Page 52 of The Secret Job: Into the Depths of Depravity
I find my feet and begin to move. I race across the attic room, wrench open the door, run down the stairs and into an expansive hallway lined with closed doors.Why are there so many doors and who is hiding behind them?I run down the hall and instead make for the next staircase that leads me down to different rooms, all open. I run past a sitting room, library, office, dining room and come to a kitchen. Where to hide? There must be a butler’s pantry or something I can hide in. I decide to chance it and, as quietly as possible, walk around the luxurious kitchen in the dimmed light of early morning. It’s eery, the whole house is eery and quiet, too quiet. I find the butler’s pantry but there is nothing to hide behind except the door. I decide it’s too late to make another run for it and lower myself to a crouching position, ears straining, heart pounding and breath ragged.Who is going to find me, and what will they do to me…
After what feels like 20 mins, my legs grow tired of crouching, so I lean back and put my weight on my sore bottom, bringing my knees up to my chin, holding them to me with my arms. The longer I sit in the darkened silence, the faster my heart races and icy fear trickles down my spine,imagining all kinds of cruelties at the hands of Jacob, of the unknown kinks of the father.What am I doing here, why am I still here?I berate myself as I shake like a leaf. This is insane, hiding from three men, two are sure to want to harm me in some painful sadistic manner and who knows what else Angus might want to do to me, something completely beyond my imagination is my guess. If James knew the situation I have allowed myself to get into, he’d be crazy with worry. He probably still is that right now.Oh James, I’m so sorry,I think to myself.
But then the other side of my brain kicks in and says, but isn’t this fun? Thrilling? When else can you run and hide from sexual deviants and know whatever their kinks are, the likelihood you will still enjoy them is very high? And let’s not forget the money. I survived one night and day here, that has got to be $100,000 at least. I just need to hang on another four and take whatever they’re going to give me. And judging by what I’ve experienced so far, they’re going to be pretty fucking crazy that’s for sure.
I don’t know how long has now passed as I sit tightly curled in a ball but it feels like an hour or more. Are they fucking with me? Surely not? Do I stay and wait, or do I try and seek them out? Like in all horror movies, I do the one thing you scream at them not to do. I decide to uncurl my body, stretching and standing, getting the circulation back into my body before I peek my head around the door and listen harder for footsteps, noise, chatter, anything other than silence that rings in my ears as I strain to listen.
I hear and see nothing. Strange. I take a curious step into the kitchen, looking around as the morning light now streams into the room showcasing marble countertops and pale green cabinetry. But I can’t stay to admire, I want to go back to my room and hide in there. Creeping around the room I get to the entryway and peek along the downstairs hallway. Nothing. Noone, nothing, no noise. I see the staircase and begin to make a dash for it as quietly as I can on my bare feet.
A bulky frame steps out from behind a tall grandfather clock grabbing me from behind and slamming a hand over my mouth lifting me into the air. The surprise knocks the air from my lungs, and I panic, flailing my arms and legs. I kick at a side table which is the only noise I’ve heard since we’ve been playing this game. Who has caught me? The impenetrable grip across my mouth and around my waist could be any one of the three men who have paid for me to be here. I don’t have to wait long as I continue fighting, trying to get out of his grip or at least figure out who it is. “Fight me, go for it, it only makes me harder,” a silky soft male voice that I have not heard before whispers close to my ear.
Despite the fact he told me that fighting turns him on, all his words have done is turn up my fight or flight mode. Terror radiates from my body as he lugs me through the hall and into a large sitting room with brown leather sofas and a fireplace. It looks like an old English room but I can’t take in the pretty details because my mind has gone feral in fear. The man lowers me across the arm of the sofa, removing his hand from my mouth as he whispers, “Scream and I’ll give you up to Jacob.” That snubs out the words from my mouth. I’d prefer to suffer the unknown fate then face Jacob and his knives again.
