Sold: Highest Bidder

by Willow Winters

  The thought brings to mind the memory of her scraping her teeth against my finger. If I’m honest with myself, it was hot as hell. I love how brazen she is, but she knew what she was doing.

  She had to be punished. There’s a lot of research on the psychology of motivation via punishment and reward. Reward is always better, but when punishment needs to happen it’s best if the severity of the punishment is in direct proportion to the offense. Ideally it should also be swift, taking place as soon as possible after the misdeed. If you merely give a slap on the wrist, the behavior is more than likely to occur again, and also more likely to be a worse transgression.

  I needed that punishment to be aggressive to keep her from pushing. But I didn’t like that I had to do it. It’s better now that it’s over with. Hopefully things will continue to go as planned, and the next time she pushes it’ll be minimal. And that way I can get my hands on her ass and move this along to other forms of play.

  My fingers twitch with the need to touch her again. I don’t know if she noticed how she rocked her cunt against my hand. I know she was hot and wet from what we did, and she should have been. There’s nothing wrong with being turned on by what happened. It’s natural.

  I just need to break down the social constructs she has built in her head. She has to learn to give in to her needs and desires. She has to learn to trust that I’m gonna give her everything she could ever want. The life she’s built; she can have it. But I can add so much more. I can let her give in to her own dark desires and show her a world she’s only dreamed of. I’ll teach her that. Tonight I’ll give her a test, and if she obeys the one command I give her, I'll let her out of that room. That will be huge for us. I only hope she doesn’t disappoint me.

  She’s too headstrong and preoccupied with right and wrong. She knows she wants this, but I don’t think a girl like her gives into desires. She’s strict in her regimen, and doesn’t reward herself much. I’ll have to ease her into enjoying this, one reward at a time.

  I make my way to the dining room where I left my phone and cringe when I see I’ve missed messages. Three are from Vince. I put my password in and take a look. The first and most recent text is from Tommy, my brother, but also my partner in the hits.

  Cassys have another for us.

  Cassys are the Cassanos. Ever since we started taking on outside hits, they’ve been good customers. Apparently they get pissed off. A lot.

  The next three are from Vince. It looks like he sent them within minutes of each other, and the first one arrived almost immediately after my last message to him.

  They seem to be under a different impression.

  They want a timeline.

  We’re talking tonight.

  Fuck. I don’t like any of the shit in those messages. I don’t really give a fuck what impression the Cassanos are under. I bought her freedom from them. If they changed their minds, that’s on them. I don’t have to do shit for them, and neither does Vince.

  I finally text back, I paid for this shipment.

  What the fuck am I supposed to tell them? he asks, and I can practically hear his anger.

  The deal’s done. I tell him simply.

  I know we do a lot of business with them, but I don’t like where Vince’s head is at. He’s the Don and even though technically Tommy and I aren’t included in the familia shit, we’re not fooling anyone. He’s the boss, and we’re still untouchables. We’re still family and familia and nothing changes that. It also means I have to listen to the fuck. Usually I agree with him. But on this? No. I don’t fucking like the way he’s talking.

  What do you need from me? I ask after a moment.

  I need a timeline.

  I stare at the phone. I don’t know what to say. I never had one in mind. And I sure as fuck don’t plan on making one now.

  I don’t have one. Your call.

  I send the text, knowing full well that whatever deadline he gives me, I'm going to try to and extend it. The phone goes off, but I don’t look at it. I’ll figure this shit out later. Nothing is going to ruin this for me.

  I put the phone down and leave it there, knowing damn well I’m not going to like anything he has to say about this. I need to get started on something to eat tonight and make sure her room is set up.

  I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I have a good feeling that she’s going to pass this test. I fucking hope she does. She desperately needs to cum. My eyes fly to the door to the basement. Fuck! I didn’t tell her she wasn’t allowed to touch herself without my permission. Fuck me, I didn’t tell her anything.

  She’s a smart girl though, and she’s read a lot of dirty books. She should know better.

  She had better know better.

  Chapter 7

  Catherine

  I’m fucking rocking like a crazy person. I could sit in the chair, but it’s tainted now. So instead I’m huddled in the corner rocking. It’s not because I’m crazy though. It’s because there isn’t a fucking thing to do, not a damn thing to do in this empty cell.

  I’ve walked around every inch of this room. Even though it’s dark, the cell’s not too dirty. I should know, since I’ve searched everywhere for a second door, or crack, or opening. Anything. I bet he watched me; in the books, they always watch. I even expect some kind of punishment for it, but I had to do it. I had to try.

  All the flashbacks keep coming forward, and I keep pushing them down. They make me weak. I can’t go back to that. He’s not one of them.

  “Come on, little mouse,” Lorenzo says as he parks his car in front of the restaurant.

  “I don’t want to.” I already told him I don’t want to, but he’s not listening.

  He has his dick out and he’s pushing me to go down on him here, but there are people everywhere. At first when we met, I was looking for that thrill. But we kept getting caught by his friends, and now they give me weird looks and make jokes that I don’t like.

  He moves faster than me, and it takes me by surprise. He fists my hair and yanks my head back. I scream out in pain and try to pry his hand off of me. “Stop, it hurts.” Tears prick my eyes. “It hurts!” I scream out.

