. Nobody is suing anyone. Unless you truly want to tell law enforcement that you were soliciting sex?”
The guy seems to realize that he has no leverage at all. He growls and straightens again. “Fine. But I want to see the bitch get what’s coming to her.”
It won’t be the first time I’ve gotten punished. Back when this all started, Elena’s crop was an almost daily occurrence. I don’t know when my brain had finally decided that enough was enough, that I didn’t need to subject myself to pain just to prove something.
I stand up and lift my head to look at Drake Brutal. “How do you want me?” I ask steadily.
He can hurt me. He can make me cry.
But maybe I can hold on to this small sliver of dignity.
Brutal’s face lights up in sadistic glee, and he makes a gesture with his wrist to test out the crop. He knows what he’s doing with it, and I don’t know if I should be afraid or relieved.
Afraid, probably, especially when he turns so he’s facing me head-on. He towers over me, and I’m not short or particularly small — or at least, I wasn’t before I ended up half-starved in this hellhole.
The only mercy is that I’m not drugged to the gills like some of the women here.
“Face down, ass up,” Brutal orders me.
I obey as steadily as I can, but I’m trembling by the time I have my feet planted on the floor in front of the bed.
If he’s bothered, he definitely doesn’t show it. “So Elena,” he begins, as conversationally as if they’re old friends — and who knows? They might be. “Does Mimi usually cause a commotion, or was I just lucky enough to catch a show this evening?”
Mimi?
I can’t decide if that’s worse than Mimosa. At least it sounds like a real name, even if it isn’t mine.
“No, Mimosa is usually very obedient,” Elena says. “She’s not very vocal.”
I bite my lip to keep myself from responding. They’d love it if I sassed back at them now. I could point out how I am not working for her, that I don’t get paid, that I have never been here willingly.
I’ll focus on not giving Drake Brutal the reaction I’m sure he wants.