Distorted Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 2) (2 page)

Chapter 3

For the
next couple of days Zane has his way with me. On the third night he hooks me up to the wooden platform on the wall. “I want you to derive pleasure from pain,” he says as he straps me in.

I try
to act nonchalant. Cool, even. This is a job. He is a client. But the truth is I’m terrified. I’ve never, in my four years as a hooker, experienced anything like this. As hard as I try not to show fear, I can’t stop my bottom lip from trembling.

Zane notices. “Don’t be afraid
, sweet Cadence. The pain won’t be more than you can handle.” He takes a deep breath, brushes a thumb across my breast, and kisses my cheek. “I get off watching you scream out. That’s the truth.” I gasp at his words. He continues as though he didn’t hear me. “The pain I inflict is meant only to be pleasurable. Understand?”

I don’t.
At least, not yet. But one thing the last few days has taught me is that he’s skilled as a lover and that he doesn’t intend to kill me. I have a good sense of people. Sure, Zane is a twisted motherfucker, no doubt about it, but he hasn’t pissed on me or broken any bones. He hasn’t punched me or ripped out my hair. Overall, I feel lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse. I’m sure Fileze hoped he would be really awful.

One question has been on my mind
, though. “Why do you care?” I eke out.

A strange looks crosses his face. “Why do I care about what?”

I clear my throat, knowing I may make him mad. “What do you care if I get any kind of pleasure? I’m here to please you, make sure you’re satisfied. How can me getting any kind of gratification be your concern?”

Zane smirks, a
strange, twisted smirk. He reaches over and grabs the cat of nine tails he used on me the first night and whips it across my chest. I cry out in pain. Small droplets of blood surface on my chest, breasts, and stomach. His large cock instantly springs to attention. He grabs himself and runs his hand over the shaft. “It’s my concern because I like it. Simple as that.”

I whimper
, wary as he moves closer. He leans in and kisses the bloodied spots. “You really are delicious, Cadence.” When he moves back, I notice blood on his lips.

My blood.

Definitely a twisted motherfucker
, I can’t help thinking.

He spins me so that my head is near the
floor. The blood is rushing to my head. But I momentarily forget that when his lips touch my pussy. I flinch in surprise. A client getting so personal is a rarity. His cock presses between my breasts. His hands spread my lips, exposing my clit. “So beautiful,” Zane whispers and he licks me. Slowly. Swirling. His tongue slides inside and I nearly pass out.

“Oh. My. God. Zane. Shit.” His tongue moves in and out. The heat builds quickly. Then he licks my clit. Wraps his lips that tender part of me and suckles.

Intense and immediate pleasure shoots through my body. My head is pounding, but my pussy is pounding harder and my orgasm wracks my body.

“Fuck, Zane.
”

I feel him smile
.

I don’t get it. I sure as shit don’t trust the asshole, but my body doesn’t seem to give a fuck. So I go with it.

Zane spins me to the side so my face is even with his dick. He sticks two fingers inside, moving in and out slowly.

“Suck it,” he commands
, motioning to his throbbing cock.

I comply, taking him in my mouth until the tip is touching the back of my throat. He moves in and out. I run my lips along his shaft and feel him get harder and bigger.
He presses another finger inside my pussy and strokes my clit slowly in just the right place, allowing my pleasure to build again. When I’m about to orgasm, Zane whips the cat of nine tails against my stomach. My orgasm explodes through me. My breathing comes quickly and my heart is pounding.

Zane
comes too—in my mouth. I let his cum drip from my mouth and onto the concrete floor.

“Holy fuck, you’re incredible.
Everything about your little body is perfect.” He pulls out and I watch him walk to the sink. He takes a washcloth from the shelf, wets it and brings it over. Carefully, he spins me so I’m upright, and then cleans off my face and mouth. “I hope you can see that I like what I like. Some would say I’m a kinky fuck, but I’m not evil. And I seriously fucking like you.”

I’m shocked by his words and don’t say anything. Just listen.

He unhooks me and helps me stand. Stars twinkle in my vision and I hold onto him for support until they dissipate.

“Tomorrow I’ll let you go. But you
’ll need to sign some paperwork.”

That surprises me. “Paperwork?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. The places where the cat of nine tails connected with my skin are stinging a little.

“Yes. Some non-disclosures. I need your word that you won’t tell anyone who you were with, what you did, and where you were.
You can do that, right?” He takes me by the elbow and directs me to the shower.

I nod and then remember that he likes me to speak. “Yes, of course.”

“Good.” He turns on the shower. “Get cleaned up.” He leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. “I’ll see you around, Cadence.”

He pulls on his jeans and is out the door before I’m even fully
immersed in the water.

Lincoln comes in with a pair of black silk pajamas. I watch him place them on the freshly cleaned bed and then stand with his back to me.

I wash quickly, paying special attention to the little cuts. When I’m out and dry, I walk over to the bed. “Are these for me?” I ask, indicating the pajamas.

“Of course,” Lincoln says. “Get some sleep. In the morning I’ll bring you some breakfast and your paperwork. Then I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

“Okay. Thanks, Lincoln.”

I put on the pajamas and climb into bed. Lincoln walks over and turns off the light. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and wonder what tomorrow will bring. Will Zane keep his word, or is this some kind of ploy
, a trick to get me to relax? He said my pain gets him off.

And what about Jessica? I hope she hasn’t
spent my three grand, but she probably has. Jessica and money can’t stand to be in the same room together. If she has some, it has to be spent.

I release
another deep breath.

After a while I sleep
.

