by Bella J.
I kept wondering when he would send someone to kill me, or if he would do it himself. Every time I heard the lock of the door, I would close my eyes and pray. For what, I didn’t know. Did I want to die? Did I want to live? I had no idea.
But all I knew was that all the masters before him seemed crueler. They caused me more pain. Or was it simply because I was younger then? Clueless. Unprepared. Maybe my past masters had merely prepared me for Master V. Hardened me. Maybe they had already ruined everything of me there was to ruin.
I wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
Some days, my own thoughts didn’t make any sense.
All huddled up, I sat in the corner of my cell, naked and cold. There was a sound outside the door, keys being put in the lock.
My heart crept up my throat, uncertainty knocking against my skull. Fear filled my every bone while I stared at the door.
The hinges creaked as the door opened, revealing Master V standing there with nothing but disdain in his eyes. “The bandages should be able to come off soon.”
Absentmindedly, I leaned my head to the left, rubbing my cheek against my shoulder.
“It seems the doctor I paid was worth it since he managed to save half of it.”
He stepped inside, and I pushed my body harder against the cold wall.
“He says your hearing shouldn’t be affected too much, which is good. I’d hate to have to repeat myself every time I speak to you.”
I swallowed hard while keeping my gaze down. His soft, slow footsteps came closer, and my heart started to beat faster.
“You disappointed me, Nessuno.” My body shivered when I felt his hand on the back of my head. “You made me hurt you. Your choice to disobey me, by acting without command, put me in a position where I had no choice but to punish you.”
“Forgive me, Master.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth. But I knew it was what he wanted to hear. Pity I didn’t know he wouldn’t have wanted me to share my food. If I did, I wouldn’t have been mutilated, and that other girl would still be alive. But maybe I did her a favor. Maybe the torment of her life here would have been far worse than the brutality of her death. Maybe she was better off not living here…with us…with me.
Master V’s fingertips gently massaged my skull, then eased down, brushing against the bandage. “You are so precious to me, my little slave.” His voice was soft, low, but I knew his words held nothing but venom. “You are my most prized possession, Nessuno. If only you knew how much you were worth to me. How I’ve missed you.” Then his hand moved to the back of my neck, fingers digging into my skin. I winced.
“But it was your disobedience and the repercussions thereof that made me keep my distance. It’s been weeks, Nessuno. Weeks since your body pleased me.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I didn’t like his tone of voice. I didn’t like where all this was headed.
Softly, his hand slipped from my head, his knuckles tracing down the side of my face until he took my chin between his fingers. “I have been in turmoil over what I’ve done to you. I’ve felt immense guilt for mutilating you in such a horrific way. Do you have any idea what all of this has done to me?”
“I’m sorry, Master.” It was the only thing I could say. The only thing I was trained to say.
“You should be.” Abruptly, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me up to my feet. “How dare you make me feel guilty over something you forced me to do? You deserved your punishment.”
I whimpered. “I’m sorry, Master. I did deserve it. I’m so sorry.”
“There is only one way for you to make me feel better. For you to take away the guilt that has been eating away at my insides.”
Chills erupted across my skin, my skull on fire as he pulled my hair. Master V leaned closer, and I smelled the familiar scent of his oaky sandalwood cologne. “I want to see you perform an offering. I want to witness your agony as you beg for my forgiveness. Only then will I be convinced you truly believe you deserved your punishment.”
Oh, God. The threat. The malice. The evil that coated his every word caused every bone in my body to go numb with fear. Panic squeezed the air out of my lungs, and I struggled to take a breath.
With a hard, violent shove, he pushed me forward, letting go of my hair as I stumbled to the ground.
“You can come in now,” he called toward the door, and I heard more footsteps. My spine had turned into nothing but ice. There was no life pumping through my veins, only fear. Trepidation. Utter terror of what was going to happen next.
“Nessuno, these are my new business partners. I’ve told them all about you, and they couldn’t wait to meet you in person.”
I didn’t look up. He hadn’t ordered me to…and I was too afraid to look into their eyes, afraid I might see the darkness I feared so much.
He kicked me from behind, letting me fall forward. “Go on. Be nice, and say hello.”
Tears stung the back of my eyes, my arms and legs so weak, I was sure they would give way at any second. But I scraped together every ounce of strength and kept myself upright as I softly said, “Hello.”
“Good girl,” Master V cooed. “Now, I was thinking of a way for you to atone for what you’ve done, for the guilt you made me feel, and what better way than for you to make me look good to my new business partners.”
I swallowed a whimper, already knowing where he was headed.
He crouched down to where I stood on hands and knees. “Look out the door, Nessuno.”
I looked up.
“You see that cross against the wall on the other side of the hall? You’re going to hang from that cross while these men have their way with you.” This time I couldn’t stop a cry from escaping my lips. “You will not scream. You will not cry. You will not make a fucking sound while you hang from that cross, and you will endure every second of utter humiliation, pain, and degradation while these men make an offering out of you. If I hear so much as a rapid breath escaping those beautiful lips of yours, I’ll have more men come in to join our little show of atonement.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I bit into my bottom lip, my body already stiff and aching with the knowledge of what was to come. I felt Master V trace his fingers down the side of my face. “Tonight you will be the lamb sacrificed for my forgiveness. And I’ll let you know, I’m going to enjoy every minute as your pain cleanses me from the sin you made me commit.”
