Trapped

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

Saturday arrived, and with it, torrential rain. Sam sat in his freezing cold room in the attic, listening to the noise on the roof. It was like sitting inside a tea tin with someone hammering on it. The door opened and his friend Gareth threw himself through in dramatic fashion. Gareth was the man he shared a room with sometimes. Gareth was small, dark, and theatrical to the point where Sam often wondered if he couldn’t make a living on the stage. In the brothel, he went by the name of Romeo. It somehow suited him better than the rather pragmatic Gareth.

“Bastards!” he declared. “Bastards. The lot of them.” He tossed his long dark hair over one shoulder. His hair was silky and straight and he spent hours brushing it and tending it. His eyebrows were plucked into slender arches, and he made no attempt at all to hide his true nature. He was wonderful.

“Who now?” Sam asked, sipping his coffee.

Gareth held out a hand so Sam gave him the cup. “Thanks, darling.” He took a healthy swallow and then handed it back. “Men. Bastards. The lot. Present company excepted,” he added, and dropped a kiss on Sam’s head. “So, how is the escape plan going?”

“Well. I just need to see if he comes back tonight with the money.”

Gareth smiled and sat on the bed. “Do you think he might fancy a threesome?” he said and tossed his hair again.

“You never know.” Sam couldn’t imagine it. Tristan gave the impression of someone private and quite shy. Sam had made a three with Gareth once before, for a client, and the man was shameless, to say nothing of ridiculously bendy, but there had never really been anything between them other than genuine friendship.

Gareth rolled his eyes and lay down, dropping his head on Sam’s lap. “When you are set up, leading a life of luxury, I hope you remember your old friends.”

Sam petted his hair. “I will.”

“So, is he going to set you up as his mistress? Did he mention an allowance? Will he set you up in Mayfair?” he asked, peering up at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not anyone’s mistress. He just mentioned somewhere where we could meet and be together.”

“Bugger.” Gareth sighed. “No mention of clothes, jewels? A carriage? Horses?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“I thought he was minted. Are you having second thoughts?” Gareth patted Sam’s leg as he looked up at him.

“No, just feeling a bit guilty about deceiving him.”

Gareth wrinkled his nose. “How are you deceiving him? You like him, you would be happy to service him, he likes you, and he likes being serviced by you. What’s wrong with that?”

“I told him I loved him.” Sam felt his face colour.

“Ah. Bit naughty that, but if it gets the job done…”

Sam leaned back against the wall and stroked Gareth’s hair. Tristan might not even turn up. Might have decided against it. Somehow he doubted it.

A commotion from downstairs stilled his hand. Gareth sat up and they looked at each other. Their rooms were in the attic but the yelling and banging carried loudly.

“We’d best have a look?” Sam said. “That sounds like Bill Mosely.” Bill Mosely was Dante’s right-hand man and nobody dared naysay him. Gareth nodded reluctantly. If Mosely was in a bad mood it behoved everyone to keep out of his way, but particularly Sam. Mosely took delight in making Sam submit to him and when he was in a mood, he liked to make it hurt. They crept out of the room and listened. It was definitely Mosely.

“Get back in the room and hide,” Gareth hissed as the shouting got louder. “He’s foxed. He’ll be looking for you. He’s had it in for you ever since Harry ran away.”

“Oh, Christ.” Sam ran up the stairs as he heard Mosely shouting his name. The bastard was drunk. Where was Tristan? It was past the time he usually arrived, but the mistress hadn’t been to call him down. He hesitated by his door, but then ran on and dodged into one of the girls’ rooms. They screamed and hit him, but when Mosely could be heard bellowing his name they shoved him under the bed and sat on it.

Sam hid and hated himself for doing it. He wanted to stand up to Mosely, tell him to shove it. He pressed his nose into his arm to stop the dust getting up it and went rigid when the door slammed open.

“Where is he?”

“Got a client I think,” Charisse said. Sam was sure her name was really Iris, and he thought that was a much prettier name, but they all had stupid made up names. He winced when he heard him slap her, and when she screamed he hated himself even more. The door slammed so he shuffled out. Charisse was holding her head and her friend, Clara, was shouting at Mosely through the closed door. Mosely wasn’t stupid enough to mar anyone’s face and risk losing the income from providing battered produce, although there was probably a fair few of the clients that wouldn’t object. There was a fair few that made their own marks, but they paid extra for that. He took the girl in his arms and rocked her.

She let herself be held for a moment then pushed him away. “You owe me,” she muttered.

“I do.” He squeezed her arm and slipped out of the room, ignoring Clara’s tirade that was now directed at him.

He made his way cautiously to the room where he normally saw Tristan, but when he got there Mosely grabbed him roughly by the arm.

“There you are, you little s**t. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you. I have need of you.”

Sam’s heart was hammering. Mosely was as tall and as broad as him. He grabbed Sam’s arm and started dragging him to the room where he should be seeing Tristan.

He wrenched out of his grip. “I’ve got a client. You’ll have to wait.”

Mosely’s eyes burned. They were dark eyes that sometimes were hard to read, but tonight Sam had no trouble. The man wanted to hurt someone.

“Wait? Wait? Do you imagine for a second that I am going to wait?” he walked towards him, hissing the words as he came until Sam was backed up against the wall, then Mosely’s hand was fisted in Sam’s hair and he was being dragged. Mosely threw open a door and shoved Sam inside so hard that he fell. He rolled to his feet, hands balled into fists. This was enough. This was the end. He would not be pushed about and abused anymore.

“On your knees.” Mosely had one hand on his own c**k, rubbing it as he dragged open a drawer with another. He took out a length of chain that made Sam go cold.

“No.”

Mosely smiled and unbuttoned his falls to take his c**k into his hand.

“No. I mean it. Enough is enough.” Sam held out a hand in front of him as if to ward the man off. Mosely probably had fifteen years on Sam, and although Sam was sure he could take Mosely in a fair fight, this was never going to be fair. His only hope was the fact that Mosely had a bad arm. His cousin, Harry, had run away in spectacular fashion last Christmas, taking one of the boys with him and Dante had been beside himself with fury. Mosely had been dispatched to drag him back but had returned not only empty handed, but with a bullet hole in his arm. He seemed to feel that Sam should pay for his inability to find Harry and bring him back.

“Beg pardon, sir, but the gentleman is here for Henri. The one that pays?”

Mosely’s head spun at the intrusion and Sam held his breath. Tolson was the major-domo for the place. The man that kept everything running smoothly like the gentlemen’s club it purported to be. In that moment, Sam could have kissed him. He was probably the only person that might stop Mosely.

“Make him wait.” Mosely rolled the chain around his fist.

“Send me to him used and he will know,” Sam said, praying that greed would win over lust. It also made him wonder how much Tristan paid. His heart was beating in his ears as he waited.

Mosely smiled. He walked over to Sam and stood beside him. He reached out and stroked his face, making Sam flinch. Sam screwed his eyes tight shut as his stomach rolled.

“Then I will watch. I will watch you plough the pathetic little molly. I will watch your every move and I want to see everything that you do. When you have finished, you will come to me and I will chain you to the roof, cuff you, and screw you until you beg for mercy. Do you like that? Do you want that?”

His face was pressed against Sam’s. “Yes, I want that.”

Mosely shoved him away. “Then move. Don’t make the man wait.”