Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Felix

    “142, you're up” the guard yelled to my cell motioning me forward. I stumbled to my feet and tried to remember the last time I had something to eat. More importantly the last time I had something to drink. The guard opens my cell and grabs the back of my neck roughly and begins to lead me down the corridor of cells. Each cell has one or more slaves strung on either the floor or the cot. Most of the cells belonged to females. Female cells allowed for multiple women, whereas males had to have their own cells at the back of the building. Not exactly sure if we are in a building or just in an underground bunkhouse. At this point in life I didn't care , only feared the upcoming evideable future. 

    Most slaves do not last till their 23rd birthday by their 23 birthday they were either sold off, transfered to the pack house to serve as a slave or killed. I got lucky or lucky in the sense I was still alive as my birthday occurred 2 years ago. At 25 years old it has been a long while here at the brothel. I contribute this to my baby-like face, but mark my words my time was coming. I no longer had “clients” asking for me. When no one asks for you anymore then your days are numbered. And my days were surely numbered. It had been days since my number had been called. That was not surprising as I was much older than the clientele typically wanted. Most of the other males here were much younger. 18 is considered old here, we typically do not sit around and socialize as males are always to be in their solitary cells. It is to prevent us for training, fighting and rising up. 

    “Get to moving 142” the guard growled while pushing me forward. These guards. They expect us to move at their pace, but then they don’t feed us or give us proper rest and water. We are at work 24 hours of the day and can be called at any time. Some of the girls will literally work till they pass out and yet they are still “worked”.  We can’t even use our shifters abilities as they had been suppressed since I was 8. As soon as a shifter comes in they are immediately given their selected weaknesses. For wolves like me we are shackled with Silver and once a month force to endure a painful diluted wolfsbane injection to insure our wolves stay dormant. Most of us have never even shifted. I knew I was a wolf as the ladies at the orphanage said they sensed a strong wolf. 

    I first came to this pack at 3 years old after being found on the edge of the packs territory bloody, cold and badly bruised. Being so young I could never remember my parents or even where I came from. I didn't even know if I was a wolf until the ladies at the orphanage took me to see the pack doctores. I stayed at the pack hospital for several days before being taken back to the orphanage.

    At the orphanage where I was reared we are only allowed to stay there till we are 8. At 8 years old we are transferred to the brothel where we begin to work cleaning the play rooms. Some of the girls will begin working right away but males typically do not become “workers” until they are15 years old. But then again there are some “clients” that like them younger. I was lucky to not be noticed until I was 13. Being male you are expected to be available for both male and female “clients”. Sometimes both at the same time. And just because some of my “clients” are and were female did not mean they were gentle. Some of the females would just come in to beat us because their mates were here fucking a much younger prettier girls. I had found that most of the women were far worse than my male “clients”. That is exactly how I was pulled into the brothel.

~Flashback~ Felix age 13

    “Boy, you need to turn over the red room NOW! If it needs to be completed in less than an hour we have a VIP guess coming in.” Guard 1 said he then proceeded to explain that they would want another male. During the days I would shift from room to room cleaning up the messes left behind by those that need a hand in sexual explorations. So “clients” come in by themselves to watch while others come to play. Mostly they come for the “sick floor”. That is the name I had deemed it 2 years ago when I was called to clean one of the rooms that a patron had to forcibly remove when he suddenly became violent. Later it came out that the slave girl that was bound and tied to the “cross” was his fated mate. I was ordered to the room before the show was over to clean the room and reset for the next patron.

The floor was set up in a giant circle. The middle of the circle was set up as the “play” room. It looked like a room you’d find in the vicorian era and that of a torture room. The  “cross” was set up in the middle with tools of whips, long poles, a bunch of weird toys with different lengths and widths and shapes. I watched as the man in all black whipped the poor naked girl as she screamed and cried. The tall man would beat her then soothe her with a long probe like tool between her legs. As she was crying, she would begin to moan. I had cleaned the center room before it was shaped like a stop sign with blackened windows all around. Being on this side I can see the blacked out windows were to allow those  in the small rooms to see in but not to allow those in the room to see. I know those that were in the room paid lots of noney to spend the time with the slave. While those that liked to watch paid much less. I didnt know how the slaves ended up there. I heard one of the girls say that it was a form of punishment. 

