“How - how could anyone want -” A slight smirk touched Guy’s lips. Such innocence despite growing up in the slum. She must consider what’s between her legs a trophy, something cherishable after guarding it for so long. And she was right. That’s why he couldn’t plunge three fingers knuckle deep inside her cunt and tickle her never stimulated g spot.
Instead, he grabbed her clit and pinched. Her long legs kicked out, a squeal splitting the air. Blood rushed to Guy’s groin, and he knew even in their anger, they buyers watching this would either already be stroking themselves - or fighting the urge. Call him an exhibitionist, but the constant flick of Rosamma’s eyes glancing over the wall made Guy rock hard. She would never find the camera this far away. Still, he found it cute that she tried.
“For men like me, silence is silver, and screams are golden.” Her eyes widened in confusion, making Guy click his tongue. Rosamma wasn’t supposed to be stupid. Even the smart, beautiful, successful ones needed to be led around by the nose it seemed. This was why he owned women. With tremendous willpower he shoved down the condescension threatening to rise. He already stated they would begin their training soon; it seemed soon was now. “You will ask Master’s permission before you speak.”
He watched a litany of expression flicker over her face as reason fought against stubbornness in Rosamma’s body. To obey would be to accept. It was still far too early for her to understand that losing against Guy would be what set her free. Natural submissives were pain sluts. Some part of them, whether it was all physical, enjoyed the degradation and agonizing welts left on their skin.
He couldn’t speak for the bastard who’d be buying her. But most men who asked for natural submissives weren’t as cold-blooded as those who accepted any broken pussy. Sadist only wanted the torture, and none of the cum. Guy wasn’t a sadist. He refused to take that moniker despite the career choice. There was no better way to view the human soul than to break it apart like a common puzzle and reshape it into the Sistine Chapel.
Rosamma’s teeth took hold of her bottom lip, fighting against the need to ask more than her Master would give. It was the first strip of paint on canvas. Last night had been primer on the blank canvas that was Rosamma, each act of submission bringing him closer to a pitcure of perfection.
“Good girl.” Her chest stopped moving at his praise. It rolled around inside her mind and clicked into place right where he wanted it to. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction of a centimeter - she liked the pet name. They all came to cling to those words, the whisper of syllables a sign that their suffering was nearing an end.
Good girls didn’t get punished.
Perhaps it was her former experiences in the slums of Rome that helped Rosamma conform to those words so easily. Either way, as long as she lived up to the buyers’ expectations, he didn’t care. What he cared about was the moments in between. The precious few days he clung to, each minute slipping through his fingers. Guy stood with a mission and moved to his wall of misery.
Capitulo Dieci
Intimidation and practical use all in one, Guy’s wall reflected the master he wanted to be. Some tools would go to waste tonight - like the butt plug. Whoever bought Rosamma would get an unstretched, untested, bounce a quarter off each cheek, ass. But her mouth was all his… to an extent. The promise of an untouched woman meant no skin contact of any kind. Luckily there were plenty of phallic objects she could learn to suck off.
They didn’t have to know about the private moments he shared with Rosamma in the cargo bay. It’d be their secret, his compulsion to eat the sweet honey from her pussy. Guy knew he shouldn’t haven’t succumbed, but there wouldn’t be another chance without being caught.
For the benefit of his clients, he chose a pink cylindrical toy with no discerning penis shaped bits. After groping their property, the image of a flesh-colored dick might tip a few men over the edge. Right now they’d be calming themselves by thinking ‘at least I get to see it all.’
A wise investor appraises merchandise in full before buying, and none of the men watching right now were fools. One or two were trust fund babies, but they ran their money and private life with an iron fist. Whoever stole Rosamma away, they all had the means to lock her in a dark hole with no escape.
Like with most of his slaves the thought cramped his chest, sprouting a blossom of possession. Guy turned to face her, the dildo flopping comically in his hand. She, like all the others, would be sold. No cunt was worth the money they brought in when purchased. Especially not when they were a Unicorn Package.
