Author's note: This is a long-haul dystopian story involving debt slavery, ruthless organizations, relationship webs, and some serious darkness. It goes into everything from impact play, drugging, manipulation, reluctance/noncon in some areas, as well as exhibitionism, multiple partners, etc. It WILL get worse before it gets better, but everything has a purpose.
If a darker story isn't your cup of tea, then this is NOT the tale for you.
Every character is 18+, and this is a work of fiction. It should not be used as anything but reading material for enjoyment. Please do not copy, download, or otherwise use this story except for your personal reading. This story is copyrighted to me (SimplySilver).
Your feedback is welcomed.
Chapter 1: The Show Begins
"Oh sweet girl." Dream pets my hair, draws a lazy finger down my neck even as I shudder from the scrape of his nail. "Who would have ever thought?"
Seated on his lap, I feel like a collared pet. My only clothing is the thin, glimmery black band at my throat.
This is part of his game, or so I try to tell myself. It's part of the psychological bullshit they like to pull. Just like meeting him at The Basement. But it's his loss; I was trained for this. My skin is my armor.
Dream is one of the few to hold his rank undisputed. New Orlean's accents rarely sound as light as his. No one says, but everyone knows the reason for his relocation north. To them though, his proclivities make him an asset; he handles both sexes with equal ruthlessness.
"Now sweet one. Let's chat shall we hm?" he says in my ear, resuming his petting. "I want to know why you're here, Jazzy. In your words."
"Regulus is upset with me." I try to keep it short.
He pushes back. "And why would that man be upset?"
I bite my lip, trying to find words to explain the last seventy two hours. How did everything explode so quickly into this? One moment, I was curled up on the coffee shop couch, the next I was dragged over to report to the Nightmare himself.
He makes an impatient noise, fingers fisting in my hair and tugging until my eyes meet his. "Let's clear something up, darlin. If you test my patience, you'll end up wishing Regulus was dealing with you. I know why you're here," he warns.
Somehow, his level tone makes the rebuke sting all the more. My cheeks flush bitterly; my hands clench in my lap. "Then why do I need to say it?"
"Dissent brings with it the lure for others to follow your example. If you can't admit your fault, sweetheart, do you really believe you did wrong?"
His unbreakable calm is as unnerving as it is irritating. "You sound like you've been talking to Alexander," I reply. "I haven't broken any rules." After all, admitting it means I'm guilty and the guilty ones get a worse punishment.
"Regulus and I know better, Jazzy. Now let's see what I'm working with tonight. Stand up," he orders smoothly.
I obey, crossing my wrists delicately behind my back. I don't intend to endure more misery than is necessary and I'm not going to give him an excuse to play rough. Discipline is already on his mind.
At his gesture, I spin a slow circle on my toes. "Not bad. A few more scars than is for my taste but who am I to judge a man for his methods," he murmurs to himself. "Arms up, hands behind your head."
I pose for him, tipping my head slightly back and cocking a hip "Beautiful. You could charm Lucifer out of his throne with that look, darlin," he purrs. "Unfortunately, the rules don't-"
A cell phone sounds, vibrating across the desk as the screen glows white and red. He frowns, drumming his fingers on the chair. "Stay put," he orders before getting up to answer it.
What I hear of the conversation is clipped. He rarely gives more than one or two word answers that leave me no idea who the person on the other end might be. Nor does his expression give anything away as he returns to his chair.
A hand traces gently down my back. "Tell me, darlin, do you like playing for Regulus?" He asks.
It feels like a loaded question. "Yes."
"Pity. A devoted slave is harder to purchase."
My muscles won't respond. My breathing has stopped. My eyes are locked on his easy smile like a gazelle before a leopard.
For all Reg's power as number four, Dream sits unobstructed at number two. His "requests" are orders. And no one disobeys an order.
His lips tilt with amusement. "Now bow for me."
I sink to my knees, trying to hide my tremble. My forehead rests against my outstretched hands as they press to the earth.
Black silk slides around one wrist as purple entraps the other. The loops are bound together in a spiral that then is drawn through my legs to bind my ankles.The short commands are easy to follow. He shifts me section by section until I fit his vision."Flatten your back out a bit. More. Perfect. Now stay still."
A few moments later, a weight settles across my spine. The cool glass creates goosebumps. I breathe shallowly as I feel its smoothness settle to rest.
"That will be perfect. A nice visual, but you're not going anywhere without me knowing," her murmurs setting a mildly heavy item on top. "If you tip those flowers, sweet girl, I'll skin you. They were too damn expensive to end up on my carpet. Now I'm expecting company before the Basement opens. You'd best behave yourself."
The position is not difficult, but it is far from comfortable on the loose weave carpet. My knees are aching within minutes; I chew my lip to distract myself and pretend there are images in the multicolored threads..
The few tests I've done tell me that I cannot move my head more than a few millimeters without the glass shifting. Hell, I have to breathe lightly. Even with its weight, I can't look up safely with the vase placed there. Dream does not joke; he will skin me if they fall. Lost in thought, I don't notice him as he returns.