Chapter 4

The following morning Lincoln brings in the promised paperwork, in triplicate, and I sign it all.

The contract basically says I won’t tell anyone anything, ever. It’s a promise I’ll gladly keep. John Zane wasn’t that bad. He was actually a lot more giving sexually than most of my clients. His pleasure and pain type of sex was better than I thought it’d be.
At least my body thinks so. Every time I remember the pain when Zane whipped me or spanked me, my mind cringes but my pussy gets wet.

I heave a deep breath.  It doesn’t matter what my body thinks. Our time together is over and I’m a free woman.

There’s a brush on the shelf next to the towels. I pick up and run it through my tangled hair. It dried without a hair dryer for days and it’s extra curly.

“Get dressed,” Lincoln says, and I see he’s got a pair of expensive
jeans, a pink polo shirt, and a white pair of shoes in his hands.

So not my style, but I put them on.

“Thanks.” I’m surprised they fit so perfectly. Even the shoes fit. As I check my reflection I realize this is the first time I’ve worn regular clothes in years. In my line of work there’s only sleeping, eating, and fucking. I change from pajamas to hooker clothes and nothing else. My heart clenches. I’ve been hooking for such a long time I don’t even know my style.

Maybe that can change.

Since Zane has decided to let me live—though now that I think about it, I doubt he ever intended to kill me—I have options.

I’ll get my money back from Jessica, fuck a few more clients, and go to college.

If she’s spent my money… “Hey Lincoln, how many days have I been here?”

“Five,” he answers quickly.

Shit,
I think. No doubt Jessica’s spent some of it, which means more time on my back.

For the first time ever, a sinking feeling fills the pit of my stomach. I realize I’m beyond sick of fucking men for money. The job has kept me from being homeless, but I’m tired of it.

Still, I’m not a complainer. “Life is tough. You gotta make the most of it. You gotta do whatever it takes to survive.” Those are the final words my mom said to me before she was carted off to federal prison.

“Ready,” Lincoln asks, bringing me
out of my reverie and back into the Blue Room.

“
Abso-fucking-lutely.”

That gets a tiny smile from Lincoln.

“Right this way,” he says, opening the door. 

***

When Lincoln drops me off at my apartment, he hands me a card. “Mr. Zane wanted me to give you this—just in case.”

“In case, what?” I ask.
Just in case I want to fuck while being whipped, flogged or spun around on a strange wooden contraption
. No thanks.

Lincoln shrugs. “Just in case was
all he said.” He climbs into his black sedan and drives away.

“
Alrighty then.” The card is black and in silver letters in his name—John Zane. Underneath is a number. On the back are two words:
call me
.

That’s it.

I tuck his card into my back pocket.

Early morning light filters through the
darkness and dances on the water. I’m guessing it’s close to six. The waves and the salty air fill my senses, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I’m alive.
I’m home. I’m a survivor.

O
pening the door to my apartment complex, I walk through the dingy lobby and press the elevator button. When I reach the top, I walk down the hall. My apartment is at the end of the hall, on the right. I can see that someone has propped the door against the entry.

I knock softly, hoping
Jessica is inside and not some squatters.

“Jessica. Jessica.”

No one answers.

“Jessica,” I whisper shout.

“Go away. I’ve got a gun,” Jessica says, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Jessica, it’s me. Cadence.”

“Cade?” She peeks through one of the cracks. The light from the hallway catches her worried blue eyes.

“Yep.” I smile encouragingly.

“Fuck me. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she says through sobs.

I help her move the door just enough
to squeeze through, and then we move it back together. Before I can turn to face her, she’s got her arms around me and is squeezing the life from me.

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

She lets go and turns me around. “You said you’d call, bitch. You never did. I thought you were dead. Every time someone found a dead body I thought for sure it would be you.” Tears stream from her eyes and drench her cheeks.

I wipe them away. “I know. I wanted to call, but I didn’t have my phone.”

She sniffles and wipes her nose on her tank. “Where the fuck were you?”

I shrug, trying to act nonchalant since I can’t tell her anything. “Just with a client.”

She grabs my face in her hand, making my lips squeeze together. “You gave me all your money and sent me out the window. Some guy with a gun forced his way into our apartment. It wasn’t just some client. Don’t fuck with me.” Her eyes are burning with worried anger. She sniffles.

“Yeah,” I look away, yanking my face from her grasp. “It was the guy I was supposed to fuck for Fileze. He was pissed I didn’t show up when I was supposed to. The guy who broke in was one of his
thugs.”

“Oh. My. God. Are you okay?” She notices what I’m wearing
and does a double take. “Did he fuck you or take you shopping in the uppity stick-up-your-ass part of town?” She touches the edge of my shirt with her fingers.

I
walk past her into the kitchen. It consists of two cupboards, a microwave, a sink, a stove we use to store our large sugared-cereal boxes, a refrigerator, and our coffee pot. None of the appliances match. The cupboards are the color of honey. The refrigerator is white. Our microwave is mustard yellow and the stove is pea green. The counters are covered in cream linoleum that’s peeling in several places.

The one thing that’s nice about the kitchen area is the small window above the sink. If you look hard enough you can see the ocean, but a quick looks gives you a view of the
dumpsters in the alley behind our apartment complex.

It’s better than most.

I flip on the coffee pot even though I’m exhausted. There’s no way I can sleep right now. “We fucked. Of course,” I finally say.

“And the clothes
?” she asks, sitting on one of our rickety barstools.

“He gave them to me.” I shrug and get two
mismatched mugs from the cupboard.