Page 25 of Chandelier Sin
This interrogation called for an asshole on steroids—which was where I came in.
I guided Rachel and Elle toward the stripper pole. “Down.”
They sank to their knees and bowed their heads, waiting.
Submissives were the ears and eyes of Pendulum. Of any club, really. Discreetly moving about without suspicion. Listening to conversations. Overhearing business dealings. Observing who met with whom and why.
They were the way in.
The two had snuggled close, like frightened rabbits. I needed them to trust me, to let their guard down and find some fun in all this.
“Entertain us.” I gestured to the pole.
I joined Greyson on the loveseat, where we watched the two subs pole dance. Neither appeared experienced with it but they were laughing now and letting their guards down.
After ten minutes, I got to my feet and approached them. “Obey.”
They immediately prostrated themselves before me on the hardwood floor, and the mood morphed into erotic control.
“You have pleased me. But the fun is over.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Up.”
They rested on their shins, both peering up with a wide-eyed innocence that could drive a man wild. Their slack jaws and pouty mouths caused my dick to ache and my heart to long for this scene to be anything but tame.
“Where did you train?” I asked.
“Here,” said Rachel.
Greyson and I swapped a wary glance having confirmed Pendulum trained its own.
“You have accents,” I said. “Where are you from?”
“We’re Canadian,” said Elle.
“How did you find your way to the U.S.?”
“On a yacht,” said Elle.
Smuggled in, or that’s how it sounded. With no record of them being in the U.S., it left them vulnerable. It also left them with nowhere else to go. A hallmark of trafficking.
“Whose yacht?” I asked.
They acted like they didn’t know. I wasn’t convinced that was true, so I just stared down at one and then the other, waiting for one of them to crack.
Neither of them did.
They knew their origin story wouldn’t sit right with some of us here.
“How long have you been at Pendulum?” I tried a different tactic.
“A year,” they answered.
“You look out for each other?”
They both nodded and exchanged warm glances, and then their expressions settled back into blank looks of obedience.