  “Dumb bitch,” he says under his breath. “You know what you got yourself into. You fucking want it this way.” My heart sinks in my chest. I don’t want it, and especially not like this.

  “Suck it,” he says, releasing me while pushing my head forward. I look back at him with daggers in my eyes.

  “Fuck you,” I sneer at him, and wipe my eyes. He barks out a laugh.

  “Aw, little mouse. You don’t want to play?” I feel sick to my stomach. Things never used to be like this. When he's rough with me in bed now, it's different, too.

  “I said no.” I hate that I have to tell him twice.

  “Fine,” he says as he tucks himself back into his pants and I feel a small sense of relief.

  “Come here, you know I didn’t mean it.” He leans across the console to give me a kiss and I hesitate, but I lean in anyway. Because I’m a fucking idiot. Because I thought I just needed to make the lines clearer. Like it was my fault.

  That was right before I tried to leave him. I had no one else, and I was afraid to be alone. I was so desperate for his “love” that I stayed with that fucking creep far too long. Things only got worse after that. I remember the night I tried to sneak out and run away. Before I left, I looked down on his sleeping body and thought about slitting his throat. How awful of a person had I become where I thought I should kill him? Not fucking awful at all. That bastard deserved to die. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lower myself to becoming a murderer, so instead I sneaked out through a window and hoped I could start over. Instead I fell right into a new world of hell.

  I hear them laugh as Lorenzo backhands me again. This time I fall. I learned to make it look real.

  When he was drunk that’s the game he played. How many hits until the mouse would fall? He liked his nickname for me even more after I saw what happened. He was daring me, taunting m
e to be a rat. If I stayed on the ground, he’d only kick me a few times. I learned to just stay curled on my side and wait for the beatings to be over, no matter how much he urged me to stand. He only made it worse if I obeyed him. Bruises gave way to broken bones, but by then, I had no way to leave. I was trapped and beaten regularly for his enjoyment. I barely escaped them. And I only managed because they were reckless. Their desires to cause me even more pain is what eventually gave me my out.

  They came into the room they kept me in. It’d only been a few days of being trapped there, feeling helpless and weak, trying to recover from the beating he gave me. The three of them came into the room and left the door wide open as they stalked to my bed. I knew what they were going to do. I rock harder, remembering the fear. I fucking bolted. I just kept thinking, Please don't let them catch me.

  They can never catch me. Never. I had to do everything I could to escape that hell. But I had no one. Not a single soul to run to. My mother was everyone and everything to me. But she’d been dead for nearly a year. I ran to her grave and prayed for a sign. That’s when the cops showed up, sirens blaring. I thanked my mom every day.

  I thought she’d saved me like she always did.

  But they did catch me.

  Only they didn’t come after me directly like I thought they would. They sent someone else.

  I have no clue how long it’s been. I don’t know what he’s doing. Or what this training is going to be like when he gets back. I have absolutely no control in any of it either, and I don’t like it. I tug at the hem of my nightgown, wishing it were longer so I could cover myself up more. My knees are drawn up to my chest, and I rest my head on them as I consider my next step.

  I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what my options are. He said he’d give me my life and everything I needed. I want to believe that’s true, but what's the catch? I know his intentions aren’t pure. And I’m certain his terms aren’t negotiable.

  I’m eager to hear what he has to say though. I want to know what I’ve gotten myself into. That way I can figure out how to get the fuck out of here.

  My back is killing me, so I keep up my rocking. It feels better than just sitting still for however fucking long it’s been. I’d get up and stretch or do yoga, but I don't want to be standing when he walks in. I want to be ready.

  Well, as ready as I can be.

  I close my eyes and remember his words. An office, my books. How much does he know about me? He’s been watching me, obviously. I wonder if there were signs I missed. Red flags I should have seen, but didn’t.

  The only time I ever felt that things were off was last night. That was the only chance I had. I should have gotten into my car and driven away. I should have listened to my gut.

  But I didn’t.

  I’ve never felt so fucking helpless. Not when I was with Lorenzo. Not when I was taken by those fucking Cassanos. Not even when I went to the police and they told me I’d have to leave my old life behind forever. Never. Because there was always hope. But now, I only have his word. And I don’t trust him.

  For all I know, he has a bet going with someone. How long would it take him to get into my pants willingly? And then boom. He’ll kill me. Or he’ll let someone else in here to have a go at me. How the fuck would I know? I don’t know shit. And it’s not like he’s offering up any information. He’s just playing this game with me.

  In all the books I’ve read, there’s been some sort of contract, or list. Terms. Like he said before.

  That always happens first.

  But he’s playing with me. Testing me. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s winning.

  My body betrayed me, and I gave into the weakness. I was practically ready to cum on his lap. If he’d flipped me over and put his mouth on my clit rather than whispering in my ear, shit. I don’t know what I would have done. I was so weak. So desperate.

  It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.

  But what real choice do I have? I can fight his game, or I can play along. I can stay here and let him toy with me, or I can use him to get out of here.

  Use him.

