Sold: Highest Bidder

by Willow Winters

  Then there’s a Merry Christmas bauble for the holiday we shared together, and a New Year’s charm with champagne glasses and the year for tonight. A turquoise charm for the month of December, when she finally became mine.

  The last one is a silver heart with “kitten” engraved on it. It looks like a tag that would hang from a collar. Even though she hasn’t yet told me she’s ready for a collar, I want her to have it.

  I wouldn’t give her a collar with that anklet still on her. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does. I won’t allow her to wear my collar while she has that anklet on. Simply because of what it symbolizes. He still has a part of her, and I want all of her. We’re halfway through this arrangement already. But we can always renew the contract.

  A bit of insecurity weighs down on my chest, making it feel tight and uncomfortable as I light the last candle in the enclosed patio.

  The glass enclosure all opens to the outside, as though they’re extravagant windows, but it’s far too cold to open them in December. But with the candles lining the room and the stars lighting the night, it’s gorgeous out here.

  I have the large flat screen TV on with the ball drop from the New Year’s countdown on, although it’s muted.

  It’s… romantic. Which isn’t my normal scene.

  But for her, I wanted to give her something. She’ll never know what spending Christmas with her family did for me. It wasn’t a selfish act. It was all for her, but in the process, something switched and I owe her this.

  Being with her family only showed me how different we really are.

  And how much is available to her.

  The lies flowed so easily for me as I tried to blend in. They couldn’t know who I really was. They’d never understand. But it was nice to fake it, at least for a little while. It was a real pleasure to feel a sense of family.

  She has a collection of people who love her, and who want to be loved by her in return. They’ll be there for her when I’m gone. When I send her away. I’ll have to. I can never truly fit in with her family.

  Lying about us only emphasizes that fact.

  “You know all you do is make me sick.” My mom sits on the sofa, staring straight ahead and for a moment, I pretend she isn’t talking to me. I’d just walked through the door. I stole for the first time. Christmas is next week and I know my mom needs shoes. Hers have holes in them. Mine do too, but I could only fit one pair in my coat. I was so afraid of getting caught. I think the cashier saw me, but let me walk out. I don’t know for sure. So for my shoes, I’ll have to go somewhere else. I’m too afraid that the cashier from before will recognize me.

  I hear my mom talking about how I’m pathetic and weak, but I pretend those words aren’t meant for me. Like she’s talking to the wall she’s been staring at since I walked in. But I know she is, and when she finally turns to look at me, I can see she’s high again. “He wasn’t supposed to go to war. It’s your fault. It’s all because of you,” she sneers at me.

  She tells me I drove him to leave. They fought because of me. He went to war because of me.

  Sometimes she admits that she loved him. Those moments at least make me a little happy. I thought I was starting to imagine the memories of us being a family.

  She doesn’t tell me she loves me. She doesn’t admit that.

  But she does. I know she does.

  The sound of the front door opening makes me move faster through the living room to my bedroom. I’m not safe there, but if I stay away, I may be able to avoid him beating on me.

  “Yeah, run away, Isaac. Run away, just like your father did,” I hear her voice continue to taunt me as I shut the thin veneer door to my small room. “Run away, coward!”

  I clear my throat and straighten my dark red tie, ignoring the painful past.

  I fucking hate these suits. I have to wear them at the club, but I wasn’t meant to wear them. But again, it’s a romantic date of sorts. And I bought her a dress to wear.

  It’s short, but elegant. A sparkling silver shift dress that’ll probably come off as soon as I get my hands on her, but I thought she’d like it. The way the fabric flows made me think of her twirling in it.

  I hope that’s what she’s doing now, twirling in her room to make the ends of it swish around her upper thighs.

  A small huff of a rough laugh leaves my lips as I sit down on the modern white sofa and take a look around.

  It’s simple, but it’s something.

  Champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, a bracelet and candlelight. My gift to her. It’s not enough. I can never give her enough.

  The thought makes my skin prick with a chill that runs from my shoulders down to my toes. I crack my neck and try to ignore the thoughts that have been creeping into my head late at night.

  Seeing her family… did something to me. It reminded me of her purity. The life she’s working toward gaining back. The life she wants, although she doesn’t realize it. Again it makes me think I’m not a capable Master for her. It’s a life I don’t belong in.

  I enjoy having her here. But the time with her family made it very obvious that this arrangement is temporary. She may not know it yet. She isn’t looking that far ahead.

  Until it’s time, I’ll continue my role as her Master.

  She does need to pick a collar. One that will suit her. It’s time that she wore one. It’s time to push my kitten a little. I won’t make her wear it until she’s ready, but she can choose which one she wants.

  I picked out new anklets, too. Just to gauge her reaction.

  I don’t want her to get so used to it that it replaces the shackle. I hate that she’s still using it. Although I’m not surprised, not really. She fears the memories more than she desires her freedom. Although the latter does seem to be taking on more of an edge since the bathroom incident.

  Every time she takes it off, there’s still a hint of pain there.

  She’s quick to put it back on after the shower.

  One day she’ll take it off, and it will give her strength. When I’m a worthy Master for her.