“What are you doing with that?” Rosamma’s question ran a shiver down his spine. Her first broken rule. His expectations ensured there’d be many more. Until his rules became an everyday part of life, she’d continue to forget.
“Rule one. You will keep your eyes lowered unless Master says you can raise them.” A quick slap of the faux cock on his hand drug her gaze halfway down. Panic followed, her legs scrambling against the floor to try to gain enough traction and stand.
Memories from last nights flogging aren’t strong enough to stifle Rosamma’s flight or fight response. Not yet. Arms still trapped over her head, she abandoned the futile struggle to lift her abused body off the ground. Long and slender, her leg thrashed in his direction, a clear warning that she’d kick should he come closer.
Rosamma glared at him, open and defiant. “May I talk?” she spat.
“Rule number three, you will address me as Master. All others as sir or ma’am. When your owner changes, you will then address me as sir.” Her nostrils flared, opening a crack in Guy’s hard walls. At least she asked to speak, this was the fastest anyone ever learned that particular trick. “Now you may speak, girl.”
Teeth bared in a bestial grin, Rosamma’s eyes glinted with malice. “Go fuck yourself, Master.”
She wasn’t the first who advised he do that. Wouldn’t be the last either. But she was the only one who attached a ‘master’ to it, and that was her mistake. There was nothing worse than delivering a virgin; he’d only done it once and hated every second. When his cock went ignored, Guy supplemented his own lack of pleasure with their suffering.
“I’d rather fuck you, Slave.” Rosamma swallowed, the first hint of acceptance in that action. Right now she’d be thinking about how he’s strong enough to overpower her, that there was no escape from her shackles, and that maybe… just maybe… Italy’s Central Security Operations Service would show up to save her.
They never did before.
“You can’t.” She moaned, defeat dampening her rage long enough for Guy to slap her flailing leg to the ground, and step on her ankle. When she tried to tug it free, yelps filling the room, he applied more pressure.
“I can fuck the brains out of your head better than a snub-nosed pistol if I want to. I can break your flimsy bones and toss you to the sharks with no one the wiser.” More pressure on her foot, and an audible whoosh of air sputtered from Rosamma’s lips. A tick of annoyance formed on Guy’s chin as he waited for her muscles to relax in defeat.
“No, you can’t.” Curled in a ball, blocking the world out with her knees, Guy didn’t know where she found the strength to argue. Bewildered, he stared down at her, waiting for her to reveal all the secrets of her thoughts. Human nature was so predictable, but she was surprising him at every turn. Guy didn’t like that. Nor did he enjoy the tug of pleasure in his heart urging him to ruin her.
Fuck the buyers. Fuck the thirty million… or he could fuck her mouth. With a smirk he strode to the tablet propped against the adjacent wall. Two clicks and he was in the private chat room he used for his clients. He unmuted the application, an outpouring of message notifications pinging one after the other.
“Those are admirers giving me suggestions on how to discipline you.” And they were going ballistic. Last night’s show must have gotten them hot behind the collar, and the brief glimpse of her spread open pussy this morning only inflamed their desire. “Let’s see what they think of your bratty mouth.”
A flick of the thumb and a notice is sent across the world to all the sick fucks watching Guy’s perverted show.
SomeGuy is in the chat. Virtual silence ensued as his clients waited for him to type. I would like to train her how to properly pleasure a man with her mouth.
Within seconds, messages populate faster than he could read them. Some said yes, others no, even more asked for a price reduction.
Twenty eight million starting price for yes and I wear a condom.
If someone told him two years ago he’d pay two million dollars for a wrapped blow job, he would’ve laughed. Most slaves sold for that price, virginity not included. Silence pervaded the room as each buyer considered their options.
The first ping is a firm No.
Then one after the other a slew of yes’s filled the page.
“Would you look at that.” He sighed, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Now. Open your mouth, girl.”
