Escape From Paradise (8 page)

“Stay here with her tonight,” Marco told Josef in Spanish. “We will get you out tomorrow when the perimeter has been checked.”

“Sí, Amo.”

A puffy
thwunk
sounded beside us on the floor and I felt a rush of air on my legs. Then the door shut and clicked locked. Josef removed my blindfold.

We were in a tiny room without windows or vents. I wasn’t claustrophobic, but this room messed with my head, seeming to close in on us. It was lit by a single lightbulb in the ceiling, next to a small black dome which I supposed was a video camera. In the corner was a gray bucket. Was this some sort of holding cell or prison? My breathing hitched, and Josef took me by the shoulders.

“Relax, Angel. We no stay here long. You rest.”

A pile of blankets was at our feet. Josef bent and arranged them into a pallet. He pulled me down to lay on my side, and he spooned behind me.

“Close you eyes,” he said, pulling the bun from my hair and running his fingers through the strands.

My stomach cramped and I curled myself tight.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My stomach hurts.”

I didn’t have the urge to go, which made it even worse, like my bowels had hardened. This was not good.

“You need the toilet? The bucket es there.”

“I…can’t,” I whispered.

“You can’t? Why?”

I didn’t respond.

“Ah…you afraid to shit in front of me?” He sounded amused. I cringed, horrified. Boys were so open about their bodily functions. I did not want to talk about crapping with
anyone
, much less do it in front of them.

“It’s gross,” I said. The smells, the sounds, all of it. Yuck.

He laughed. “Angel, you must get past this. We slaves have no secrets. No…what you say? Ah, privacy. We eat, we drink, we fuck, we shit where all can see.”

Emotion wracked my body and my chin began to quiver. How could he talk so nonchalantly and callously about things so serious? I couldn’t accept those words as my fate. As tears slid down my face, Josef shushed me.

“You no cry in front of Master, little Angel. He does not like.”

Well, the
Master
wasn’t there, so I let the tears fall, and the sobs heave in my chest, and I cried myself to sleep with Josef curled behind me.

Despite our location, I must have gotten a decent amount of sleep because I felt rested when I woke. I straightened, on my side, stretching, then relaxed. Josef muttered sleepily behind me and his arm came around my waist, hand splaying across my stomach. His face nuzzled into the crook of my neck and shoulder, and he pressed the rock hard length of himself against my ass.

“Josef!” I whisper-hissed.

He rubbed against me, gripping my thigh. I pushed back with my shoulder and elbow, making him snort and come awake.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, grabbing himself through his pants and rolling to his back. His forehead creased and he shut his eyes. I had to admit, yesterday he’d seemed kind of young and boyish to me, but this morning, with that hard-on and the serious look on his face, he was an attractive guy.

I rolled back over, feeling bad for some reason. With my back to him I said, “You can, you know, take care of yourself if you need to. I won’t care.” I’d never seen a guy do that, or been in the same room with someone masturbating, so the thought made my heart beat faster with nervousness.

“I cannot,” he said. “No without permission.”

“You need permission to masturbate?” I rolled toward him and he nodded. What was the point of a rule like that?

His breathing had become steadier, and his pants had gone down. I felt my cheeks heat when he caught me staring at his crotch.

“Don’t look, little Angel,” he teased. “You bring him to life again.”

I bit my lip and looked away, trying not to smile from my embarrassment. It was beyond strange to have the urge to smile or to think sexy, joking thoughts at a time like this. I felt guilty. Josef was so nice, and he felt safe to me, but I couldn’t get in the habit of letting my guard down.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

His eyes shot up to the camera then back to me.

“I come from a fishing village in Honduras. My parents, they die when I am thirteen, y Master save me from bad men who buy me at orphanage.”

Bile rose in my throat. In my book, Marco was a “bad man,” but Josef obviously cared for him. I’d hate to know how “bad” the other men must have been for Josef to see Marco as a savior.

“So how old are you?” I asked.

“Twenty-three. Y tu? Ah, and you?”

“I just turned twenty.”

I sat up as Josef stood and went to the bucket. I looked away as he peed, throwing back his head for a loud yawn.

“Now you,” he said.

I stood with my bound hands in front of me and he lifted my dress until I was squatting over the bucket. I peed, and when I tried to stand he held my shoulders down.

“You try to go,” he said.

I shook my head and felt my cheeks warm. “I can’t.” I stood again, hating the wet feeling left behind when I couldn’t wipe.

“Maybe I shit first, y you won’t feel bad.”

Surely he was kidding. He smiled, completely at ease and serious.

“Aw, Josef, come on. Can’t you hold it?”

“Why? Es no good to hold.”

“This is such a small room…” Dear God, it would smell awful in here, especially since we couldn’t flush it away.

“Angel…” He became serious. “Our bodies…no es
dirty
. We are animals. It’s natural.” He pulled his pants down and I lay on the blankets, rolling with my back to him to try and block it all out. Thankfully he didn’t take long.

“Now you,” he said afterward.

I heard him pull up his pants, but I stayed where I was, not looking at him.

“No. No way.”

“Just try.”

“I can’t. I don’t need to.”

He sat next to me. “I can help. I massage you.”

Massage me? Oh, heck no. I sat up, leaning against the wall, and pulling my legs up. The room stank, and Josef’s face was as adorable as ever. I realized then that I liked him. Not like
that
, but as a person. He was cute and genuine.

“Thank you,” I said. “But I’m okay.”

He sighed, clearly not believing me.

Footsteps sounded from outside the door and a key turned in the lock. Familiar panic rose inside me, and I shrunk back into the wall. Josef went to his knees, lowering his face to the floor and placing his palms facedown on his thighs. My instinct was to stare at the door and see who came through it, but I forced my eyes down as it opened.

