Manwhore 3, page 1
Manwhore, Vol. 3
The Ferro Family
H. M. Ward
Laree Bailey Press
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by H.M. Ward
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
H.M. WARD PRESS
First Edition: November 2015
I’m sitting in an office waiting to speak to the infamous Miss Black. It’s her club and the guard was beyond pissed. He took Sean before I could say anything else. Claire was afraid something horrible happened to me, and they expected to find things the other way around.
It’s going to depend on Sean and what he says to her. We were all put in separate rooms within the club to wait. It’s not a matter of being thrown out of the club. I could deal with that. It’s Miss Black’s reputation with rule breakers. She doesn’t take having sex on the premises lightly. She’s done things to people, things that makes me feel sick sitting here. She could tip off David, but that would be too direct. She’ll wait and do something else, something worse.
Before I have a chance to wonder about anything else, an older woman with a playmate figure walks into the room. She’s probably got ten years on me, and more class than I thought possible. She’s wearing a black dress that clings to her figure. Luscious black hair cascades down her back like a sheet of water. Red lips are pulled into an amused smile, which scares the hell out of me. There’s something about her that is frightening.
“Miss Driskill, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, although I must say that I’m surprised about the circumstances. I wouldn’t expect my best bottom to sexually accost another member.” She’s the devil’s daughter. I’m sure of it. Something about her scares me in a way that’s unreal.
Trying to explain, I offer, “I didn’t—”
She holds up a hand and looks irritated. “Don’t bother attempting to refute it. Mr. Ferro told me everything. It’s really too bad since you earned every perk all the way up to Level Nine. Such a shame.”
“I didn’t break the rules.” Technically. Sort of. I wasn’t in a playroom. And it wasn’t sex, like the vag-shaggers in the hallway. It was a blowjob. I doubt that rationale will go far with this woman. She’s already made up her mind. She hates me.
Miss Black walks around to a black glass desk that matches the bar downstairs and sits. She opens her hand and smiles. “Then explain. Why were you in a supply closet with a wealthy man chained to the grate? You knew it wasn’t a public area and you knew the rules.”
I start rambling, suddenly worried she’s going to have that Gabe guy tie me up and drive me away in the trunk of an old Caddy. “We were scheduled to be on stage on Level Four. I went to the prop room looking for something different, and Mr. Ferro followed me. We got locked in.”
She nods, not believing me even though that part was mostly true. “Explain why you had sex with him. Please indulge me. Was he good?”
I blink. My mouth opens and shuts. I hesitate. “What? I don’t know if he’s good, we didn’t—”
She cuts me off before I can say anything else. “Please, Paige! He was covered in sweat and chained. What was it going to be for round two?”
“Wait, we never did round one!”
She cocks her head to the side. “Really? You didn’t ride his cock so you can go brag to your girlfriends that you fucked a Ferro? Or are you going to sell pictures to the papers? He’s already been slaughtered in the press. If you think I’m going to let you-”
I jump up and slap my hands on her desk. “I did not ride him. I am not bragging. And I do not tell anyone that I come here. Ferro had nothing to do with it.”
“How dare you!” Miss Black is livid. I don’t know what I’ve said, but she clearly plans to kill me right now. Before she can stab me in the head with her pen, the door opens.
She looks like she may have an aneurism, but that viciousness retracts and she’s suddenly all smiles. “Mr. Ferro, I thought we called your car?” She looks confused, as if she expected him to be gone already.
Sean is composed again, but I sense a fragility in him that was absent before. “You did, thank you very much. I realized that I have Miss Driskill’s gloves in my car. I gave her a ride here earlier.”
“Mr. Ferro.” I nod at him, unsure.
“Again, I apologize.” Sean’s lips form a thin line as he presses them together and lets out a rush of air. His shoulders are perfectly squared and his jaw tenses once more. “Miss Black, I was aware of the rules. I take full responsibility for any infractions, as I said earlier. His eyes cut to me for a second before returning to Miss Black.
“It wasn’t a minor infraction, Mr. Ferro. You both know the consequences.” Her voice is firm and unforgiving. She folds her delicate arms across her chest and stares him down.
Charm bubbles up from somewhere inside Sean. He takes a step toward her, tipping his head to the side the slightest bit. “I didn’t want to waste an evening. Is that so wrong?”
Miss Black’s death-lock on her forearms loosens, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re both on probation until further notice.”
A smile spreads across Sean’s lips as he tucks his hands into his pockets and steps toward Miss Black. He leans in close to her ear and says something so softly I can’t hear it. He lingers there for a moment before pulling away. “Think about it.”
Whatever he said to Miss Black shocked her, because the woman is standing there with her lips parted unable to speak. Her perfectly shaped brows are high on her face, and her hands fall to her sides.
“Miss Driskill, if you’ll follow me.”
