Page 1 of Justice For Me

Chapter 1

Justice couldn’t believe he was actually going to go through with it. His heart was pounding and his palms were damp with nervous excitement as he followed the woman down the darkened hall. She was dressed to entice a man into a lustful frenzy with her distractingly short black leather skirt, tall leather boots that inched over the tops of her knees and caressed her muscular flesh like another skin, and tight bustier that accented her surgically enhanced boobs in a way that made his mouth water and his cock harden. She held herself in a regal and powerful stance that left you with little doubt that she knew her way around the games they were about to play. Her hair hung past her waist and was a fake, bright red that should have looked ridiculous but looked fucking hot instead. Eyes, a bright jade green, were outlined heavily with eyeliner and were a pretty almond shape. Chick was over the top hot and would probably star, if today went well, as the lead actress in many of his hand-job fantasies for the next several weeks.

He’d heard about this place through a friend of a friend of a friend. It was the kind of place that definitely didn’t advertise their services but probably raked in millions every year. From the outside, it looked innocent enough. A huge Victorian mansion that managed to maintain some of its historical beauty on the exterior, but there was ab-so-fucking-lutely nothing historical about the inside, at least not the few parts he’d seen so far. His friend had brought him in last week to complete his paperwork, talk with the owner, and allow them to get comfortable with what pleasures they would be able to offer him. Yes, pleasures. His cock hadn’t been completely soft since he’s eyes had read the list of pleasures they offered up. Most of them were foreign concepts that he’d had to research on the internet but he had recognized a few. At the horny age of twenty-one, he was stupidly confident that he wanted to try them all.

When the woman in front of him stopped outside a door to his right, he nearly plowed right over her as his sex-crazed mind pulled up images from the internet for him to focus on instead of where he was going. “Oh, sorry, ma’am,” he whispered in utter humiliation, especially when he noted the smirk on her pretty painted lips.

“My, my, Justice.” Her finger slipped under his chin and forced his head up until they were eye to eye. “You blush so very pretty. If I got a pink this bright just from you running into me, I can’t wait to see what shade you’ll give me when we get involved with our session.” Her laughter was husky and succeeded in acting as a hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a tight squeeze and tug.

“Welcome, pretty boy,” she whispered as she swung the heavy door open and motioned for him to go inside. He gulped, desperately trying to act like he was as nervous as a whore in church, and prepared to enter the unknown world sexual submission.

Stepping inside, his gaze swept the room for anything that might terrify him enough to cause him to turn and run for his life before it was too late. Instead of finding all sorts of kinky sex paraphernalia that the red-headed beauty planned to use on him, Justice found the room to resemble more of a bedroom that belonged to an unmarried woman. There were furry pillows and enough hot pink to cause his brain to scramble. Maybe he should turn and run…but for different reasons than he’d originally expected.

“Don’t focus on the décor, my young stud. You should be more concerned about how well I perform my…ah, duties.” The voice and naughty glint in her eyes made him feel slightly better, only slightly. He would have thought his cock would be rock hard from the instant he stepped into her lair, but something was…off.

“I’m going to leave you alone for ten minutes. When I come back, I want to find you completely naked, fully erect, and kneeling at the foot of the bed, awaiting your next set of instructions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered obediently. Her commands had been exactly what he had been expecting and he liked feeling confident in what he could expect in every aspect of his life, even the playroom. Control, it was how he lived his life and he didn’t suppose he would be changing any time soon. Most of his friends called him OCD because of how he had to have everything, down to the tiniest detail, planned and coordinated to where he always received the expected outcome. They were close to the truth, but he wasn’t quite that bad. There was another word for what he suffered from…but nobody had to know that.

He slowly started removing his clothing as his hired escort had instructed, folding them neatly because that’s what he always did. A few minutes earlier, as he’d followed her down the hall, he’d gotten a small taste of the rush he had been hoping for when he had signed up for this session. He’d been nervous to the point that his heart had actually started pounding in an unsteady rhythm that had been foreign to him and it had felt exhilarating. It was the rush he had been hoping for…but it certainly hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. Now, only minutes later, the rush was gone and instead of being excited orfully erectas she had requested, he already found the first signs of boredom starting to creep in and threaten any chance of fun he had been hoping to encounter.

Completely naked, he forced himself into the kneeling position she had requested and tried to coax his mind and body into enjoying what was about to come. He hadn’t hired a prostitute because he was desperate, quite the opposite to be honest. He had sex on a regular basis. Hell, some might call it an irregular basis because of how often he got lucky, but he never really found what he was looking for. Sure, he got off and made sure his lover climaxed every single time, but it was like complete and utter sexual satisfaction was always just right out of his reach. He could almost touch it with the tips of his fucking fingers but then it would disappear…vanish…poof, right in front of him.

