Some people may not like this chapter, it gets a little raunchy.
I'd made it home with a minimal amount of suspicious glares and now I sit on the plush couch in my living room. There's a knock on the door and I walk slowly to answer it, groaning as I get up. I run a hand through my hair, turning the doorknob and seeing a Peacekeeper standing on my porch, expressionless and stone still. "President Snow would like you to return to the capital for a short period of time. He says he has a client for you." He says.
God dammit. It's been months since I got called upon. The Peacekeeper holds out his hand in the direction of a small buggy which will take me to the train station. I comply, sparing myself the waste of time and breath.
This is such a routine for me I fall asleep on the train after receiving the directions of where to go when I get to the capital. We're there before I realize, and a Peacekeeper barks at me to wake up. "You'll be late. You have to leave." He says as I stand, ramming a compulsive hand through my hair. I follow him out onto the streets, following my orders and walking alone down the crammed sidewalks.
People watch me with wide eyes, remembering me from my time in the arena of the Hunger Games nine years ago. I try not to get lost, walking into a massive building that on the inside is all crazy colors and fancy music. I stop at the front desk, asking what floor room number 487 was on. She said the fourth and I nodded, thanking her. She gawks at me as I walk away and over towards the elevator, stepping in with a bunch of expressionless weird looking capital freaks, and a few women gasp as they recognize my face. Two men in the back mutter to each other, knowing exactly what I'm here for.
On the fourth floor I step out along with a young girl and her mother who go the opposite way as me. The little girl takes a second and third glance back at me as I watch for room number 487.
456… 547… I walk slowly. I know I'm being watched. I always am. 478... 479… I never know what kind of freaks are waiting for me on the other side of the door. 487. I sigh, knocking. It's quiet for a moment before the door opens, and a young woman answers the door. She's very familiar and it takes me just a fraction of a second to remember her from the games. She's a victor. She smiles at me, inviting me in. I'm not supposed to ask for names so I don't. I don't introduce myself either, just remove my jacket.
"You're much taller than I expected." She says; her tone seductive.
"Why do so many people tell me that?" I wonder aloud and she chuckles at me.
"My name's Johanna." She says, stepping towards me. My brow furrows since I really shouldn't know her name, though I already do. "I think that will come in handy in a minute or two." I unbutton my shirt, removing it and placing it on the couch, in just my undershirt and pants now. Johanna walks to me, stroking my bicep. I slide my hands under her shirt, removing it for her and soon after rip my belt from its loops. Her body is flawless but it doesn't get me aroused; only actual love can.
I move her hair and her breath hitches as my lips graze the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping and sucking. She pulls my hair, and it's those kinds of small hints that let me know how someone… prefers the activity to come. I wrap her hair around my wrist, pulling her head back even further for easier access. She grips my shoulders as I use my free hand to undo the button on her jeans, sliding them down her hips. She smells sweet and a bit enticing, but this is work not play.
I'm not entirely comfortable with lips touching lips but it always happens anyway. My lips leave a warm trail up her jawline until finally our mouths are connected, our tongues battling as I walk her backwards. Her knees hit the edge of the low couch and she falls on it, but I stay upright, removing my undershirt and throwing it somewhere and Johanna watches me as I remove my trousers.
I grab her wrist, picking her up and turning her away from me, my stomach against her back. She growls something to me, and it takes me a moment to realize it was "I like it hard. I can take a little pain." I bend her forward and she places her hands on the back of the couch, turning her head to look at me out of the corner of her eye. I hook my thumbs under the fabric of her panties, pushing them down and they pool around her ankles and do the same to my boxers. I spank her and she cries out, shutting herself up with a pleasured groan.
I reach down in-between her legs, stroking the insides of her wet folds. She moans, closing her eyes and just reveling in the movements of my fingers. I find myself, as sick as it makes me, picturing Johanna as Annie, though it's hard. Annie's frail and isn't a fan of S&M, while Johanna breathes heavily in ecstasy as I ram three fingers into her. I reach for my trousers, pulling a condom from its pocket. The wrapper cracks in my fingers as I unwrap it, and after putting it on, I place my hands on Johanna's hips and thrust into her.
She gasps as I fill her, her eyes flying open. She soon closes them as the rhythm gets faster and more aggressive. I tilt my head back because, even though I don't want it to, this feels amazing. Though with Annie, my mind wasn't so fogged. As I pump into this young woman I don't even know, I think about many things. Sephora, Annie, going back home, even how much I hate President Snow. He put me through this. He's the reason I've made so many strangers, men or women, scream with pleasure that I was forced to give them. I will never be free, ever again. There will always be a watchful eye on me, like there is now. A camera, somewhere in this room, watches me bang Johanna's brains out. The sad thing is I don't care anymore. I've given up and basically thrown my life away, doing everything but yelling "Fuck it! I don't want it anymore!" in Snow's face.
Johanna growls as her hands morph into claws, scratching the hell out of the fabric of the couch. She's obviously not one to yell like some are, just sticking with soft obscenities. I ram in her again, holding her hips to stabilize her. "Oh," she whimpers, dragging out the one syllable word so it has four or five. I look over to the strange clock on the wall. It's five twenty-two, and my job is done at five thirty. I plunge into Johanna deeper, making her finally let out the yell she'd been holding in. "Ah!" She cries.
I groan though I try to conceal it. I think showing delectation in a time like this is just wrong; somewhat sickening. It would make me that much more like these "clients". Johanna cries out again, her body convulsing but I keep on going until I hit my climax, growling and leaning forward, placing my hands on the back of the couch as well and I stop pumping. My stomach to her back once again, Johanna crumbles, sitting on the couch watching me as I pull up my boxer shorts.
"What do I owe you?" She asks, sliding her panties back up her legs.
"I don't ask for money." I mumble, putting on my pants.
"What do you ask for, then?"
"Secrets," I say, sitting next to her as I pull on my undershirt.
"Oh yeah? Of what kind?"
"Any. Anything about the capital I'm not supposed to know." Her face falls as she understands why I'm whispering.
"We were being watched weren't we?" She mutters. I nod and she clenches her fists. "I know a thing or two. I heard a rumor about district thirteen yesterday." She says, and now it's she that nods as I raise an eyebrow. "I heard it's still occupied. Have you ever seen the tapes on television they play of district thirteen?"
"Yes…" I mumble.
"Have you ever noticed that every time, the same mockingjay flies in the top right corner of the shot?" I think back, but I've never been observant enough to notice. "It's just more evidence." She says. I look down at my hands, my brain working a mile a minute. I thank Johanna, telling her she still has to pay Snow, and leave her as she wears an unhappy frown on her face.
Hey guys, sorry for the long break I've been swimming in homework these past few weeks. And if you don't like absolutely 100% kinky sex scenes, you probably shouldn't read my stories. Check out my latest one about Peeniss, it's called "50 Shades of Poor" Thanks!
