The Merry Pranked (25 page)

EXCERPT

The Marquis Mark

By

Day Rusk

AVAILABLE NOW

CHAPTER
1

DARLENE
Beatty
wanted to die. It wasn’t that she
felt
like she wanted to die, but at this very moment in time,
right now
, she really truly wanted to die. If the events of the evening were going to come to an end soon, possibly she’d change her mind, but as far as she could tell, the hell she’d found herself in wasn’t ending. And even when it did, as it would inevitably, what would be left of her to walk away and resume living? At some point in the evening her very being – the essence of who she really was – had been extinguished. What was there to live for?

Eric? Her five-year-old son?

There was that. But after tonight she’d be less than the woman she had been, damaged, body and soul. Eric deserved a loving family, not a mother whose psyche was irreparably destroyed; what kind of life would that be for him? She just wanted to die.

Darlene laid, spread out on one of the makeshift beds in the basement. She was naked and had been for quite some time; if you were here and female, you were naked. She felt numb, and would have cried, except the tears, that once flowed freely, had dried up; even there she had nothing left to give.

She tensed as she felt the familiar shifting of the mattress as the weight of the man climbed on it. She lay still. She felt him grab her by the waist and move her slightly, obviously teeing up his angle. She lay still. She closed her eyes as she heard him moan in pleasure and waited. She lay still. Finally, she felt him ram himself inside her, unaware, or not caring, that all he was doing was causing her pain. She lay still as he continued thrusting. She didn’t care.

He was inside her. How many had it been? She’d lost count.

Darlene stared in disbelief at the photo Lewis Hathaway placed on the restaurant table in front of her. She’d been having a relatively pleasant evening; one of her more successful dates in a long time.

“That’s you going about your daily business,” he said, a slight, sly smile on his face as he intently watched her, gauging her reaction. This was the start of it; the part he enjoyed the most. The evening had been going well; he was his usual charming self, and she had been surprisingly engaging. If he wasn’t on the hunt, he might have actually been truly enjoying himself for the pure pleasure of being out on the town with someone interesting.

“I don’t understand,” she said looking up at him.

And there it was. The happiness on her face replaced with confusion and concern.

“Why do you have this?” she asked. “When did you take it? Are you stalking me?”

Darlene looked back down at the photo on the table. She was grocery shopping, at the supermarket near her apartment building. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he would have such a photo and why he’d be showing it to her.

“There’s more,” he said, reaching into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulling out a small collection of photos. He placed them on the table, and she quickly scanned them. There she was visiting a company with which she did some freelance graphic work, picking up her son Eric at junior kindergarten, waiting at a bus stop, etcetera. Before her lay moments of her life, mysteriously appearing from the pocket of a man she hardly knew. This was their first official date, although they had met once before, in the late afternoon for coffee. He’d been polite; a well put together middle-aged gentleman with a chiseled jaw, wonderfully blue eyes that seemed to sparkle – almost unnatural – and a full head of beautifully groomed hair, with just the hint of white forming around his temples. He wore an expensive suit, as far as she could tell, and he had completely surprised her when he had spotted her waiting in the reception area of one of her clients, and had approached her, engaging her in conversation and actually asking her for her phone number.

Darlene was in her mid-thirties and had been divorced for approximately three years; she was an attractive woman who took pride in taking care of herself, but it had been a very long time since she had been putting anything out there, as they say. She was a busy graphic artist with a five-year-old boy that took up a lot of her time. It had been a long time since she put out a womanly vibe, having traded it in for the motherly vibe, which was fine with her. She enjoyed her life and was more than comfortable with where it had led her. The fact that Lewis Hathaway, as he’d introduced himself, had bothered to take the time to not only notice her, but actually talk to her had been flattering. She’d given him her number. He seemed like a distinguished gentleman; the way she figured it, if he called, maybe she should consider going out on a date, and if he didn’t, it wasn’t like she was going to be sitting by the phone pining for some gentleman she’d met in the lobby of a publishing company. But he had called and they’d shared conversation and coffee, and because that hadn’t bothered either one of them in any negative way, it had led to this, a more formal dinner date at a proper restaurant. All of this had taken place over the course of one week.

“I didn’t take them,” he said casually. “There were taken by associates of mine.”

This was definitely a first for her; she wasn’t sure what she was expected to do; should she get up from her seat and immediately exit the restaurant, leaving him behind? This wasn’t right. The photos were disturbing. She knew she should just leave, but curiosity is a powerful drug.

“Your friends took these,” she said. “Why?”

“We know all about you, Darlene.”

We
, she thought. The inherent desire for either flight or fight weighed heavy on her thoughts, both battling for dominance. If she wasn’t on some sort of bizarre
Candid Camera
television show, there was a distinct possibility she was sitting in front of a psycho – maybe even a serial killer in training.

Flight finally won. “I think I need to go,” she finally said.

“More wine?” he asked, motioning to the bottle of red sitting on the table.

She had been prepared to stand up and head for the exit, but his last remark threw her off; he was so casual in his manner, as if everything he was doing was completely natural; confusion and concern had turned more and more towards fear, yet his manner was also strangely intriguing. She wanted to know more, but thankfully, common sense prevailed and she repeated her last statement.

“I think I’ll be leaving now.”

As she made her move to stand up, he simply looked at her and said, “That would be a big mistake, I’m afraid.”

She hovered in the air briefly, unsure whether she should continue rising or return to sitting.

