Fighting Dreams Ch. 06

The man he's speaking with seems surprised, transfixed by the sight. His tongue stumbles on his sentence; his eyes avert suddenly when he realizes the Nightmare has noticed his attention. His words and body language seem to be trying to placate the brooding panther, but there's no release of the tension that Dream's inflicted.

No, the Nightmare only adds to it.

As his associate chatters on, he undoes the top button to his pants and uses a single finger to pull me between his knees. I don't think of those around us; I simply obey the task he's set before me as he taps my lips once, then his cock. Closing my eyes, I block out the club and people as I worship it as I had his finger.

It doesn't escape me that the man goes silent, replies hesitantly once more to the Nightmare, and then leaves.

The Nightmare doesn't release me from my task. He simply runs his fingers through my hair and leaves me there. Hollowing my cheeks with each suckle, I bob slowly and try to read his mood on when to speed up or slow. But it seems that all he wants is for me to continue.

No one else dares approach him in those moments as I serve him with my mouth.

My jaw starts to ache. My tongue is tired from tracing the lines of his flesh as I breathe him in. I'm little more than a robot following his single command, but my batteries are wearing out.

Finally, he pushes me off and down to my belly. I don't have to be told; I put my cheek against his shoe as I rest there on the floor. It must meet his approval because his cane only lightly trails over my limbs instead of striking.

Later, King walks up to the dais and sits to Dream's right. He dismisses the others with a wave and sits back as they scatter among the lights. A tap to his wristband and the music seems to rise in volume around us.

"Is it handled?" Dream asks quietly.

"Yes," King confirms, scanning over the crowd.

"Good. Malicious outbursts have bad habits of ruining good slaves," he notes as he also stares out among the crowd.

"And that one?" King's voice is heavy with annoyance.

"Utterly miserable," Dream replies. "But finally complacent to being used in a more public setting. You won't have any problems with her."

King nods once, turning his eyes to the crowd. "Good. This has been a longer ordeal than we had planned. I would like to get it closed out quickly."

Dream leans his head on his hand. "There's a number of things that have me on edge. But everything is going accordingly."

King nods. "Did you check the notes on the latest offer that came in?"

"What of it?" Dream asks.

"It's a solid investment if the sale goes through."

Devon tisks, waving a hand. "Run the numbers again with finance before you draw conclusions."

"He's done well with Sara," King answers. "At a half percent, we're seeing well over a hundred a day."

The Nightmare sits forward; he looks annoyed with the conversation. "A few hundred is less than what she would have made walking the floor, even if I'm glad to be rid of her. If we're considering investing further, he will need to turn out a better margin of profit."

"He wants more from us."

"Then he'll have to buy the opportunity, the same as any other," Dream replies coldly as he steeples his fingers. "I won't risk that type of investment until I'm certain he can deliver."

"The bias of the others seems to be getting to you," King's arms cross over his chest; his own irritation is slipping through.

"No, darling. I'm being mindful of the viper I know him to be. Our empire is large, and that makes it an attractive target."

"Martinez's profit margin would only bolster it."

I freeze at the sound of that name, my ears now fully paying attention to each word they say. My eyes are staring into the carpet; I try to understand what they're talking about and put it together. But my mind is like sand and their words are slipping through my fingers. Fuck. Focus!!!

"Profit is not the question. There are legalities to consider." Devon must notice my stillness because he kills the conversation. "But we'll discuss them further in the morning."

"That's fine," King replies, ever calm as he gets up. "Dress her in something normal; I don't want them rutting over her like dogs in the office while she's working."

"I've already taken care of that. She'll be presentable, but invisible with your staff."

"Good."

It must be close to four by the time Basement is shut down, and the guests are gone. I help with restocking the bar and washing the dishes under the watchful eye of Danielle. It's mindless work. But it's something I can do. And if I don't have to be right next to Devon for it, all the better.

I can't stop the pinking of my cheeks when I realize that those who I clean with no doubt saw my use. But no one speaks of it. I'm sure they've all endured similar.

This time I'm not taken into a separate apartment in the House to sleep. No, this time Dream collects me and up the elevator, we go again to his personal apartment. He won't risk Reg getting to me again.

"Those welts need treatment, darlin', particularly before you go to King."

His treatment consists of getting me naked and in a cool shower, a white pill of ibuprofen, some water, and then wrapping me. The wraps slide over the track marks and press. Though they suck going on, they do make the cane's remnants more bearable as I'm put into a camisole and pair of sleep shorts.

But he doesn't take me to his room.

No, it's back to that hallway with the pictures of smoke and the door with the code that he opens and closes the door with.

With no Alexander and normal lighting, it almost feels like a different place. The walls are midnight blue, and there's a couch by the far wall I hadn't seen before that has a throw over it. There is also, much to my concern, a white barred cage with blankets and pillows waiting.

"I'd rather not remind you what it costs to fight with me, sweetheart..." He warns softly, giving a little squeeze to my neck as I hesitate. "You don't have to like the cage, but you will spend the night in it one way or the other."

Silence hangs as I fight between the fear before me and the fear that's been ingrained in me. But all it takes to break that is the snap of his cane to the floor.

Lowering myself to my knees, I crawl in reluctantly, unwilling to see what he may do if I don't obey. He closes the door as I settle on the blankets and try to nest the pillows. The lock clicks solidly into place.

"It's the House that owns you, sweetheart. You had better get used to playing by its rules if you're going to survive. Everyone must play their part, and it's past time for you to accept yours," he warns as he crouches down to stare through the bars. "Whether you like it or not."

My eyes follow him as he clicks the second one in the latch, then walks out. I hear the beeping of his keypad; the little light beside it goes red.

The lights stay on for a time, but with no motion through the room they slowly dim and click off.

I curl up small, trying to ignore the bars and the darkness creeping in when I notice something down by my feet. There's a soft glow of blue by the foot of my cage.

I turn my body carefully, nestling against the pillow to get a better look. A little orb lamp that shifts from blue to green to purple is sitting right beside the couch. Though it doesn't give off much light, its swirling patterns keep the room from disappearing entirely.

Staring into its glow, I stay curled up tight as my mind slowly turns the butterflies in my stomach to fly with each little flash of memory for what's come from today, and what may come from tomorrow.

After all, the Untouchable King is my next rotation and I have no idea how the fuck I'm going to please him.