Page 70 of Beautiful Chances

I refuse to let the knowledge that there’s someone else out there ruin me.

The song starts over, and I give Coen a subtle nod, still not looking at either of the men in the basement with me. Instead, I close my eyes and force myself to give in to the beat of the music. Maybe this particular song wasn’t the best choice, but the lack of variation is nothing compared to the level of distress the tune brings to Neil.

Instead of opening my eyes, I bend over and do a hair flip before shimmying my hips to the beat of the music.

I don’t expect the screams from Neil to be as alluring as they are, but they’re calling to me like a Siren’s call as I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to tune out Coen’s calm questions and Neil’s painful wails and pathetic begging.

Once more, I focus on the music, and I let my body take over. I imagine standing on the stage of Serendipity, with the audience cat-calling me. As I dive deeper into my mind, I feel as though I can almost smell the smoke and heavy cologne and perfume in the air.

Without thinking, I do what feels natural, swaying my hips, moving up and down the wall. My knees are spread as much as possible, my legs are bent, and I know my panties barely cover my core. But I don’t feel ashamed or scared. Instead, I feel some of my power trickle back into my body, and I palm my breasts before working my hands into my hair. Letting them glide up the back of my head, tangling in my long brown hair.

“I’m done.” Coen startles me when he places a hand on my shoulder at the same time as he speaks. I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts that I all but forgot what’s going on around me. Moving closer, Coen places his lips near my ear and whispers, “What else do you want to do tonight?”

I place my hands on Coen’s arms to stop myself from staggering like a newborn calf that hasn’t found its footing yet. “I want to go to bed,” I choke out.

My body and mind suddenly feel extremely exhausted, and I’m having trouble swallowing.

Coen nods but says, “I know, but you said there would be a punishment, so we have to follow through. No empty promises, remember?”

I remember, but I don’t have it in me to come up with something. I feel sick at the thought of what we’ve just done.

What I made Coen do.

“Can’t we just keep the song playing and hose him down again?” I beg.

Placing a kiss on my temple, Coen hands me my dress, and I hurriedly throw it on. “I’ll take care of it, babe. Wait for me on the stairs.”

“Well, that was disappointing,” he says to Neil when I’m perched on the stairs. “Since you didn’t even try to make the score interesting, I’m wondering if you’re too comfortable sitting down. Get up!” Coen’s tone is completely void of any emotion or kindness, the coldness making me shiver.

Although I want to, I’m unable to look away while Coen forces Neil to stand. He hoses him down again and tightens his chains so he can’t sit back down. Then we leave him there.

I hate that my heart hurts as Neil’s cries and whimpers follow us up the stairs, making me feel rotten to the core.

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