Chapter 15: Damian

Keeping my eyes off Lydia throughout the long night wasn't easy. I walked by the group she spent most of the evening with several times and covertly checked in to be sure she was okay. She appeared comfortable in her surroundings and at home with the other Masters and Mistresses of the club. Adam stayed close, which caused my teeth to grind. I should have given her someone old enough to be her grandfather.

Hell, I walked face first into her demand for a sub who looks like me. The redhead I chose didn't come close to sating my lust for her, though. I'm tired, accomplished very little tonight, and I'm not in the best of moods. My apartment on the floor above Lydia's is silent and empty. I haven't had a long-time sub staying here in a while. Maybe my problem is loneliness.

As if the one constant woman in my life can read my thoughts, my cell rings. It's almost three in the morning and only one person would call at this time.

"Hi, Mom," I answer.

"Oh good you're awake," she replies cheerfully. "I hope I'm not disturbing you and your future wife."

I roll my eyes. We've been down this road too many times to count. I almost give my usual answer of, "Someday, maybe, but not now." I think about Lydia and answer honestly, "No, unfortunately you didn't. Maybe you'll get lucky another night."

Silence.

"You there, Mom?"

"You found someone?" There is so much hope in her voice. I'm her only child and she wants mountains of grandkids to spoil rotten.

"Her name is Lydia. The problem is she's not exactly happy I found her."

"Psh," she makes a disgusted sound into the phone. "You have your father's charm. She'll come around. Let me know if you need me there to help convince her."

I can't stop my grin because she's deadly serious. "I don't think that will be necessary. She's stubborn and I just need to work on those charm skills you're talking about."

"A minimum of three grandchildren is what I want, so do whatever you need to make it happen."

The mental image of Lydia with a nice round belly pops into my head and I almost groan aloud. "Duly noted."

"Tell me about her."

So I do. My mother is fully aware of Club El Diablo and what it is. She's not shy about talking sex and I know she has a kinky background, I just refuse to listen to her talk about it. Yes, there is an ick factor involved and I feel uncomfortable but Mom does not.

"You tricked her and now she's angry. Good job, Damian Joseph Collins."

I run my fingers across my head. She's really pulling out the big guns by using my full name. "I'll make it right. Trust me on this."

She chuckles into the phone. "I have no doubts about that. It's nice to know you've met your match. I'd rather see her give you a run for your money than instantly fall into your lap. Now it's time for me to go back to reading my romance novel so I can get some sleep. You need to rest too. Good night, son."

"Good night, Mom."

I look around the apartment. It's still as quiet, but talking to my mother takes a bit of the lonely out of it. I can picture Lydia here. The picture includes her on her knees. Christ, my dick goes hard again. A hot shower and quick hand job help take the edge off. After that, I somehow manage to sleep like a baby.

***

My cell rings again a little after six. There's no name attached to the number but I recognize it.

"Damian," I answer in a foggy, sleep-deprived voice.

"I need you in two hours," Monroe's clipped tone charges into my ear.

"Where?" I ask as I sit up in bed and try to gather my wits.

"I'll text the information. I have three women. Can you handle it?"

Three is doable. "Yes, I can handle it," I assure him.

The call ends and I call my mom. She doesn't seem nearly as tired as I am.

"You know I'll make room for three."

Yes, I do. She'll also be the best thing that ever happened to these women. "Thank you, Mom. I'll see you in a few hours."

Monroe sends a follow-up text and gives me a destination that will require the helicopter. I call the emergency pilot because I haven't scheduled a flight. We take off an hour later. A car picks me up from the airport and I'm driven to a quiet area with neat houses in rows.

Monroe greets me with a subtle head nod. He's a genius and a man of few words. He's not partial to handshakes, so I leave my hand at my side and look around. The inside of the home is unfinished and mostly a large open space. In the corner is a curtain divider that blocks off a ten foot section of the room. I follow Monroe to the curtain. He pulls it back and there are three women sitting on cots. They don't look up. All are wearing jeans and T-shirts with athletic shoes. I know Monroe provided the clothing. No telling what they were wearing, if anything, when Monroe got to them. The young woman close to me is noticeably shaking. "Do they speak English?" I ask Monroe.

He shakes his head and speaks to the women in Farsi... I think. They scramble off the cots immediately. Monroe introduces us. The woman shaking earlier begins crying. I've been through this many times and the rage builds inside me. The last thing I'll do is show these women how I truly feel, so I smile reassuringly. They get into the car with no hesitation when Monroe walks them outside and points to the vehicle.

"I lost one," Monroe says before I join the driver in the front of the vehicle. Monroe means there were four women and one died. I clench my fists. "I'm sorry," is all I say. His haunted eyes will stay with me. I don't know how he does this but I'm damn glad someone does. These women now have a chance. With a final nod, the car rolls away.

We ride to the airport in silence. I learned a long time ago to say little and get the women to my mother as quickly as possible. There is no language barrier when they finally make it to Mom's. With food, care, and love, she'll bring them around and prove to them that they're no longer in danger.

I fell into my current role as rescuer of human sex slaves purely through my club connection with Monroe. He works for the government but also works outside the law, which makes absolutely no sense. I ask few questions. The women are trained to please men. The training itself is harsh and often deadly when they don't conform. Monroe knows, as I do, that putting these women in a normal environment won't work. They are ill-prepared for the world outside of the sex trade industry they've been rescued from. In many cases, they were sold by their own families and have no place to go. I will finance their new lives and my mom will help them assimilate into our society or she will help them get home if they prefer.

Once we reach the airport's private terminal, the pilot and I situate them for the flight to my mom's home. They say nothing during the entire trip even with headsets. They don't trust me and there's nothing I can do to relieve their fears.

My mother's home rests on two hundred and fifty acres, sixty miles outside the city. She has language specialists, psychologists, and nurses on standby. Monroe will have had them examined by a physician before he turned them over to me. If a medical doctor is needed, we'll provide one. My mom found that not poking and prodding them in the first weeks is best. She hasn't been wrong yet.

Mom greets us as soon as the helicopter lands. She's wearing one of her ever-present gauzy dresses with layers of material and bangles that jingle when she walks. She has no hesitation in welcoming the women with hugs and smiles. They noticeably relax in her presence.

I place a kiss on her cheek when the short greetings are over. "I can't stay," I tell her.

"Of course you can't. My future daughter-in-law needs you." She waves her hand to the helicopter. "Hurry on and seal the deal. I want to meet her."

I probably shouldn't have mentioned Lydia last night. If I don't seal the deal, I'll never hear the end of it. Lydia doesn't know this but she's much better off dealing with me than my mom.

I sleep on the flight back to the hotel and dream of a certain Domme sucking my cock.