by Lylah James
When I didn’t answer, Solonik sighed, looking like he was deep in thought.
“I will let you borrow my slave. One blowjob. She gives the best ones,” he finally stated, nodding toward the girl.
My eyes widened, and I raised a questioning eyebrow. He shrugged, lacing his fingers behind his neck. “Sharing is caring, Lyov.”
My gaze burned into her skin as I contemplated Solonik’s proposal. My length hardened at the thought of her taking it deep down her throat, sucking me dry.
With her ass in the air, I thought of fucking her in this position. Perfect posture to take me deep inside her cunt. I adjusted my cock in my pants and licked my lips.
“Is there a deal?” Solonik asked, snapping me out of my sweet, filthy thoughts.
It would be so easy to say yes. Just take her, use her…my body welcomed the thought, but my stupid brain fought against it.
I did not touch the slaves. That was my number one rule.
I did not fuck them. Number two rule.
Do not touch the slaves. Third rule.
Do not fucking touch the slaves. Fourth rule.
These types of events, no matter how tempting they could be, made my stomach churn. It was dirty, depraved, and utterly disgusting.
I might have been a part of the human trafficking ring. I might have been the watcher…to make sure everything went smoothly. But I had never participated before.
I had never taken a woman against her will.
Did that make me a better person? Fuck no. Just because I didn’t touch them, it did not make me better. I was far from better.
I was their fucking worst nightmare. The Devil in disguise.
I just had my rules to keep myself in line.
“No. There is no deal,” I said stiffly. Removing my eyes from the naked girl, I walked away.
It was hard when all I wanted to do was throw her body on the ground and take her right there, let everyone watch her scream in ecstasy with my cum dripping from her wet pussy.
There was just something about her. The way her face was hidden, almost like she was forbidden for me. And she was. That girl belonged to someone else.
It only made me want her more. She became more tempting in my eyes than those other slaves who could easily become mine.
I made my way back to the couch to see Isaak missing, only to find him a few feet away speaking quietly with Gavrikov. There was a slave kneeling at his feet, his hand softly caressing her hair.
He always had a soft spot for the slaves. Isaak hated these events, even more than I did. But he had no choice but to play along, another Master in the game. And he played it well.
I sat back on the couch, my legs stretching out in front of me. My head hung back as I stared at the ceiling, waiting for this long night to be over.
My eyes closed, blocking away the screams of the slaves as they were whipped and fucked raw. The shouts of pleasure as the men came. The slapping of skins against each other as they fucked the girls into submission.
This was going to be a looong night. Just what I needed.
Where was my bed? And a bottle of vodka?
Yeah…back in my hotel.
I rubbed my forehead tiredly, tugging at my tie in frustration. Another scream sounded against the walls, this one filled with so much pain.
It was always pain.
No pleasure for the slaves. Very few had the chance of experiencing an orgasm. Only if the Masters were generous and liked the pussy or ass.
My eyes were still closed when I felt a hand on my thigh. I jumped, my heart thumping faster for a second. My fingers gripped the frail wrists, holding them still against my thighs.
I kept my eyes closed for a second, breathing through my nose. I was already hard and throbbing, desperate for release. It would be fucking impossible to push whoever this was away.
Swallowing hard, I opened my eyes…only to have my breath stolen from me.
Bluish-steel colored eyes.
The most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen stared up at me.
She wore a black lace mask, very similar to the others, except hers had black beads hanging around the front.
She was kneeling down at my feet. Her posture submissive. Her naked body full on display, only the black mask covering half her face.
She stared up at me with those striking doe eyes. Her black hair, so long, so smooth, fell down behind her back in beautiful waves. Her perfect pouty lips painted a deep red.
The mask only made her look…more exotic…more tempting.
My legs opened wider against my will, and she shifted closer, her body resting against my inner thighs.
This close, I saw that her eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow, which only made her blue eyes pop out more. They were the only thing I could stare at, completely lost in them.
My hand tightened around her wrists, my fingers biting into her soft skin. She didn’t flinch in pain like I expected her to. Instead, her eyes stayed glued to mine.
She licked her lips, slowly and so fucking sensually that my cock jumped at the sight. I hissed out a harsh breath, my mind going wild at the possibilities laid out in front of me.
She was a tease. The look of an Angel but the temptation of a minx. So tempting that even the Devil would fall for it…in her trap.
I leaned my head down, my nose touching her jaw as I breathed in her smell. Roses. She smelt of fresh roses, like she had just bathed in them.
Her head tilted back in surrender as I dragged my nose down her neck, filling my lungs with her smell, driving myself wild with her.
My senses were lost as I pulled her even closer to my body, between my parted legs. When my gaze found hers, she stared at me with such innocence, I was rendered speechless.
