Unlocked Read online

  About Unlocked

  The Special Ops genetic experiments were designed to create super soldiers, not sex-addicted doms.

  When Delano Briggs, BDSM club owner and volunteer firefighter, is called to aid in the evacuation of a burning New York hotel, he thinks it’s just another job.

  But after rescuing the irresistibly sexy Chanze, he learns that behind the velvet curtains of the five-star hotel is one of the most exclusive, and immoral, prostitution rings in the country. For the men at the Cloister aren’t merely lovers for hire, but genetically enhanced sex slaves, created to provide the brothel’s rich clientele with the most insatiable doms and delicious subs.

  Kept against his will by the doomsday chip implanted in his brain, Chanze sees no chance of escape. Until Delano and his three fellow super-enhanced operatives infiltrate the club for a walk on the wild side.

  Contents

  About Unlocked

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  About H.C. Brown

  Copyright

  With many thanks to David Kentner for his sound advice, expertise, and friendship.

  Chapter 1

  The fragrance of expensive French soap diluted the distinctive scent of male musk from long hours of sex. Exhausted, with every inch of his flesh screaming in protest, Chanze dropped his head and relaxed. Hot water poured over him. He bit off a moan. Pain sizzled from open wounds. Oh yeah, his clients had done a number on him. Deep welts ran along the length of his back and thighs. He pushed a finger inside his hole to increase the delicious throb from the pounding—shit, he was some sick fuck. He smiled at the memory of submitting to the vicious bastards and begging for more. Fucking A. He’d loved every second. He’d worn the collar of an edge-playing Dom long before he’d become a rent boy, not that he’d let that bit of information slip to the boss man.

  He allowed his mind to drift back over his last conversation with Doc. His boss hated his attitude with a passion and Chanze had given the asshole the ammunition to get even. So he’d complained—fuck, he wasn’t the only rent-an-ass to voice an opinion. Everyone deserved time off, didn’t they? His punishment had been meted out with a thin smile and an appointment with a group of senior sadists. Oh yeah, Doc understood his reluctance to submit to old men and the asshole had served up four of them in a two-hour session. Old and wickedly inventive, the group of Doms, all in a constant state of arousal due to the blue pills they popped with abandon, had delivered a beating with a precision that would have killed most subs. Chanze had dissolved inside the pleasure-pain and flown to his usual place of compliance. In fact, the moment the lash had cut deep into his skin the age of his Doms hadn’t mattered. His body hummed from the incredible disembodied sensation of being alive. After the initial scene, the Doms had found their own pleasure and he had come so many times his balls had screamed with pain.

  Chanze sighed and rubbed the clients’ rancid flavor off his mouth. In a short time, the nanos in his bloodstream would repair the damage but his boss needed the toe of one of his shit kickers aimed straight at the balls. He hated the smell of old guys, they always wore the same stale cologne and had so much body hair it got stuck in his teeth. Soapsuds tinged with blood swirled around his feet. He grimaced. Why the fuck had he agreed to sign on with a pimp in the first place? Well, Doc wasn’t exactly a pimp. Initiation into the Fury had changed more than his body; it had taken away his freedom.

  It was the twenty-first century for Christ’s sake, how the hell had he ended up a sex slave in Manhattan? Anger welled and he pushed down the urge to punch the tiles. He chewed on his bottom lip and considered his position. I’m a prisoner here, so I’d better behave like a good little boy. He rolled his shoulders and pushed back a wad of soaked hair. Setting his face in an impassive mask, he stepped from the shower to join the line of dripping, sculpted bodies entering the hot air dryer. The men before him remained silent. Doc ruled the joint, and there was a “no conversation or sex” rule between members of the Fury.

  He joined Adryck in the dryer. His friend’s lips turned up at the corners in a small gesture of recognition. Man, how the skinny kid had changed. Adryck was a blond Adonis, six-five of come-fuck-me sexy. He’d met Adryck three years ago hustling in an alley behind a bar—his alley—and had beaten the crap out of him. Someone had called the cops and they’d both ended up at the free clinic. The deal Doc had proposed looked sweet: cash, a place to live, all the food a man could eat, and a new body that never got old or sick.

