Contract Taken (Contracted Book 1)

by Aya DeAniege

  “Quiet,” Nathaniel said sternly.

  “My apologies—” I almost said the wrong thing. “Mr. Edwards.”

  Nathaniel turned those eyes to his father. “Unless you have proof, which I highly doubt, then this conversation is over. There is the door. I will see you tomorrow morning at the board meeting.”

  “Oh, but I do,” his father responded with a wide smile. “There's a saying that you never seem to learn. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  “And?” Nathaniel asked, managing to sound bored.

  The phone went off again. Out it came, and again the tapping went on before the man outright laughed. He laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes. Still laughing, but not quite so hard, he showed the image to Nathaniel.

  Who immediately went a ghostly colour, then turned grey. Every bit of life seemed to drain from him. His shoulders dropped, hands even fell from his pockets.

  Frowning at the two of them, I dared to edge closer.

  Nathaniel's father turned to me and showed me the phone, still laughing despite the ridiculous length of time he had been making that damned noise. Like a machine gun going off.

  I glowered at him, then at the phone.

  There was an image of Nathaniel and I. His hand on my chin; my face turned upwards and to him. There was no denying the connection between the two of us. I hadn't noticed the little smile on his lips, how it changed his eyes from an icy green to the warmth of summer. I hadn't realized the dopey look on my face, like a lovestruck fool.

  The image itself wasn't that condemning. It was him and I. The point of the IUD was to prevent us from developing feelings and then me taking advantage of him by getting myself pregnant. Developing emotions between the two of us were completely natural given the close confines.

  What wasn't natural was what was going on in the background: Oberon taking Jake in full view of the crowd. Naked in all their glory and caught in sex faces. Thank goodness, they weren't recognizable, even years later when Jake's mother saw the image. But I knew who they were, and Nathaniel knew who they were.

  His father didn't care in the least. He cared that they gave him the evidence he needed, that was their only use.

  “Courtesy of Elaina. Perhaps if you had actually had sex with her instead of just tied and beat her, she wouldn't be so cantankerous.”

  “What do you want?” Nathaniel asked.

  “One or the other, your choice.”

  “Take him,” Nathaniel said without hesitation.

  “Mm, I'll take her instead.”

  “You can't.”

  “I believe according to the contract the two of you signed. I can. Any possession of yours can become mine at any time."

  “I don't agree to this,” I said quietly, shaking my head.

  Nathaniel had said that I wouldn't be shared. That was what he had said.

  But he also didn't mention a contract.

  “I will rake you over the coals, old man.”

  “You can try, but until then, I'll be taking your toy. Don't worry, Nathaniel, I will take good care of her.”

  “No,” I said, trying to be firm.

  His father approached me, grabbing my arm when I tried to retreat. I wanted to get away, but I turned to Nathaniel instead, who turned away.

  Without understanding what was happening, or why, I was taken from Nathaniel. I had been with him barely two weeks, but even then, for all my youthful innocence, I knew I would never be the same again.

  Introduction From:

  Contract

  Broken

  Contracted Book II

  They split my story.

  Now they're bickering about some movie deal. I don't get it. I haven't had enough popularity for that. Perhaps it's that age old cliche of books being made into movies that has suddenly taken off. Popular culture has been remaking movies of old and turning books into movies of late.

  None of them are worth the time.

  Certainly not this. How much could even be shown on the big screen? Porn and smut and not being able to capture the genuine feeling. Or perhaps it's simply to drive the readers out and into the public.

  I'd threaten to beat all three of them, but two would take it as an invitation and the third? Well, I don't want to try his temper. He takes after his grandfather—nasty, beast of a man—I think is his problem.

  Fantastic publicist though.

  They didn't tell me until after it was published that they had broken up my story. It is their right to do so, I suppose. It will make me more money, they claim. Not that I need the money, mind you.

  Editors like to change things on me, however. After the first edition was a hit in the community, I was convinced to publish the book at large to the public. To do that, I sent it to a proper editor, someone with years of experience. He came back and told me that I had to change the 'cleave.' Almost everything could remain the same, but I had to change what happened to me those two weeks I was away.

