She smiles brightly at me. “You ready, Jack?”
I glare at her before I grab the leather bands from the dresser. Sophia takes them from me and straps them around my wrists. She has the same leather collar around her neck.
The other slaves have metal collars that chafe at their skin. Sophia and I are the only two with black leather collars. Sophia sees it as an honor, where it’s nothing but a curse to me. The only difference between the metal and leather collars, are the price people pay for us.
I suck in a deep breath of air, before we walk to the grand room where the parties are always held. The other slaves are already there seeing to the desires of the guests.
Four guards stand outside the huge wooden doors and one goes to open the door so we can enter. There are guards everywhere, both Cameron’s guards and those of the guests.
As soon as we step into the room we lower our eyes. Sophia goes to her podium on the left side of the room. I fist my hands as I walk to the right side where my podium is.
Sophia kneels with her face down and her ass in the air so her pussy is on full display to whoever wants to see it.
I kneel down on my left knee, and placing my right hand flat on the podium, I keep my eyes on the red velvet floor.
I hear murmurs drifting closer to me and it makes my gut pull tight with tension.
“Have you placed our stake?” I hear Mistress Westbrook’s grating voice.
I close my eyes as a sliver of despair grips my chest. This woman is a demon. She doesn’t buy me for the fuck, but to see how much she can torture me before I’ll break. She wants me to lose control.
“I have, Sweetness,” I hear Master Westbrook say. They are filthy rich, always winning the auctions.
The night continues, dragging by painfully slow. The air is filled with the muffled moans of the slaves, and the raucous laughter of the perverted men who have come here to fulfill their sick fantasies.
I hear Cameron’s dry laughter close by. “Bring the slave to Mrs. Westbrook.” He chuckles greedily. “My dear, seeing as you got so close to winning the slave for the night, I’ll allow you thirty minutes with him for half of what you staked.”
“You’re so generous,” Mistress Westbrook sneers and I can hear her irritation drenching the words. She has never lost before and I can’t stop myself from wondering who won.
It happens a lot where Cameron will offer me for thirty minutes to the person who came second. He makes almost double the money then.
“Get up, Slave!” Sven barks.
I grind my teeth as I get up. Anger coils inside of me, desperate to strike at anyone who dares to come near me. It takes every bit of strength I have to keep the beast in me from ripping them all apart.
I follow Sven over to Master and Mistress Westbrook’s table. Just the thought of what’s coming makes bile rise in my throat.
The tables are round and shared by four people. The table tops can turn, with restraints for our arms and legs, so we can be displayed to the perverted fucks that paid for us.
There are an assortment of whips, canes, crops, and paddles against the walls for the guests to use on the slaves.
“Your slave, Mistress,” Sven says.
Reluctantly, I lower my body until I’m back down on one knee.
“Thank you, Sven-dear,” Mistress Westbrook purrs, as her red high heels step into my line of sight. Her hand comes to rest on my head and then she pats me as if I’m some animal she can tame.
“I wish Cameron would sell this slave to me. There is so much I’d like to do with him. Oh, the pleasure I’ll get from breaking you.”
While my head is bowed, I suck in a few breaths of air. I close my eyes and do my best to clear my mind.
“Get on the table, Slave,” she commands.
As I get up the music changes to something slow and sad. Cameron does this so the winners will take the slaves they’ve won to the rooms designated for them. As far as I know, Cameron never takes part himself. This is all about money for him. He proved that money flows through his veins the day he sold my mother, his own wife, to the highest bidder. That’s the night she was beaten to death.
Thoughts of my mother make my focus splinter. I clench my jaw as I settle down on the table. They never bother to tie me down. They love to test me, to see if I’ll snap and try to defend myself.
The table vibrates as someone gets on it. The person crawls up my legs, and then Mistress Westbrook’s face hovers over me. Her mouth is drawn down at the sides with smugness, while excitement burns in her eyes. She sits back on my thighs as she begins to unbutton my jeans. I stare up at the ceiling and keep still. I won’t give her any satisfaction of seeing how much this kills me.
