Sold

by Renard, Loki

  “She is a treasure,” Mattias agrees. “But very, very innocent.”

  “Let me see the hole.”

  The request is crude, and the execution is shameful. Mattias moves his hands over my bare body, his fingers finding my sex. I don’t know what he’s planning to do, but I feel a little tingle as the heel of his hand brushes over my clit.

  And then he is spreading my lower lips apart. Not too wide, just wide enough to show the sheriff what lies inside them.

  “That’s a tight little hole,” the sheriff says.

  I feel myself blush with pure shame. Here I am lying naked, letting these men look at my pussy and comment on it. I am glad it is Mattias who is touching me. He has a gentle, sure, calming touch that makes this bearable. I am sure the sheriff would be much rougher with me.

  “Does she like being touched?”

  “She’s shown promise, sir,” Mattias says, rubbing his hand back and forth over my slit gently. It’s a soothing, possessive stroking, which has an undeniable effect on my body.

  “Oh, yeah, there she goes. Those hips are dancing,” the sheriff rumbles. “She’ll do that so nicely on a cock.”

  More embarrassment floods my system.

  “She will,” Mattias says, patting just above my clit. “She’s quite responsive, when she’s not terrified. Feisty too. She’s going to need a lot of handling and a lot of discipline.”

  “Is that right? She seems pretty quiet right now.”

  “You’re more intimidating than I am.”

  “I sure fucking hope so,” the sheriff laughs.

  It seems like a jab at Mattias, and I don’t like that.

  “Parking warden,” I curse under my breath.

  “What did she just say?”

  Mattias’ hand stops, clasping my pussy lightly. “Parking warden,” he says. “She’s been led to believe it’s a curse, I believe.”

  “Income tax!” I growl at him. I don’t like being made fun of.

  The sheriff snorts.

  My father taught me all the worst words in the world. Income tax was a phrase he almost never used, only at the very worst of times. I expected it to have more effect.

  “Damn if I don’t want to be inside that cunt,” he says, his eyes darkening again as Mattias rubs me between my legs. “She needs to be broken in before she starts being bred.”

  I start to squirm. The way he speaks. The way they both speak, it is as if I have no rights. I am a thing to be used, for the sheriff’s pleasure, and then his profit.

  “You know why I give you the girls,” he says. “I don’t usually have patience for the virgins. But I want this one. I want this one now.”

  “She is yours.”

  I look at Mattias with wide eyes. What is he doing?

  “She is. You get on out of here. I want to spend some time with her.”

  “No!” I don’t want Mattias to leave, but he follows orders and does as he’s told. I know he doesn’t have a choice. I know there are a thousand men waiting to kill on the sheriff’s command, but I cling to him as he gets up to leave.

  “Be a good girl,” he murmurs to me.

  The sheriff is taking off his shirt as Mattias walks out the door. Oh, god. Oh, my fucking god. His body looks hard as iron, the musculature of his stomach is rippled and he has black curling hair across his chest.

  I feel that little tingle between my legs as he crouches down over the bed like a predator and crawls up toward me.

  “Easy,” he growls, as I try to squirm away. He captures me by the wrist and keeps me in place as he covers my body with his own, lowering his face to mine.

  His rough stubble prickles my face as he kisses me, his masculine lips finding mine with an insistence that will not allow resistance. My mouth opens beneath his, and his tongue snakes in. It is a strange sensation, to be kissed by this ruthless man, to have his mouth locked on mine, to have his rough denim-clad leg between my thighs.

  The sheriff takes his time with the kiss, lets me sink into it, lets my body respond. His tongue laps against mine, his lips caressing my mouth. He is skilled at this and slowly I begin to lose myself in it.

  “There you go,” he rumbles, glancing down to where my pussy is pressed against his thigh. I am rubbing myself against him, even though he is cruel. Even though his plans for me are unthinkably vile.

  He looks down into my eyes, his fingers stroking lightly through the hair at the front of my scalp.