  At the time, Chanze had the wild idea Doc was a vampire—now he wished he had been. All Doc had asked for in return was an agreement to service a few of his clients—and his signature on a ten-year contract. The man owned a gay prostitution establishment hidden below Cloisters, an exclusive men’s club. Doc’s promise of a new life with no more back alleys or the risk of some asshole getting nasty with a knife was too good to refuse. Any rent boy would have jumped at the chance. As a hungry twenty-one-year-old, he had ignored the voice of doom in his head, and signed his life away. That night he and Adryck had become members of the Fury.

  He mentally kicked himself for not reading the fine print, especially the part about the injections of nanos. The synthetic microbes designed to produce super soldiers had originated from an abandoned government experiment seven years previously. From what Doc described, the entire program had been contained at Area 51. The man boasted of being a top-secret government scientist who had subtly changed the nanos to produce indestructible man whores.

  Initially designed to enhance a man’s body to such a degree he became an eternal killing machine, the nanos had produced a group of big, powerful men free from disease, with the ability to heal wounds in minutes and remain young forever. Then something went wrong and the government pulled the research. He recalled how Doc had bragged about having his own source of nanos. The crazy man had hired his own scientists to tweak the nano technology and make his rent boys exude a powerful pheromone to seduce clients, which came with the added bonus of a cock that could perform on cue.

  Chanze turned around in the stream of hot air from the dryers, his memories of his first weeks in the Fury fresh in his mind. How could he have been so damn gullible? Sure the deal sounded too good to be true, but Doc had sounded genuine enough and what could go wrong? He would live forever now—right? Nah, nothing quite so romantic. The nanos reacted in a different way with each individual. Small, timid Adryck had turned into a sadistic Dom. Chanze grimaced. He had enjoyed his life as a sub and had a sex drive to rival most men. The nanos had enhanced more than his body. “A sex addict hooked on pain” described his position in Doc’s crazy world.

  Imprisoned in an underground complex and dependent on the daily shot of nanos Doc administered to prevent his brain turning to mush, he’d lost touch with reality. Although, he’d gained the strength of ten men. Chanze smiled into the hot air. In a perfect world, he would march out the front door with his middle finger raised, but Doc had him hog-tied with the added value of an explosive device buried at the base of his skull. He had become a sex slave in a free country. The sick bastards running the show called the company RAB—Rent-a-Boy.

  Adryck trailed the welt on Chanze’s arm with one warm finger and a frown crossed his handsome face. His voice drifted into Chanze’s mind.

  “You okay, man?”

  Chan
ze forced his swollen lips into a smile. He nodded. “Sure.”

  The mindspeak ability came compliments of the nanos and was the Fury’s closely guarded secret. To protect this one sliver of humanity, Chanze had sworn every new member of the Fury to silence on threat of death. This talent was one weapon they could use against RAB if they found a way to escape Doc’s torture chamber. Chanze turned around, allowing the hot air to dry his wet flesh. He smiled. Being the first pair on the construction line of super man whores had made this deception possible.

  Adryck held up a hairbrush and made a twirling motion with his hand. Chanze turned to allow his friend to brush the tangles from his hair. He pressed his hands against the wall, willing his cock to remain flaccid. The man brushing his hair exuded powerful pheromones and being a member of the Fury didn’t make Chanze immune to the man’s rich, musky scent. He ground his teeth, forcing his attention to anything but Adryck’s soft caresses. Damn, the scientists in this house of horrors had programmed him to respond to a man’s touch but then punished him if he craved the attention of one of the men in his group. His body, his emotions, and every drop of cum belonged to RAB.

  A scratchy voice over the intercom broke into Chanze’s thoughts. “Adryck to lab one. Chanze to room five.”