That night, three men had their way with me while I hung from a St. Andrew’s cross. They used me, humiliated me, tortured me for hours, and I wasn’t allowed to make a single sound. I made the mistake of whimpering only once when one of them bit down on my shoulder, his teeth piercing my flesh while he pulsed his disgusting cum inside my bruised and battered body. That one soft little sound cost me what seemed like another lifetime on that cross. Two more men joined what Master V had called my crucifixion. The sliver of light that shined through the cracks of the wall had faded and was long gone.
The pain. The blood. The agony. It all seemed never-ending while I listened to their beastly grunts, smelled the vile scent of their sweat, and felt the pain of being violated over and over and over again. Until eventually, just like the sliver of light, I faded away too.
I jerked awake, my mind momentarily lost within the nightmare of my past. It took me a few seconds to realize I wasn’t there anymore. I wasn’t back in that cell, or with Master V and all the men he allowed to use me. With that realization came an immense sense of relief, and I let out a breath as I opened my eyes.
The light had been dimmed, and I was thankful it hadn’t been turned off completely. Even though I had learned to embrace the dark, somehow since I’d been here, I preferred the light. That was another change for me.
How long had I been here? A day? A week? A month? I had no sense of time. The last thing I remembered was her. Karina. His sister. She was nice to me. Bathed me. Clothed me. Talked to me as if I were someone. As if I were her equ
al and deserved to have a normal conversation like any other normal person. Not once did she make me feel like I was beneath her. At first, I wasn’t sure whether I could trust her kindness—I still wasn’t sure. Master V made it clear that there was no such thing as kindness in our world. But somewhere, somehow, I found myself hoping I wouldn’t regret trusting the compassion Karina had shown me.
I rubbed my eyes while I stretched my legs. My body felt all achy—probably because it was the first time in so long that I had the luxury of sleeping on a bed, and not the cold, hard floor.
“Finally, you’re awake.”
I jolted upright at the sound of his voice and looked in his direction before casting my gaze down.
“Rule number one, Doe.”
Dammit. I lifted my head and looked straight at him, sitting on a chair in the corner. His tie had been halfway loosened, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. In his hand, he swirled a tumbler glass of alcohol. “Forgive me, sir.”
He snorted. “Forgive me, sir,” he mocked then took a sip from his glass. “Ask me how my night was.” He held up a finger. “No, wait, how about you ask me how my last few days have been?”
I struggled to keep his gaze. His eyes seemed wilder, darker than before. He seemed angry, frustrated. “How were your last few days, sir?”
“Well, let me see, where do I start?” He tossed back the last bit of his drink. “First, I get this call from my annoying cousin who has no respect for personal boundaries, to say he discovered what we now call ‘a ghost container.’”
I watched in silence as he poured himself another drink before placing the bottle down on the side table next to him. Was that table even there earlier?”
“So, after that phone call, and driving all the way down to Boston Harbor—”
“Boston?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you just interrupt me?”
Oh, God. Instinctively, I looked away and straight to the ground. “Forgive me, sir.”
“For God’s sake, woman, look at me. Could you fucking look at me for more than ten goddamn seconds?”
If only he knew that looking him in the eye was one of the hardest things for me to do. But I did it. I focused my gaze on him once more.
He placed his glass down and crossed his legs as he leaned leisurely into his chair. “So, I get to Boston Harbor, only to find a naked woman huddled in the corner of a container among a thousand fucking overripe pineapples. Then, in order to keep my family low on the radar, I was forced to bring this woman to my home, only to find out she was a fucking slave. Now,” he got up from his seat, slowly sauntering toward me, “here’s the irony of the story so far.” He stopped next to the bed, his gaze pinned on mine. “I’ve always wanted a slave.” A menacing grin spread at the corners of his mouth. “In fact, I’ve dreamed of having a woman completely and utterly dependent on me and my mercy. For years, I fought those demons. I suppressed that dark side of me because I knew if I had to embrace it—just a little—I would turn into a fucking animal driven by lust, and this all-consuming need to possess someone completely.” He leaned closer, and I smelled the oaky scent of alcohol on his breath. “And as if the universe had tried to toss me a giant fuck-you, here you are. A slave girl. In my house. The biggest fucking piece of the puzzle.”
My heart pounded against my chest, and I struggled to swallow while forcing myself to not look away from him and the hunger that burned in his eyes. And then, for a second, while we stared at each other in silence, I caught a glimpse of something else. A struggle. He was struggling, and for some reason, I had the feeling it was because of me. I caused him this struggle. But how could such a powerful, intimidating man struggle with anything?
He straightened abruptly and started to pace. “My story continues when I get this letter saying I took something that didn’t belong to me. And like another fucking puzzle piece, we find the bill of lading linked to the container we found you in. On that flimsy paper was my name.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “My fucking name as the receiver. Would you like to know who the sender was?”