* * *
Before I can say anything, we’re out the door.
I’m on his heels when the elevator door slides open. He pushes me inside, even though I’m trying to get back into that office. “Sean, stop. I need to go back.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “That’s the worst thing you can do.”
“But she has my collar! Do you know what I had to do to earn that? I can’t leave it there.” I feel sick. As the elevator descends to the ground floor, it’s clear that I’ve lost it.
Sean is leaning against the wall of the elevator. When we are about to reach the ground level, his arm juts forward and pulls the emergency stop. The little room buzzes and then goes dark before a red light illuminates the tiny space.
Before I can ask what he’s doing, his body presses mine against the wall. His breath is in my ear. “What you did up there was off limits. It was out of line.” He’s angry. His words come out in a rush with a decent amount of force for a whisper.
The way he’s behaving makes my pulse race. The hairs on the back of my neck rise on end and a hollow spot forms in the center of my chest. I manage to keep the fear out of my voice, barely. “It was what you needed.”
“No, it wasn’t. It didn’t help. It didn’t free me. If anything, you shoved me face-first into the memory that I wanted to forget.”
“I know.” I turn my face away from him. I can’t help it. He can’t know, but at that moment he seems to sense it.
“You know? What the fuck does that mean?”
I’m trying so hard to stay still, b
“We’re the same—”
He cuts me off. “No, we are not.”
“Fine, pretend that you’re okay, but I’m done pretending, and if you’d listen to me for half a second, you’d be done, too.” His grip loosens, but he doesn’t step away.
“Explain.” It’s a single word command.
I swallow hard and give the explanation that’s been forming in my mind since we were caught. “Most people who enjoy edge play like the thrill of it—they want to be commanded and pushed right up to the edge. But for people like us, that does nothing, unless you’re the top. Unless you push the bottom just past the edge, a fraction of an inch past their breaking point.”
Sean releases me and steps back. He stares, shocked. “You knew what you were doing?”
I nod. “Edge play can be fatal if you do things that endanger the bottom’s life, but what if you found their worst fear and pressed it? Most people have a breaking point, but their caution flags shoot up way before they reach the cliff. What if you were to take them to the edge of that precipice and dangle them over the edge?”
Sean stands there breathing hard, eyes wide and darkening by the moment. It's as if he’s fighting my suggestion, even though he sees the allure. Without a word, he smacks the button that brings the elevator to life again. His eyes look me over once, and then again.
When the doors slide open, Gabe frowns at us and I hurry past. Sean walks in long strides, his long black coat billowing behind him like some kind of supervillain. I rush up beside him and follow him out of the club and toward his car. It’s waiting next to the curb. The driver rushes around to open the door, but Sean remains next to me. It’s late now, and the sidewalks are mostly empty. Many of the grates are closed across the front of the stores that line the streets. A store owner a few doors down is washing off the section of cement in front of his store with a hose.
I wrap my arms around my middle and shiver. My coat is still inside, and I’m standing in public wearing next to nothing. Sean doesn’t offer me a ride. He doesn’t say to climb into the car. He just watches me.
I want to yell at him, but I reign in my temper and find some composure. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it. The thing is, while it was happening, I didn’t feel that dread anymore. The pain lifted, and I felt like I could control my life once more. That unsettling feeling vanished. For a moment, I was safe.”
“I understand why you did it, but you crossed a line, Miss Driskill.” Sean notices me shivering and rubbing my hands over my arms. He seems aggravated, but he shucks his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.
“I don’t need it.” I pull the coat off and try to shove it back, but he won’t take it.
“You have enough issues without your boss seeing you here with me. Add in that outfit and it’ll be clear that your code of ethics is rather questionable. Put the jacket on.”
He’s right, so I stop fighting him. I jam my fist through one sleeve and then the other. I wrap the fabric tightly around in front and fold my arms over my chest to hold it closed. “Maybe I should apologize, but I can’t. Sean, if I let you do it to me—you’d see what I’m talking about.”
His gaze narrows, and he steps into my space. His lips curl as if he’s disgusted. “I don’t want to see. I’d rather not know what it feels like to rip someone to shreds and then get off on it. That's not playing, Miss Driskill. It’s an attribute that needs psychological help.”
“You don’t think I’ve tried?” I’m in his face, spewing things that I’ve never said to anyone. “You don’t think I’ve gone to counseling, tried therapy, prescriptions, and anything else that could possibly help me to deal with what happened to me? Nothing else works! And you know that because you’re dealing with the same thing.”
“Normal people place parameters on behavior and what you’re suggesting exceeds that by far!”