  It was unbelievable he said, poor writing, he said.

  Of course, I had submitted the book under a pen name.

  After several emails back and forth where he told me to change it and I told him where to go and what to do in the politest way I could, I got fed up. How dare the man tell me I couldn't tell my story the way it happened. I walked into the office he held so dear and asked him if he knew who I was.

  He had no idea.

  Colour me surprised.

  I explained who I was and he very carefully explained why he wanted it changed. Because no one reacts well to that sort of thing. For about two seconds I considered what he said, then I dismissed it entirely.

  I have seen so many subs abused by Doms because the sub didn't realize. They thought it was normal and acceptable behaviour. My book was so popular amongst the community that all new members were 'strongly encouraged' to read it. We saved several subs from bad Doms when they came to me, trying to tell me it was all wrong. I told them it was, then sat them down and talked about what they should watch for in their chosen partner, the red flags if you will, of a bad relationship.

  Predators walk amongst us, using the community kinks as a way to hide. Do not fall into the trap of a predator, but if you do, know that you can get free, no matter what he tells you. You do have a choice, and you're not selfish for having cravings of your own, or for asking why in a situation that you don't understand.

  Safe, sane, consensual, I cannot stress that enough. And being true to my story has helps us illustrate that point. It was an extreme, after all, the community had been built to keep Nathaniel's father from hurting more people, but it is still a very real possibility.

  The first portion of my story revolved around my signing a contract for the Program and spending two weeks with Nathaniel Edwards in his estate. We played a few times, had fantastic sex, and then something really confusing happened where his father came in and then took me away.

  If the man hadn't been provided with photographic evidence, he wouldn't have been able to take me away. If someone hadn't been loyal to him, even though Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth both believed Elaina was loyal only to herself? I would have been fine.

  I would have remained with Nathaniel because, despite everything, he did know his father very well. He knew that his father was spouting nonsense and hoping to catch him or me in a lie.

  We did very well. For all that was said, all that was done, until that image arrived, we were in the free and clear. Nathaniel's father would have eventually left empty handed.

  I don't recall a great deal of what happened afterwards. Perhaps that was one reason for the break, to explain the sudden change. Some have complained about not understanding, to which I've given them polite instructions on where to go and how to get there.

  Nathaniel's father took me to one of his buildings. It was sound proof and rather small, it really only had one purpose. There were cameras everywhere so that he could watch everything over and over. As much as he liked doing what he did, Nathaniel
's father could not make someone disappear whenever he pleased. The government kept a very careful watch on everything and everyone.

  Rich people were excluded from the constant surveillance because they paid to be excluded. They also recorded everything in their homes in order to keep the servants trustworthy and to catch their own family doing whatever illegal things they did.

  At any time the government could, and had before, demand access to that footage. Anyone who signed a contract, or inherited one, immediately signed over their rights for anything to do with the one poor person who signed the contract. This meant that at any time Mr. Wrightworth, or any other person from the Program, could log into a rich person's security system and watch anything to do with a poor person.

  If that poor person happened to help Nathaniel undress, if that poor person happened to be engaged in sexual activities with a rich person.

  If they were strung up like an animal waiting to be slaughtered.

  The Program saw it all.

  The problem they had with me was that after being removed from Nathaniel's home, they had no idea where I went.

  Rich people paid for anonymity. Until they are found to be in possession of a contracted debtee, they cannot be watched short of a court order.

  No one saw me go in with him, no one even saw him go in.

  Mr. Wrightworth tried, I know he did. I saw the files and the favours he called in, in his attempt to find me. Not because I was special, not because he liked to hear me scream in pain or because my terror put a particular heat to his blood, but because I was a poor person who had signed a contract. He had sworn to protect us all, to care for us and, if need be, to step in when we should have withdrawn consent.

  Nathaniel's father was very good at what he did. I was not the first person to disappear into this building of his. I might not have been the last either. We don't know for certain.

  The moment I left Nathaniel's sight, I went numb. I dropped emotionally. The effects of discipline had been put off while he had been speaking to me, but with him out of sight the world was suddenly very real. What was done to me was real. I was in a state of numbness as I was pulled through and then out of the estate. I didn't put up much of a fight as I was stuffed into a car.

