OWNED
By Alexx Andria
Copyright 2011 by Alexx Andria
Smashwords edition
*This naughty bit of a story is intended for
mature readers only. It features acts of sexual gratification of
the dominant and submissive kind. If you’re not 18 years or older,
find something else to read.
The following short story is a work of
fiction.
How do you run from fate?
The simple answer: You don’t.
I didn’t know it then, but the moment I laid
eyes on him, my life was forever changed.
There was something about him that held me in
thrall, rooted my feet to the floor and demanded my attention.
I’d never been one who commanded a room
— preferring the quiet solitude of a library to the limelight
— so when it seemed his gaze had zeroed in on me in spite of
the countless more attractive people who frequented the club
downstairs, I was shocked by the stark hunger I saw in his
eyes.
And he wasn’t sly about it either; in fact,
he was downright brazen, as if he had a right to allow his gaze to
drift down my body in open assessment.
I shivered and tried to look away.
Most times, I went unnoticed. Why was tonight
any different? Why would he give me a second glance, much
less a look that fairly sizzled and smoked with carnal promise?
My employer, a man with a paunchy belly and
flat, sullen eyes, motioned for me to make myself scarce and I
moved to do so, but his voice, smooth as fine brandy
interceded.
“Stay.”
That one word caused my breath to hitch and
my heart to thunder. What did he want with me?
Just as surprised, Leonard stopped and sent a
look to his most influential patron, saying, “She’s just the
bookkeeper. If you want a girl who can suck the chrome from a ball
hitch, I can arrange it, but her? She’s just a number
cruncher.”
His mouth curved in a subtle manner but
otherwise remained silent. I looked nervously between the two men,
not quite sure what was happening but I felt distinctly at a
disadvantage. I tried to make my way to the door. Whatever was
happening didn’t involve me. I cursed the day I took this job but
I’d been desperate and times were hard in a down economy. At the
time, taking a job at the local gentleman’s club had seemed an
acceptable risk when Leonard had assured me that I’d never work the
floor like his exotic beauties.
What Leonard didn’t say was that I didn’t
have what it took to work the floor. I was neither exceedingly
beautiful in face or form but rather average from my shoulder
length brown hair to my dark brown eyes. I was, as my father had
often disparaged, depressingly ordinary.
“Sit.”
I opened my mouth at the command, silently
chafing at the way his assured authority had me slowly sinking into
my chair in spite of my belief that whatever was about to unfold, I
wanted no part of.
His gaze left mine to rest on Leonard. “Did
you acquire what I seek?” he asked, his casual pose reminding me of
a dangerous animal coiled behind a façade of seemingly safe
brush.
“Of course, Mr. Villanti,” Leonard said,
flicking his gaze to me with uncertainty. I couldn’t blame him.
Leonard seemed out of his depth for his sharp cunning and most
uncomfortable with the fact that I was witnessing this exchange. He
knocked against the wall behind him and the door opened. Four women
— none of whom I recognized from the floor — filed in,
all naked except for the spindly heels on their feet. I looked
away, my cheeks burning. “All four of these women fit your
criteria. Beautiful, perfect bodies, and young. But they’re also
experienced, which is something I assumed you would prefer given
your appetites.” He snapped his fingers and all four turned
dutifully to present their backsides for Mr. Villanti’s open
perusal but his attention had returned to me, his fathomless gaze
causing fear — and something I couldn’t name — to ripple down
my spine and pool in my belly. I swallowed and returned my stare to
my feet, hoping and praying that this strange,
David Sherman & Dan Cragg
Frances and Richard Lockridge