Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Brendan

Eight days later

T here were twenty people who didn't make it from the families' menageries. Five died due to lack of care in the short time that their owners were gone, ten attacked the people who came to rescue them, and the other five begged to be killed.

We aren't the type to argue when someone asks for that, because there's usually a good reason for it.

None of these people can go back and have normal lives. There's trauma clear as day in their demeanors and faces, and Lía straightens her back as she gazes out at them. It took eight days to clear out everyone, including the people that were overseas.

We worked as quickly as possible, knowing we didn't know what everyone involved is going through.

While we can guess that they're scared and anxious, we aren't in their shoes.

"Hello, everyone," she says, standing in front of them all in a large room. There are translators as needed to help, ensuring Lía only needs to say things once. Her nausea comes and goes still, but all the tests show that the baby is snug and happy inside her or his mama.

"Some of you have traveled a long way to get to Chicago, and I want to offer you a chance to start over," Líadan says. "I can't say things will ever be completely normal, because I doubt they will be. Your experiences color the whole of your life from here on out. Before you ask me how a mafia princess would ever know anything about what happened to you all, I understand in a small part. My trauma was one incredibly terrible night, yet the experience was enough for me to have some small understanding of it all."

"Why are we here?" A beautiful woman with olive skin and curly brown hair asks. She is absolutely gorgeous, and angry. "Our lives were terrible for many of us, but it was predictable. Now what?"

Lía nods, her chest rising as she inhales to speak. "Now, I have a place for you to rest your heads in the form of apartments that you can start at until you want to move," she says. "The apartments are offered rent free. I also have jobs to offer you as well at a club I'm opening. There are different positions, and they are paid."

"So we are moving from one noose to another?" a man asks with blue eyes and long black hair. His arms cross over his chest, suspicious, and I don't blame him. However, we've been trying to gain their trust.

Líadan ensured they would have clothing, shoes, essentials for today, because most of them were kept practically naked for their owners' pleasures.

"Absolutely fucking not," Lía snaps, eyes widening. "Work at my club or not, the apartments are still available to you. However, some of you will find yourselves with nightmares or flashbacks, and not everyone will understand when you need a day off or a place to breathe. Others will find there are urges you need to pursue to stay sane. I am offering you a place to do that. I also believe in consent. Everyone who enters the club will have a mile long contract to sign, blood work done, and a psychiatric evaluation before they are accepted for a membership."

Lía spent a lot of time working through what the parameters for our club membership would be, and decided this was a need. Not only would the people working for us need someone to work through their trauma, but it would be important to know the inner workings of everyone's mental health who walk through our doors.

Líadan O'Brien isn't fucking around. My girl has already found a psychiatrist with experience in trauma willing to work with us, not discuss a word of what she may be told by those that she sees, and seems to be a perfect fit for us.

Dr. Kaliope Mathers looks as if she's searching to catch a break from her life, and trauma and sex club counseling is as good of an escape as any.

"What kind of club is this?" someone else yells, and everyone else begins to murmur to themselves. The issue is that there are sixty people in this room, so it's more of a dull roar when everyone is talking.

"Líadan will answer if you remain calm and allow her to," Jordan roars, making everyone shut up. Damn, this man knows how to use his voice as well as his mouth.

Nudging Lía with my hip, I notice her blush as she glances at me beneath her lashes. Inappropriate? Yes. But absolutely worth it.

"I know I'm throwing a lot at you all," Lía continues quietly, forcing the room into silence. It's a good crowd control method: the louder they get, the quieter you go. If they want to hear what you have to say, they'll shut the fuck up.

"I want to ensure you all have the basics to build a life. It may not have been the one you dreamed of before you were taken, sold, and kept. However, it'll be a life where you can hold your head up and know that it's one where you can love whoever you want, and heal from your traumas. The psychiatric services will be available to anyone who wants to speak to her. She's a wonderful woman who listens very well and has experience speaking to people who have been hurt the way you all have."

Dr. Mathers specializes in trauma counseling because of her work in the military. Her time served ended three months ago, and we were lucky to have a chance to meet and hire her before she took another position.

She understands the need for non-disclosure contracts. She also doesn't give a shit about Lía's criminal background since the club is a legitimate business.

It's a match made in heaven.

"I don't want anyone to fall through the cracks," she continues. "Club Fallen Stars will be a members only sex club. No one will engage in sexual activities unless they choose to. There are plenty of positions that I'll need to fill, and because of the security of this place, you're the first people I'm offering them to. Nothing nefarious about it. Any other questions?"

"Uh-uh!" Jordan calls out, silencing the collective inhalation of breath. "Let's keep this conversation moving smoothly by asking in an orderly fashion."