He frowned, his tongue flicking across his lips.
I didn’t like where his story was headed. I didn’t like the uncertainty it stirred inside me. Something wasn’t right. Something didn’t add up.
Dark brows slanted inward. “Ask me, Doe.”
I bit into my bottom lip before hesitantly opening my mouth. “Who was the sender?”
He walked closer, each step more determined than the other. His gaze never left mine. Broad shoulders were straight with confidence, and for every second that passed, he intimidated me more and more.
Gently, he reached out and took my chin between his fingers. What I felt from his touch caught me off guard. It was fear, but along with the fear, there was anticipation starting to flicker deep inside me. It was new, a feeling completely foreign to me, and I wasn’t sure whether I liked it or not.
His touch remained on my jaw as he leaned forward. “That, my dear Doe, is a question I’m hoping you can answer.”
Surprised, my eyes widened in question. “Me, sir?”
I caught sight of his tongue as he licked his lips one more time. His face was so close to mine, I was able to catch the subtle scent of wild spice through the smell of bourbon on his breath.
“Yes, Doe.” His fingers brushed across my skin. “You.” Then his touch was gone, and my skin cold. I watched him walk to the chair, taking his seat. “But first, I want to try to establish something.”
He gestured for me to go ahead, to ask, “Establish what, sir?”
“Trust.”
That one simple word knocked the breath right out of me. Trust? It was something I forgot how to do, but after everything I had been through, trust had always been something I had longed for. Maybe trust was part of being human. Maybe trust was written into our DNA, because no matter how hard you tried not to trust, there was always this tiny flame that flickered in your soul, hoping. Praying. Needing to trust.
He pulled a palm down his face, and he let out a breath. “I want you to trust me, Doe. I need you to trust me. So,” he took another sip of his drink, “to start, I will allow you to ask me something. Anything you want. Nothing you ask will result in any type of punishment, you have my word. But in return for every question I answer for you, you will answer one for me. And only the truth, Doe. I will not tolerate lies.”
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Go ahead. Ask me.”
My mind was a giant maze of confusion. Questions. I always had so many questions for every master I served but was never offered the opportunity to ask them. And now that I had the chance, I didn’t even know where to start.
Nervous and anxious, I grabbed the long strands of my hair and pulled it over my left shoulder.
“Did he do that to you?”
Surprised, I watched as he got up from his seat, moving toward me. I could hear my heartbeat echo in my head, and when he reached out, his fingertips touching my hair, I sucked in a breath.
He cocked his head to the side while gently pushing my hair back. “Did he do this to you, Doe?”
I couldn’t answer. The sound of compassion in his voice stirred something inside me. And his eyes—they were soft, yet angry as he stared at my scars. Fingertips traced along the side of my face, and then I did something I had never done before. I leaned deeper into his touch and closed my eyes. The tenderness of his caress, the calmness of his voice, and the glimpse of kindness I saw in his eyes sent a wave of warmth throughout my body, withering away the cold which had taken permanent residence inside my soul for so long.
But it was short-lived when I felt him pull away, and for the first time in my life, I mourned the loss of touch.
He took a step back. “Never mind. Go ahead. Ask me your first question.”
“Um…” This felt so unreal, to actually have permission to talk freely. “Am I…are we…” I stuttered a little, “is this Boston? Boston, America?”
“Yes. You’re in Boston.”
I couldn’t believe it. My life had gone full circle by letting me end up where I started. Tears stung my eyes, and I had to clench my jaw in order to stop them from escaping. I didn’t want to do anything to ruin this chance I had of finally being able to ask questions. To speak freely.
“How do you know Boston, Doe?” A question for a question.
I pulled at the ends of my hair which hung over my shoulder. “I think I was born here. I remember the name, the place. Memories of when I was a little girl.”
He frowned, and I knew I had only created more questions by answering his first.
He turned then picked up his glass before facing me again. “Go ahead, ask another.”
There were too many questions. I had to sort through them to pick the most important ones in case this entire conversation would end soon.
“Did you…was I sold to you?”
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath before slamming back the entire glass of alcohol. He cringed then wiped his mouth the back of his hand. “No. No, Doe. You weren’t sold. I didn’t buy you.”
Oh, God. “Was I stolen?”
I completely forgot my place. Forgot how this conversation worked. A question for a question. And I wanted to take it back, but to my surprise, he didn’t scold me. Nothing about his demeanor showed any kind of reproach.
“I don’t have the answer to that question. But I can say that if you were stolen, it wasn’t by me.”
Oh, no. If Master V didn’t sell me, the only explanation was that I had been stolen. I’d heard of it so many times, of slaves being stolen and sold to others. We were possessions, traded, sold, and stolen. Our worth was determined by our beauty, by how well trained we were. The day Master V bought me, he told me I cost him millions because he had to outbid another in order to have me. And because I cost him so much, he would never sell me to anyone. He would rather kill me and bury my bones in his backyard so he could be reminded of what I was worth to him whenever he looked out of his back window.