  “Fuck! They want you for a special client already. You’d think the assholes would give you time to heal from the last session.”

  Adryck flicked him a glance. “Don’t complain to Doc again or he’ll work you all night.”

  Chanze gazed into his friend’s eyes. The unusual gold-colored irises of a tiger stared back at him with a wild, untamed expression that made him want to drop to his knees and beg Adryck to flog him. “Problem is I enjoy the pain. I crave the sex. I think I’m so screwed in the head, I’d agree to do a snuff scene.”

  “Doc won’t let that happen. You’re too valuable.” Adryck turned away and rolled his shoulders, making the wings of the eagle tattoo over his back come alive. Without a backward glance, his friend headed down the passageway toward the laboratories.

  Chanze projected his thoughts to the big man. Adryck’s black and gold ringed collar, denoting him a Dom, glinted under the lights. “After this afternoon’s session, I know Doc is capable of anything.”

  Chapter 2

  Chanze straightened his spine and strode from the dryer into the passageway. He ran one finger under the silver slave collar marking him as a level-five sub and able to withstand sadists. The catch slid under his touch. With a flick of the wrist, he could be free of this mark of slavery. In long strides, he marched through the dormitory and took the elevator to the secured first floor of the hotel above his prison. The doors swished open and he trudged down the brightly lit corridor. His heart pounded with trepidation, the type of emotion a sub experiences before a scene. He caught a whiff of his pheromones and shook his head. How can I want more? I’m one sick fuck.

  Doc had ordered him to one of the private rooms, no doubt for inspection by a whale—a rich client visiting the city and willing to pay big bucks for a special kind of sub. Situated in a soundproofed area above the maze of dungeons, fuck room,s and laboratories below ground, Doc reserved the club’s lavish hotel suites for the more distinguished clientele.

  Chanze flicked his gaze over the room numbers and headed down the hallway. The springy blue carpet brushed soft against the balls of his feet with each step. He glanced up at the cameras tracking his every move then to the one-way glass in the window. A pigeon sat on the sill, sheltered from the rain. He gazed with longing at the skyscrapers cloaked in storm clouds. Not that he could escape. Doc would detonate the chip in his neck the moment he stepped out of line.

  The door to number five loomed on his right. A tremor shivered down his spine and his cock twitched in anticipation. He lifted his hand to knock but the door swung open. Inside, Doc sat in a large armchair, his bare legs poking out from beneath a red silk dressing gown. Chanze swallowed hard. His existence in this crazy world of domination had slipped down a notch if Doc was planning a scene with him. He had an inkling Doc had fucked some of the Fury but none of them had admitted to bending over for the old man. This crazy scientist had created them and to some of the members he held the position of a father figure. None of the Fury had family on the outside. Chanze guessed this was the reason he chose down-and-out rent boys—no ties and no one to notice if they went missing.

  Chanze gulped down the bad taste in his mouth. Schooling his expression to bland disinterest, he moved inside. The door snapped shut behind him. A prickle of awareness raised the hairs on the back of his neck. His enhanced senses had picked up the smell of another man in the room. He fought the desire to turn and meet the presence standing behind him, and dropped into a submissive pose. His attention focused on a fleck of dust on the carpet. He clasped his hands behind him and waited for orders. Respect earned days off, and he sure as hell needed a day off this month. Doc remained silent. Chanze sucked in a breath and lifted his gaze. “You called for me, sir?”

  “How long has it been since your last scene?” Doc rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and made a tower of his fingers. Pale eyes resting under gray eyebrows drifted over Chanze’s body. A hint of a smile crossed his lips.

  What have you planned for me this time, asshole? He raised his head. “Ten minutes I believe, sir.”

  Doc’s eyes twinkled. His gaze moved to address the person standing behind Chanze. “Chanze is a level-five submissive. I made him to withstand extreme edge play.” A wicked smile curled his lips. “You can do what you like to him and he’ll beg you for more.”