Mistress Westbrook yanks the jeans down baring me to the room. She only pulls the jeans down to my thighs, not bothering to take them off all the way. I’ve been whipped, flogged, and caned by this woman. She has left bite marks on most of my body. I’ve learned to expect anything from her.
She takes hold of my lifeless cock. She hates that I don’t get hard for her.
I feel rubber bands being slipped over the length of me, one at the base of my cock, and the other right underneath the head.
“I got you a present, Slave,” she purrs, as she begins to stroke me. Her grip tightens when I don’t get hard. The pills take longer to work every time I take them. “Tonight, these Electrosex bands will make you hard for me,” she barks angrily.
An electric charge shoots from one band to the other, pulsating through my cock. My whole body tenses as the pulse sizzles all the way to my groin. I wish I was tied down. At least then, I’d have something to hold on to.
Disappointment and shame wells inside of me like thick sludge that threatens to pry the air from my lungs, as my cock starts to harden.
“Look how hard you’re getting for me,” Mistress Westbrook purrs. When I keep my eyes on the ceiling she snaps, “Look at your hard cock.” My eyes leave the spot on the ceiling, and I let them travel down my chest, past my abs, to where my cock is standing rock hard. I abhor that she managed to get me hard.
I feel degraded as she strokes me a couple of times. Another electric charge shoots from one band to the other, this time stronger, and it makes my cock throb. I sink back onto the table, desperately trying to distance myself from my body. The electric pulses come faster and stronger, and I clamp my teeth together so I won’t orgasm for her.
She’s had my blood, but never any of my orgasms or emotions.
My heart starts to beat faster and frustration burns through me. I have to hold out. Fuck, I can’t let her win.
The pulsing becomes a living nightmare, as sweat beads all over my body.
I clench harder on my teeth as my control starts to slip.
“I believe your thirty minutes are up. The slave is mine now,” a soft voice says.
“This is ridiculous!” Mistress Westbrook cries. “I’m sure you can wait another ten minutes.”
“No, I paid for every minute,” the woman says, her voice unwavering and carrying a bite of anger.
I feel a small hand rest on my shoulder. “Get up and take that thing off.” I shoot up and almost yank the Electrosex bands from my cock, which is still throbbing something fierce.
I slip from the table, my legs shaking as I pull my jeans over my aching flesh. I’m in such a hurry to get away from Mistress Westbrook that I don’t even bother with the buttons.
Mistress Westbrook comes to stand in front of me. Her face is tight and caked with make-up which only makes her look older.
“I’ll see you next week, Slave,” she spits out the words, clearly upset that she didn’t get her way.
A cool hand slips into mine, making my eyes jump to the other woman. I’m shocked to see that it’s Mistress Ryland. Her eyes are filled with anger as she glares at Mistress Westbrook.
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” Mistress Ryland whispers darkly.
She tugs my hand lightly, and it’s with overwhelmin
g relief that I follow her out of the room.
My eyes drop to our hands and an uncomfortable feeling stirs inside of me. No one has ever held my hand. I resist the urge to pull away from her.
I’m well aware of the fact that she only reaches my shoulder. She’s so small it would be the easiest thing to snap her neck. The thought makes me wonder where her bodyguard is.
Glancing at her, I can’t help notice the huge difference between her and Mistress Westbrook. I actually prefer them ugly, it’s easier to switch off then.
There’s something about her that sets her apart from all the other mistresses. She has a confidence that shows with every step she takes. She doesn’t have that cruel, or lust filled gleam in her eyes, that the others normally have when they look at me. I’ve never seen someone like her, and I’m not sure how to handle that which makes me feel very uncomfortable.
She leads me into a room, and there’s still no sign of her bodyguard as she locks the door behind us.
She stands with her back to me when she whispers, “Please go take a shower and wash that women’s touch from your body.”