By hiring a very experienced prostitute that had probably participated in sexual acts he hadn’t even heard of, he had thought he would finally find what he had been searching for. She would initiate him into new things, dark things that would force him into letting go of his rigid control. His plan had been for her to force him off balance and keep him off balance to the point he could do nothing but feel…just feel. That was what he had been after, what he had been desperately craving.

Glancing around the room, pink fuzzies in every corner, laughing and mocking him, he realized it just wasn’t going to happen, at least not today and not with this woman and definitely not in this room. He could stay and fuck her and it would probably be a hot fuck worth every dime he had forked out for her services but when it was all said and done, it would just be a fuck, nothing more. He wantedmore. Problem was, he didn’t have a clue what that more was.

His gaze dropped to his semi flaccid cock and snickered at his own lack of excitement. The question on the table, he supposed, was whether he stroked himself to hardness and went through with the session or did he put his clothes back on and walk away, leaving four thousand dollars in her hot little hand without that hot little hand ever touching an inch of his hot cock.

“Well, that’s a no-brainer,” he said to the empty room. His fingers wrapped around his cock, palming himself just the way he knew would get his blood flowing in the right direction and then began stroking his length, twisting and tugging hard enough to cause a touch of pain because that always got him rock-fucking-hard. He tried to envision the gorgeous red-head performing all the wicked sexual acts that had been on her list of services on his body, pushing him to the limits of his comfort zone and then shoving him over, and he felt his cock grow in his hand. He had a nice cock, she wouldn’t be disappointed…nobody ever was. Well, except for him.

When he was completely hard orfully erectas she had so formally requested his hand obediently dropped to his side. A lot of guys, especially those around his age, would have a difficult time adhering to a stop sign when they were in the middle of a good hand job, but he never had any problems pulling off. His physical willpower was fucking amazing...it was the emotional shit he struggled with on a regular basis.

Patiently, he remained in his kneeling position, cock hard and pointing away from his flat stomach, eyes tightly closed to block out the pinkies, and waited for her return. If nothing else, they could both get a few good orgasms out of the visit. It was a foregone conclusion that was the best he could hope for under the current circumstances.

Minutes later, he found himself getting really bored, bored to the point that his stiffy was threatening to disappear. She’d said ten minutes and he was pretty sure more than ten minutes had passed. Of course, he could always look up and check the Cinderella clock on the wall but if he did that…well, stiffy would definitely disappear. Fucking Cinderella clock?

A loud popping noise snapped his eyes open in an instant. “What the fuck was that?”

His head tilted to the side as he strained to listen to what was happening on one of the two floors below the room he was in. He heard feet shuffling as if people were running and then more popping noises, followed by screams. Holy shit, he knew exactly what that popping sound was!

With a string of curses, he grabbed his clothes and slammed his legs into his jeans, nearly tripping as he tried to get them pulled up before whoever was shooting stormed into the room and added him to their list. More gunfire urged him to forget his shirt and just try to make a getaway. Remembering his cell, he reached into his back pocket and started firing the son of a bitch back up. They’d made him turn everything off when he’d signed in and now he would have to deal with that fucking delay. As the cell powered up, he crossed the room and cracked the door open, peeking out to see if the gunmen were on the third floor yet. The halls were completely empty, but he could hear the gunfire and screams even better now and they were getting closer with each passing second.

He eased the door shut and snapped the lock into place. Yea, like that would fucking save the day against a hail of bullets that were meant to rip his body to shreds? “Fuck!” He hissed as he checked his phone again. Fuck yea, he had power. With fingers that were trembling, he sent a 911 text message along with the address to his dad. If he survived this shit show, his dad would probably kill him for pulling yet another ass-brain stunt that was usually associated with his name.

With that text complete, he called 911 and as he waited for the operator to pick up, he began a quick survey of the room in a hunt for his best escape route. There was a pair of pink velvet curtains that successfully hid any sunlight at all on the wall opposite the door. He didn’t relish jumping from the third floor of an old Victorian but he preferred it over letting somebody turn his body into the human version of Swiss cheese.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the voice on the other end of the cell said in a voice that Justice was certain was loud enough that they heard it in the cellar four stories below him.

“Shit, lady! Not so loud,” he hissed into the phone as he jerked the hideous velvet curtains aside.

“What’s your emergency, sir?” She didn’t lower her voice and sounded a couple of ticks above mildly annoyed with him.

“Shit,” he mumbled when his eyes fell on the thick plaster that was on the other side of the curtains. It wasn’t a fucking window? There had to be a fucking window in this room somewhere, didn’t there? Wasn’t that some kind of law?

“Listen, I need the police. I’m at 4892 Madison Lane and there are shots being fired downstairs.” His eyes frantically searched the room but he already knew there wasn’t a window to be seen. He was trapped in a room with people shooting guns with real bullets on the other side of the only exit. “You need to send the cops really quick.”

There were two other doors inside his current prison. Behind one, he found a tiny bathroom that, like the bedroom, was missing its window to the free world.

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