I spent the evening with Derek again the night before, and as he came inside me, it was with the harshest utterance of “mine” on his lips. I once again left feeling consumed and owned by him, and for the first time, I felt as though that was exactly how he wanted me to feel. His appetite for fucking is insatiable, and I love that he gives all of that desire to me. I can’t help but wonder when it will end, but I also can’t help but revel in it. It makes my life tolerable, but it is also the biggest threat to my emotional existence.

As I stand with my wet hair taunting me in the bathroom mirror a mere two hours before I’m expected to be downstairs, I’m thankful for the strong and intense feeling of ownership that his attention has given me. I feel safe even in my fear.

As I get ready for the evening ahead, I end up letting my curls dry on their own, and braiding my locks loosely down my back. The emerald gown is stunning, and when Liz arrives thirty minutes before we need to be on the gaming room floor, she appraises me excitedly. “You look amazing.”

She must be trying to make me feel better, but the honesty in her eyes is encouraging. She sets about the task of helping me with my makeup. I haven’t yet been to the spa and won’t until the week prior to my starting to work, so Derek has asked that she help me with makeup.

She sets to work on my skin and wryly comments, “I can see why Derek asked me to keep your makeup simple.” She looks to my eyes with her provocative comment, knowing I’m hanging on her every word. “You are far too pretty to need this.” She smiles and winks at me before she finishes her comment. “Besides, I think Derek’s a little worried about the attention you might get…”

When I look myself over for the last time before we leave my room, I’m surprised with how content I actually am with my appearance. My auburn locks are in a loose, long braid that falls over my shoulder. My makeup is exactly as ordered: my eyes made up in natural colors that look stunning against my bright blue irises, my cheeks a soft pink, and my lips a glossy and natural hue. The slinky dress feels smooth against my bare skin. The spaghetti straps show off my shoulders and neck nicely. I’m braless and wearing no underwear, and the dress leaves no curve to the imagination. It isn’t tight, but skims my body perfectly. Jacob did an amazing job. My taut and nervous nipples show through the thin fabric, and the skirt falls to the floor. My heels are blessedly more comfortable and easy to walk in than I worried they might be. My jewelry is beautiful and borrowed from Liz. The earrings are long but not big. They hang simply down my neck. The necklace is equally exquisite and trails down between my breasts.

And as Liz stands behind me taking in my appearance, looking beyond amazing herself, she smiles gently before giving me her feedback. “You look stunning, Ash. Don’t be nervous. I’ll be there.” With that, we leave my room and make the short trip down to the twentieth floor where the gaming hall is located.

When we enter, I’m taken aback, and I’m suddenly terrified. The room is large, more than large, it’s huge—ballroom huge. The ceilings are massively high, and there are poker tables, black jack tables, and other gambling tables I don’t recognize from wall to wall. There is a large circular bar in the middle of the room that serves all sides of the room. There are servers moving through the throngs of men, taking drink orders. Everywhere I look are beautiful women. Some of them I recognize from the building, and others I’ve never seen before. They all look far more stunning than I do, and while I may have felt reasonably confident in my appearance ten minutes before, I now feel like the self-conscious child that hides inside of me, ready to come out as soon as I’m reminded just how plain and ordinary I really am.

The room isn’t crowded, but there are more men than I can count, and as we walk in, their eyes move to us, appraising us. I see Frederick a short distance away, and he approaches us quickly. “It’s good to see you, Miss Monroe. I’m glad to see you’re with Liz tonight.”

I greet him in kind, and he moves away from us. I’ve not seen Derek yet, and as Liz and I start moving through the men toward the bar, I start scanning the room looking for him. We take our seats at the bar and order a drink, and Liz starts filling me in on the ins and outs of the gaming room floor. Essentially, men gamble, and they buy women for a period of time. Often the purchased women are used as gambling stakes, subject to their house manager’s approval. House managers are in charge of arranging and approving purchases, and there is a special desk set up by the entrance that handles the actual transaction of a purchase. This desk also notifies security of the arrangements being made so that security is monitoring the appropriate rooms at the appropriate times. House managers come and go as they please and as they are able, but their function is to oversee their women and approve arrangements. They gamble, drink, and socialize with the other men, but their responsibility remains to the club.

Liz eyes me speculatively as she goes over these details and points out different activities as they are happening. At one table a woman from a different house has been put up as stake in a poker game. Her house manager, ugly Aaron—I feel sorry for her instantly—is watching nearby, with a drink in his hand, talking to another man. The woman is stunning, far more stunning than any one of the men at the table, and she watches the activity with amusement, feigned or not, I can’t tell, but she is playing her part well. I can’t help but wonder if I could ever be so comfortable in such a situation. The whole operation looks normal—the men, the women, everything looks normal. I’m not sure what I expected to see … naked women, people having sex in the middle of the room … but it is nothing like my imaginings.

Once Liz and I have been at the bar a few minutes taking in the scene, Derek approaches us. I’m glad to see him there, but he definitely doesn’t seem to feel likewise. He looks me over carefully while Liz watches him.

She smiles slightly before commenting, “Doesn’t she look lovely, Mr. Pennington?”

His eyes slowly leave my body before travelling to her. He looks at her for many seconds, castigating her with his eyes for putting him in such a position before he finally answers, “Yes, she does.”

The smirk on Liz’s face tells me she expected just such a reaction but didn’t care. She wanted to put him on the spot, and she managed it beautifully. His eyes return to me, but flit away quickly. He leaves us there to continue our drinks after lightly touching my arm and telling me that he’ll talk to me later.

