She knows I won’t ever treat her like a lover because she is only a possession.
She is here to serve me.
The others… they are disposable pussies.
“Fuck me hard, Rose.”
She rises and slams down on me over and over as her strong thighs soldier on, helping her to thrust up and down like well-conditioned pistons. Not even my belt buckle, which will surely be uncomfortable, will halt her powerful thrusts. She will pound me noiselessly until I am satiated.
My hands white-knuckle the arms of my throne as the pressure builds until I can no longer hold myself in check. Jerking, I shout out my orgasm as I shoot inside her, coating Rose’s pretty pussy as she milks every last drop. Her face is a stony façade until I have had my fill and halt her movements.
Rose does not reach orgasm.
I never allow it.
There is nothing loving in the way Rose services me. She is here to make me come when the urge hits me. Her other duties are to train the females in The Pen in what is expected of them and cull them on my orders. However, her robotic actions have me questioning her use-by date.
“Dismount and clean me up,” I order her.
She slips off me, attending to both our needs at the same time. She knows how much I dislike mess.
Pleased with the news I had been waiting on, I rewarded myself with a fuck. William Dupré’s pet had not fled and concealed herself from my prying eyes, as was originally thought. She was right under our noses the whole time.
Such a silly little pet for not fleeing and hiding herself away, but of course she had no idea of me, my station and power, nor William’s debt.
William owed me on the contract he had been paid handsomely for in advance. I expected to receive his full services in that time, but the stupid bastard had gone and, according to police records, fallen down his stairs, breaking his neck.
I thought the money was lost to me, but then Jonathan Boothe, an easily bought lawyer William and I had in common, had to go and brag to Nicu during a recent business call about his own self-importance and dealings with William. Nicu has become my mediator when I need things attended to.
Whatever mind-fuck William was trying to have acted out after his death was immediately overridden by his debt to me. William’s sordid little games were of no consequence to me. His need to have the last say had worked in my favor, and now I had just stamped a null and void across his antics.
The girl’s last curtain call was postponed.
I brush Rose’s hair with my fingers as she fusses about me, assisting me with my clothing. I had tried to acquire Whisper from William several times when she came of age, but he was adamant she was not for sale. I had to respect that at the time.
But now it was open season, much to my delight.
I have had plenty of beautiful girls passing through my gentleman’s club over the years. Whisper was no more beautiful than the others, but it just stood to reason I would want her in the flesh with the debt hanging over her head. William had whet my appetite for her, brought her to my attention, and ignited my interest.
The girl will be a part of this world soon enough, forever lost to her newly found freedom, and apparently, she knows how to fuck like a wet dream.
She had been William’s pet. He would have taught her well. Whisper knows the rules of ownership already. Rose wouldn’t have to tame her like I had to tame Rose. Freedom, unfortunately, would have rejuvenated her spirit. No matter. She has been broken once already. It shouldn’t take much to do it to her again. I believe Rose will have her ready for my next event.
She will have to be, for Rose’s sake.
I take another puff on the Black Dragon and kick my legs up onto the antique desk, letting my mind wander. Maybe I will make her my new assassin. I haven’t set myself a challenge in a long time. I would enjoy breaking her mind down into little pieces until she is nothing but a killer.
It would be a shame to lose such a beautiful subservient woman as Rose. I will see how Whisper turns out first before I set my decision in concrete.
For now, I will keep my options open. I am merely collecting on a debt owed to me, the principle of the contract being honored until completion. What can I say? I have a strong work ethic. Principles matter.
I have left orders for Jonathan to handle any loose ends he feels will be a threat to my plans as he sees fit.
I feel great excitement for this freshly acquired pen of women. It takes time and careful planning to net a worthy selection. It will be a busy time around here as preparations begin for my next get-together and readying all these females for their roles.
The men attending my masked event expect variety in the females and an exceptional experience from me, their host. If they know about my events, then they have contacts in deep, deep places. If they have the large sum it costs to attend and their background passes Nicu’s high screening process, then they will be under consideration. There are only fifteen places per event, with a maximum two events per year. Forty-eight hours’ notice is given upon acceptance, with time and meeting place disclosed. Enough time for all global participants to make their way.
Filip knows my true face because he’s been with me since I birthed these events. He follows me into both worlds, traveling with me to all my different locations. Huge sums of money line his pockets for keeping his allegiance to me. Once my true face and secrets are known, the person is bound to me until their last breath is taken.
Nicu will see his first event. He gets to venture inside this time, having proven his loyalty enough to rise up on the podium.
“Filip!” His masked face snaps around to me. “You may escort Rose back to her room and send in Nicu as your replacement to stand sentinel.”
Filip’s eyes latch onto Rose, who has been standing by my side, a lascivious smile painted on his face as he leaves with her naked and compliant. Underneath, she is as deadly a killer as he is. She will only strike on my command and he knows it.
I am law.
The people who surround me allow me to be all that I am.
My sentinels carry weapons and could shoot me dead at any time.
But… they don’t.
One bullet to my temple, that’s all it would take. But nobody does.
I have this type of Hitler mind strength.
They feed my power by lowering themselves beneath me.
I am a pompous man.
I am confidence and brutality.
I am powerful.
I am king of my castle.
I am Cezar Pavel.
BOXER
My eyes flutter open, but I’m still met with darkness. I know I’ve been drugged because my mind is sluggish as it tries to breathe life back into my senses. Moving slightly, I hear the clink of metal against metal and groan at the uncomfortable position I find myself in. I test my movements again and realize I’m lying at an odd angle with my left hand handcuffed to a pole.
Fucking amateurs should have handcuffed both my wrists.
My throat is dry as I let my tongue pad its way around the inside of my mouth, searching for some moisture. The rest of my body is facedown on a cold stone floor. Shivering, I start to pull myself up when a sharp hiss of pain has me rethinking this moving thing. Agony spears from my right foot.
I halt my movements and carefully feel for my foot—well, where it should be anyway. What the fuck is wrong with my foot? It’s facing the wrong way.
Some fucker’s clubbed my foot.
Taking a deep breath, I lock my jaw together, threatening to break all my teeth as I manoeuvre myself into a sitting position. I curse and grunt through my clenched jaw, “Motherfucking, cocksucker, shithead assholes.” It comes out unintelligible, but it sure helps me work through it until I can grasp the metal pole I’m chained to like it is a life preserver, vomit threatening to head north. The lack of movement and the vertical position help to settle my nausea, because it sure as hell was just about to blow.