Sing Me a Song (Sacrificial Lambs Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  TOC

  Trigger Warning

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Raiden

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Stay Connected

  Also by C.A. Rene

  Contents

  Title Page

  Trigger Warning

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Stay Connected

  Also by C.A. Rene

  Trigger Warning

  This novella contains incredibly detailed and very explicit scenes of sexual assault, rape, torture, and murder. Scenes of gore and extreme violence. If you are triggered in any way by these, please do not read any further.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2021 by C.A. Rene

  www.carenebooks.com

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental, the characters and story lines are created by the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.

  No copyright infringement intended.

  No claims have been made over songs and/or lyrics written. All credit goes to the original owner.

  Photography | Cover Design | Formatting by:

  TalkNerdy2me

  “Through music you hypnotize people and when you get them at their weakest point you can preach into their subconscious what we want to say.”

  -Jimi Hendrix

  Prologue

  Raiden

  1983 – Loving Beginnings Orphanage

  “Say your bedtime prayers, boys.” Sister Jane says from the doorway of our room. “Father Robert will be here shortly to bless you.”

  “No!” I hear my brother whisper and begin to cry.

  Father Robert is not a nice man and he’s been blessing us twice a week for three years now. His blessings don’t feel nice and he likes to pick one of us to receive it while the others watch.

  I wish my parents never left me or my brother because we went from a bad place to another way worse. This feels like the Hell the sisters are always teaching us about. It’s filled with demons and the devil who watches us, then wants us to burn forever with him.

  Father Robert seems more like the devil and the sisters are demons, they all feel evil. What did I do wrong? Why was I sent to Hell before I died? Is it because my parents were bad people?

  The light turns out and I can hear a few of the boys begin to cry along with my baby brother. I want to help them but I’m just as weak and afraid.

  We hear the footsteps thudding in the hall, coming for our room, and I listen as the boys all begin to hush. He tends to pick the one most upset.

  The door creaks open, I see his outline from the hallway light, and bury my face under the covers.

  “Hello, children of God.” His deep voice circles around our heads. “Who wants to be blessed?”

  We all remain silent and I pray he changes his mind, or the Devil comes to take him away to burn forever.

  “Victor.” My heart stops and I hear my brother’s wail. “Come see your father, child.”

  I hear a struggle and then a loud slap as I imagine Father Robert’s hand connecting with my little brother’s face.

  I throw back my covers and stand on my bed just in time to see Father Robert forcing Victor to slip under his robes.

  “No!” I shout and Father Robert looks at me. “I want to do it tonight.”

  His smile scares me and his yellow teeth stand out against his thin pink lips.

  “Raiden.” He claps once. “I’m happy to see you are becoming eager for your blessings.”

  He shoves Victor out and he lands on his bum on the hard floor. He whimpers and begins to crawl back to his bed. I am his big brother and Mommy made me promise to always protect him. I can’t break my promise.

  “Come now.”

  I get off the bed and drag my feet forward, if I do it just how he likes, it’ll be over quickly. He lifts his robes when I’m standing in front of him and I see his privates, hairy and strange. I shuffle forward and his hand lands on top of my head.

  “Watch now, children.” His voice begins to sound weird. “Watch how Raiden collects his blessing.”

  1993 – Enlightened Records

  “We’ve saved you from the clutches of evil,” Magistra Karen tells us from behind her large desk, “now we need a few things from you.”

  “Don’t you want to be famous?” Magister Camden asks.

  “Yes.” The four of us answer in unison.

  “Don’t you want to be rich?” Magister Markus asks.

  “Yes.” We repeat.

  “The elders believe you are destined for greatness and want to help you with every one of your desires. All they require is sacrifices.” Magistra Karen smiles, her teeth much like Father Robert’s.

  “We want to bring you into the fold here in New York and especially into our Parish. We are appointing you a manager. His name is Magus Kenny.” Magister Camden says.

  A guy about our age steps out of the shadows of the room and nods in our direction.

  “What sacrifices?” Torrent asks. My little brother does not like the thought of serving others.

  “Souls.” Magistra Karen replies. “Many souls.”

  Chapter One

  Tempest

  My fingertips skim down between my breasts and slowly glide over my taut stomach. The heavy beat of The Take by Tory Lanez and Chris Brown washes over me as the heat from the fluorescents above heats my skin. I’m restless and craving the release only my body can provide. The beat quickens so I reach for the pole above my head and pivot until I’m face to face with it. The cool steel warms against my palms as I lift myself up and wrap my legs around it tightly.