Lía nods and then answers questions for the next two hours. Everyone will be issued metro passes so they can get around, the pay is much higher than they'd receive anywhere else, and the apartments she bought are in a fancy high rise with very good security.

There are restaurants, grocery stores, and easy access to transportation. We've all been very busy making all of this happen. These apartments are also move-in ready, thanks to being able to reach out to trusted family members that have never liked the practice of keeping people as property.

We are changing the way the family does things, and so far the response has been positive. We aren't asking them to stop selling drugs, guns, or anything else that's illegal. We simply don't want to be involved in human trafficking any longer. I think that's fair.

"I have a concern," a woman in her mid-thirties says, raising her hand tentatively. She has long red hair, light skin, and is curvy. Lía nods, despite the fact that she had to take a seat an hour ago to be able to continue answering questions.

This baby is going to kick her ass, I can see it already.

"If we work for you… everyone will know who we are. Some of us are marked permanently by our ex-masters."

Lía purses her lips, because there's a large tattoo covering the woman's throat. It's the name of her master, Gabán. She's right, it's very apparent something happened to her, but Lía has a response for her ready.

"Unless the member is someone with ties to my family, they won't know," Lía says. "Everyone who enters our club will know to be respectful of everyone inside of it, especially those who work there. There will not be awkward stares or pity…"

"I was called Inara," the woman says. "I don't remember any other name at this point."

I expect that's the case for many people here. Starved of the name tied to their previous life, until it was all but forgotten.

"May I call you Inara?" Lía asks carefully. At Inara's nod, she continues, "Thank you. We have a few possibilities for the tattoo marking as well. Tattoo removal, tattoo cover up, or you can wear something high necked at the club without an issue. Even if you choose to work in a sex positive position, you can cover your neck, with the understanding that removal of it would be a hard limit."

"What's a hard limit?" Inara asks, eyes wide.

"A hard limit is something that makes you uncomfortable and would trigger a negative response from you," Lía explains. "Naming it as such means that the person you are engaging in sex with agrees not to cross that line. You have choices now, boundaries that won't be broken or crossed. I do not take lightly to people's choices being taken away, which is why your owners and handlers are no longer alive."

"If anyone crosses the line, there will be consequences," I growl. "I will happily beat the shit out of them and make them disappear. Promising your safety isn't said lightly. Líadan is the Banshee for a reason."

Jaws drop as they glance at her tentatively. I didn't mean to out her, but they need to know that she can back up any of her claims.

"I am, though I don't make it a point to talk about it," she says drolly. "Please don't discuss it amongst yourselves where people can overhear, because I made a bit of a mess of the city a little over a week ago while ensuring that sex trafficking no longer happens in the family. There will be non-disclosure agreements for you all as well, to ensure my safety as well as yours. No one will talk about what's happened to you, because that's your story to tell."

"Wow," Inara says softly. "Okay, thank you."

"For those of you who want to work at the club, I have applications for you," Lía says. "Housing will be provided regardless of whether or not you decide to work for me. I'm quite serious about retaining your autonomy. If I failed to mention it before, the psychiatrist is available for you to speak to. She'll keep your secrets and help you to heal if that's what you want. The application is so I can sort through and decide where you'll all be placed based on your strengths. I won't make you do something you'll hate, but there are only so many of the same position. Please be sure to mark a few different areas you'd like to work in."

"Why would you do this?" Inara blurts out.

Lía shrugs as I press a protein bar into her lap. It's been hours since she's eaten, and I remember Dr. Kurtz suggested that she eat more often to keep her blood sugar on an even keel.

"My father allowed the barbaric practice of buying and selling people for pleasure to continue for way too long," Lía says as Jordan begins to pass out applications with Mickey. He's been curiously silent.

"I was a child when some of you were sold at auction, but I still feel responsible because it's my family who continued this. This is my way of finding a way to help."

Inara nods and bends her head to work on the paperwork, and the translators step in as needed.

"Eat, baby," I murmur under my breath, smirking when she huffs softly. Ripping open the package, Lía takes a bite of the protein bar, chewing slowly as she surveys the room.

"This could have been worse," Mickey grunts at her side, squatting to speak to her. "What you're doing is mildly insane, but I don't think you'd be able to do anything less than that. From here, we'll settle everyone into their apartments, and go from there. Some of them are related to each other, separated due to the auctions. They've asked to stay together. I don't see any reason they can't."

"Me either," Lía agrees, taking a sip of the bottled water I hand her. I've become even more obsessed with taking care of her, and Jordan and I have become growly bastards since we found out Lía was having our baby.

