CHAPTER ONE
JENNA
This can’t be fucking happening!
I scrunch my eyes closed and open them again, praying this is a fucking dream!
The chain around my ankle means nothing compared to the images plastered all over the walls—pictures ofmeentering the Dungeon. I’m a high-class prosecutor with a reputation of being a bad bitch and I am very careful with how I conduct myself personally. During my trips to the Dungeon, I thought I was being discreet by taking the long route and always changing cars. The twenty thousand dollar membership was promised to cover your identity.
No cameras, no phones, no trackers.
Those were the rules, yet in these images, I’m bound, gagged, chained, whipped, tied up and so much more. A whimper escapes when I spot the image of me with the two men who are wearing lycra masks. It was the first time I had tried fisting and there is fucking proof of it right there!
I always wore a mask and so did the guyorguys! No one was meant to know who the fuck I was. I know the types of people that visit the Dungeon. I may be a lawyer but the moment I check out of work and indulge in my extracurricular activities, I don’tgive a fuck who they are as long as their dick game is on point and they can make me scream.
“Fuck!” I hiss and bend down, trying to break the fucking chain on my ankle. It’s futile. I know it is but it doesn’t stop me from trying. I release the chain with a grunt and fall to my ass. I'm still in the lingerie I was wearing last night when I arrived at the Dungeon. I don’t remember what happened after I walked into the BDSM room.
“Welcome to theDollhouse, Miss Powel.” I tense and look around the room plastered with my face. I spot the red flashing light in the corner and narrow my eyes. I keep the horror from spilling across my face. I've heard about theDollhouse. I met some women who survived it and no matter what I did, even offered them every form of protection, they would never tell me about this place. All I have managed to find out is that this is the place powerful men bring women they want to break. “You have more secrets than a man having an affair.”
Years of practice in the courtroom have prepared me for moments like this. I keep my poker face in place and shrug my shoulders. “Maybe. If those men in the photos are married, it’s none of my business.”
“Hmmmm.” His stoic reply has my nerves frayed, the fact they know about my visits to the Dungeon isn’t fucking good. If this shit was to get out, I would lose my job. Right now, the only thing that matters is me getting the fuck out of here so I can get my ass home and ready to go to trial against the Frondozo family after Easter weekend. This case can make my career. Being able to put Monte away would be the biggest score of my life.
“Why don’t we cut to the chase and you tell me what it is that you want?” I use myno bullshittone that always works on criminals when they’re on the stand.
“We want to see what you look like when you bleed.” His threat has my breath hitching and my pulse racing. I hate thatfear is an aphrodisiac for me, always has been, hence why I love being chased and bound at the Dungeon. No normal man is into the shit I am. Vanilla is a flavor of ice cream I enjoy but not in the bedroom. I like it red but I prefer pitch black.
“The fun begins now,” another voice says. This one has an edge to it. Something dark and sinister that has my spidey senses tingling.
“The key to your freedom is behind one of those images. You get one chance,” the first voice says.
“One chance for what?” I ask.
“To select the photo. Pick the right one and your chains will be gone. Select the wrong one and we get to see how sexy you look when you bleed out as we fuck you.” My spine turns to steel as I straighten in my sitting position.
“You’re a smart girl,” another voice says, but this one has malice in his tone. The husky lilt to it has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “Freedom lies behind the photo where you first knew you would never fit into society, where your carnal desires were met and had you hungering and chasing that moment again for months.”
An image flashes through my mind.
The night I went to the Dungeon, on edge and spent from the stress of my job. That night my regular guy wasn’t there to inflict the pain I needed but they told me they could offer me something else. I agreed. I was blindfolded, cuffed and gagged. That night, it wasn’t just one man tending to my needs, it was three. Ever since that night I have been experimenting with two or three guys, twice a week, to try and relive the euphoria of that night. No matter what I did or tried, nothing compared to how those three men played with me. They inflicted the most delicious pain to the point I couldn’t sit properly for days and walked with a limp.
I climb to my feet and scan the room for that image. It takes me a few minutes to locate it but when I do, my breath stills. Their faces are blurred and they wear black hoodies, concealing themselves. I never got to see their faces that night and it’s haunted me ever since. I grip the photo and yank it off the wall. It flops forward from the weight of the key taped to the back.
I tear it off and quickly release the padlock, sighing in relief when the chain clatters to the floor. I waste no time rushing for the door and pulling it open but I freeze. The hallway is dimly lit, paint peeling off the walls. There are four doors on either side. I inhale sharply, then take off running. When I reach a junction, I look left and right only seeing two other hallways but choose to continue straight.
I fist pump the air when I see a flight of stairs. I rush down them and almost cheer when I see the double doors that I’m sure lead to the exit. I grab the handle and tug but it doesn’t budge. I check for a lock or a key hole but see none.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I hiss beneath my breath as I continue to tug on the fucking thing, hoping that it’s just stuck.
“We said you—” I scream and whirl so fast I stumble and slam my back into the double doors. My eyes are wide with terror as I stare at the three men standing there with masks on. “Would get the key to your freedom not that you would be free of theDollhouse.”
I run my gaze over them. They’re all dressed in black, each of them wearing a white mask but there are colored LED lights on them. When they take a step forward in unison, I gasp. Their eyes. They have snake eye contacts that match the colored lights of their masks.
The one on the right has yellow snake eyes that match his mask. The one on the left has lime-green eyes that match his mask lights, but it's the one in the middle that sends dread pooling in my belly. His white snake eyes and the white lightof his mask seem to cast an eerie glow around us all. I inhale sharply when I see they are each carrying a bat, pipe and… a fucking knife! All three of them are easily over six feet, but the one in the center is just a few inches taller. The one on the right has broader shoulders than the other two, then the guy on the left takes a step forward, pulling me from my train of thought.
“The game is about to begin,” he says.
“What fucking game?” I snap.