After cleaning the room I began to make my way back downstairs to get my next assignment. This is my everyday life now. I woke up early in the morning to clean the rooms and sanitize the “tools”. After every room is prepped the cleaning slave are chained in the dungeons and typically kept out of sight and only brought out to clean the rooms. And that is how it happened.

I was walking back to the dungeons after turning over the room when an older man asked me for my number. We slaves were not permitted to ever speak especiall the cleaning crew. If I was discovered to have talked I would be whipped. That's okay, I haven’t talked since I was 8 and left the orphanages for the brothel.

    “I asked you a fucking question BOY! Answer me” he yelled. The tall brooding man was  obviously not all there as his dark brown eyes were completely fogged over and a glassy look explained it all. I remained silent as replying would ensure the same punishment if not worse. Seriously, how do these same guys think I would ever tell them anything? The man grabbed me by the back of my neck and began to drag me downstairs to the desk. Once at the desk the man throws me to the floor. The guard looks at me with disgust and anger.

    “What did he do? Boy, what did you do?” He yelled as he grabbed my arm and back handed me across the face. I swear I could hear the colors, but still I remained silent. I knew this was a rhetorical question.

    “I asked this boy for his number and he refuses to answer me” the older man roared out as if I just killed his favorite puppy. The guard did not apologize for hitting me and the confession brought on by the tall man with greying hair, with a ‘U’ shape receding hairline and glassy blue eyes defying his tanned skin complexion.

    “Sir, this boy has not yet reached the age to become eligible. If you would like to eat our menu we can provide you with one to your liking” the guard said so casually like he was just ordering a meal.

    “Name the price,” the man growled at the guard. That is when it hit me. I knew I was in bigggggg trouble. At this I began to secretly pray to the goddess that she would spare me. I must have been horrible in my past life because my luck completely sucked.

    “Sir he does not have a number because he is still too young. This here boy, will most likely not even be able to get an erection. If you still do not care I will need to get authorization due to his immaturity.” The guard stated softly to satiate the older man.

    “I’ll wait.” he stated as he glared daggers into my soul. I could tell he had wicked intent as the smile that began to develop on his face sent shivers down my spine and forced me to shake with fear.

    ‘Oh please, please, please goddess hear my pleas. Please do not let this be my fate. Save me from this hell, I have learnt my lessons.” But again my pleas went unrecognized. Again.

    “Sir, due to his…” The guard breaked trying to find the word. “ Inexperience he will be five times the normal rate per hour. You must pay the hour upfront and there is no refund.” The guard stated after finding the right word to describe me. SHIT. This man was gonna get his way. What will this mean for me? Does this mean what I think it means? Did this guy really pay five times the normal rate (which I already know is expensive for males and slightly less expensive for females. Although the pay rate varied based on age, experience and appearances) to fuck me or me to fuck him?

    Before I can continue my internal debate the guard also adds “ Sir, you must also pay the virginal tax.” WHAT. THE. FUCK? What the hell is that?

The tall balding man dug in his inside coat pocket for his wallet before shelling out several hundred dollar bills. By the time he was done counting out the hundreds of dollar bills I had counted 10 before I finally gave up. I was curious about my cost but got distracted when I heard Julia scream as a large man with a huge belly and long brown hair pulled back in a man bun pulled by her long dirty blond hair. 

Julia had the cell next to me with 5 other girls. Being the oldest but still looking 16 at 25 she had been working at the brothel since she was 9 years old. She told me once of the story of her virginity auction. She only ever told that story once, a night where a “client” had gotten her drunk and high. She returned to the cells completely gone.   

Julia was like the mother of the cells or misfit kids. The guards liked to call us “toys”, Julia would then correct them that children were not toys but innocent beings that should not endure the horrors of a brothel life. Each time she would correct them she would receive several lashings. But she would do it with a smile on her face. At night she would instruct us how to clean our wounds, tell us bedtime tales of a better life, and even be a nurturing ear for those that needed comforting after dealing with the rough “clients”.

As I returned to my own dilemma I watched as the tall bald man finished paying the guard and now apparently my pimp. After paying with the large stack of money, I heard the guard go over the house rules;

“1. No, killing the workers!! doing so will come with a permanent suspension and compensation. All workers have been trained and should not cause issues. If they defect, call the front office and a guard will come to assist you as soon as possible.

