I figured that I should keep a journal, just in case I do not make it out alive. Kevin will be curious to know the full events which unfolded, and while I do leave some of the details out ... I do so only because I know they would hurt him. He is a true Oba, and worries for his clan ... And cause it's just me so far, I know that I worry him most. I should hope that if anything were to happen to me that he would know that I didn't lose myself simply because I couldn't keep my legs crossed. Though if anything, he might think me a greater whore.
I had only been working at The Day for two days when I received a phone call. At first I found myself strangely unattached to the informant as I held that black receiver to my ear, but as the information continued to roll from the woman's voice on the other end, my interest became perked.
"I moved here from Cincinnati about three years ago. That's how I know about you ... I saw your name in today's paper and knew that it was you I should contact." The woman's voice was so soft, so careful, so young. It had me wondering how old she really was.
"Oh?" I was interested, but anyone who had the Internet and a bit of knowledge on how to use it could find some of my past articles that I'd written for the Nightly Enquirer. My most famous being the one which some members of the Church of Eternal Life had gotten into a bit of a snag with the Master of the City. It took me along time to figure out what had happened, but I was paid for that sort stuff, and I was paid pretty damn well. "What can I do for you, Ms. ... ?"
Her tone seemed to drop, "I don't have a name. Not anymore." She was long for a minute before a heavy breath of air was released. I heard something moving in the background which resembled papers. Immediately I expected some sort of business oriented issue. Like AmeriCorp was laundering money to Captial One, or something to that degree.
"Well what can I do for you, ma'am?"
"Like I said, three years ago I moved here from Cincy. I was a runaway and didn't really have any money or a box to sleep on." She was laying it all out for me, a homeless girl. "But my background doesn't really matter. I'm going to tell you all that I can without telling you too much. Not that I want to make this hard on you ... but... "
"I understand. I don't want you to put yourself in any compromising positions." I twirled the phone cord around my index finger while shifting my eyes to my date planner. I had a meeting with Kevin. We were finally going to beat the **** out of each other and see who claimed dominance over the other. I didn't want dominance, I just wanted the facts set.
"Yeah. I work at the club, Maison de Convoitise."
Didn't ring any bells with me, but that wasn't such a shock since in French that had meant, "House of Lust". I guess my lack of reply kind of hinted that fact.
"It's a sex club which specializes in rare or strong submissive shifters." She waited for me to digest what she had said before continuing. "I'm a swanmaid ... Born and raised." Her voice was soft, scared. I was kind of surprised that she had taken the initiative to contact anyone at all. Swan's weren't known for their aggressive nature, and for a swan ... Well, this was mighty aggressive. "When I first started working there it was really nice. I earned good money and I didn't have to worry about being prey on the streets since they gave me a place to live.
"But about three months into it, things kind of got worse.. I was asked to take part in a show, and I didn't really see the harm in it. A few extra hundred dollars would have been a nice cushion. But..."
Her hesitation just made me all the more interested. I'd heard of clubs like these in London; they were outlawed in the states, but here ... They weren't as hung up as the pleasures of the flesh. Sydney was worse, but London didn't publicly bad-mouth their sexually-charged citizens.
It was only after choking back a sob that she spoke more. "It's nothing so light. They're doing more to us than they're supposed to. Raping us. Maiming some and putting silver in our bodies to keep us from healing like we naturally would."
"Have you spoken to the authorities? The Master of the City?" It was a long shot, but I doubted that they'd listen to a swan even if she told them what was happening.
I was not surprised when her gentle voice cracked while saying exactly what I was thinking, "I have but they don't seem to believe me. The Master of the City I couldn't get to. They'd know."
That's where it all began. A simple phone call leading me to Maison de Convoitise and taking a second job there. I can't say I was necessarily prepared, but just as the swan maid had said it wasn't too terribly long before things went from simply giving hand jobs or performing sex on stage.
My first night working on the backside of the coin was not as bad as I thought. I'd been chained to a wall and branded a few times before a werehorse tried to shove his dick in my mouth. Lucky for me, the mask which they had put on my head only unzipped so far and he couldn't quite get the tip in. I was lucky that night. There was little doubt that trying to give a stallion a blow job without being able to partially shift ones body just would mean pure hell.
The next night I hadn't been so lucky, but I got some of the information which I was waiting for.
"She's alpha and completely submissive. Enjoys it when you beat her and tell her what a little bitch she is." A dark, sensuous voice carried in the room which I was tied up in. Vienna was a vampire, responsible for all the people which were brought over to the other side of the clubs business handling. I had only seen her once, when she showed me to the room they always locked me in when I came in to work, and what I could remember of her was mostly how tall she was and how incredibly violent her eyes were. "Will she suit you or do you prefer something a bit younger?"
Younger? I found it hard not to spit on her feet when I smelled her close enough. I was twenty-eight years old and I looked damned fine. Something which the man that smelled of dusty old books had agreed to. Lucky for him.
Unlike the horse which my body had been introduced to the night before, he was much more gentle. "Qui, she'll do." His voice was thick, dripping with that French sexuality that old, old vampires have. He put Vienna to shame and she damn well knew it. Vampires had excellent senses, but only a true shifter could smell the change in an entity when they were feeling something extreme. By the smell Vienna was putting of, she did not like being his underling.
I was yanked up to my feet and the sound of the silver chains were unsnapped from the wooden rod and the leather bindings around my wrist. They didn't remove the mask that forced my black hair down, but they didn't have to. Rarely did these clients let their face be seen, and this vampire wasn't about to make an exception for me.
