I wasn't quite so anxious for a session with the young blond after the brutalization by the older man. I was sore and exhausted from having been taken by three men already that day—and the tension of the near miss on being taken by many more. I needn't have worried, though, When the young man was shown into my cell and the door had clanged shut behind him, my world took a strange turn in a way that had never happened to me before.
He came over close to where I was lying back on th
Life was little different in the mansion hugging the snow-clad mountainside at Snowshoe than it was in Hoagie's inn. Less demanding—in terms of service both at table and in the bed—and the surroundings certainly more sumptuous. But very little different in terms of feeling owned and controlled—and isolated, all alone in the world. I cursed Buddy nearly daily for having shown me a glimpse of what could be. I was far better off before that.
I wasn't the only house staff member there
[This is a completed eight-chapter novella, with chapters posting twice a week and the work completed posting by the middle of May 2011]
The room was smoky, and with the spot on me, I couldn't see much farther than the first row of men, all leaning over the edge of the stage. Men with bulging biceps bursting out of muscle shirts. Tattoos running up and down their arms. Leering and cheering and singing to me. Challenging me, daring me, begging me to take off
Hoagie kept me close. I had a windowless room in the basement of the inn, across from the room Hoagie kept for himself down the corridor off the wings of the small stage in the club room. Hoagie's room—and mine—were beyond the six small cells, three to a side, off the corridor.
The room was fine with me—it was no worse, and better in most respects—than the space I had been given by the men who owned me in Thailand—with the exception of the small apartment the young pilot had taken
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