I don’t reply. We are only allowed to talk when asked a direct question, not that I have anything to say to these people. I go into the bathroom and strip out of the jeans. I’m thankful for this moment. I need it so I can regain my composure.
Chapter 2
River
My boobs are shoved up, creating a cleavage I didn’t think I’d ever be capable of showing, and the leather skirt is way shorter than I’m comfortable with. It feels as if my ass is hanging out for all the world to see. But this is what we need to wear to get into these kind of parties.
Cameron Hawkins loves his leather and lace parties, and there is just no way in hell I’m wearing lace. It took me a year to get this invitation from him. I’ve heard over and over that he has the biggest collection of slaves, and I hope to make a dent in it.
Adam comes out of the bathroom. Dressed in his leather pants, he looks very attractive. We’ve become very good at playing our part as a young married couple, who loves to dabble in the taboo. Only a handful of people know that Adam isn’t my husband, but actually the head of my security team. I trust him with my life.
Miss Ella and Tristan keep watch over the plantation, while Adam and I go out looking for people to rescue from the hell of sex slavery.
After Father died, I sold everything. The first thing I did was hire Adam. He helped me create The Sanctuary. The plantation has become a place where people can recover and find themselves.
He brought his grandmother, Miss Ella, to help take care of the people we rescue. Miss Ella has become the glue that keeps us all together. Tristan joined us a few years back, and Adam trained him as his second-in-charge. There are six more men that work under Tristan. They’ve been hired to protect the sanctuary. I pay my staff well, hoping they will never turn on me. Together, Adam and I have created the perfect healing place for damaged souls.
Father must be cursing me from the pits of hell. Every dollar he made from the sex trade is being used to rescue slaves. I’ve made it my job. I have to make up for the devastation Father caused during his life.
The slaves I buy can either choose to remain on the plantation, and do an honest job by helping around here, or they can go their own way.
I’ve been in the business of buying slaves for nine years now. We manage to buy two slaves a year. Sometimes we’re lucky and we can get three or four, but more than that would draw attention to our operation.
Out of the twenty-eight we have managed to buy, thirteen have chosen to stay on with us. Those who have made The Sanctuary their home, eventually get used to the other people, and the way we do things around here. We’ve learned that it takes time for them to let go of all the bad habits that have been beaten into them. We don’t tolerate any trouble, though. If someone places The Sanctuary at risk, then Adam and Tristan take care of them. Once you decide to stay at The Sanctuary, there is no option of leaving. We can’t risk placing the others in danger, should one of them decide to leave.
Because of the people working the farmland, it’s turned the plantation into a successful venture. We all live peacefully together, a little community tucked away on the plantation. We grow our own fruits and vegetables, and we’ve got some livestock as well. At least we don’t have to go into town that often.
I’m good at what I do. I act out the part of Mistress Ryland. It’s not hard to play the role of a perverted bitch when you know that at the end of it all, you get to save someone’s life. We choose slaves who aren’t broken beyond repair, those who have a chance to become a part of society again. It’s sad, but there are those who are too far gone.
You learn to look past all the darkness. You have to focus on the two people that you’re there to save. If we walk away from the party with just one slave, then it’s one life more we got away from those disgusting demons who dare to call themselves humans.
Adam comes to stand in front of me, tilting his head slightly, while giving me that intense look I’ve grown quite fond of. He’s checking to see if I’m okay to walk into the ‘party’. He’s become more than just the head of security to me. He’s become my best friend.
I meet his grey eyes. It’s quite intimidating looking into them. There is nothing you can hide from this man. That’s why I chose him. A man with his skills and background is hard to come by. I’m thankful for him and knowing he has my back.
“I’m ready,” I whisper. Most parties we attend have cameras in the rooms and this party is no different. Adam found two cameras in our room. One is imbedded in the bathroom mirror, while the other is planted in the portrait hanging on the wall opposite from the bed. No matter where you go, you’re always being watched. We have to be so careful to not let our guard down.