  The room sways and the fog thickens. I release my hands, letting my legs hold me in place. I lean back until I am parallel with the pole, my back
hitting the cool metal, my vision upside down, as I stare out into the blurry faces of hungry looking men.

  My heartbeat kicks up, I grab my tits in my hands, and give them a rough squeeze. That does it, the men stand in a frenzy and throw their wads of bills onto the stage.

  Predictable assholes.

  I rotate around the pole slowly until my hands touch the floor and then I hold myself in a handstand, letting my legs fall apart into a split. I let my body slowly fall over and land on the floor, stretching my arms over my head. I twerk my ass for good measure then look over my shoulder to the crowd of men vying for my attention.

  The lights go dark and I pull myself back up to standing.

  “That was Tempest. Who wants to see more of her?” The crowd goes wild at the MC’s words and I saunter backstage. “She’s here every night, same time.”

  Every night. How fucking sad does that sound? It’s fucking pathetic really that I come here because I have nothing at home. I snort at that thought, home, I live in a one room apartment because living in New York is fucking expensive. It’s even more expensive when you must pay off a mountain of debt your cancer ridden father leaves with his death.

  Aw fuck, I slap the wall as I walk towards the dressing room. I’m starting to feel shit again and that can’t happen, I don’t have time to feel shit.

  I round the corner into the room and see Sky sitting on her vanity, her feet on the edge, and her knees spread wide. Chanel has her head buried so deep between them, I almost worry she may be suffocating.

  “Good night?” Sky asks, her question ending on a moan. I hear Chanel slurping and roll my eyes.

  “Probably.” I shrug and sit at my vanity. I pull out the vial in my top drawer and dump some of the white powder onto the glass top.

  I cut out my lines with a credit card that’s completely maxed and lean over, snorting the first line deep into my left nostril. None of us have a stitch of clothing on because what’s the fucking point? It all comes off anyways and besides none of us are ashamed of what we have.

  “Fuck yes.” Sky moans and I look over my shoulder as she rides Chanel’s face. “I’m coming.”

  Chanel’s hand goes between her own legs as she works her clit and gets Sky off at the same time. Sky’s head tips back with a moan and Chanel begins to tremble between her legs, both girls coming at the same time and neither are lesbians. How fucking poetic.

  Chanel stands up and brushes her bushy blonde hair off her shoulders. She’s tall, standing at six feet and rail thin, I can count every one of her ribs, well the ones not obstructed by the biggest pair of fake tits.

  “Tempest,” Chanel bends over me to fix her smudged mascara. “Can I borrow your gold G-String?”

  “You can have it if you’re borrowing it.” I snap and bend over to sniff the next line into my right nostril.

  The burn is fast but the tingles that spread over my head feels amazing and the sudden feeling of weight lifting off my shoulders is more addicting than the shit itself.

  “Sounds like you need a good pussy eating, too.” Sky snorts behind me as she lights a joint.

  Sky is the type of gorgeous that’s loud and in your face. Her features can take your breath away and her body can elicit immediate arousal. She used to do it to me constantly when I first started working here three months ago.

  She’s tall with a pair of never-ending legs, she has long box braids that end at her tailbone and her eyes pop out of her face like golden orbs. Her skin is like a rich smooth umber and those lips are what I use as reference when I get my own plumped. There's no one else that walks that stage as beautiful as Sky.

  Sky, Chanel, Diamond, Goldie, Queen, and I are just some of the regular girls that twerk our asses on the regular here at The Temple. They all use stage names to sensationalize their stage persona and I say they because mine is not.

  Tempest Skeigh Verona is my real name and when Carl read that, I was hired on the spot. Didn't matter that I was once a dance prospect for Juilliard or that I had already worked as a burlesque dancer in Vegas. The name is what got me hired.

  That's what happens when you have a crackhead mother hell bent on naming you something no other kid in the trailer park would have. She succeeded.

  "I need a man between my legs," I grin at her. "Not into seeing a fried box dyed head."

  "Hey!" Chanel hollers from across the room. "Shut the fuck up, bitch!"

  "Yeah," Sky snickers. "Not everyone can wear no makeup and still look like Megan Fox on her best day."

  Whatever. I roll my eyes. Megan Fox. Maybe a doped-up stripper who hasn't slept in days and needs a proper meal, version of Megan Fox. It's the jet-black hair, grey/green eyes, and a pouty lip combo. The tall and lean-I live off ramen and coffee-look. My rump is my best asset and my tits are small, I'm just too nervous to go under the knife or else they'd be fucking beach balls.