“You might want to check these out,” he said, once again reaching into his breast pocket and pulling a couple more photos out and tossing them on the table. “I have quite a few associates.”

Darlene froze. Dinner, which had been quite lovely, threatened to reappear, but she fought for control of her body and mind as she looked upon two photos of her son, Eric on the playground at kindergarten.

“He’s a cute kid,” Lewis said matter-of-factly. As far as he was concerned this was going well. He’d become attuned to the game and knew thousands of feelings were racing through her mind, trying to make sense of all this; he also knew that the sight of her son would make the fear, fighting to gain control of her, firmly in charge of her senses. She sat back down, her eyes riveted on the photos of Eric.

“What the fuck is going on here,” she said once she’d recovered from her shock. There was anger in her voice, but she had also kept it low, so as not to draw attention to the both of them.

She no longer wanted to flee. He had photos of her little man; she needed to get to the bottom of what was going on; this had suddenly gotten very, very serious.

“Tomorrow night, Darlene, I’m going to pick you up at eight and we’re going to attend a party together. The good news is you’re going to be one of the guests of honor at this party.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said firmly.

She looked at him; he just smiled. He was confident; one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place.

“It’s very important that you not only listen carefully, but that you fully understand what I’m saying to you, as I’ll only say it once, Darlene,” he continued. “You are going to be one of the guests of honor at this party where you will readily and without hesitation share yourself with my associates.”

“Share myself?” she asked, puzzled.

“Yes, share yourself.”

He took a moment to sip on his wine, his eyes never leaving hers. He seemed happy and this pissed her off.

“To put it a little more crudely, you’re going to let my associates fuck you, Darlene.”

She started to say something, but he held his hand up, quieting her; she couldn’t believe it had actually worked, but it had. His power lay in the photos of her son on the table.

“You’re going to satiate any and all sexual desires, perversions, fetishes or anything else these guests desire of you.”

“What are you smoking?” she asked anger in her voice.

“Each of us must do exactly as he pleases, each of us is bound by one law alone, that of his own pleasure,”
he said, staring into her eyes intently.
“Nature wills that we are born alone; there is no real contact or relationship possible between one person and another. The only rule of conduct for me to follow, therefore, is to prefer whatever affects me pleasurably and, conversely, to hold as naught anything which, as a result of my preferences, may cause harm to others. The greatest pain inflicted on others is of less account than my own pleasure. Little do I care if the price I have to pay for my least delight is an awesome accumulation of atrocious crimes, for
pleasure flatters me, it is written, while the effects of crime, being outside me, do not affect me.”

She just looked at him. “What the hell are you going on about?” she asked.

“A philosophy,” he said, “a philosophy of life. It’s not my own, but that of Donatien Alphonse Francois, a French aristocrat.”

He took a moment to look at her and could see it hadn’t registered; he hadn’t expected it would.

“You know him better as the Marquis de Sade, one of humankind’s greatest libertines.”

“The Marquis de Sade? You’re out of your mind. I’ve got to go.”

She started to rise again.

“Think about your child,” he simply said.

Once again she hesitated. This was insane; how had the night shifted so horribly? She sat back down.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, now in a patronizing tone. “You do have a choice regarding tomorrow night. You can choose not to participate, but that would be the same as signing your son’s death warrant.”

The urge to take her fork and knife and lunge across the table burying both deep in his chest was hard to resist, but she didn’t.

“I’ll go to the police.”

“And tell them what?” he asked. “It’ll be your word against mine. As I said, we’ll have this conversation only once; there are no second chances. You decide to participate or you decide upon the death of your son. We’re a patient group, Darlene. You see, your son won’t die next week, the week after that, next month, or even six months from now. If you refuse to participate, within the next three to four years your son will be dead. Do you think the police are going to protect you for that long? We’re willing to wait. All I can guarantee you is that eventually we will punish you for your disobedience.”

A million thoughts were racing through Darlene’s mind. What he was saying was unbelievable; he couldn’t possibly mean it. At the same time, what he was saying concerned the health and welfare of her son, and could she truly afford to not take him seriously? She had no idea how to respond.

“How is everything here?” the Waitress asked in a cheerful voice. Darlene snapped out of her thoughts. “Can I interest the two of you in dessert?”

“Could you give us a minute,” said Lewis.

The Waitress smiled and moved away from the table.

“I have to admit, the service here is impeccable. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked.

She just looked at him. He smiled, almost with a hint of sympathy, although if it was true she saw that hint, she was sure it was part of his act; what he was saying wouldn’t allow for even a smidgen of sympathy in someone like him.

“You’re beating yourself up Darlene,” he said matter-of-factly. “You have two options tomorrow night, participate or don’t. You know what’s expected of you with either decision. Embrace the whore that you are, or embrace the sorrow of your son’s demise. Oh, you could think of uprooting your life and even fleeing the city, trying to go somewhere you don’t think we’ll find you, but we have an extensive network of libertines in our group and wherever you go, we’ll find you and your son. That is a solemn promise I make to you.”

“I...I...” Darlene was still trying to make sense of it all in her mind.

“For God’s sake Darlene, is there really a decision to make here? It’s just a hole. Well, in your case, there are several holes that can bring about pleasure, and I’m sure all will be used accordingly. What’s the harm? Especially knowing that letting us use them will save your son?”

“Why are you doing this?” she finally managed to ask.