Their Kitten: A Dark MFM Romance
Their Kitten: Chapter 1

The place doesn’t look like a sex club. Then again, I guess that’s the point.

Purgatory is the kind of place that looms a lot larger in legend than it does in reality. They don’t advertise. There’s no big sign out front. And considering they’re supposedly very exclusive, I’m sure that most of the stories I’ve heard while tending bar are either second or third-hand and have been blown way out of proportion. A friend of a friend told somebody something, and an urban legend was born.

In other words, I’m not impressed as I stand in front of a three-story building that blends in with those on either side of it. There are no windows, no way to look inside, and I guess that’s the point. You don’t want your customers reminded of the real world outside your walls. They’re supposed to be escaping into a fantasy.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about it ever since deciding to take the leap and sink, probably as low as I’ll ever go, like a demented game of limbo. Tonight, I’m offering myself up here like a prize cow. But I need the money, and I need it badly. In the face of eviction and starvation, a single night with a willing partner who happens to be able to pay doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

Actually, according to the club’s owner, I’ll have two partners tonight. Double the fun, as he put it, and double the money, as I see it.

It’s my empty, growling stomach that gets me moving. I cross the sidewalk and ring the bell, and when I look around, I see not so hidden cameras in the upper corners of the doorway.

Are they even going to let me in? They should… Lucian Black sounded very interested once I described myself over the phone, but of course he wants to get a look at me in person before we finalize things. Is he watching me now? I feel like he is. A man in his position, who insists on personally vetting each new girl, likes complete control.

My heart leaps when the lock clicks, and once the door is partly open, I’m greeted by a mountain of a man dressed all in black.

“I’m here to see the owner,” I tell him in a voice that sounds a lot more confident than I currently feel.

His eyes rake over me before returning to my face.

“Why?” he almost barks, and it’s all I can do not to scurry away like a scared rabbit.

“Excuse me?”

“For what?”

“Oh. I called yesterday, and he told me to come in and see him personally. It’s about a position here.”

He snorts, and my skin crawls. “A position. Right. And your name?”

“Cleo Williams.”

A soft jingling interrupts us—when the guard dips a hand into his pocket, I realize it’s his phone ringing. He wastes no time answering, and the person on the other end wastes no time either in getting their point across.

“Follow me.”

The guy opens the door wider for me to step inside. I guess whoever’s watching the security feed saw me and approved for me to come in. There isn’t much time for me to do more than glance around the entry. I only take in brief glimpses of my dark, tasteful surroundings. Everything about this interior screams money and prestige.

“This way.”

He leads me past the reception desk and through a doorway I wouldn’t have known existed, since it sits flush with the dark wallpapered wall. A narrow staircase leads up to a hallway lined with closed doors on both sides. I have a pretty good idea what takes place behind those doors. It all seems quiet right now, but it’s early in the evening…

Besides, I guess everything is soundproofed. Otherwise, it would get pretty noisy and might ruin somebody’s time. I doubt the patrons of Purgatory want to hear a stranger acting out a fantasy while they try to live theirs.

The door at the end of the hall swings open before we’ve reached it, revealing a room that, again, screams money. Everything about it, from the dark colors to the sleek leather furniture, delivers a very definite message.

Filthy rich.

I spot a man sitting behind a massive desk. He’s so handsome it’s almost intimidating, and that, combined with the powerful energy rolling off him, makes my heartbeat quicken.

He stands, extending a hand. “Lucian Black. Thank you for your punctuality.”

“We made an appointment.”

“Indeed, we did.” He gestures toward the bar in one corner, lined with glass bottles. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Please.” It must have come out sounding as shaky and eager as I feel, since he snorts ever so softly before heading over.

“Any preference?”

“Whiskey, please.” I won’t go so far as to ask for a double, though I could use one. Or two.

“You didn’t lie when you gave your description over the phone.” He eyes me over his shoulder before turning back to the drinks. “That shade suits you.”

I touch a self-conscious hand to my purple waves. “So I’m not, you know, disqualified?”

“On the contrary. Many of our guests appreciate something out of the ordinary.” His lips twitch with humor when he approaches me, a glass in each hand. “To say the least.”

“But what you said still stands, right?” I take a sip of the amber liquid and do my best not to cough as it burns its way down my throat. I do very little drinking, which is funny, considering I tend bar for a living. Or I did, before the owner decided he only likes giving hours to girls willing to suck his pathetic dick. Now, I can barely live on the paltry tips I’m making, and there isn’t another job opening anywhere in town.

“Oh, yes. I would place you in Heaven, which is extremely tame compared to what goes on downstairs.”

In Hell. I know that’s what they call it. I’m not sure I want to know why, but I’m not an idiot, either. My imagination sparks, and I shut it down.

Once Lucian Black reaches his desk, he takes a seat, studying me. “Turn around.”