  “What do you think, princess? Are you ready to be bred?”

  “Nossir,” I whisper back to him. My nipples are being tickled and stimulated by the dark mat of chest hair above them.

  “Are you ready to be fucked?”

  “Nossir.”

  “What are you ready for?”

  I don’t know the answer to that. While I try to think of one, he lowers his salt and pepper head and his mouth finds my left nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

  The sensation shoots straight down to my pussy, making my hips jolt.

  “I think you are ready to be fucked and bred,” he growls softly. “I think you’re ready to take my cock.”

  I’m not ready. Not in any way. But he is the one in control, and he rears up onto his knees, his hands going to his belt to free an erection that makes me gasp.

  It is at least ten inches long, and thick in proportion. It is huge. It is a hard monster, and I know there is no way that it will ever fit inside me.

  “Sir...” I gasp, my eyes filling with tears.

  He leans down and lets it rest on my belly. I have never felt one of these before, never known how very hard and hot they are. Then he draws back, and lets the length of it slide down between my thighs. His cock is much longer than my pussy. I can see the big head of it rubbing back and forth, and I can feel it as it catches my clit.

  He drops his hips back further, and I feel it pressing at the little hole at the entrance of my body. It is too big. When he urges forward, nothing happens. He may as well be trying to push a cow through a keyhole.

  “You are such a tight girl,” he rumbles, one hand stroking my hair, the other at my breast. He is being more gentle than I thought he would, but the fact remains my pussy can’t take him.

  He keeps his cock there anyway, rubbing and caressing my body with his rough hands.

  “This fuck hole is going to spread for me,” he tells me in a throaty mutter. “You’re going to wrap that tight little cunt around me.”

  His words are brutal and scary, but I can feel them doing something to me. The tingling in my clit is growing, the warm sensation between my thighs is growing. And his cock is sliding between my lips again, back and forth, the head bumping against the little bud over and over again.

  “I hate you,” I whisper as his lips descend on mine again, his kiss claiming my mouth.

  “I know,” he growls against my lips. “You’re a wild thing. You don’t know what it is you need. You don’t know what you were made for. But this pussy was made to take cocks, and this belly was made to swell with seed and bring new life. That’s what you’re for, wild girl.”

  It seems to me that his cock is getting slippery. Do cocks do that? His dick is definitely gliding back and forth much more easily now. He arches back, the head finds my hole again, and this time it pushes in just a little.

  “Oh, my!”

  I cling to his arms as he chuckles darkly. “That’s right, wild girl. Your pussy is opening up for me. You’re wet.”

  “I’m not wet. You are.”

  He smirks and draws back, leaving me without the touch of his cock. Kneeling between my legs, he swipes his fingers up the seam of my lips, then pushes those same fingers into my mouth.

  “Taste yourself,” he orders. “Those are your fuck juices. That’s what you taste like when you want to be taken.”

  I bite down. My teeth catch his fingers sharply. He curses and the other big hand comes down between my thighs with a swift slap right to my pussy.

  “Ow!” I scream and cry out, but t
here’s no respite now. The hand that was in my mouth wraps around my throat. The other continues to whip my pussy, his fingers slapping my slit over and over again, making me buck and wail.

  “Don’t you ever show signs of aggression,” he snarls. “I can hurt you far more than you could ever hurt me.”

  I shriek and cry out as he whips my sex with his fingers. The sharp pain in my most sensitive spot is far crueler than what I inflicted on him, but what else should I expect?

  Mattias enters the room. “Is everything alright?”

  “Little bitch bit me,” the sheriff says. “I’m teaching her a lesson.”

  He gives me another slap, and pinches my sore clit. I yowl, my hips bucking as he squeezes that sensitive spot.

  “I should hold you down and fuck you until you cry,” he snarls at me. “Be glad you’re still worth more to me than that.”

  “Apologize, Trissa.” Mattias says, his arms folded over his chest.

  “Owwww! I’m sorrry!” I’ll say anything to make the spanking stop.