“Normal people don’t have to deal with the lots we were handed. Normal people can say what’s moral, because their survival isn’t filled with bloody deaths that never stop screaming. When they go to sleep at night, they worry about work, money, family, and things that we would love to be freaking out over. We don’t sleep. There is no silence for us—no peace. When things slow down, we hear their voices and pleas, and it makes no fucking difference because we can’t change the past. We both stood there, useless. We take no pleasure in anything, and I’m not even sure I remember what pleasure feels like. I haven’t felt anything but fear and grief for so long. It’s every day and it never stops. There’s no way around it, so the only path left is to walk right through it and hope to God that there’s something on the other side. But you know what? There is no other side. I’ve been walking for years and there’s nothing. I’m trapped, stuck in the middle of a nightmare that never ends. I can’t wake up, I can’t change it, and I can’t escape. That’s how we’re the same—we’ve died, but we’re not dead—we’re stuck here living a hellish existence with no way out. So, how can we possibly fall into their set of rules?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Maybe you think I’m a monster, but I’m not doing that to you, Paige. I’m not getting off by torturing you. I know what happened to you—why you’re like this. I know that you’re trying to forget what happened to your mother. I know what you fear the most.”
I can’t swallow. My mouth is dry and my jaw is locked. I stand there in front of him, feeling like shit. I want to cry, but I can’t. I have no tears. “Don’t judge me too harshly, Sean. There will come a time when you can’t stand it anymore, and when that time comes, you know where I am. I won’t condemn you for it. It’s just the way it is for people like us. We’re not monsters, but we’ve seen things that are so dark no amount of light makes them better. Do what you need to do to ease your conscience, but you’re going to face this sooner or later.”
“No, I won’t.”
* * *
I’d rather stab myself in the face with a fork than sit in court the next day. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to see Sean. I’m nervous he’s going to say something about the club or the other night, but he doesn’t even look at me.
Days pass, curiosity gets the better of me, and I find myself snooping around Club Noir. I can’t go upstairs without my collar, and Gabe will snitch to his boss if he sees me, so I wear my hair down, letting it become a brown sheet that covers half my face. I stopped at Sephora on the way over and told them to make me look like a picture I found on Pinterest. Forty-five minutes later, I’m wearing enough makeup that even David wouldn’t recognize me. Since he’s totally anal, that’s saying something.
I sit at the sleek black bar and sip my drink. The evening crowd trickles in slowly and the place is bursting at the seams by midnight. There’s no sign of Ferro. Probation or not, I was sure he’d show.
I down my last drink and stand, straightening my skirt and tucking my long hair behind my ear before heading outside. The night air is freezing. My jacket is MIA, but I still have Sean’s soft wool coat. I tug up the collar and push through the front door.
My gaze is on the sidewalk, noticing the splotches of water that fall from the sky. It’s raining. I step toward the curb with the intention of hailing a cab when a black Bentley pulls up in front of me. The window slides down part way. Sean sits inside concealed in shadows.
“Are you looking for trouble, Miss Driskill?” His voice is flat, lifeless. It’s as if with every passing day, there’s less and less of him.
“It depends. Are you trouble, Mr. Ferro?” I lean in toward the window and catch his eyes. They’re vacant, hollow
He ignores the question. Instead, he lets his eyes sweep over me before saying, “Nice coat.”
“Lies don’t become you, Miss Driskill.” The raindrops grow bigger until it’s pouring. I start to pull my arms out of the long coat, getting ready to shove it through the window when he suddenly opens the door. “Come inside, and keep the coat. I wouldn't want to win this court case because Cunning lost his prodigy.”
Shocked, I stand there for a moment. Water pours off my hair and drips into my eyes and mouth. He thinks I’m smart? The man who believes he’s smarter than God said I’m a prodigy.
“Don’t look so shocked, Paige. We both know what you are.”
That sounds like an insult. “What would that be, Sean?” I step toward the car, drenched, with his coat hanging over my arm.
“You’re willing to do whatever it takes to survive, to win, to live. It’s a trait that doesn’t remain neatly in the center of a compartment in your mind. It affects everything you do. Even right now, you’re trying to discern whether or not to accept a ride. You know you can’t find a cab.”
“Actually, I’m trying to decide why you’re following me. You said I was a deviant, and you wouldn’t ever do what I did, yet here you are. Did you change your mind?” I place my hand on the roof of the car as I speak, leaning in close enough to drip on his designer suit.
His jaw tightens at the suggestion, and those dark lashes lower to the pavement. When he looks into my face once more, there’s a plastic smile on his mouth. “Far from it. I realized I have a piece of trash, and I’m trying to decide how to part with it.” He reaches down and lifts something off the seat next to him. The gems catch my eye, and I realize it’s my collar. The band twists and I can see the embossing on the inside of the leather: PAIGE DRISKILL ~ CLUB NOIR.
H. M. WARD SERIES:
Other author's books:
- DamagedThe ArrangementScandalousSecretsDamaged 2The Arrangement 3Secrets Vol 2 Ella SteeleThe Arrangement 8
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