As he moves away from us, Liz comments, “Sorry to put you on the spot, but I just couldn’t help taunting him a bit with you.” There is a wry smile on her face as she eyes me.

We continue our drinks as I look around taking more of the place in. The room is incredible, appointed as nicely as the rest of the building, and the activity is all equally sophisticated and regal … that is, apart from the dress of the working women. They are all dressed far more provocatively than I am, and I was feeling exposed in my evening gown! I’m suddenly thankful for my skimpy fabric. At least it isn’t skin tight and split up the side to my hip, or so low cut that my nipples sit a mere fraction of an inch beneath the line of the cleavage threatening to show themselves. I’m suddenly very grateful to Derek and his decision to keep me simple and “demure.”

My eyes find his regularly as he moves through the crowd. He is nearly always already eying me, and my skin flushes the moment our eyes meet.

Liz confirms this when she comments a bit dryly, “He just can’t stop staring at you. My God, how is he going to ever let another man fuck you?”

I’m taken aback by her comment, and just as much by the honesty of it. My time is coming up sooner than I care to acknowledge, and while I can often ignore the immediacy of it, her words just smacked me in the face with the truth of it. As the night wears on, endless men approach, asking who I am and introducing themselves to me. Every time I look to Derek, he is glaring harshly back at me. Liz always refers the men to Derek if they have any questions about my availability, but as time goes by, his reception of the men approaching him becomes more and more hostile as I watch.

Fortunately, the evening moves quickly, and the room starts to thin out, but unfortunately, near the end of the night, Liz is purchased and is whisked away by a surprisingly handsome man that treats her more like a long-known friend than a man buying her time. She kisses me quickly on the cheek before exiting, leaving me alone at the bar. I stay put, not fending off the men nearly so nicely and courteously as Liz was able to, but I’m now completely nervous, terrified even, of being on my own. My anxiety is mounting with every suitor, and I’m sure it is starting to register as a desperate look on my face.

When the fifth man approaches me in under fifteen minutes, my anxiety shows, and I uncomfortably turn from him, telling him to speak with Derek. I’m starting to fear every man that moves my way, and I feel extremely vulnerable, as though I’m at risk of being abducted at any moment. I sit, praying desperately to be left alone. When a hand lands gently on my arm, I spin toward the man, ready to bolt. But as I open my mouth to excuse myself, I look up to the most comforting eyes in the world, dark and hooded as usual, and probably anything but comforting to anyone else, but exactly what I needed to see in this moment. As I look at him, I exhale an incredibly deep breath of air and I suddenly feel safe again.

Tears of an emotional overload that I don’t quite understand prick my eyes, and as he sees them, he leans swiftly to my ear and whispers, “Hush. You’re okay. It’s almost time to go.”

He takes my hand and leads me to a table where he sits beside me. I hope desperately he won’t leave my side, but moments later, a different threat appears. Mr. Grayson approaches the table as Derek glares in his direction. When he sits, Derek’s jaw clenches tight, and he refuses to look at Mr. Grayson. My skin is suddenly crawling, and my insides feel like they are rotting in disgust. Mr. Grayson starts to shuffle the cards on the table as Derek continues to ignore him. When Mr. Grayson suggests a wager, Derek’s eyes narrow instantly. He gives the man a look of warning as my body stills and goes cold.

Mr. Grayson starts to speak. “Winner gets the girl. How about it? Huh?” Grayson’s tone is taunting.

“She’s not working yet.” Derek’s tone is a warning.

“I’m the club director, not a john, and I don’t technically need your permission.” Grayson’s tone is now threatening.

The look in Derek’s eyes is painful to see. He knows that Grayson is right and that there is little he can do to protect me from Grayson should he choose to use me against him. I can easily see the powerless emotion behind his eyes. Derek gives a terse nod, knowing that refusal will only cause Grayson to exact his cruel revenge on us both, while playing at least offers a hope of protecting me. My heart warms at his compassion, and it also chills at the threat looming over us.

Finding some measure of courage from the helplessness of the situation, I manage to open my mouth and speak. “What about me? Don’t I get to play too?” I look to them both hopefully. Derek returns my gaze with confusion and worry, while Grayson looks on, amused at the turn of events.

Mr. Grayson snorts before responding sarcastically, “Very well, whore. Have your fun. And what will be your terms? You want to fuck us both at the same time if you win?” He’s mocking me and enjoying my nervousness, but I’m not afraid of this pathetic monster.

I think long and hard as both men watch me. Of course I want Derek, but I want to give Mr. Grayson no reason to retaliate should I actually manage to win, and as his annoyance at me starts to show on his face, I respond, “Perhaps I could sleep alone.”

He chuckles. “Very well. Lady’s choice … if you can be called such.”

We divvy up the chips, Mr. Grayson deals, and we start to play. I’ve been witness to a good many poker games in my life, thanks to a father who was addicted to gambling and lost his entire fortune, as well as his life, because of it, so I’m not green. And it becomes quickly understood that I’m more of a threat than perhaps I was first perceived. A small crowd gathers quickly around us as we continue to play. It’s not often they see a woman playing, least of all with a manager and director, so the interest is immediate. An hour in, when the tables turn and I’m holding a considerable advantage, Mr. Grayson’s irritation starts to show. I let nothing of my confidence show as I take the final hand and end the game. The men in the crowd chatter excitedly at my win as they start to break apart. Derek looks desperately relieved, and I sit stoically, giving nothing away.