"Where the FUCK is my delivery?!" Dream's shout startles me as he paces around the room, presumably on his phone. The table wobbles before I manage to still once more. His voice is dripping, deadly quiet. "I swear to God Xander if you don't get my delivery here on time I will feed your dick to your cat! I have enough to handle with- hm? Are you serious? No, he can't have twelve grand. He'll be lucky to get six."
He listens for a few minutes, hemming and nodding to himself as he flits about. "As tempting as that is, I have Reg's girl to handle. Now, Alex behave. You know the rules and.... No, Alexander, we'll talk when you get here and not before. Now get me my damn delivery!"
Oh Lord. Alexander is one of Reg's rivals. He's not well liked. And for a good reason. Alex is sadistic. Not the lightly pinching sadistic, but a full enjoyer of pain. I'd rather not meet him tonight when I'm in trouble; he'll take full advantage.
Dream sighs, pacing the room irritably. I am forgotten. Time begins to blend as I slip away into my happy place, finding comfort in my memories of white beached sand that squeaks under your toes and gently caressessing heat. But it doesn't last forever.
As the lights change and music begins to play, I wake from my wonderland. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. My ears automatically focus in on him as my toes clench. The Basement is almost open for business. As his preparations are complete, Dream returns and unburdens me from beneath the glass.
His fingers pluck me off the floor, steadying me on stiff legs. He ignores my whimper of pain as he nudges me into the dressing room to get ready. When I'm dressed fully in the thin bandage dress, I buckle on my heels and step out.
Of course, Dream comes over to make a few adjustments before stepping back to admire. "Enough on display to be ravishing, enough hidden to be desired," he murmurs as he snaps a metal collar around my black clad throat so that the O ring rests above the swell of my breasts. "Since you behaved yourself earlier, sweetheart, you get the luxury of choice. Shall I tether you by wrists? Or by that pretty little neck?"
I look at the club, swallowing thickly as I see one of his slaves dancing narrowly on her toes. Her collar's linked to the ceiling; only the press of her toes is keeping her up. "Wrists, please." Without knowing the guest list this evening, that is the safer option.
He guides me over to one of the pillars. Its wrist shackles are secured in place at waist height, a short chain gifting me a few inches of movement either direction.
"Regulus has surrendered you to the House, sweet girl," he murmurs, running his hands down my sides. "You'd best perform like your life depends on it." His eyes are dark pits, but deep within is a smolder of desire. "If they realize Reg revoked his protection, you won't make it through the night."
"A warning. If you get caught lying about your status, I'll personally punish you. There are so much worse things than becoming a table," he purrs, claiming my lips in a deep kiss.
Only after my cheeks are flushed, does he finally let me take air in. His thumb brushes my swollen lip; he smiles in satisfaction at what he sees. "If you are still bound here at two, then I will claim you, sweet girl. I hope you don't disappoint."
Dream's warning is unnecessary; since I started turning a profit under Reg, there has been a target on my back from the other Ten. Now it's just figuring out how to survive a night that's designed to fuck me over. My mind races with possibilities as the lights lower to movie theater status and the colorful lights begin to pulse.
Some pairs filter in; other slaves are chained or sit at their men's feet as their men chat. One or two glance my way, but no one comments or approaches. A few of the girls are regulars who find themselves in familiar roles as barkeeps, dancers, and entertainers. Dream efficiently gets the club rolling before stepping out to open The Basement for business.
As people filter in, I let my eyes glance over them. Few are of note, mostly lower leaders and their toys. The few who hold rank rarely have time for indulgence, and when they do, they take it wherever they want.
Then my eyes see the platinum blonde of Rex. He glances over from the bar; when our eyes connect he immediately comes over.
"Hello Jazzy. Where's Regulus?" He asks, standing beside me.
"He's not here yet."
"Oh?" His eyes drag across my form, resting on the bare silver collar.
A silvery brow lifts. "Someone's in trouble..." he murmurs softly. His fingers brush across my shoulder, skim the back of my neck, and make me shudder as they draw a lazy line down my back. As much as I hate his touch, there is little that I can do about it. "Seems this is the Twin's lucky night."
Fuck! Jake and Luke are Devil's set of twins; harsh and like twin lions that build off the other's inspired fear.
I stare into his eyes, trying to read his mood. Rex is difficult to get a feel for; he likes to mess with my head, but has also screwed me in the past. I catch a flicker of satisfaction at my panic. "I'd be very grateful if you didn't tell them," I reply carefully..
"Grateful won't get you very far," he answers sharply. "I want your service tonight."
Double fuck. Biting my lip, I roll probabilities.
If Reg shows and I say yes, he'll be furious. If I say no, I may end up giving it to Rex anyway, without benefit. Then again, if he claims me, Dream may be offended and then I'll catch hell from him. No matter what I do, I'm screwed.
"I can't promise that."
"Then expect the Twins to get a phone call."