  I don't... I don't really remember arriving. But some nights I wake, almost certain that I could feel it still, could see it still. The terror grips me tight and there's nothing I can do but rock myself as it passes over me and my mind fully wakes up, as I realize that I am no longer there.

  Sometimes I'll see his face. You can't exactly make a man like that just disappear. Can't lock him away forever or rid the world of his image. When I see his face, it always takes me back and once more I am terrified and I am weak, afraid of what will happen to me and of all that has been done to me since then. The world appears all too large and I swear the very ground will simply open up underneath my feet and swallow me up.

  Once a year on the anniversary of my being taken I ... well... I pretty well lose my mind. Each year I hold onto just a little more sanity. Each year I try once more for freedom and am reminded of how much control he still has over my life and actions because once, decades ago, he had me caught for two weeks in a secluded location where no one could hear me scream.

  As part of my rehabilitation I had to watch some of the tapes. To come to terms with what was done to me and to fully understand that, yes, this did happen. I wasn't imagining it, I didn't make it up and I didn't want what was done to me.

  Some have said that because I was a part of the community, that I submitted to Nathaniel, that it was all right for me to be treated like that, that obviously I wanted it. To those people I asked how, or why, they believed that it was acceptable to do that to someone when they clearly said no, stop, begged and pleaded for their lives?

  As I was raped the first time, I screamed. It wasn't pain, it certainly could not be mistaken for pleasure. The sound of my voice wasn't that of a victim suffering. It was the sound of an enraged woman. I had fought him for days but that was the point where I broke.

  He did as he pleased for two weeks, give or take.

  And then like clockwork my period started. Thank goodness he was so utterly disgusted at my bleeding and him not being the cause, because if it weren't for that, I never would have been left alone.

  I never would have escaped.

  ***

  The story continues in Contract Broken. Get your copy here.

  Coming Soon:

  Masked Intentions

  Daughters of the Alphas Book One

  My name is Rachel.

  In my world, genetically ‘superior’ humans are called Alphas. They spend their lives trying to outdo one another and accumulating wealth in the form of property, money, and companions.

  What’s a companion you ask?

  I am.

  We’re humans who carry what the Alphas call the G14 genetic marker. That particular sequence of genes means that under the right conditions we will break and form an everlasting bond with the one who breaks us, Alpha or human.

  Women were once excluded from the selection and breaking process, but when the Alphas overthrew the government, everything changed.

  I was been caught, charged with a ridiculous crime, and they’ve decided it’s time to break me.

  I won’t go down without a fight.

  Prototype*

  An Aurora Novel

  (*Working Title)

  My name is Maggy Doyle. I have a three-year-old daughter, a husband, a home, and an extended family. I work a secretary job for a lawyer's office and spend my days just trying to fly under the radar of pretty well everyone.

  See, five years ago, I was found wandering around a field. I don't recall anything before that moment. I had no idea who I was. If it weren't for Harry, if not for how much he loved me before the incident, I would have probably been lost forever.

  Imagine my surprise when I opened my front door one day to find men standing there, demanding my daughter and me go with them. They wouldn't answer my questions or tell me where they were taking us.

  There's this nagging at the back of my mind telling me that it has to do with Aurora. The still new, third world we were linked to, ruled by a woman who is said to have not only created the world, but also animals, and who knew what else.

  What could she possibly want with twenty people ranging from late teens to middle-aged? The only thing we have in common is amnesia. Our lives before a certain point were erased. We didn't do anything wrong, none of us know each other and our incidents were months or even years apart.

  We're completely harmless.

  I think.

  About the Author

  Aya DeAniege wrote for years, first to please herself then writing stories for free—believing no one would ever pay to read her stuff—before pursuing indie publishing. She still writes mainly for personal pleasure, with topics ranging from romance, fantasy, science fiction, on to whatever takes her fancy in the future. World creation fascinates her, and when she finds one she likes, she dabbles endlessly.

  Connect on:

  Facebook: Aya DeAniege

  Twitter: @DeAniege_A

  Wordpress: A Little World with a Big Story

  Email: deaniege@gmail.com