  The faint sounds of clicking heels from behind me snap me from my thoughts.

  My heart stutters in my chest, the world blurring behind her as she walks into view. Her head is partially bowed, but with shyness, not from submission. Her cheeks are flushed and with a touch of makeup, her natural beauty is only heightened.

  My Katia is utterly gorgeous.

  Her eyes widen and her lips part slowly as she takes in the room. She stands still at the entrance, not sure where to go or how to react.

  I’m quick to walk to her, taking large strides until I’m by her side, planting a small kiss on her cheek. My heart seems to come to life once again, pounding rapidly and heating my blood as I wrap my arm around her back and let my thumb run up and down over her hip.

  “Thank you, Master,” Katia breathes, looking up at me through her thick lashes as I lead her to the lounge.

  I kiss her cheek again and she does something she’s never done. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk and wrapping her arm around my waist.

  No one has ever done that.

  I continue walking as though nothing’s changed, but as soon as she sits I leave her.

  It was one thing to engage in that display of affection for her family’s sake. For her sake in front of her parents, really. But here, it means something different.

  And I allowed it.

  I should correct it. I should draw the line once again since it seems to have blurred, but instead I reach into the bucket and pop the cork off the champagne bottle with a flourish.

  Although I’m not facing Katia, I can still see her smile. She even brings her hands up as though to clap, but she stops herself.

  She has a brightness about her. Desire to be happy. It’s one of the things that drew me to her, but also one of the reasons I know I should stay away.

  “Master?” she asks me as I pour the chilled champagne into our glasses. The
fizz of the bubbles and clinking of the glasses make a smile stretch across my face. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed this type of luxury.

  “Yes, kitten?” I turn to face her, a glass in each hand. The dress has slipped up on her thighs and I was right. It looks fucking gorgeous on her, but it’ll look better on the floor.

  I set the glasses down and sit easily next to her. My dick is already hard from sitting so close to her. The easy touches and soft sounds of her sigh as she leans against me make me want her that much more.

  I don’t see how I’ll ever have my fill of her.

  “I’m afraid.” She whispers her words, looking away from me and out into the woods.

  “Don’t be,” I tell her easily. Her worries and fears are my burden, not hers. “Let me take your fears away.”

  “It’s not what you think. “

  Her breathing picks up as I flick the chain at her neck, kissing down her body and enjoying the soft sounds of her sighs.

  “What is it?” Whatever it is, it can wait till after tonight. I plan to reward her with overwhelming pleasure until both of us have had our fill.

  I slip off the lounge and onto my knees in front of her, my fingers trailing along her upper thigh, playing with the hem of her dress and inching it upward.

  “This seems so real,” she says, and her voice cracks. Her fingers dig into the thick, white fabric as I lean forward, my eyes roaming her body.

  I leave an open-mouth kiss on the inside of her knee and work my way upward, moving closer to her clit. She’s been such a good girl. She’s earned this.

  “This is real, kitten.”

  “I’m afraid… That it’s going to be more for me than just … more than a Master.”

  My hands still on her thighs, my fingertips just barely touching her soft skin, and for a moment I don’t respond.

  “I’m afraid I’m falling for you,” she admits. I already felt that she was, but her admitting it makes it worse.

  I kiss just below her hem and then push her dress up higher, scooting her ass closer to the edge for me. Remaining calm on the outside, but my heart’s beating faster.

  I can’t give her more. But I’m too selfish to send her away just yet. I glance down at the anklet she’s still wearing. She needs me still. I can’t let her go.

  “Who do your worries belong to, kitten?”

  “You, Master.”

  I pull her pussy into my face and give her a long languid lick.

  “And your body?”

  “You, Master.”

  I suck her clit, moving her hand to the back of my head. And then her other. Letting her know she can touch me, she can lead me.

  I pull away slightly, her fingers spearing my hair.

  “And your pleasure? Who does that belong to?” I ask.

  “You, Master.”

  I’m a selfish prick for allowing it. But I make a promise to myself that once she’s healed, I’ll let her go. There are only fifteen days left.

  I won’t break her.

  I’ll only heal her and then let her walk away.

  “Tonight it belongs to you, kitten.” I lick her once and then look into her beautiful eyes glazed with desire. “Take it from me.”

  “Katia, what does being a Master mean?” I ask her as I lay her in bed.

  “It means you own someone. Mind, body and soul. They belong to you completely. And their Slaves desire it. They are complete with their Master.”

  “Is that all, kitten?” I ask her.

  “I don’t know, Master,” she answers in a hushed voice, exhausted from the long night. She’s so very close to understanding.

  Chapter 26

  Katia

  I lie still in bed, my eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. Just like I have the last few nights. The terrors don’t come in my dreams. Now they flash before my eyes as soon as I lie down.

  The soft sounds of the night turn into something else. The chirps of the crickets morph into the drips of water from the pipe in the dungeon. It leaked every fucking day I was in there. Drip, drip, drip. In my mind it became a part of my fucking punishment. No daylight, and never any quiet.

  But the sound I keep hearing over and over in my head is different. The sound that keeps me wide awake and on edge is the sound of metal. Of the chain scraping on the bare concrete floor.

