Chapter 2 – Keyshawn
Chapter Two
Keyshawn
I ’m here to pay a debt. Oske tried to stop me, tried to tell me that there was someone else who could fulfill the psychopath’s request, but I need the money that she’s offering. This time, I can’t let anyone else take this deal. I know what happens when they go over there and I know that most of the women don’t do it again.
The money isn’t worth the depraved shit he does to you. That’s the word that gets passed around the bar scene. I only ever worked behind the counter with Oske, but I know what goes on behind closed doors.
It doesn’t matter. I tell myself it doesn’t matter because it’s just too much money. Oske keeps sending girls, so she mustn’t think it’s too bad. I mean, she definitely mostly cares about getting her cut of the money, but she’s not a bad person. Definitely fucked up, though.
But aren’t we all ?
I sit in the passenger seat of Oske’s new car while she lowers the volume of the latest Playboi Carti song that keeps going on repeat at the bar. I don’t get her obsession with Playboi Carti. This is a nice car and I almost don’t want to get out. She wanted to take me for a ride in the Porsche, but now that we’re parked outside of this condominium, reality sets in.
“Listen,” Oske says. “If you need to back out, I’ll talk to him.”
It’s three in the morning and according to Oske, this guy owns a bunch of crazy underground gambling rings. I can’t imagine he’s in a good mood at three in the morning after all of that mess. I don’t want to put Oske in a situation with a man who everyone alleges has the temper of a demon.
“No. I can go through with it.”
“ Nobody has gone back twice. I keep charging him more but… the man wants what he wants.”
“I need the money.”
“I would offer you a loan,” Oske says. “But… I just got this car. It’s expensive.”
“It’s not your job to save me.”
She sighs. “Okay. He likes the girls waiting just inside the door. Take the coat off, take your shoes off, make sure you don’t get any dirt on the floor, and kneel.”
“Okay. Got it.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I have to detach myself from my body to go through with it at this point. When I open the door to Oske’s car and step out, I wobble. I’m not used to high heels. My shoe options are very limited with my budget. I have a pair of flip flops and then plain, black sneakers that I wear to work. Oske bought me these heels and the last time I wore shoes like this was… my senior year Homecoming dance.
Oske sits in the car for a second longer than I do, then she shuts it off and leads me to the front door of the ground floor unit. She unlocks the door and gives me one last look of fear and appreciation.
“Last chance.”
“I’m fine. I promise.”
Oske hugs me, and she really isn’t the type. This man isn’t going to cut my leg off, is he? The panicked thought leaves my head because guess what? It’s too late. I step inside and take my shoes off immediately. The floor is cold. Oske shuts the door and I hear the lock click from the outside.
The rules for being here are strict. For that kind of money, I totally understand.
$20,000 for one night. You would have to be fucking stupid or crazy rich already to turn down that type of cash. And if I can handle tonight… I can do this weekly. The cold from my feet travels up my shins and ankles. I don’t want to take the trench coat off, but I have to comply if I want the money. He’s strict.
I shiver as I shrug the coat off. They need to invent lingerie that warms you up. For $20,000, I didn’t question how eerily specific he was that I wear white lingerie. Oske says he chose exactly what he wanted me to wear – that he always chooses for the girls. I guess he doesn’t care who we are as long as we satisfy a very specific fantasy.
None of the girls discussed exactly what happens behind these doors. If we do, we’re as good as dead. Oske made that quite clear and she wasn’t fucking around when she said it. Her certainty that talking would lead to death scared the shit out of me. The worst part of that right now is not knowing what to expect.
As instructed, I kneel by the door. Close my eyes.
And I wait for him.
Waiting doesn’t hurt at first, but this isn’t a five or even ten minute ache. I hold the position for twenty minutes as my body hurts in places I didn’t even know existed. Shit. My hips hurt. My knees. And my entire body aches from the condo’s chilly temperature. But I hear footsteps outside and I know it has to be him.
He walks with a slow, heavy step like a monster chasing prey down a hallway with absolute certainty that he can take his cool time and still sink his teeth into its neck. No fumbling for the key. He slips it into the lock. I avert my gaze before the front door opens, obeying his instructions. When the door opens, I smell cologne and then hear the man exhale slowly.
“Good,” he mutters. He takes a step inside, allowing me to notice his boots, which are made of expensive black leather but very well-worn. He moves again and a dim light offers some relief from the room’s pitch black after the door closes. I don’t look up, perfectly obeying instructions.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls.
His voice scares the shit out of me. But that wasn’t a question and it doesn’t count as only speaking when spoken to, so I keep my mouth shut .
“No black girls,” he mutters. “I would think that was obvious.”
I shudder. Is that what this is about then? A fucked up race fetish? My mind is in a state of full blown panic. The girls who came here were all different colors. But not black. None of them were black. It didn’t even cross my mind that would be a problem. Oske never once mentioned race. In fact, I don’t even know this man’s race. I mean, I can guess based on his voice. He doesn’t exactly sound like James Earl Jones.
“It’s not my preference,” he says coldly. I hear him unzipping his pants. Against my will, my body shakes. My stupid body hasn’t yet accepted that my conscious mind chose to be here. That I volunteered for this despite what Oske told me – and she told me more than she told the others.
He drops his pants to the ground. I feel his hand on my head and before I can adjust to how big this man’s hands are, he aggressively tilts my head back and gazes down at me. I can’t make out any details about him in the dark room except for his height and physical size. Despite that, I feel like he can see every inch of me. His grasp on my hair tightens.
The man shudders and says two words to me. “Open up.”
This is really happening. Cold. Emotionless. And most likely rough, judging by how he holds my head back. I open my mouth, my body refusing to stop its terrified shuddering. It doesn’t help that his condo is still extremely cold and my knees ache. Soft heat presses against my lips, but the thing pressing against my lips doesn’t feel like it’s the size of a normal dick.
I suck in air sharply as with one swift thrust, the man shoves as much of his cock as he can fit down my throat. He grunts as I choke on his dick. Holy fuck. The panic surging through me is real and comes straight from my core. Run, you dumbass. Run…
Even if I wanted to run, I couldn’t. I can’t even breathe. He groans as he tries to force more of his dick down my throat. My choking sounds get louder. He knows I can’t breathe. He knows I can’t breathe because of how deep his dick is down my throat and he doesn’t even care. I shove my hands against his thighs, my body reacting against my will because I just need air and I’ll do anything to get it.
He chuckles. “Hurts, doesn’t it? But even a woman can spend one minute without oxygen. So you’re going to take my dick for the next sixty seconds.”