2. If you break them beyond repair, we break you as well as compensation. You may hit, beat, kick, defile the workers but they must be able to work the remainder of their shift as well as their shift the following day.

3. No negotiations on price. Our prices are high but fair. If you would like to haggle you will be asked to leave. If no price exists for what you want you must ask the front desk.

4. Our workers do not handle money. Any form of tip giving shall be given prior to exiting in the jar here on the front desk.

Do you understand all of these rules and promise to adhere to these rules?” The guard asked as if they were talking about a amusement park and not about the raping and defiling of a child. The tall, balding man annoyingly shook his head and awaited till he was granted the ability to walk away with his “prize”.

“Last and final rule and this is the rule of all rules. No one talks about said brothel and their services. Doing so will ensure your death along with that of your family.” the guard said with a sinister sneer.

After the tall man left the guard dragged me down the hall. If I wasn’t panicking before I certainly was when we went into the “Hell” room as “us” workers called it, As of now I could call myself a worker.

“Hell” room was a sociopath's wet dream room. While most sex clubs have the standard whips, chains, swings, cross and even a bed. This was not your typical bondage room. The cuffs were typically made of silver for the wolves and were designed to have small pins inside that would cut into the wrist if the worker moved too much. The whips and poles all were soaked in a pale of wolfsbane. Each species had their own sort of “hell” room where the rooms' devices were specifically designed to cause the greatest amount of harm without killing. The “clients” were prohibited from bringing in their own toys or devices after several slaves died due to misuse. That is what they called the torture and torment that the workers endureed. That is the only name for what goes on here. We are NOT willing participants. We do not have so called “Safe” words. OUr tormentors will not stop if we say stop or ouch. Sarah was one of the slaves that was killed, she spoke of a “client” that would go harder if she cried out in any form.

Walking into the “hell” room, I immediately knew it was not a good sign and I would be left hurt and broken both physically and mentally. 

“Strip” the tall man said walking into the room with only his dark blue dress pants and shiny shoes.

“I.. ahh.. Sir, I’ve..” I stammered trying to get the man to relinquish me and send me back to the dungeons. I would gladly take the lashings over whatever this vile man had planned for me. THe evil look in his eyes promised me pain and destruction.

“Did I ask for your lip boy? I said STRIP” he yelled out snapping the bull whip that I did not see him pick up. I did not have many certainties in life but one I knew for sure was this was going to hurt something fierce.

Once I had finished stripping my body of clothes the tall man instructed me to come stand by this tall ‘X’ in the middle of the floor. Nervously I placed my arms in the silver cuffs up on the top rack as the tall man adjusted them to my size ensuring the pins entered my skin. Clicking all my cuffs into place I began to start to feel the burn of the cuffs in my wrist ankle. Before I was aware the tall man came behind me and told me to count off as he sent lashes against my skin.

“1 sir…: I cried out as the sting of the wolfsbane laced whip came down across my back.

By 50 lashes I am barely coherent and the tears have already dried to my face. I could no longer feel my back but could see my blood pool at my feet. The tall man released me from my cuss and leaned down “have you ever please a woman boy?”

“N..n..n..no sir” I stuttered out. Why was he asking me this as it was already discussed that I was not yet of age to be a worker, and anyone aware of this facility was aware that men and women were kept separated.

“Good. Today you were good and for that you will kneel there,” he stated to the position right in front of him that looked like a hard mat made of broken glass. I knelt down in front of him with my hand clasped tightly in my lap. Just then I heard a light rapture on the door.

“Come in,” he yelled.

Just then a young blond girl I think is named Katya. She had just arrived with the new shipment of girls. Looking at the floor she replied “yes, Alpha”

Katya was a young pretty thing, wearing a matching red bralette and thong set. What no one really knew but the girls were the underwire of the bras were silver dipped in wolfsbane to prevent the girls from removing the wire to use.

“Strip,” said the tall man. Wait. Katya had called this man Alpha. Was this man my Alpha, or just a alpha? Or a man that just prefers to be called Alpha as I had been told that there were several men that would make the girls call them that while they demeaned the women. 

“Yes, Alpha” Katya replied back in her thick accent. Once she finishes stripping she stands before the tall man looking at the floor completely naked.

“Come here girl.” He said. Katya responds on auto-pilot by immediately going to his side.”Kneel down and suck it.” Katya again responds catatonically.