  The chain. Always the chain.

  They’d drag me by them, either the one on my ankle or the one on my throat. Choking off my air supply, not caring whether they broke my neck or how much pain it caused me. I can still feel it now, biting into my tender flesh as I’m dragged across the concrete floor. My thighs would scrape against the floor as I was dragged, opening wounds and causing nasty abrasions that would last for days. I learned to be good because of those chains.

  The ankle was worse, because even when they weren’t there, I was enslaved by it. And the scratching of the chain followed me everywhere; the pain in my ankle from the shackle was a constant in the four years I spent there.

  I sit up with my hands clenched, anger consuming me in my darkened bedroom, sweat covering my forehead. There’s a stream of moonlight coming through the window, making it easy to see. Everything seems so easy to see in this moment.

  I rip the covers off to gaze at my anklet. My heart skips a beat the sight. It's gleaming in the moonlight, seeming to taunt me. Rage fills me. I hate it. I hate this. I hate what those bastards did to me. I could never take the anklet off. Ever. Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to acknowledge them. Instead I stare at the blurred vision of the beautiful anklet. I’m still imprisoned, still under his control. The thought sends a chill through my body. He doesn’t own me.

  He never owned me. Never!

  I clench my teeth as a fiery rage boils up from the pits of my stomach, spurring me to rip off the anklet. I nearly scream with frustration as my fingernails cut into the tender skin as I try to get this fucking thing off of me.

  Get it off!

  The tiny cuts are nothing; they can’t scar me any worse than I already am.

  Because of him.

  Because of this! I scramble from my bed, the anklet in my hand, staring at it as though it’s him. The sparking of the crystals are akin to his gleaming smile. Always smiling. I made him so happy. A sickness stirs in my stomach. I hear his laugh, smell his breath. Even the night I murdered him, just moments before I stabbed him, plunging the shard of glass deep into his throat over and over, even then he was smiling.

  I rush over to the nightstand and set it down gently, ever so gently even though my hands are trembling. I quickly grab the lamp sitting next to it. It’s beautiful, with a crystal base, but it’s sturdy. And heavy.

  Screaming with fury, I smash the base of the lamp over and over onto the beautiful piece of jewelry.

  But that’s not enough. I throw the lamp down and grasp the anklet, slamming it into the nightstand while it’s in my fist. And then the wall. It needs to be destroyed. That’s all I know. I need it gone.

  “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” I scream, slamming the metal into the wall over and over with all my might. I feel something wet and warm flow down the palm of my hand and my arm and then drip onto the floor. A chill goes through me as I realize it’s my own blood. I’ve torn open my skin in my rage, but I don’t care. I want to be free. Free of it. Free of them.

  “You don’t fucking own me!” I yell at the ceiling, my throat dry and aching with a pounding I know will hurt later. Slamming the now twisted and mangled anklet into the wall again, tears stream freely down my face. There’s now multiples indents all over the wall, and the fancy paint is chipped in places. But I don’t care.

  “You were never my Master!” With another furious yell, I throw the anklet across the room where it hits the wall, making a jagged dent, before falling to the floor with a loud clink. I stare at the object, my breathing ragged and my shoulders heaving.

  It’s only an ankle, only a piece of jewelry, but it had so much power over me, power I didn’t wi
llingly give. Power that I’m taking back.

  Exhaustion takes over my body as I realize I don’t fucking need it. I don’t want it either. Maybe the nightmares will come, maybe they won’t. But I won’t give that bastard any power over me.

  Never again.

  Snapping me from the realization, I hear the door creak open and the flick of a light switch. The light stings my eyes, even though I can barely see through the tears. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I wipe the tears from my eyes and suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I stare at my hand, seeing it shaking. I close my eyes and try to calm down, the adrenaline coursing through my veins suddenly feeling like too much.

  “Katia?” Isaac’s deep voice is filled with worry, but I hardly notice. It hurts so bad.

  “I’m sorry,” I croak, my voice so hoarse and garbled that it doesn’t even sound human.

  I hear the sound of heavy footsteps and suddenly I feel myself being lifted and gently placed on the bed. I look up through my tears to see Isaac’s handsome face looking down at me in disapproval. His green eyes slowly trail down to my bloody hands, and anger flashes in his eyes.

  “Isaac,” I croak, shaking my head. I can’t have him disapproving. Not of this. Please. Please don’t.

  He sits down on the bed next to me. It groans with his weight as he leans forward and brushes my hair away from face. “Shh, kitten,” he tells me softly as I continue to sob. “I need you to calm down now so I can clean you. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  The sound of his deep voice is soothing and I relax a little, pressing my palms to my hot, stinging eyes to keep from crying any more. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to feel anything for my past anymore. Isaac stares at me for a moment, before leaving me for a moment to gather something from the cabinet in the bathroom. I listen as the door opens and he rummages for something, all the while my heart hurting. It’s worse than the throbbing pain in my hands. He goes about cleaning up my hands. It burns like fuck, and I seethe from the pain, but he has my wounds cleaned and dressed quickly. Neither of us speaking all the while.