  As soon as I say the word, it does. The sheriff’s hand stops slapping my pussy, and instead a finger pushes inside it.

  “Look at that,” he growls as he pulls it free. “The wild girl has a taste for pain.”

  He holds his finger up, and we all see that it’s gleaming with my juices.

  “Now lick these off nicely, and thank me.”

  He pushes his finger back into my mouth, those slate gray eyes daring me to bite again. This time, I let my tongue lap at his finger. The taste isn’t unpleasant. It’s mild and unlike anything I have ever tasted before. But the shame of knowing it is my own juices being smeared over my tongue, and the knowledge that this is the least of the perverted things he intends to do to me makes me blush with fresh humiliation.

  “Good girl,” he says more gently, pushing the finger back inside me. I like the way it feels. I like how my sore, spanked clit responds.

  “I will hurt you if you disobey me,” he says. “And I will probably hurt you even if you don’t, because this pussy is wetter than it was through all those nice kisses and caresses, isn’t it.”

  I look over his shoulder, at Mattias. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Help? A cue?

  Mattias gives me a brief nod and the hint of a smile. I get the feeling I might be okay. Maybe. I don’t know. I am so confused by this treatment, and by the way I am reacting to it. What the sheriff did to me hurt. My pussy still aches. And yet, I am aroused. More aroused than I have ever been.

  Do I want him?

  Do I maybe even need him?

  Is this what a man does to a woman?

  “Almost a pity I sold you,” he murmurs again. “But contracts are contracts, aren’t they, girl?”

  I don’t know how to answer him, so I stare mutely as he pushes his thick finger in and out of me. Sensation is building; the same sensation that made me feel so very good when Mattias touched me, except now it is heightened, even more intense, because I do not like this man.

  I do not like him at all, but I am going to come for him.

  His fingers are working me toward an orgasm I don’t understand, but can’t resist. When his thumb taps the button of my clit, the same sore little place he spanked when I bit him, I explode into climax. My head falls back, my thighs shake, my senses whirl as I close my eyes and escape into pleasure.

  When I open my eyes again, he is standing at the end of the bed. His hands are on his hips, his tall body casting a shadow over my quivering form.

  “She comes nicely,” the sheriff drawls to Mattias. “She won’t have any problems with the others.”

  He looks down at me. Those silvery eyes that hold so much potential cruelty are pleased, for the moment. “You’re going to take them eagerly, I reckon. They’ll have you wet whether you like it or not.”

  I don’t know what to say, or what to do with myself. I am at this beast’s mercy. He owns me. He has sold me. More men will be coming to take me. And I will have no choice in it.

  As the orgasm fades, panic starts to set in. This is not the life my mother or my father wanted for me. They gave me the gift of freedom and now I have squandered it. It is only a matter of time before that fragile piece of skin hiding up inside me is torn from me by a man I do not know, a man who wishes me to bear a child who will likewise never be free.

  Pleasure means nothing in this moment, as I lie there under the gaze of a creature so foul he is barely human. Orgasm leaves me defiant. He can make me come, but he will not claim my soul. He will not win. And not a single one of the men he has sold me to will ever so much as lay a finger on me.

  Chapter Five

  I was raised to protect myself.

  When the sheriff and Mattias leave, I make preparations to do just that. There are no weapons in the house, of course. No guns, but my father taught me to be resourceful. The sheriff used his fingers to take me to climax, but the cocks are coming. I have to be ready.

  A vase next to the bed shatters when I push it over. Shards of ceramic cover the floor.

  It takes a minute for Elias to run in, but in that minute, I have secreted the longest piece away in the bedding.

  “What are you doing? Get away from that, you’ll cut yourself,” he chides me, swatting my butt to get me away from the broken bits. I let him shoo me away. I already have what I need.

  Elias begins cleaning up, while I sit there on the bed and watch him, wondering why he does this. Why do any of these men allow the sheriff to rule over them? Don’t they also want to be free?

