Page 56 of Deeper

He tugs more fiercely on the belt before giving her some slack. She unzips his perfectly pressed dress slacks and pulls out his dick. She holds it with both hands positioned inches from her lips.

They pause like this until he speaks, “You don’t deserve to taste me, bitch. You are a disgusting slut who can’t even get pathetic men who need to pay for sex to sleep with you. Why should I want you when you can’t even do your job? Beg me for my cock. Show me that you’ll do better.”

The girl transforms, as if she’s playing a role. She goes from scared and weak to desperate and needy. She begs like he asked, panting and moaning. She calls out to him and pleads for him to let her pleasure him. He stands above her and gloats.

It goes on for long enough to make my stomach churn, but then the situation suddenly shifts. He pulls her hair back, and her lips part in anticipation. He shoves himself in her open mouth and fucks her face. She shifts throughout the kitchen from his powerful thrusts until her back is against a counter, and he fucks her brutally. More mascara runs down her face, and he doesn’t even give her a second to breathe. He takes forcefully and without any concern.

Her words earlier didn’t break through the walls to the outside, but her cries now certainly do. She weeps while he gets off. Her head hits the cabinet behind her when he pumps into the back of her throat. Spit drools down her face, and she gags more often than not. The entire uncomfortable scene plays out before me until he abruptly pulls out and comes on her face. She breathes heavily below him, not reaching to wipe away his cum.

“Go upstairs and wait for me. Undress, but don’t clean up, and shackle yourself in. I’ll be up when I’m ready.”

The girl crawls from the room and heads toward a flight of stairs. Number Three tucks himself back into his pants and ventures out into the living room, turning on the television. I wasn’t going to act tonight, but things change. Something obviously isn’t right with his relationship with that woman. He ordered her to go restrain herself. If that’s true, she won’t be an issue if I take care of him tonight. Something tells me she wouldn’t turn in his killer even if she saw his face, though.

I double-check my backpack for supplies, pull a ski mask over my face, and then quietly venture around the house, looking for a way in. I get lucky when I find a sliding door to a bedroom left unlocked, and I enter, drawing my gun. The room is dark, but I know from creeping around the outside that the living room is just outside this room. On sure feet, I move to stand right behind the man, who is still oblivious to my presence.

“On the ground! Facedown on the ground! Now!”

Number Three springs up instead of going down. The jumpy motherfucker has about three seconds before I get trigger-happy.

“What are you doing in my house?” He indignantly ignores my demand.

Smug fuck.There are more than a few places I can aim that wouldn’t immediately kill him.

“I said, get on the fucking ground. What part of that don’t you understand?”

I cock the gun, and he follows directions. When he’s facedown, I grab two pairs of cuffs from my bag and approach him from behind. I lock his wrists together and then his ankles.

“How do you like being restrained?”

“She did this? You’re here for that whore?”

“Nope. You must have pissed someone else off, but I saw what just happened in the kitchen. Are all the women you sleep with held against their will?”

“She isn’t held against her will! We have a contract. She was a poor nobody before she met me! Now, she lives in million-dollar homes and has the best in life.”

“We’ll see if her story is the same.” I leave him on the floor and venture through the house.

There are four doors upstairs, but only one is open, so that’s the one I walk through. The woman is there, restrained to a cross that seems to be bolted to the wall. Her face is still covered in his dried cum. Her chin rises as I enter the room that looks as if it was stolen from the Fifty Shades of Grey movie set. She startles at my appearance.

“Explain your relationship with Sebastian Rutherford now.”

“Um, eh, well…”

“Honestly, tell me the truth. I’m not here to hurt you.”

She watches me as if weighing her options, of which she has few. I wait, leaning a shoulder casually against the wall.

“He found me at a strip club. He became a regular client of mine. After a few weeks, he asked me to meet him at a fancy restaurant. He had a dress sent over to my place and a team of people to get me ready for him. I was excited. I thought he liked me.” She looks around the room and shakes her head. “He came to me with an offer…a contract. He wanted to hire me to be his girlfriend when he needed one. He said he was going to pay me to attend work events with him. His offer was one I couldn’t refuse. I couldn’t stomach working at that club. I hated it.”

“And you ended up here willingly?”

“He lied. I never went to fancy events. Not once. No one has ever even seen me in public with him. I soon learned that I had signed my life away to him. I’ve been with him for two years now. I obey his every command. I rarely leave one of his homes unless he’s sending me to escort. I am his—until he says I’m not anymore.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

“I can’t. He makes sure of it. I lost all free will the second I signed on that dotted line.”

Does she realize no court would uphold a contract like that?

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