40. Chapter 40
Justin
When I finally sleep off the drugs, I’m sore all over.
Not just my ass, which is to be expected after Cameron fucked me god knows how many times, but the rest of me too.
My muscles ache like I’ve been working out.
My throat hurts, even though I’m fairly certain Cameron hasn’t fucked my mouth while I was drugged.
He told me it was too risky. Apparently, he doesn’t want me to choke on his cum and die. Sweet, right?
Worst of all is my cock, which is so sensitive even the silky sheet pressing down on it hurts. I vaguely remember Cameron making me come over and over while I begged him to stop. He didn’t. I should probably feel angry about it, so why am I smiling like an idiot?
I’m all sticky and I really need to use the bathroom, but Cameron stops me when I try to get out of bed.
“Stay,” he commands. I obey, trying to convince my bladder that the situation isn’t as dire yet.
It gets worse when Cameron rolls me onto my stomach and spreads my legs.
He can’t want to fuck me again already, can he?
His cock must be chafed and aching as badly as my ass, because of course he didn’t bother with lube.
“Sir,” I whimper when his fingers spread to my cheeks.
“Shh. We’re not going to fuck. I just want to see the results of my labor.”
“Huh?”
He pulls the plug out of my ass. I wince at the stretch, then clench the sore muscles as I feel wetness seep out of me. Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.
Cameron smacks my ass. “Let it happen.”
“But—” My protest is interrupted by another smack, this one meant to really sting.
“I don’t remember asking you a question, pet,” Cameron says. I shudder at the subtle threat in his voice, then force my muscles to relax. It’s better to be embarrassed than punished. “There you go. Good boy.” He spreads my cheeks wide to watch his cum trickle out of my ass. “Such a good boy.”
His praise hits me on a visceral level, as necessary as air or water. I settle more comfortably on the bed and let go of my insecurities. If Cameron finds this hot, who am I to be embarrassed about it?
“Beautiful.”
That brings color to my cheeks. I’m not beautiful. I’m a man. Men aren’t beautiful. Or are they? Cameron definitely is, but he’s all huge and buff and confident. Nothing like me.
Another stinging smack. “It’s customary to thank your Master for a compliment.”
“Oh. Thank you, Sir,” I reply dutifully, my face growing hotter. “Um… Could I go to the bathroom now? If you’re done, uh, watching?” God, please don’t let him come into the bathroom with me. I’ll probably die of mortification if he’s into that.
Cameron sighs, then kisses my ass cheek. “If you must. I guess I’ll just have to fill you up again later.”
I clear my throat. “Right.” I rush for the bathroom before he changes his mind or realizes how much I actually loved being stuffed full like that.
Getting fucked over and over, only half conscious and completely defenseless.
I didn’t know he spiked my drink, but the moment I started feeling dizzy and stumbling over words, I realized what was happening.
Instead of panicking, I let myself relax into the floaty sensation.
After all, there was nothing I could do about it, so why worry?
I use the bathroom and brush my teeth, and after getting permission from Cameron, I hop into the shower. I’ll never understand how am I so sweaty when I was literally just lying there like a fuck doll, but it feels good to wash all the grime off.
As I dry off, I study myself in the mirror, cataloguing the new marks and bruises. There are plenty, and I feel absurdly proud of each one.
“Are you okay?” Cameron asks from the doorway. “Not getting dizzy and smashing your head on the tile?”
“I feel fine, not dizzy at all.” He must have figured out the correct dose of whatever date rape drug he’s been feeding me. I smirk at the term. Is it still rape when I somewhat consented and I’m low key into it? “I’m a little hungry, though.”
Cameron’s face lights up. “I was hoping you would say that. I made eggs and bacon. They’re probably terrible because I suck at cooking, but you’ll eat everything without comments, is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” That stupid smile is back. He made me breakfast. He cares.
The eggs are a little dried up, and my eyes water from the amount of pepper, but I’m hungry, so I shovel them into my mouth. It’s not like I could have done better. I suck at cooking too. Maybe I could learn, though.
We spend the rest of the day lazing about. More specifically, I laze about while Cameron works out. He makes me take a nap, and I drift off curled on the couch, watching sunlight fall across the garden and listening to the clinking weights and Cameron’s grunts.
When I wake up, the sun is gone and the house is quiet. It’s evening, and I shiver, equal parts excitement and apprehension, because I know exactly what it means. Tonight, we’re going to Sin’s club. For the first time since I was kidnapped, I’m getting out of the house.
Cameron is nervous. He’s trying to hide it, but isn’t doing a very good job. Ironically, I think he’s more nervous about taking me out than meeting the mafia leader. I should probably offer to stay home to take that load off his shoulders, but I’m just too curious.
Cameron never outright told me exactly what kind of club it is, but I pieced together enough of the hints he’s dropped to know that Indulgence is a sex club.
A highly illegal one, where consent doesn’t matter and kidnapped people are an everyday occurrence.
