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(Dark Kings #1) Titan
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I SIT BEHIND my desk, the dark curtains pulled closed to block out the early morning rays of the Las Vegas skyline. Taking a sip of my black coffee, I look up at the five women standing in my office. “Strip down to your bra and underwear,” I order.
Four of them begin undressing without hesitation. They do this for a living, though it’s usually under flashing lights, fog machines, and thundering music. And don’t forget the money that comes with selling your body. But still, they’re not shy. The last one on the right watches the others with wide green eyes as she nibbles on her bottom lip.
“Problem?” I ask.
She looks at me and swallows. “I … uh, I didn’t know … I didn’t wear a—”
“You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen,” I interrupt her rambling.
“Here,” Sandy chirps. “You can wear mine.” She unclasps her black lace bra and holds it out to the blonde. Her rather new and perky looking paid for DDs are now fully on display.
“My boobs are too small for that!” the girl shrieks in horror.
Sandy drops it to the floor and shrugs. She slaps her palms down on her bare thighs and does a little hop in her six-inch heels.
Fuck! It’s too early for this shit. I’m not a cheer coach gearing them up for a game. Rubbing my temples, I stare down at their paperwork that covers my black desk. “Megan, you didn’t list your limits,” I announce, glaring up at her through my lashes.
Her eyes drop to the floor, and I don’t miss the fact she’s still dressed. Her arms now hugging her small chest. “I didn’t understand …”
“What a limit is?” I bark out.
She flinches and whispers, “I’ve never done anal …”
The other girls laugh. “It’s more than just that,” Sandy tells her with a smile on her face.
“What else could there be?” Megan asks wide-eyed.
Fuck me! This girl is sheltered, and I should have stayed in bed.
“Are you willing to do bondage?” Sandy fills her in, placing her hands on her wide hips. “And if so, do you mind being gagged, flogged?” Megan gasps. “If you enjoy being tied up, do you prefer rope, handcuffs, chains.” The girl begins to tremble. “There’s also fisting …”
Just then, my office door swings open, and the only woman I don’t mind seeing enters the room.
I stand. “Ladies, this is GiGi. Think of her as your … house mom.” Good enough. “She will take your measurements and record them for your files.” The four half-naked women nod with excitement. “Once the fitting is over, Dr. Lane will see you.”
“Doctor?” Megan swallows.
“Yes.” Growling, I look at her. Has she not listened to a damn thing I’ve said? “All Queens are required to be on birth control. Ninety-five percent of our clients already have wives and children. They want to be guaranteed that there won’t be any surprise babies or a Queen trying to get knocked up for blackmail money.” We guarantee our clients’ satisfaction. And unplanned pregnancies are not going to obtain that. And I’m not about to trust any woman with my reputation and dedication with my clients.
They all turn and bounce out. “Megan, have a seat.” I stop her.
She falls into one of the black leather chairs across from my desk and looks up at me. Jesus, she has tears in her eyes.
I walk around my desk and lean up against it. “Why are you here?” I ask. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare down at her.
She picks at a piece of nonexistent lint on her jeans. Her dirty blond hair shields her face from me. “I need money.”
No surprise there. “What do you need money for?”
She heaves a heavy sigh, unable to meet my eyes. “My father is a druggie. My mother left us a year ago. Went to the store to buy a pack of cigarettes and never returned.” She swallows. “I have a younger brother who’s three. I want to get him away from our father, but I don’t have that kind of cash. Not to give him what he needs.”
“Your application stated that you’re twenty-one.”
“I lied,” she whispers.
I already knew that. And I’m pretty sure she’s a goddamn virgin. “How old are you?”
“Attending high school?”
She shakes her head. “I dropped out when my brother was born. I needed to stay home with him.”
I run a hand down my face, that headache intensifying. “Being a Queen isn’t a good fit for you.” That’s as nicely as I can put it.
Her head snaps up. Her green eyes narrow on me before she averts them and slumps her shoulders. “I know. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She pushes her hair behind her ear.
All types of women come and go from my office, and I can tell when someone is being neglected. Her cheeks are sunken in. Her eyes have circles under them. Her tank top keeps falling off her shoulders, and her collarbones are prominent. She probably makes sure her brother is fed before herself, and I respect that. “Are you quick on your feet?”