"I think that's fine. Tomorrow, let's work through any possible kinks that could happen."

Mickey chokes on his saliva, making her roll her eyes. "God, you know what I mean, Mickey. Don't be a child."

"You're the one opening a sex club," he teases her, standing.

I'm sure this will be the first of many jokes, but I'm excited for our opening. We just have a lot to do in the meantime.

Líadan

2 months later

I'm a ball of nerves, and I've thrown up twice already today. Jordan and Brendan are worried about me, however I don't think the baby is responsible for the wrecked state of my stomach right now. That's all me.

The club opens for the first time tonight in a soft opening to ensure everything moves smoothly. I've received a few calls from a bartender at the club about a late liquor order that managed to arrive an hour before we open, and others with questions to ensure things run well.

I don't mind the questions at all, but they're doing nothing to quiet the doubts that this could be a disaster.

"Líadan," Jordan snaps, surprising me as I start. He rarely calls me that. What the fuck? "I've said your name three times, Princess. I didn't know how else to get your attention. Come here."

Blowing out a breath, I shake out my hands as I walk over to him. We bought a condo in Evanston while getting everything ready for the opening of the club. It's just far enough outside of Chicago, with beautiful beaches and parks.

I've been enjoying getting up early to go for a walk every morning with the guys before starting our day. The condo is within walking distance of the water, so I don't have to worry about driving.

The guys are continuing to spoil me by driving me everywhere, reminding me to eat during busy days, and taking good care of me.

"What if this was a bad idea," I groan, climbing into his lap. "It could?—"

"It's none of those things," Jordan croons, pulling me closely to him. "I've watched a lot of clubs open, and you've covered all of your bases, Princess. Everyone you've hired has been well trained, is excited about tonight, and also loyal to you. It's going to be fucking solid, baby."

Shuddering as I force myself to breathe, I nod, rubbing my stomach slowly. I'm not showing at all yet, the little peanut inside of me taking their sweet time to show. The weather is much warmer now, perfect for an opening night where people tend to not wear much clothing to begin with.

The guest list is set, the paperwork has been filled out, and people are excited for this club's opening. All I need to do is show up and smile. That's it.

"Yes," I murmur. "Okay. Fuck, I just have crazy butterflies right now."

"That's normal," Brendan says, walking in with some saltine crackers. I know they're going to ask me to eat something more filling soon. Brendan is buttering me up.

Taking a small bite of a cracker, I nod. My stomach growls, making me chuckle softly. If I'm hungry, hopefully that means I'll be able to keep food down.

"I know," I say. "It doesn't change the crazy rollercoaster I feel as if I'm on though."

"Let's focus on what you can control. What are you wearing to this?" Brendan asks, making me sigh as I lay my head on Jordan's chest. I'm just coming out of my first trimester, waiting for some of the energy that the baby books keep promising will come back.

"I have a long black dress picked out with a high slit up my left leg, and it's one shouldered. It's also very low in the back as well," I explain. I went shopping in Evanston alone one day, since we're located close to nice boutique clothing stores. They haven't seen the dress yet.

"So you're saying it's the perfect slit to push up and to the side for me to christen the club?" Jordan growls, kissing up my neck.

He's insatiable. They both are.

"Yes," I gasp, feeling his cock hardening underneath my ass. "I need to get ready soon, and I can't wear panties with this dress."

"When do you ever?" he asks with a smirk. It's true, they annoy me.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "Ugh, I need to get ready."

"I'll bring dinner up to you while you do," Brendan says. "Please take some crackers with you."

Not arguing because I am hungry, I snag some crackers.

"Will one of you please keep my phone in case there are any other calls?" I ask, standing.

Jordan raises my phone with a nod. "I really doubt there will be any fires to put out, but I live for this shit. Go relax," he says.

Knowing he's right, I hurry through the condo to shower. It's a two bedroom space, and perfect for what we need. I haven't bothered to replace anything that was burned in the fire outside of clothes and electronics. Most of it are memories I can't get back: photos and drawings that I've made.

The condo came furnished when we bought it, and thankfully it's close enough to items that I would have chosen anyway. Once the club is opened and the manager feels comfortable with everything, Jordan, Brendan, and I plan to take a babymoon. Things have been hectic, I want a fucking vacation.

I spend the next half hour showering, getting dressed, and doing my hair and makeup. It's an important night. I want to look the part of a successful club owner. I'm claiming it, even as I eat my crackers like the little pregnant bad ass that I am.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I stare critically at my reflection as I finish painting my lips a deep purple-red color. My eyes are done in a pretty purple smokey eye, my blush is understated, and my lilac earrings sparkle in the light.

I am clearly rocking my power color today.

