Page 17 of Vice
“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about right now.”
“Did you pay to come here? Tofuck? Or are you one of us, one of Fernando’s servants?”
I take a step back, putting a healthy amount of space between us. “I’m neither. I just came to buy drugs.”
The guy in the tux visibly calms. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants and rocks back onto his heels, a manic light flickering in his pale blue eyes. “You have no idea where you are, do you?”
I refrain from answering. I don’t like the madness hovering over his head, this strange Southern, dark-haired man; I’m beginning to think he might be a little crazy. He tips his head back and laughs.
“You’ve strayed far from the path of civilization. No one just comes here to buy drugs. He’ll have you playing this game soon enough, or he’ll turn you into a pawn in it, Sam. You’d better clue yourself into your surroundings and quickly, otherwise you might end up the used instead of the user.” He steps back, a quirky, unsettling expression on his face. I think he’s going to go and stand back by the door, but before he can reach it a tall, blond-haired guy with neck tattoos places a hand on his shoulder and stops him in his track. The blond guy already has a woman on his left arm. She’s completely naked, apart from what looks like a necktie looped tightly around her throat, biting into her skin. Her dark brown, almost black hair is arranged into a perfect mess of curls, which fall way down her back. Her breasts are perfect, nipples peaked and standing to attention. The blond guy hugs her to his side as he reaches out and strokes his fingers down Tux Guy’s cheek.
“Care to introduce yourself?” the blond guy asks.
Meeting my eye instead of the newcomer’s, Tux Guy smirks, a false air of confidence rolling off him. He sighs. “Of course. I’m Plato. I see you’ve already met my friend Persephone?”
Plato’s fingers skate over the creamy, perfect skin of the woman on the blond guy’s arm; he traces them over her stomach, up, so that he’s skimming the swell of her breast. The girl doesn’t move. She remains glued to the spot, allowing Plato to explore her body, seemingly unfazed, as the blond guy watches on.
“Oh yes. She’s fucking perfect. And so are you.”
Plato looks hungry, but it seems false. Like he’s acting. “Would you like for me and Persephone to put on a show for you?” he asks the blond guy. He steps closer to the man, so close that their chests are almost touching. The blond guy’s eyelids droop as he looks from Persephone to the other man.
“Yeah. Yeah, I want you to fuck her good for me, man. I’m going to watch.”
Plato pouts. “Is that all? I was hoping…” His hand disappears between their bodies, and suddenly the blond guy is stiffening, his shoulders growing tense. He makes a low, warning growl in his throat.
“I’m not fucking gay,” he hisses.
“I never said you were,” Plato offers. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t suck your dick. And it doesn’t mean you can’t fuck my ass, either.”
I stand back as the three of them move toward a low couch in the center of the room, where Plato begins to slowly strip out of his suit. His attention is fixed on the woman and the man in front of him, but his gaze flashes to me every so often. He’s trying to see if I get it now. And I do. This place is full of rich bastards, willing to pay to have their deepest, darkest desires fulfilled. It is also full of people, held here in this room against their will, who are forced to submit to whatever is asked of them. On pain of…I don’t know. I’m not sure what the punishment would be if any of these “workers” refused to do their jobs, but I’m sure it can’t be good.
In no time at all, Plato is completely naked and he’s inside Persephone, fucking her hard and fast while the blond customer watches, stroking his hard cock through his black pants. I can see the desire in his eyes. I can see violence, too. This whole thing has started off pleasant enough, but I know men like this fucking blond dude, and I know what he really wants to do. He wants to hurt them. He wants to watch the pain in their eyes—pain that he causes—and he wants to get off on it.
The room is full of violence, shame and terror, all of which is thinly disguised by a grim patina of desire and lust. The woman on her knees, blowing a guy a few feet from me, is fingering her own pussy, palming her tits as she works her lips and her tongue up and down the guy’s shaft, but her moans are forced. She’s not enjoying herself, and she sure as shit doesn’t want to be here. Plato’s cock is rock solid as he uses it to pound Persephone in the ass, but I get the feeling there might have been some sort of stimulant involved on that front.
I stay exactly where I am, and I try to keep my head down. The occupants of the room all seem to be fairly involved in their activities at hand (or mouth, or ass, as the case might be), but I don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I stand perfectly still and I watch.
The blond guy with Plato and Persephone finally gives up the pretence and gives in to what he really wants. He grabs hold of Plato by the hair and kisses him roughly, jamming his tongue into his mouth. Plato responds, sucking on it and groaning while Persephone rocks her hips against his, the two of them still fucking. The blond guy lets go of Plato’s hair and runs his hand down Plato’s back, until he’s reaching in between his legs and he’s cupping Plato’s balls. With his other free hand, he cups and squeezes Persephone’s tits, so that he’s touching and caressing them both while they writhe against each other.
The next twenty minutes are pretty damned uncomfortable. I lean back against the wall, watching the door, waiting for Ocho to return to see that I’m not enjoying myself, but he doesn’t show up. Instead, I’m treated to the vision of Plato sucking the blond guy’s dick. I know shit is going to get real when the blond guy strips off, but things don’t go as I expect. He doesn’t bend Plato over and screw him in the ass. He bends over himself, burying his face between Persephone’s thighs, and he has Plato fuck him in the ass. Dark haired Persephone comes loud, and she comes hard. It’s a real orgasm, by the looks of things. Some of the other men standing around the edges of the room, quietly talking to other beautiful women in various states of undress, all stop their conversations to watch as Plato puts on the performance of a lifetime.
His skin is shining with sweat as he works himself in and out of the blond guy, who grabs handfuls of the thick carpet beneath him, head bowed, eyes closed tightly. A couple of the guys on the peripheries of the party subtly take hold of their erections through their pants, running their hands up and own themselves as the small space fills with the sound of Plato’s exertions.
“Goddamn he’s good,” someone mutters close by.
“The best.”
“Well, he’s had practice. Three years’ worth.”
Three years? Plato has been here for three years? That doesn’t seem as though it can be true. Surely not. How long can a party like this continue, after all? A night? Nothing more. People sleep. People have work. Responsibilities. Even if Plato is here against his will, the people who have paid to attend this…event have to return to their lives at some point.
One of the men watching the display before us steps forward. His pants are unbuttoned, his dick in his hand. He doesn’t even hesitate as he pushes himself into Persephone’s mouth. She accepts him; her eyes are clamped shut, and her hands are balled into fists, but she accepts him. The guy shudders pleasure as she licks and sucks at him. The blond being fucked by Plato watches with stunned, wide eyes as the other well-dressed man fucks Persephone’s mouth. He moans, a ragged breath of ecstasy escaping his lips, and then he’s coming, his dick pulsing as he spills his come everywhere into the carpet.
“Holy fuck,” someone whispers.
“Quite the show.”
Next to me, a tall guy with a black button-down and black leather gloves turns to the woman kneeling naked at his feet and strokes a hand over her hair. “Do you see?” he whispers. “This is how it goes. This is everything. This is what is expected of you.”