  The scratchy voice from behind Chanze made his skin pebble.

  “I like to share my boys. Will he take punishment from a group of Doms?”

  “Take a good look at him. Does he appear damaged or unwilling to submit?” Doc raised gray eyebrows to his hairline. “I requested a particularly brutal session for this boy with four Doms to demonstrate his rate of recovery. As you can see, the marks on him have faded, and in a few minutes will be gone.”

  “So I can do anything to him and he’ll fix himself in a matter of hours?”

  “Well, he’ll repair in minutes but he can bleed to death, and he can’t mend fatal injuries like decapitation or the removal of his heart, for instance.” Doc grinned. “Is he to your taste?”

  “Oh yes, he’ll do just fine. He looks so deliciously powerful and yet so submissive.” The man cleared his throat. “Is he human?”

  “Almost.” Doc pushed to his feet and stood in front of Chanze. “Touch him. He’s very responsive. A man’s touch will make him hard. He has the ability to ejaculate many times with only a few minutes recovery but most clients like to watch him squirm. My boys beg so sweetly to come and he’ll plead with you to fuck him. He wants to be dominated, humiliated, and whipped raw.”

  “The perfect sub.” The man laughed. “So, I gather he will … ah … accommodate a large group booking? Ten or more usually attend my parties and they last for about four days.”

  “Of course, he is built to supply your every need.” Doc’s voice dropped to a compelling whisper. “There’s lube on the table. Try him—no charge.”

  What the fuck? A torrent of anger rose within him. Freebies weren’t in his vocabulary. Chanze gripped his hands together and clenched his teeth. If the client wanted a taste, he’d give him one, Chanze style. Fucking A. He’d close his fingers around the asshole’s throat and give him a hands-on demo on how well the nano technology worked. He bit back a smile at the image of the faceless Dom turning blue under his palms. Adryck’s voice slipped into his mind. “You’re on overload man, cool it.”

  Chanze closed his eyes. “Doc has me on parade like some prize bull.”

  “You wanna be locked in the freezer again? Calm the fuck down.”

  With effort, he pushed his mind into the safe place where the image of his dead lover lived. His Dom had trained him for edge play, taught him how to serve a Master, and had kept him safe. He let the tension go a
nd bathed in the memory of his Master’s smile. Chanze dragged in a deep breath and waited for the asshole to lube up. He dropped his head, submissive. The voice, like nails on a chalkboard, scraped over his nerves.

  “You will not come until I give you permission. Spread your legs. Bend and place your hands on your thighs.”

  Chanze complied. A cool slick of lube touched his ass. The man moved beside him. A wave of expensive cologne wafted over him and Italian leather shoes polished to a high shine bumped against his bare toes. The man had thick thighs clad in tailored pants and Chanze caught the glint of a large diamond set in a gold ring on his pinkie. His gaze moved up to the client’s fat neck and the obligatory black mask pulled down over his cheeks. Business Suit placed one cool hand on Chanze’s belly, and caressed his heated flesh. Erotic sensations flamed a path straight to his balls. Damn the nanos; one touch from a man, any fucking man, and he was toast. Chanze bit his lip and tried to control his growing need. The first slippery caress from the client’s fingers around his hole had his cock ready for action. He groaned at the deep penetration, his legs trembling with each slow, tormenting swirl across his pleasure spot. Semen rushed up his shaft in a volcanic flow. He fought back the need to spill. Sweat poured from his brow and dripped off his chin.

  “Kneel on the arms of the chair.” The client walked behind him with his fingers buried deep in Chanze’s hole. “Bend over and hold open your ass nice and wide for me.”

  Chanze moved into the required position and rested his soaking brow on the back of the chair. The rough fabric prickled against his bare legs. The man’s fingers wriggled inside him, sending waves of delight up his shaft. He wanted to bathe in the sensation. He reached back and spread open his buttocks. The man fucked him with his fingers and pushed in deeper with each plunge. Chanze pushed back, insane with lust.