  “What happened here?” Mattias asks the question as he enters the room.

  “Vase fell over.”

  He quirks a brow at me. “Vases don’t just fall over, Trissa.”

  “This one did.”

  “Mhm.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but that is fine. He thinks I pushed it over in a fit of anger. He doesn’t suspect what I have in mind. “You’re looking very defiant,” he notes.

  I try to compose my features. I don’t want to give anything away. I am going to get revenge on the men who bought me. Those who buy flesh should be sent to hell. Those who use women to spawn new life, only to use it for their own ends should be sent there too.

  “When are they going to come for me? The men who bought me, I mean?”

  Mattias gives me a keen look. He is intelligent, I can sense that about him. And not just in a way that might make him good at reading books, or adding numbers together. He’s intelligent in the way he sees through a person.

  “They will come soon,” he says. “They are all going to meet you later tonight. You will be provided a dress for the occasion. They will not touch you tonight,” he reassures me. “They wish to make your acquaintance.”

  “Everyone touches me,” I say. “Since I was caught, I have been nothing but touched.”

  “Tonight is a more elegant affair,” he says. “You will meet the men who own you. It will be an opportunity for them to get to know you, and to decide among themselves what the order of taking shall be.”

  “The order of taking, you mean, who is going to breed me like an old house cow?”

  “You’re a long way from a cow, young lady.”

  Not that far. I am going to be used and fucked like an animal. I know it. They know it. No matter how they dress me up, it’s the same thing.

  “I don’t want this.”

  He gives me a look that might be sympathetic. “We are all prisoners in this world. But some prisoners have it better than others. You will be well cared for. The sheriff did not hurt you, did he? You seemed to enjoy his touch?”

  Is that what I did? Enjoyed it? That doesn’t seem to be the right word. I came, yes, but enjoy...

  “It felt good, but...”

  “Let it feel good, Trissa. Don’t fight your instincts. This might not be fair, or what you wanted, but it is what life has in store for you. And it’s what you’re needed to do. There’s more to this than payment and men taking you. These men are the best of the
best. You will bear strong, smart offspring with them. Your genes will help rebuild the world.”

  “But seven... I mean... nine or more... with the sheriff and you and...”

  “Not I,” Mattias corrects me.

  “Not you?”

  “Not I, and not Elias. Not ever.”

  “Why not you?”

  He gives me a look, one of those ones he gives me when I am saying something silly, but there is more to it. There is a sadness as well. His expression, usually so carefully managed, gives a hint of a pain I do not understand.

  “Why are you and Elias allowed to be with me, when no other men are? Aren’t they worried you’ll take me too?”

  “That can’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “That function was taken from us when we were chosen to serve in this capacity.”

  I stare at him. “You mean you can’t...”

  “We were captured in battle. We were spared death, but there is an implant that prevents us from...”

  I can see it is hard and humiliating and awful for him to tell me this. I don’t need him to say all the words. I can join the dots. He is a strong, handsome man. He must have been an incredible fighter. This fate was chosen because it would destroy him. He would have all the beautiful women, but never be with any of them.

  “That sick fucking parking warden,” I whisper under my breath.

  “It is done,” he says. “There is no use in mourning it. Now we need to get you ready.” He raises his voice. “Elias! Where is that dress?”

  Elias comes in, a slight frown on his face. “Easy, I was getting rid of those shards. They’re damn sharp.”

  “She needs to be at the appearance soon.”

  “Keep your hair on,” Elias mutters. “The dress is in the closet.”

  They begin to prepare me, bickering slightly over this detail or that. I am silent, trying to stir my courage.

  I was raised to believe only I have the right to determine who has my body, but that is an outdated concept. Post-Event women are not liberated like those of the past. They are not free to choose their partners. The world is too dark and too dangerous for that.

  The dress they put me in is a red silk sheath. It looks beautiful, wrapped around me in such a glorious way. Elias works on my hair, teasing it into golden perfection while Mattias paints my nails with a color to match the dress.