Katya is one of the girls that came in with the shipment of other girls. They were from another pack far away from here. Most of these girls looked broken beyond repair but all were beautiful women and girls. Katya was about 5 foot 3 with silvery blond hair and a very fine complexion. The one time I had actually seen her eyes were as blue as the sea. But lacked any life. When the girls came in, they were dirty with many of their silver blond hair matted to their head and as brown as dirt. One of the other girls stated that they were not permitted showers or baths. Our girls were only permitted to bathe on days they were on duty. In which case they bathed before each new client. The girls stated the water was always as cold as ice but felt good against the cuts, bruises and welts on their skin. And at this moment I could not wait as I watched Katyas face get fucked very hard. Silent tears ran down her face as her once almost translucent skin began to turn purple.

The tale man would shove his long length into her mouth to the hilt then hold her there until her body would start to go limp and she would thrash about. Finally, I watched and felt the horror of Katya as the tall man began to pant and groan. I watched as he held Katya on his hardened length until she went completely limp. I rushed to her side screaming.

“KATYA!, KATYA! KATYA! Wake up! Look at me! Katya!” I yelled. Katya slowly opened her ice blue eyes and looked at me in horror before again going limp in my arms. Or maybe she was looking past me to the tall man. The realization dawned on me too late.

‘Whack’ I felt the sting of the man’s silver pole dripping with wolfsbane far too late.

“How dare you move without MY permission?” he yelled in a growl. “I asked you a question boy”

“I.. I.. I thought that she was d..d.. dead”

“Who gave you permission to think? If I want to kill the stupid bitch I will” the evil vile man growled out at me staring me in the eye. Each time I made eye contact with him I could see him getting angrier and angrier. “Now get over here and lean over this table.” He yelled while pointing at a table like a bench. The table was a tall inverted with one side taller than the other with dark brown wood and a long oval scarlet plastic-like red pillow that I had often seen shoved under girls to lift up their asses. As I leaned over the table I felt him shuffle something around on the floor before I felt the cold sting of the silver cuffs on my legs as I now felt them strapped to each leg of the table. My legs were spread wider than my shoulders. Next the man came around to the front and cuffed my wrist to the silver bars under the table, preventing me from moving.

I kept my head down and off to the left as I watched Kaya breathing. She still wasn’t awake but at least she was breathing.I didn't care what he did to me anymore as long as he left her alone. Keeping my eyes trained on Katya I felt him come behind me and positioning his once again hardened length at the entrance of my as. I knew this was going to hurt severely as I did not see him grab for lube or hear him wet himself. Luckily I had trained and prepared for this since coming here, I knew what to do.I took a deep breath and relaxed all my muscles as I envisioned my happy place.

I always envision a forest with giant trees reaching towards the sky. The sun peeking in through the trees with the coolest of breezes lightly touching my cheek as I walk through the forest. the twigs snapping under my feet as I walk to my watering hole. I know once there I will see the wolf staring back at me. Sitting on the side of the lake is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Like always when I dream of this place, there is a beautiful young woman no more than 16.  The young girl always sits on the red and white checkered picnic blanket. Her wild long curly black hair that almost looks blue is blowing lightly in the breeze. Her fair skin looks like the baby pink nightgowns I often see the woman at the brothel wearing for their “clients” to make them appear even younger than they already are. She is always so breathtaking and always drives my wolf wild. Yet when she looks up we are always startled and mesmerized all at once by her strikingly beautiful green eyes that sparkle like the lake in front of her. She gently begins to attempt to coax my wolf to her gently calling to him while holding out her hand for him to sniff.

“Here girl..” she calls, “will you let me pet you today? Please, I promise boy you are not in any danger with me.” The girl I have long since dubbed the Irish Princess.

The Irish Princess jhad the brightest green eyes that sparkled with the peeking sun. The sun changed the color of her eyes from blue to green and back again. Or was it me denying her that changed those beautiful eyes to appear wet with water. It was hard to only focus on her eyes as her hair was just as transformative. I watched as her long black hair shifts from black to blue like a midnight sky, before it quickly returns back to black. Her lips were speaking but I couldn't hear as I stared at her bright plump red lips. I felt myself and my attraction to her growing only to watch her face turn as bright red as an apple ready to pick, as she begins to sense my arousal to her.

When she shifts and tries to reach out to my wolf he growls and then I am back staring at the now empty floor.

~Flashback Ends~