  I like that idea. It almost makes the desire for him to touch me feel justified. That giving in and caving to his touch is alright. I’m merely playing into his hand because it’s what I have to do.

  As if hearing my thoughts, Anthony opens the door.

  My breath stills in my lungs as the loud click echoes off the walls.

  I make a promise to myself. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get the fuck out of this room. I need to see if I can trust his word at least.

  Just as I make that promise to myself, I see what he’s pulling behind him. It’s a large bench with leather shackles. Fuck! Tears prick my eyes.

  I bury my head in my knees and just fucking cry. He’s going to chain me to the bench. He’s going to fuck me.

  A wretched sob heaves through my chest.

  I shake my head, and that’s when I hear his footsteps. But I don’t back away. I have no options. What choice do I have?

  Chapter 8

  Anthony

  I turn around as soon as I hear her crying.

  Fuck. I wanted to shock her, but I didn’t think she’d cry.

  She had so much fight in her when I left her. I don’t know what happened while I was gone. I know that being alone for hours can be torturous when you have nothing. No noise but the sounds you make, nothing to touch but yourself and the walls and floor.

  But I didn’t think it would affect her like this.

  “Kitten,” I begin as I crouch down next to her, although I keep my distance. She could be playing me for a fool. Waiting for me to comfort her so she can strike. I’m certain I picked up the large chunks of the plate. There were only three or four of them. But maybe she found a smaller piece and she’s planning to stab the shit out of me with it. She doesn’t trust me, and I sure as fuck don’t trust her.

  I didn’t watch her in the monitor. I was driving myself crazy watching her do nothing. More than anything seeing her like that pissed me off, because all I wanted to do was to go to her. But she’s being punished.

  This is a part of her punishment.

  “Yes, Anthony,” she answers in a strangled voice. She raises her head with tears staining her reddened cheeks. I’m surprised she answered. She wipes the tears from her face and I see she doesn’t have anything in her hands. She’s not armed, and she’s not trying to fight me. She’s just genuinely upset.

  “Why are you crying?” I ask her.

  “Because I give up. I’ll let you do whatever you want. I just want this to end.” My heart stops in my chest. That’s not at all what I expected, and so far she’s done everything I thought she would.

  I haven’t broken her yet. But maybe I've taken away her hope of getting out of here unless she obeys.

  “And that makes you sad?” I ask to clarify. “You’re upset that you’re giving me control?” Truthfully though, she never had any control. Maybe over her own actions, but not at all over the situation. She’s a strong woman. I guess that very realization could be troubling her.

  She takes in a small gasp and shakes her head. “Of course I’m upset about that. Normal people don’t do this.”

  Although I appreciate her honesty, that fucking attitude is going to be the first thing I correct.

  “Watch your mouth, kitten.” She looks up at me with nothing in her eyes.

  “Yes, Anthony. I’m sorry, sir.” She says the words without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. And it’s disappointing. I’m surprised by my reaction to it.

  “Could I know the terms, please? Before you chain me?” she asks in a flat voice. It’s unsettling how much I don’t like it.

  “No.” I watch her as I answer sternly. She merely nods her head slowly, as if she figured I wouldn’t tell her anything.

  “Okay.” Her voice is small and she’s finished crying. She sniffles once and nods her head again. “I’m ready.”

  I was foolish to think that this behavior
didn't indicate her inner strength. She’s resigning herself to a fate she doesn’t want so that she can move forward. That in and of itself is strong. I feel my tense muscles relax now that I understand.

  I grip her chin with my thumb and forefinger and make her look me in the eyes.

  “You won’t regret this, Catherine. I promise you.” As I say the words with confidence, I remember Vince and the Cassanos, and I fucking hate myself for thinking of them right now. I won’t let them take her. And I won’t let her regret this either.

  “I’m going to put you on the bench, and I want you to hold onto the straps.” She nods her head and then whispers, “Yes, Anthony.”

  “Once you agree to the terms, and only then, I’ll bind your wrists.”

  She closes her eyes and I can see her pride leave completely as shame overwhelms her. I knew this would happen. But I still don’t like it. This isn’t the part of this relationship that I looked forward to. But the next part, the part where she learns she can trust me and that it’s not the nightmare she perceives it to be? That part will be worth all of this.

  “Up, kitten.” I stand up and hold a hand out for her. She starts to get up on her own, but then she sees my hand. She looks dejected and depressed. That’s exactly what she is. Depressed that she’s given in to me. But I’m going change that. I’m going to make her love giving in to me.

  I walk her over to the bench and help her on. I fucking love this idea. It’s meant for spanking and fucking, and I intend to do both in time. But for now, that’s not what we’re going do. I lay her down so that her chest is flat against the lowered part and her ass is in the air. Her eyes are focused on the leather binds.

  I take one strap out and hold it for her to take. “Go on, kitten. It won’t magically wrap around your wrist.” Again her eyes meet mine and I see a spark of the smart-mouthed woman from this morning. But it’s only a dim flicker of defiance, and she takes the leather without much hesitation. She does the same with the right without my help. She lays her head and body flat with her legs and hand off the side. She waits for my next command with her pussy almost fully bared to me, covered only by a thin layer of fabric.