It isn’t easy to keep my legs from shaking as I do. Get it together, Cleo. It’s just one night. And it isn’t like this is the first time I’ve ever stood silent while a man stared at my body. At least this man is going to pay me at the end of the night.

“Very nice,” he decides, and I take the statement as a cue to face him again. I feel exposed in a tight, too-short dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Here, I have a contract already printed out for your review. I advise you look it over carefully, though I assure you there’s nothing in it beyond what we discussed over the phone.”

“Can I have a seat?” I ask.

“Of course, forgive me. Make yourself comfortable, take all the time you need—though the clients I’ve arranged for you are scheduled to arrive in less than half an hour, so it would be in everyone’s best interest for you to make up your mind sooner rather than later.”

Half an hour. Okay, I can do this. And the sooner they get here, the sooner all this is over with.

Lucian is telling the truth about the agreement: it’s nothing more or less than what we talked about. I’ll be paired up with two men for two hours, and they will buy my virginity for two hundred grand.

The amount still leaves me breathless. Two hundred thousand dollars. There are so many things I can do with that money.

Once I reach the section containing all the caveats, I slow down, wanting to be sure I have everything straight.

“So is there a safe word?” I murmur as I read, sipping my drink now and then.

“Absolutely. It will be decided between you and the customers. You say that word and everything stops, no questions asked. There are bouncers positioned up and down the hallway, so you’re doubly protected in case a customer suddenly loses his hearing.”

I wonder how many times that’s happened and decide it’s probably better not to think about it. I take another sip instead. The whiskey burns.

“So if I say that word, everything stops—but I only get half the money?”

“That’s correct.”

“And I need to participate for at least an hour—half the time they’re paying for—or else I don’t get anything.”

My heart sinks at the thought, but I can’t let fear get in my way. Not when I’m so close to having everything I need.

“Correct. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I have a choice.”

I glance up from the paper, embarrassed at having admitted something like that, but Lucian’s lack of reaction reminds me I’m hardly the first girl the man has had in his office, and I can’t be unique in my desperation.

“Then please, unless you have any further questions, sign where indicated.”

He slides a pen across his desk, and I close my fingers around it. This is it. No going back. I have to do this. There’s no other way to get what I need, and fast.

So what if it means losing my virginity to a couple of strangers? It’s not like I was deliberately saving it for somebody special. I gave up on that fantasy a long time ago.

“And I’ll use a fake name, right?”

“Absolutely. We value discretion on both sides. Only I will know your real name—you’re free to call yourself whatever you want when the time comes for you to service your customers.”

But just as I touch the tip of the pen to the page, he sets his glass down on the desk hard enough to steal my attention from the dotted line.

“Think hard about what you’re going to do. These customers are highly valued here in Purgatory, and I would like to maintain our professional relationship after this. In other words, don’t fuck this up.”

Now he sounds more like I expected, the sort of hard, merciless guy who can run a place like this and then sleep well at night knowing he’s profiting off the girls who walk through his doors.

“I won’t.” I press the pen to the page quickly, before I can chicken out.

“Very good.” He takes the contract when I slide it his way. “Leo here will take you to the room you’ve been assigned.”

“One more thing,” he adds as I stand. “Because these customers are well-known and respected, as I already told you, they’ll be wearing masks. There’s a mask waiting for you, as well. I advise you to wear it.”

I can’t believe how glad I am to hear that. Granted, having purple hair sort of sets me apart, but I could always change the color if I wanted to. At least now I know if I run into either of these guys on the street, there won’t be that awkward moment where we recognize each other.

Oh, yeah, hi, remember when you bought my virginity at a sex club? God, I don’t even want to think about it.

Leo, the guy who showed me to the office, leads me halfway down the hall to one of the rooms and opens the door before stepping back and giving me space to enter.

“Thank you,” I murmur before thinking about it. Why am I thanking this guy again?

“They’ll be here soon.” That’s all he says before closing the door, leaving me alone, thoughts racing.

This isn’t what I expected. I mean, sure, there’s a mirror on the ceiling and a few toys hanging on the walls: handcuffs, a flogger, that sort of thing. Nothing too scary.

Other than the… implements, this could be a comfortable room just about anywhere. A room with a bed, a sofa, a couple of leather chairs. There’s nothing inherently intimidating about my surroundings, except for the thought of what this all means and what I’m going to have to do to get paid.

Sure enough, resting on one of the satin-covered pillows at the head of the bed, is a black mask. I hold it up, studying it. It only covers the eyes, which are slanted at the corners like a cat. I place it over my eyes and tie the leather straps at the back of my head, wanting to be sure I’m hidden by the time my customers arrive.

I take a seat on the bed, breathing slowly and deeply in hopes of calming my nerves. The whiskey helped, but now that I’m sitting here, I feel kind of sick.

Two hours. That’s all I have to focus on, putting up with this for two hours, and then it will be over, and I’ll walk out of here a rich girl, and then…

And then? I won’t have anything to worry about for the first time in as long as I can remember.