∞∞∞
Ekene watched his phone in numb horror as a slew of yes’s lit up the small screen. His single no stood stark and suspicious in a sea of depravity. More than they wanted Rosamma untouched, they wanted her punished. After speaking out the way she did, who could blame them. His own hand would have painted her ass a blaze of red for the misbehavior.
But this wasn’t a private game of submission between two consenting adults. This was a strung up virgin who last night was screaming Bloody Mary. Now a glassy sheen covered her eyes, warm buttery skin clammy with perspiration. Her chest heaved in exertion as she tried once more to kick and howl when Guy approached.
“What are you doing?” By voice he recognized it was his younger brother disturbing him.
Ekene snapped the flip phone Faraji gave him shut, plunging him back into the lobby of Caton Industries. This tiny device was the only contact Guy had with any of his buyers. One burner phone. If you lose it, you’re out of the auction and out of his network. It’s been this way since his career started according to Faraji. Guy had a thing for power, which affected his business more than he wanted to admit.
From the little bits of information Faraji could collect off the streets, and private computer servers, a vague - if not cruel - he drew a picture of the man that stole Rosamma.
“Nothing.” Ekene muttered, pocketing the phone. Or rather, Faraji was sparing Ekene from having to watch whatever was happening to Rosamma, live. Faraji glanced at Ekene’s pocket, brow furrowing into a knowing V.
“We just received an email from…” Faraji swallowed, flicking his gaze down once more to seethe at his brother's pants. “On the fake account I set up to access the video and chat room.”
“And?”
He glanced around their father’s business, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. With a nod towards the elevator, they moved in silent unison. Once inside, Faraji entered a code to draw the lift to a halt without setting off the alarms. It spoke volumes on how legitimate Uday’s contacts were that he needed a secret button to turn off all the lights and cameras.
“He’s going to kill her if we do anything.” For a moment, shock dropped Ekene’s jaw. “It’s part of his ‘confidentiality’ policy. Any hint of police involvement, and all slaves in his possession get killed. Including those being trained by his… lackies. The email states he’d even put a bullet between her eyes with the cops watching.”
That last sentence was grandstanding, but the rest of it? Not so much. “Dead men tell no tales.” Ekene whispered, slumping against the wall. It was a practice he’d seen one too many times working as a Merc after his military career. Ekene closed his eyes. “We still have options, there’s always something.”
“There is. We have the date, time, and location…” When Faraji’s voice tapered off into silence, Ekene dared to peek at him through thick lashes. “We have the money.”
“You aren’t suggesting we buy her.” He couldn’t be. Neither of them could scrape their liquid assets together quick enough for the buy in price, let alone the additional ten or twelve million that the auction would generate.
“We had to provide proof of offshore bank accounts worth thirty mil to gain entrance into the chat rooms. I still have that information.” Which meant that Faraji had access to thirty million dollar's worth of Uday’s bank accounts. Not theirs.
“Tell me you aren’t suggesting we rob our father to save this girl.” Ekene whispered, pain igniting in his chest. If it were up to him, he’d shove cash in a bag and swim to the middle of the ocean looking for Rosamma. But not even Uday would shell out that kind of cash to save face.
“What’s a few million dollars for a billionaire?” Faraji snarled, frothing in his rage. “You left all of Dad’s money behind -”
“That’s right! Notice I didn’t fucking steal it.” Which Ekene could have, just like his little brother had the chance to do now. The only difference was that Faraji was taking it when Ekene didn’t.
“Then we’ll call it a loan when he finds out. Or we didn’t understand his meaning when he said to get Rosamma back ‘by any means necessary’.” Desperation leaked into Faraji’s voice, making Ekene cringe. With a growl, Faraji lunged forward and shoved a hand in Ekene’s pocket. In a death grip he held the black flip phone before shoving it against Ekene’s chest. “Why don’t you watch this before you decide stealing is a worse evil.”
“Faraji-” Ekene reached for his brother, only to be shoved away. In seconds the elevators reactivation code was input, and Faraji was mashing the ‘open doors’ button. “Faraji, don’t you walk the fuck away from me!”