Holding my head squished into the sofa, the strong man who can only be the father I haven’t met yet undoes his belt buckle and then I hear his trousers zip. My body vibrates with a cacophony of terror and desire. I’m so fucked up its turning me on. I haven’t seen this man’s face, body or eyes and yet desire begins to pool between my legs. He lifts my borrowed t-shirt that is covering my reddened arse and runs his cock between my pussy lips. I try to jolt and wiggle away, afraid of what is happening, what I am becoming. The Father chuckles deeply from behind me.
“Look at your pussy leaking onto my cock like a good little rabbit. Is there anything we can do to you that doesn’t turn you on?” he says darkly. “We shall see.” As he nudges at my entrance, and I feel the warm soft heat of him, I stop my wiggling and try to breathe through the stretch as my body begins to accommodate his size. I’m opening wide for him as he only dips the tip of himself in and out, hitting my g-spot with delirious accuracy. “You like that, little rabbit? Look at you go all still when the big bad wolf pleasures his prey.”
His words make a shudder run down my spine and although he’s scaring me with his strong restraint and cool words, they hit straight to my clit which is enjoying his assault. My body goes limp at the pleasure he’s building inside of me, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “There we go, take what Daddy has to give you,” he mutters as he pushes further inside of me and we both groan at the fullness of him inside of me. I feel the change in his calm demeanour the moment he bottoms out, turning feral. He ruts into me with long hard strokes, it’s all I can do to lay prone and breathe as my body takes it. I take everything he gives me, and I relish in abandon the sensations he’s creating inside of me. I didn’t give him consent, but yet I did by being here. It’s consent but it’s not consent and that thought alone sparks my building orgasm as he ploughs into me like an animal claiming his prize and taking everything I’ve got.
My toes are barely touching the floor, my face is still being held down facing the back of the sofa, I can feel the heaviness of his chest and body weighing over the back of my body and the scent of him and the leather fills my nose. I know he’s climbing to his climax as his thighs shake and he mutters close to my ear, “Take Daddy’s seed now, take everything you are given, little rabbit.”
Oh god those words take me to places I’ve never been before, I push back into him and erupt around him as my ownorgasm spills over me, ripping through my body in waves of pleasure as I clasp his cock deep inside of me, draining his balls as he comes with a roar. Tingling all over from the rough handling, rough fucking, and still roughly being held down, I feel his heavy hand being removed from my head as this man, Father, removes himself from me. My feet find the floor and I begin to gather my limbs (and my wits) and push up from the sofa. Standing and turning, I almost fall backwards on the sofa but a hand reaches out to grab my arm as my own comes up to cover my mouth. Fear and shock consume me as the face smiling back at me is one of demented nightmares. I am looking into the clear crystal eyes of a clown’s face, more specifically a Joker painted face.
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“Don’t be alarmed, little rabbit,” he smiles as his clown red mouth turns upward, clearly expecting my panic. “As an owner of Clarendon, I have to hide my face and identity. That is all. Nothing sinister here I assure you. Only the things I am going to do to your body shortly as my prize.” His eyes twinkle but it doesn’t take away from the sinister look of the joker painted across his unknown face.
Staring, frozen in fear, he picks up my hand as I feel his come dripping down my leg. “Let’s get you cleaned up before breakfast, you are going to need sustenance for my day of planned activities ahead.” He walks me to what looks like a downstairs bathroom, opens the door and says, “Here you go, I’ll wait here.”
Not looking back at his creepy face, I hurry inside and close the door. I wipe at the trailing mess down my leg with toilet paper and use the toilet, thankful for once that no one is watching me. Washing my hands I have no choice but to leave.This is what I signed up for. I can’t believe it’s a creepy painted face that has tipped me over the edge.