I smile at Adam, letting him know that I’m really okay.
“I like the male slave,” I purr. I’ve met so many bitches in my thirty-two years on this planet, that I’ve had plenty of training from them.
“I’m sure you do,” Adam smirks, playing his part well. “Who will you choose as his partner?”
I’ve fabricated a sick fascination where I choose slaves who would fit in with my collection, like a fucked up doll collection. The owners fall for it and that’s all that matters. It’s a good front should someone stumble on The Sanctuary. Which I hope to God will never happen. We have the best security and The Sanctuary is in Miss Ella’s name. That way, none of the paperwork can be traced back to me.
I sigh heavily and pretend to think about the question Adam just asked me. I reach out, and trailing a finger down his chest, I say, “How about-” I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, “you choose. You always let me have the pick of the litter. You can choose who you think will be a great addition to my collection.”
“Anything for you, Darling.”
He takes my hand and gives it a tight squeeze as we leave our room. With every step we take closer to the ballroom, where the party is being hosted, my insides twist and tighten. It’s hard to attend these things. It’s hard to watch men and women, sometimes even children, being raped and assaulted. I wish I could rid the world of all the perverted monsters that take pleasure in hurting another human. I wish they would die agonizing deaths.
I take a deep breath as we reach the guarded door. A beefy man opens the door. I wonder why people always think that the bigger the man, the stronger he is. Adam is tall, lean, and his body is firm. I know for a fact he’s stronger than any of these idiots. Once, I saw him take a few down, and he did it without breaking a sweat.
As we walk through the doors, a girl comes to us. I’d guess her to be in her late teens. She keeps her head down, the way all the slaves do. That’s one of the hardest things to get out of their systems. It takes months before they’ll dare to look at you. I shove the thought away as we follow her to the table reserved for us.
I’ve been to many parties and I’ve seen many things, but the tables are new to
me. They’re round with straps. I suppose the straps are to tie the slaves down.
Adam pulls the chair out for me. I sit down carefully to so I don’t expose myself to the entire room, with the damn short skirt I have to wear.
As Adam takes his seat next to me, I let my eyes wander through the room. Assorted whips, canes, paddles, and floggers decorate the walls. The room is quite large. I count eight tables. If all four seats are taken then that means there will be thirty two perverted fuckers in attendance.
More people start to arrive, all dressed in either leather or lace. Some of the outfits don’t cover much. People who attend these parties are all corrupt monsters. It’s all about money and power for them.
Soon, we are joined by an elderly couple. The woman slants her eyes at me, giving me a smug look. Her bright red lips are in stark contrast with her white powdered-caked face. She looks hideous in the lace negligee, and high heels. She’s also been in one tanning bed too many. Her skin looks leathery, and her boobs and ass have lost the battle against gravity. I feel a wave of nausea hit the pit of my stomach just looking at her.
The man doesn’t look much better, dressed in leather pants that are way too tight. His chest is covered with gray hair and he’s sporting a belly that’s making my stomach churn even more. This is definitely a couple I will be staying away from.
I take in the people as they enter the room. They are all vile creatures, and I struggle to swallow my growing contempt down.
When most of the seats are filled, Cameron comes in with his three guards following closely behind him.
“Evening friends,” he bows slightly, and I have to concentrate really hard to force a smile on my face. “I’m honored to have you all here. The slaves will join us soon. I have a large collection.” he boasts. Cameron is the worst of all the monsters I’ve had to deal with. “The finest ass and pussy you’ll ever find will be auctioned tonight. Thirty-five slaves will parade for you. Feel free to sample them before the bidding starts. However, there will be a female to my left and a male to my right, they are not to be sampled. Bidding for them will open as soon as they join us later tonight. As always, the highest bidder will get them for the evening.”
Dirty (A Damaged Romance Duet Book 1) Page 2