“Look at me,” Marco said.

We both lifted our faces and did as he said.

“We have guests arriving at lunch. Josef, you, Jin, and Perla will provide the entertainment after our meal.” Josef nodded. “Angel, you will stay at my side and remain silent. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

“Bueno. Time to get ready.”

He blindfolded me, once again, and took my arm, leading me down the hall and up a set of stairs. Then, all at once, a mix of gorgeous sensations hit me—a warm breeze, the sounds of the sea, birds calling, and the strong fragrance of tropical flowers. Too quickly it was over and we were indoors again.

“Introduce her to the others and show her the slave quarters,” Marco told Josef in Spanish, all business. “Dress her in a black shift. She is a non-worker tonight and until she’s fully trained.”

“Sí, Amo.”

I felt Marco release me, and then we were winding through the house, sounds of people working—pans clanging, water running, a vacuum somewhere. My bare feet felt carpet, then textured tile as we went from room to room.

The air was crisp and tendrils of foreign scents hit me as we walked: cumin and jalapeños from a kitchen, strong flowers on a warm breeze, probably drifting in from an open window or door.

We entered a quieter area and stopped. Luis removed my blindfold and uncuffed me, then closed the door. I heard a lock click from the outside. I rubbed my tender wrists and rolled them around with a grateful sigh.

“This es our room.” Josef took off his collar and set it on a corner table next to another, smaller one.

My eyes searched the large, multi level room. Three things struck me at once. In all of the beautiful, arched doorways, there were no doors except the one which locked us in. Those black half-globes with video cameras were in every room on the ceiling. And there were no windows. To my right was a kitchenette area, the counter laden with fruits and rolls. Perla sat at a round table with a breakfast plate in front of her. She was stark naked. A quick glance at her boobs told me they were not real—too high and firm for their size, but she wore them well with perfect posture. I wondered how old she was. Maybe late twenties.

Perla gave me a warm smile. “Buenos díaz.”

I was about to answer her when she said, “That mean ‘good morning.’”

Crap, I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t supposed to understand Spanish. My heart sped as I dropped my eyes and nodded. I needed to be more careful.

“Um, good morning…buenos díaz.”

Josef took my elbow and steered me left to an archway leading into a communal bathroom with multicolored stone walls. Two commodes and four shower heads lined the walls. All out in the open. My insides began to shake. Josef hadn’t been joking or exaggerating.

Moving forward through a larger stone archway and down two steps was a long room lined with five comfortable looking floor shifts. We would all be sleeping on the floor. Josef led me down to the second to last one.

“This es yours. Mine es next to you.” He pointed to the last one by the wall. I gave a small nod.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“Es early still. They finish with the patrons.”

My hands began to shake.

“Did they…stay the night with them?” I asked.

“Sometime we stay. Sometime we give wake-up call. But no always.”

Ew. I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to stay the night with strange men or go to them in the mornings.

“Es no so bad,” he whispered, seeming as easy-going as always.

For a moment I tried to imagine him having sex with a man, then a woman, and I felt myself blush. I cleared my throat.

“Time for breakfast y then shower,” he said.

On our way to the kitchenette I saw the entry to a large, walk-in closet full of clothes and shoes. A lot of black and red. Beside the closet door was a long vanity area—a counter with appliances for hair, manicure sets, and mirrors.

I sat in the kitchen area with Josef and Perla, but only picked at my food, not wanting to put too much more in my body. Plus, it was strange and distracting sitting across the table from Perla’s boobs. I kept glancing at Josef, whose eyes would casually drop to her chest now and then, but for the most part he seemed accustomed to the sight, and it certainly didn’t hinder his appetite.

Afterward they led me into the showers. Perla turned one on for me, then herself, and climbed under the water, motioning me to do the same. My heart beat harder. Josef began to strip next to me, kicking his clothes toward the wall. Then he came up to me, naked, and grabbed the bottom of my dress, lifting it up. I gasped and considered backing away, but what was the use? I let him pull it over my head and toss it to the wall with his clothes. He smiled at me, nonchalant, and gave me a once over. I crossed my arms over my chest and pressed my legs together, but he didn’t try to stare. He went to his shower head, so I went to mine.

I felt awkward and stiff showering in front of two other people, though they didn’t care at all. Just washed themselves and paid no attention to me. I washed my hair and peeked glances at Perla’s perfect body. Thin and sculpted. No cellulite in sight. I wondered if they made her workout. Or if constant sex
was
her workout.

I shivered under the hot water. I felt chubby next to her. I was shorter, so every pound I gained or lost showed. I’d put on ten pounds since high school. Compared to Perla my body was soft and untoned. Trying not too look at her anymore, I turned toward Josef, who had his eyes closed and his face upturned to the water, his hands running back over his long, dark hair.

And, yes. I couldn’t help myself…I looked down. He was
long
. In his unaroused state, he was almost as long as my ex-boyfriend got when he was hard. Maybe it was my imagination, but Josef seemed to be growing at that moment. I looked up and caught his dark eyes watching me with a half-grin.

“He come awake if you look at him.”

Perla laughed next to us, shaking her head as she shut off the water. My face was burning hot. I stuck my head under the water to rinse, embarrassed beyond belief.

We dried off with the fluffy towels, and while they hung theirs up and opted to walk naked, I wrapped mine tightly around myself.

Low feminine voices sounded from the entrance to our rooms and a door shut. Two women stood in the archway to the bathroom and stared at me. I stared back. They were as different as can be—one a tall, stunning European looking woman with a brunette bob and icy blue eyes, the other a petite Asian girl with silky black hair that went down to her waist. The taller woman wore fishnet stockings, knee-high black stiletto boots, and a tight, black leather dress which spilled massive amounts of natural cleavage. Very dominatrix.