Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance(23)
Pete unlocked the door again to take the tray and to let her go to the bathroom.
“I wish I could make you keep the door open while you did it,” he said, “but it’s your day off, I guess. I’ll watch you on the toilet before long, though, I’m sure.”
Afterward he told her to look in the dresser that stood next to the desk, and then he left, locking the door behind him. In the dresser, to her surprise, she found gray sweats and ordinary white cotton underwear. Karen felt sure she would only have permission to wear them on her days off, and she took a moment to re-harden her resolve to escape against the little surge of stupid gratitude occasioned by the sight of the regular clothes.
She fell asleep as soon as she had gotten into the infuriatingly comfortable pink-covered bed.
Joe brought her breakfast, and let her go to the bathroom again. He didn’t speak at all, for which Karen again had to fight a sense of gratitude. She found herself wondering what that psychological thing was called where you started to comply with your captors and even to like them. Helsinki syndrome? Something like that. She felt like she was waging a pitched battle with every part of herself.
Pete brought her lunch: a chicken sandwich with pesto that seemed to melt in her mouth.
“Not long now,” he said. “How’s that cunt feeling? Almost ready for some hard fucking? I think I’ll come in your ass, though.”
To her dismay, she even felt grateful to him for reminding her of the horrid nature of her position: locked in a room whose two principal pieces of furniture were a spanking bench to discipline her and a cage to confine her. Good food and a laptop that could play infinite hours of entertainment were window dressing that just made the whole thing worse.
The parting reminder from Pete to “Remember to put that lotion on your cunt and your ass-crack,” and the humiliating feeling of obeying—because it did soothe the continuing, though fading, sting from the waxing—renewed her defiance. And she had a plan. She knew no one would describe it as a good plan, under any circumstances at all, but these were desperate circumstances indeed, and Karen clung to her plan as the only thing that might keep her from the abyss of true hopelessness.
When Joe brought her dinner at six, her tummy felt like it would twist all the way around inside her body. No gratitude for his silence, she thought. No gratitude at all.
Wait for it.
Chapter Twelve
Singleton and Green welcomed each co-investor as he stepped into the penthouse. The two managing partners went to stand by the elevator when the doorman, thirty floors below, called up to alert them to the new arrival. Harris, LeBlanc, Jefferson, Tagliaferro, Ming, Jovanovich, Dartmoor, Wilkes: not all of them country-club types, but none of them the slightest bit shady. Above all, every one a businessman with an understanding of the importance of the bottom line.
Tonight, each man had a nearly identical broad smile on his face. It had taken Singleton nearly six months to round them all up. He had worked to discover in each case a certain outlook: most important, the prospect of sharing a beautiful young woman who might be enjoyed as one pleased produced a particular response in every one of these men.
Singleton had only chosen men who displayed enthusiasm, but whose eagerness was restrained by the realities of the necessary arrangement. To buy one’s own defaulter represented a cost-prohibitive proposition, reserved for the ultra-rich: all ten of the men present tonight to fuck Karen Hunter belonged to the .001%, but only the addition of two more zeroes allowed a man to purchase a girl for his sole use. The men Singleton had found, and Green had approved, had all manifested a keen interest in having a girl, but also an interest in sharing her.
Frank Harris, for example, had intimated to Singleton over a cigar that he had daydreamed of keeping a girl in the basement of the second home he owned mainly for the purpose of fucking his various mistresses. “But then I’d have to pay someone else to look after her when I wasn’t there,” he’d added wistfully before Singleton let him in on the deal Green had started to put together.
One week before Green and Singleton went to the CDF to choose the girl who would serve all ten investors, and anyone else each man might decide to lend her to on his night, or who might be invited to the weekly gangbang, the investors had all met to sign papers and deliver checks. Sitting in the same living room where they now began to mill around, drinks in hand, greeting old friends and relatively new acquaintances, Green had laid out the details one final time. Looking around the nine faces of the men who would soon become his fellow owners of a cunt, an ass, and the pretty face attached, hopefully with some nice tits in between, Singleton would never have imagined that he himself might have a problem with the lovingly crafted arrangement.
A four-week cycle: four days off, two days each for the ten investors, four gangbangs. All the days had seemed so neatly accounted for that the men looked a little puzzled by the good fortune of being ten in number. Singleton had felt a good deal of pride, for though Green had of course taken care of the accounts and the contracts, he had drawn up the plan.
Now Singleton had the image of the real Karen Hunter in the back of his mind. Only he and Green had seen her in person, though the others must have availed themselves of the video stream from the detention facility. Above all, he couldn’t shake the memory of using her mouth the previous night, right after Green had finished there. His cock leapt at the ghost sensation of her hair around his fingers and her mouth around his thrusting cock.