I open the door and take in the man I’ve only judged by hispainted face. He leans against the wall across from the toilet, his arms folded, a lazy, relaxed feeling rolling off him. He reminds me of a calm, confident tiger, stalking his prey, ready to pounce whenever he feels like it but happy to wear his prey down before he jumps. He wears cream trousers and a dark polo t-shirt open at the neck and taut against his wide chest, the veins standing prominent along his arms.
I smile sheepishly, trying to avoid looking at his creepy face but failing. He holds out his hand, I take it again feeling the warmth of his hand and the power of it clasping mine. I feel small, like a little lamb off to slaughter. We walk silently into the kitchen, and he reaches for some croissants and jams and juices. “Hungry?” he asks and I nod my head. My growling stomach says I am but I’m in all kinds of knots being near this man. He lifts a bowl of cut fruit from a giant double-door fridge and sets it on the kitchen island. “Please sit,” he waves a hand at the bar stools underneath the island, so I pull one out and climb onto it slowly, feeling the aftermath of being taken so roughly in addition to the sting from Jacob’s punishment. I watch this mad looking man pulling out plates, glasses and jugs of juice from the fridge.
He casually leans across the opposite side and offers, “Dig in, little rabbit.” And I take that as permission to choose a croissant from the plate and begin to pull it apart and look back at the Father. “What is your name?” I ask timidly, watching amusement crinkle his eyes.
“Mateo,” he replies in his silky-smooth voice that wraps around my senses and covers me in a honey-thick calm.
“Nice to meet you, Mateo,” I reply as I tear off another piece of croissant and put it into my mouth.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he smiles wickedly, “or it most certainly will be soon enough.”
“Now you have won the game, what do you have planned for me?”
“Eat up your breakfast, little rabbit, and you’ll find out very soon.”
My mind whirls,He doesn’t want to tell me. Is that to build the anticipation and enjoy my fear or is it that because he thinks I’ll balk?The croissant feels dry in my mouth and I try and swallow it down, grimacing. Watching me closely he doesn’t miss my discomfort and says, “I’ve been watching you little rabbit and I have a feeling that whatever plans we have for you these next few days you’re going to submit, take what you’re given and revel in it. You could surprise me, but then, you already have. Never in my life have I seen someone play so well with Angus or not tap out with Jacob. What is it about you that you can embrace any kink and enjoy it as your own? You don’t run away in fear like everyone else, you run towards it, most likely with a dripping pussy.”
I can feel the blush creep up my neck and heat my cheeks. This man and his sons see me for what I truly am. I don’t know what that is, but they see me.Why am I like this?This openness for more, to take what I’m given greedily and ask for more? Is it the money, is it empathy? Or is it that I crave something darker, something more, something unseen and unspoken. Something that lies in the dark corners of my mind, waiting to be unleashed and enjoyed.
But what if his plans are my limit? Surely I have one somewhere?What is my limit?I confess even I’ve been surprised how well I take to people and their kinks. But maybe that is it—I see the people first and their kinks second? I’m willing to do for them what they’re paying me to dobecausethey have to pay people to do it. I empathize with their situation and when I open myself up to the men and their kinks, I open my heart and mind to enjoy it with them, for them. They are willing to open themselves up and be seen in their moment of fantasy, who I am to judge or limit them. Could that be it, why I seem to embrace each kink? All these years, having my own hiddenkinks and feeling ashamed, so much so I hadn’t even mentioned them to James. I get these men, I get it. Even by doing this job, being open to it, I know deep down so many people wouldn’t, it’s why I haven’t told a soul about this job. They wouldn’t understand and worse, I’d be ostracized in my community for it and even worse than that? My children would be ostracized. I couldn’t live with that. So I keep my job a secret like these men keep their kinks a fantasy.
“Have you finished eating Roxy? Can I offer you anything else?” asks Mateo, tipping up his glass and finishing his juice.
“Thank you, I think I’m full for now.”
“Ok,” says Mateo in reply, standing straight and brushing crumbs from his shirt. “Let’s go back upstairs.”