My hair is pulled away from my face with my special pins, just in case, while the rest is curled down my back. I look youthful yet in charge, because I refuse to believe that people have to look as if they have a stick up their ass to be taken seriously.

"Lía, I have your food," Brendan rumbles from the bedroom.

"Coming," I say, turning away from the mirror. "Do I look alright?"

The dress drapes perfectly over my body, hiding any small amount of baby bump I could possibly have. Brendan places the plate slowly down on the end table as he gazes at me, startling when he has to turn to fix the plate, because it almost ends up toppling over.

He's rarely stunned, and I chuckle as I watch him try to get ahold of himself.

"Goddamn, warn a man," he grunts, his eyes back on me. "You look incredible. Are you sure we need to go to this thing?"

Snorting, I roll my eyes because he knows my answer. Walking over to the bed, I pick up the plate and carefully scoop a bite onto my fork. He made chicken and rice exactly the way I like it, without it being overly spicy.

I really hope I get to keep my food down this time.

"You know we do," Jordan rumbles from the door, taking a step inside so he can see me better. "Fuck me, now I want to stay home too."

My lips are spread so wide, I know my cheeks will hurt soon from smiling.

"You're both ridiculous," I say, forcing myself to continue eating. We're going to need to leave soon, and I can't be worried about being hungry.

"We're not," Jordan says with a chuckle. "You just look that good. I'm going to jump in the shower while you eat. I won't take long to get ready. What shoes are you wearing?"

"The black and purple strappy shoes," I say, my chin jutting over to the shoes I mean in front of the closet.

"Those are high," he grunts, picking one up with a frown.

"I can wear heels while pregnant," I tease him. I went from barely eating, to almost inhaling my food, and I sigh as my stomach warns me that we're full.

Jordan and Brendan are in protective daddy mode and it's adorable.

"I know, but those look like torture devices," Jordan complains, pulling off his shirt. As he turns, I gaze at his back that healed amazingly well. There are small parts that are slightly scarred, but he's been talking about getting a full back tattoo. Inara has been asking him about ideas for a neck tattoo, slowly opening up.

Jordan is easy to talk to, so I'm not surprised at all by this.

"While I enjoy a little pain, I can assure you that those shoes feel as if I'm floating on clouds," I tell him.

Brendan snags my plate from me, taking it to the kitchen, but returns naked, so he can also shower with Jordan.

"All this naked man candy seems like a recipe for disaster," I tease them, lifting my feet to fit up on the bed.

"If I don't find a way to take the edge off, I'm going to fuck you into the mattress," Brendan growls as Jordan chuckles. Their cocks are both beginning to weep pre-cum, and Jordan's crown swells around his Prince Albert piercing.

Swallowing my whimper because I can't remember why it's a bad idea for them not to fuck me, the guys walk into the bathroom with evil smirks, knowing that I'm going to listen to them.

As the water turns on, I close my eyes as I lay back, letting the sounds of their moans wash over me as I rub my thighs together. The first time Jordan fucked Brendan's ass while he fucked me was insanely hot.

We've enjoyed exploring things together over the last couple of months, despite the long days as we've gotten the club up and running, and made sure everyone is well behaved.

Mickey checked on the O'Malleys up in Vermont shortly after we dissolved the sex trafficking ring Seán had going, and told them about the change in authority. They need to keep their noses clean in order to continue to run their club. I don't give a shit if their business isn't completely legal, I just don't want to have to pull their asses out of the fire.

Whimpering, I hear Brendan groan as Jordan pushes into his ass, I struggle to think about anything else. It only works for half a second before I'm pulling my dress up and grabbing my little clitoral wand.

I'm so fucking horny lately, they're definitely fucking me as part of the opening of the club tonight.

I'll use their very gracious pornographic sounds as the background to my masturbating instead. If we all fucked, I'd be a sweaty mess, and I don't feel like redoing my makeup today.

Turning on the little silicone covered wand, I drag it through my arousal, gasping as it bumps over my clit.

"Fuck, your ass is so goddamned tight," Jordan growls, making my breath hitch.

"It probably has something to do with your fat cock," Brendan sasses, grunting when a slap sounds along his ass.

Rubbing my already sensitive clit, I spread my legs wide, pushing my fingers inside my cunt.

"Flattery will get you filled with my cum," Jordan says, making me gasp out a laugh as my thighs begin to shake. "Fuck, you're taking me so well."

I can't hear what's said next as I groan, getting lost in the intense sensations created from their noises and my wand. Lights explode over my vision as I squeal, coming hard and squirting on the bed.

"Did you have fun?" Jordan asks, a towel wrapped around his waist as he gazes down at me.