Where people get tortured, raped, and maybe even killed.
I should be terrified, but my miswired brain is excited and my cock…
Let’s just say I’m glad to be wearing clothes for the drive over.
The tight pants should at least disguise my erection.
After checking the outside security cameras on his phone several times, Cameron takes a deep breath. He crowds me against the wall and his eyes slide down my body to take in my clothes.
“I hate seeing you in clothes.” He cups my cock and squeezes, making it harden even more. “You should always be naked for me, pet.”
I try not to focus on how my cock rubs against the fabric of my pants. Cameron hasn’t given me any underwear, and the zipper digs into my skin. “A naked person in your car would attract too much attention,” I say, a little out of breath.
“I know.” Cameron steps back, his gaze turning suspicious. He lets his jacket fall open enough for me to see the gun holstered on his side. “Remember the rules, pet.”
I swallow roughly, my knees going weak. For all the cuddling and sweet talk, it’s easy to forget that Cameron is a dangerous man living in a dangerous world. “I remember, Sir.” This time, my voice shakes for very different reasons. My erection doesn’t go down, though. My cock is a kinky thing.
“Alright.” He checks the cameras again, then throws the front door open and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s go.”
I hesitate on the threshold. It’s just one step, and I’ll still be on Cameron’s walled property, but it feels enormous. I glance at Cameron for confirmation, suddenly worried this is some kind of sick game or a test, but he nods encouragingly.
As I step into the cool night air, I’m grateful for the jacket Cameron included with my clothes for tonight. It’s brand new, like the rest of the clothes, but it’s warm and it fits perfectly. I wonder if he got my measurements while I was drugged. It would be a very Cameron thing to do.
Cameron leads me to a sleek sports car that definitely cost more than my parents’ house and opens the passenger door for me. A very gentlemanly move for someone who laughs at being called one.
The engine purrs in a way only expensive cars do. Gravel crunches under the tires as we roll down the driveway. As we wait for the gate to open, Cameron shoots me another look, this time full-on threatening.
“I remember the rules, Sir,” I say before he can even open his mouth. “I won’t do anything stupid.”
What would I even do? Wave at the passing cars? Jump out of a moving vehicle? With my aptitude for athletics, I’d die the second I hit the ground. Besides, I don’t want to run. I want to be there for Cameron in case the meeting goes badly.
Cameron says nothing. We drive through a street lined with walled-off mansions like Cameron’s house, then make our way onto the highway.
Even though I’m sure the car could go a hundred times faster, Cameron drives strictly under the speed limit.
He checks the rearview mirror often, and at one point, we make a full circle around a block of high-rise buildings before rejoining the highway. After that, he relaxes a little.
We circle the city, slowed by heavy Friday night traffic. I expect Cameron to take an exit to one of the industrial areas. After all, where else would an illegal sex club be if not in a nondescript warehouse?
That’s why it surprises me when we head downtown. Cameron drives into a parking lot beneath a luxurious restaurant, but doesn’t stop there. Another set of gates opens smoothly in front of us, and further down we go. Now, that’s more like it!
We must be at least three stories underground when Cameron finally pulls into a spot and kills the engine. There are other luxurious cars around us, but also a lot of “normal” ones, and a few sport bikes. Cameron grabs a bag from the car’s trunk and opens the passenger door for me again.
The door at the end of the parking lot looks like it leads to an old Cold War bunker, with all the smooth steel and heavy bolts, but just like the gates, it opens the moment we approach it.
We’re welcomed by a beautiful receptionist and a burly guard who’s definitely hiding a gun under his tailored suit.
Cameron hands over his gun without prompting and steers me toward a door marked as dressing rooms while I gape around like a village idiot.
I can’t help it. Everything is so luxurious, like an expensive hotel that wouldn’t even let someone like me through the front door.
The decor screams money without being gaudy, all polished stone, soft lighting, and textures that beg to be touched.
Even the air smells expensive, something clean and subtle that clings to the back of my throat.
I feel out of place just breathing it in.
Cameron guides me forward with a hand on my lower back, firm enough to remind me I’m not a guest here. That feeling intensifies when we enter a changing booth the size of a bedroom and Cameron points to a small cubby on the side. “Strip.”
Fuck. I’m about to be naked in a club full of dangerous criminals. How will I hide my erection now?
Cameron smirks as I try to cover myself with my hands. Without a word, he pulls my arms behind my back and clips the cuffs together. That’s it, then. No more hiding. I half expect him to gag me, but what he pulls out steals my breath away. A collar.
It’s made of leather with soft padding on the inside. Beautiful, yet functional if the D-rings lining the surface are any indication.
“Chin up,” Cameron says as he fastens it around my neck. God, why does it feel so right?
Cameron clips a leash to the collar. His eyebrow piercing glints in the overhead light as he raises his brow. He doesn’t ask if I’m ready. We both know I could never be ready for something like this.
“Let’s go, pet.”