Faraji turned on his heels, arms extended in challenge as he walked backwards with a haughty skip to his step. “Or what, Ekene? All I gotta do is threaten to tell Dad, and you’ll back off.” He stopped in his tracks, a sour expression scrunching his nose. “You spent so much time trying to get out from under his thumb after what happened to Mom. But he drew you back in. You want an out, here you fucking go.”
With a pivot, Faraji marched away with squared shoulders, and a head held high. Somewhere along the lines of all of Ekene’s rises and falls, his little brother had grown up into a man. And a brat. A brat who was right about everything.
Knuckles white from force, Ekene held the flip phone protectively against his chest. Before he condemned Rosamma to a life of fear and pain, he had to witness his choice. His office door appeared too soon, intimidating with the possibility contained behind it. The click of the door handle was louder than a gunshot, the leather of his chair sandpaper.
His reluctance, most of it, came from screwing over the man he called father. But there was a small part of himself that Ekene feared more than Uday. A sliver of a beast that enjoyed watching as Guy beat Rosamma to orgasm. Without a single flick to her clit. Most men wouldn’t understand the true rarity of Rosamma’s demeanor.
They wanted a fight. To break a woman, then trot to the next one. Once the initial training finished, they didn’t think there was anything left. That it would be boring taking a submissive to bed with no fight. But those men were the weakest of men, blinded to the truth in their own greedy pursuit of pleasure. Once the hard shell of a strong woman was peeled back, then the fun began.
Ekene’s fingers shook as he typed in the URL to Rosamma’s video. By now Guy’s iron will would have crushed her soul, and whatever was left of Rosamma would be something Ekene never forgot. A wet hiss parted his lips as he connected to the video, and a dancing unicorn greeted him as the loading screen.
Before he could curse Guy’s sense of humor, the man’s naked ass blew up on Ekene’s screen. Rosamma’s bare legs laid flat against the ground between the broad space of his boots, her feet twitching. Guy’s hips shifted backwards, his ass clenching before he drove them forward with a groan.
The sweet sound of a shattered moan surged blood to Ekene’s cock. If he ever crossed the boundary of protector and employee with Rosamma, that’s the sound she would have made taking his cock. Without thinking, Ekene clicked the r
ight arrow to rotate the camera view. Bile rose in his throat, and he ripped his hand away, repulsed by his own actions.
Another sound came from the monitor, dragging his attention away from his despicable behavior. His mind went blank at the image before him. Rosamma was sitting up straight against the ship's metal hull, Guy’s knees pushing against her shoulders to keep her in place. Saliva dribbled from her bottom lip as a monster sawed its cock in and out of her mouth.
But the whine she released wasn’t one of mortification. It was a needy little thing punctuated by the way her lashes lowered, and her jaw widened as Guy shoved his shaft into her throat. All the way down to the hilt. Perfect definition on Ekene’s monitor showed the singular tear streaking down her chin, dainty gags spasming her throat around Guy’s cock.
With a loud roar, Guy’s torso collapsed against the wall above Rosamma’s head, his hips jerking against her jaw. He banged on the wall, once, twice, three times, before stepping away from her, the condom hanging from his dick full of cum. Possession ripped from the man’s throat as he tore off the condom and kicked her legs open.
As if he were on puppet strings, Ekene jumped at the arrow keys and switched back to Rosamma’s front view. Spread wide enough to place her pussy on display, he and who knew who else could witness her true nature. Arousal spread down her thighs, cunt twitching in need.
“Next rule. Slave will ask Master to come.” Guy’s smooth voice drew shivers down Ekene’s spine. The idea of Rosamma begging him to let her come made his cock scrape against the zipper of his jeans.
Her gentle coughs didn’t convey the defiance blazing to life in her no longer glazed over gaze. “Will Master please go fuck himself?” she croaked, causing pride to fill Ekene’s chest.
Natural Submission Page 7