"How did you get done so quickly?" I gasp, chest heaving.

Smirking, he pulls my fingers out of my pussy, sucking my release from them.

"Princess, I have a feeling it's been longer than you thought it has been," he says, grinning as he pushes my thighs open even wider, pinning them to the bed. "I guess I'm going to have to clean you up like the good boyfriend I am."

Giggling as he tosses the wand to the side as well, I moan as his tongue drags over my pussy. He's incredibly thorough as he pushes his tongue inside of me as well, licking up every drop of arousal.

Jordan refuses to let me come, but leaves me a puddle of need nonetheless.

"You're supposed to be dressed," Brendan says, smirking when he sees me sprawled across the sheets. "Chop chop, guys, or we'll be late."

Twenty minutes later, I'm in the car with them as Jordan drives to Club Fallen Stars in Chicago, which was the previous home of Daddy's depraved excuse for a sex club. There was no consent there, and auctions ran regularly out of it.

My lips twist in disgust as I remember the stories I've been told about it, happy it no longer exists.

I gutted the inside, using Rory's services to completely redo the interior. His guys happen to be amazing carpenters as well as construction workers, and I paid them handsomely for the work.

They all said they'd be more than happy to do any further work for me.

The main area of the club is a bar and dance club, with live music that Jordan hooked me up with. While he's stepped down from Music Horde Records , they're still willing to book their artists with us.

We have different bands playing for the club throughout the week for the next three months to see how it goes, and then we'll evaluate if we want to continue.

The bands playing range from larger names to smaller ones trying to get their name out there. As long as they signed our paperwork and understood our terms, they're welcome to play for my club.

Jordan parks the car in the employee parking lot, though I can see the main door where the bouncer is standing. As this is a member only establishment, I didn't want to make our opening a big deal.

Every member was given an arrival time so they wouldn't have to wait in a line, keeping people's anonymity as well. The club doesn't open for another twenty minutes, so the parking lot is deserted.

While we aren't enforcing masks to protect their identities, people are more than welcome to wear them. We also tell everyone that real names do not need to be exchanged either, and people were told them during their orientation and paperwork.

Getting out of the car, we head toward the side door, where another bouncer opens the door for us.

"Hey, boss," he says to me with a nod as we walk through. While Brendan, Jordan, and I run the club together, they insist that this is my baby.

"Hey, Norman," I murmur as he follows us down the hall. I hired him on a recommendation from Mickey, and he's incredibly respectful, but will also fuck someone up if anyone steps out of line.

"Anything happen that I need to know about?"

"No, ma'am," he says. "Things are set up, everyone is where they need to be. We're good, though I know you're going to want to check the floor anyway."

My lips twitch because he's absolutely correct. My heels click across the floor, and Norman nods as he heads back to man the side door. Jordan and Brendan flank me as we walk into the main room of the club, allowing me to look around.

"Fuck, I'm never going to get over how gorgeous this is," I mutter. A gorgeous chandelier glitters above my head with muted lighting, and I can see the beautiful textured black wallpaper on the walls. There's also a bit of midnight blue threads in it.

The main bar takes up a solid wall, and it's a dark mahogany. Everything looks upscale, playing up to the mystery of the club. When someone enters the front, there's a woman who will check their names again, handing them a color bracelet that will show the club if they want to play, are just watching, want impact play, etc.

Some people will wear a couple of bracelets for the night, and they can trade them out throughout the evening if they change their minds.

Consent can be given or taken away depending on the circumstances. We validate that completely.

Walking further into the club, I see the bartenders beam at me, and there is more security throughout the room. Instructors who will be doing demonstrations and scenes will be found upstairs, while there are private playrooms downstairs in the dungeon. There are more public areas upstairs and downstairs for those who enjoy exhibitionism as well.

There are members who enjoy blood play, the way I do, and we've set up special rooms for that. If anyone said on their questionnaire that it was a kink they wanted to practice, there are extra tests and conversations with the psychiatrist to ensure things don't go too far. There are also cameras in all of the private rooms for extra monitoring.

Phones don't work in the club, there is technology that I implemented to ensure that there's just static. I explain to members that they'd be better off leaving their phones in their cars, because they'll be no better than paperweights.

Since people want to let go, have a good time, and shed the responsibilities of the real world, they all tend to agree.

"Opening the doors!" calls out the woman at the front of the club, warning everyone to get into place.

"I'll check the upstairs," Jordan grunts, walking quickly.

"I got the dungeon," Brendan says softly, squeezing my elbow as he walks away.

Taking a deep breath because I know everything is being handled that may need to be behind the scenes, I walk to the front of the club to greet people.

Here's to great success.