  Doesn't matter though, my tits may be apples but I am still the highest paid dancer here. Thanks to me, according to Carl, traffic has increased by fifty percent since I showed up wet and exhausted looking for a job. And that's just stage work because you will never see me going to the back for private shows. I won't be sucking or fucking any dick that comes through those doors, I may be a drug addicted stripper with barely any money to my name, but I still have my fucking pride.

  "Temp, Sky." Carl appears at the door. "Can you stay later tomorrow night? I have a meeting and I need a few girls on the poles."

  These late-night meetings usually bring me the fattest tips because Carl entertains the high-end drug dealers and seedy looking men dressed in top-of-the-line tailored suits. He usually pairs me up with Sky and if we touch each other a bit or make out, it really ramps up those Benjamin’s.

  “Sure." Sky calls out and I toss him a nod.

  "Thanks, ladies." He scratches at his chin and looks slightly nervous. "It's for Raiden’s celebration."

  I raise a brow not knowing what he's talking about and swing my head to Sky when I hear her gasp.

  "Carl," she begins to shake her head.

  "It's just the meeting. Not the choosing." He tries to convince her.

  "Who are they?" I ask him.

  "They are the devil incarnate." Sky mutters and gnaws on her lip.

  "I'll do it alone." I tell Carl. "Don't force her if she doesn't want to."

  "No, Temp." Sky rushes over to me. "You can't do it either."

  "I need the money, Sky." I shake my head at her.

  "Okay, Tempest." Carl nods. "You're my best. I think you up there alone will be enough."

  I watch as he leaves the doorway and his footsteps echo down the hall.

  "Listen, Temp." Sky lays her hand on my shoulder. "Whatever you do, don't make eye contact and do not talk to any of them. Shake your ass and then leave as soon as the meeting is done."

  "Sky, what the fuck?" I stare at her with wide eyes. "Why are you so scared of these men?"

  We see scary looking sons of bitches in here all the time, this shit isn't new, so I can't figure out what the fuck her issue is.

  "Just do as I say." She says as the MC calls her name to the stage. She gives me a pointed look and repeats, "just do as I say."

  Chapter Two

  Tempest

  “I fucking bagged a thousand last night." I say as I cut the lines out on my vanity.

  "Plus, you're doing overtime tonight, so shit girl, you're rolling in it." Queen purrs in her raspy voice and her dark eyes glow with envy.

  Queen is exactly what her name is, she's the longest running stripper here, and hitting almost forty. She looks good for her age and that's why Carl keeps her on but her attitude is shit. She's short but she has all the right curves and a cute little pixie haircut on her platinum hair.

  "Mmhmm." I nod then sniff a line.

  Not one person who works in this hole in the ground is sober. We all have a vice and Queen's is the little travel sized vodka bottles you'd find in a cheap motel's bar fridge. She downs about five in a row before she hits
the stage and then another three when she gets off. I don't judge, I get it, I need this shit to help me walk out there, too.

  I was supposed to become a famous dancer, travel the world, marry prestigious, and raise little brats. Things change in a heartbeat with the entertainment business and you can go from slurping caviar to ramen noodles in an instant.

  "I wonder if Carl will be having his annual meeting tonight." Queen hums. "Those men really are delectable."

  "You've worked one of these meetings?" I ask, finally finding someone who will tell me something. "What has Sky so afraid of them?"

  "Sky's a little pussy." Queen sneers and I roll my eyes. "If I still had a little pussy, I'd be out there tonight, too." Gross.

  "There must be a reason she doesn't want to be there." I press and Queen chugs back one of her mini bottles.

  "They sometimes hire the girls for private shows and some of them never come back."

  "Like they go missing?" I gasp.

  "No girl, I would assume they pay them well enough that they don't need to come back. One stint lasted three days and five girls were paid fifteen g's each. One of them didn't come back, she wasn't here long anyways. You should ask Tiny, she was there."

  Tiny, she's our plus sized stripper and let me tell you, she can work a pole better than most here.

  "Tiny went?" I question.

  "Yeah, one of the guys has a thing for big girls." She shrugs.

  Tiny is back on shift tomorrow, I won't be able to question her tonight before the meeting but I'll be able to rest my curiosity about the whole thing tomorrow.

  "Temp!" Freight calls out from the corridor. "You're up."

  Freight is our security and lives up to the name we've given him. He's as big as a Mack truck and will run anyone down that tries to harm us. He's the reason I feel safe staying here late because he walks each of us to our cars at night.

  I stand and readjust my black bikini top and turn to study my assless chaps. I'm wearing the smallest G-string known to fucking man because we can't get completely naked in New York, but you can be damn sure pussy lip slips are a thing. I grab my cowgirl hat on the way out and wink at Freight.