Even though her voice was not used, those eyes spoke everything. They held pain and innocence…something they were all robbed of.
This slave, she was the true definition of beauty. So enticing that it was impossible to deny.
My lips dragged against her neck, following a path to her ear. I nipped at her earlobe, teasing her slightly. A touch barely there. “You look like an Angel…so fucking exotic,” I whispered roughly in her ears.
She shivered, a slight tremble in her posture, and I smirked.
So fucking perfect. Absolutely perfect.
I released her wrists and pulled away, watching her closely. My eyes avoided Solonik and everyone else.
I didn’t know why this slave was kneeling at my feet when I had refused Solonik’s proposal, but right now, at this moment, I wasn’t going to complain.
As soon as I released her, her fingers moved upward toward my zipper. She purposely avoided my gaze as she pushed the zipper down.
“What are you doing?” I asked, clearly knowing her intention. She wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to.
“Let me serve you, Master,” she whispered softly. Her voice almost drowned in the screams around the room, but I still heard it.
The voice of an Angel.
Nobody could speak so softly. Nobody could make those words sound so damn sweet as they did coming from her lips.
Without thinking, I unbuckled my belt. She licked her lips, her hands slightly trembling on my thighs.
When I pushed my slacks and my boxers down a little, her eyes jumped to mine.
The corner of my lips turned up a little as she swallowed hard. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to move.
And she did not disappoint.
Taking my hard, pulsing length in her hand, she wrapped her fingers around me, pumping it up and down.
I hissed, my hips slightly bucking upward when she tightened her hold. With confidence like no others, her eyes still on mine, she bent her head down.
Her tongue came out and licked the head, tonguing the drop of cum there. “Ah fuck!”
She stared at me, watching my reaction as her lips parted and took my cock inside her wet, warm mouth. She sucked me deep, her tongue tracing the veins pulsin
g around my dick. Her head bobbed up and down, taking me deeper each time as I hit the back of her throat.
She didn’t fight against the invasion. No, she welcomed it, taking as much of me as she could.
No longer able to fight with myself, I let instinct take over. My fingers wrapped around her hair, gripping it tight. My knuckles dug almost painfully into the back of her head as I dragged her forward, taking control.
She relaxed in my hold, surrendering completely as I fucked her mouth exactly like I wanted. Deep, fast, and rough. Without any control because I was a beast unleashed.
Her teeth slightly grazed the underside of my hard length and I hissed, my hips bucking upward violently. I tugged at her hair harder, thrusting in and out of her mouth as if I were fucking her pussy.
Her mouth opened wide for me as I dragged her mouth over my cock. Thrusting inside one last time, I held her head firmly as her mouth wrapped around me.
Holding her still, I forced myself down her throat. “Swallow it all,” I ordered, my voice husky with my own desire.
And she did, her throat worked up as she tried to swallow every last bit of me. Some dripped down her chin, following a path down her bare tits. My eyes openly gazed upon her stunning features.
She licked me clean, and I slipped out of her mouth with a small pop. Her tongue pressed out, between her parted lips, catching any remains. With hooded eyes, I dragged a finger over my cum that covered her chest.
Pushing the wet finger past her lips, I watched her lick it clean. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she whispered, “Thank you, Master. I am honored to have served you.”
For a small moment, my heart stuttered.
I didn’t want her to call me Master. Only because it did things to me…it made me think of very depraved things I wanted to do to her. Surprisingly, I wanted my name from her lips.
With that angelic voice, I wanted her to say my name.
I had already broken one rule tonight.
Do not touch the slaves.
Too late for that.
But I was about to break another rule.
Do not buy the slaves.
By the end of the night, this little slave was going to be mine. Only mine.
Chapter 3
Maria
I stayed silent. My body locked tight, refusing to move any muscle. A frozen picture in time.
I dared not to move my eyes up. I dared not look up at this strange man with a strange voice.
The way he spoke was with authority, his voice deep and rough as it caressed my body.
I stayed kneeling down beside my Master as this new master spoke. They were talking about me, I knew that. I could feel their eyes on me.
My skin crawled with disgust. I hated it when they gazed upon my naked body, stripped bare of everything. Even my dignity. My pride.
I had nothing left.
Nothing belonged to me anymore.
I was wholly his. Every part of me belonged to him—my Master.
And I hated every single day of it.
I wished, prayed, and hoped for my Prince Charming to come. Maybe he would come on a beautiful white horse. He would look at me with love and sweep me away. He was going to save me from the bad men. We would ride off in the sunset, toward his castle.
And there, he would love me with his whole heart.
We would live happily ever after.
But it was only a dream. A fantasy I built up in my head so I could stay alive.
When my Master touched me, I closed my eyes and pretended he was my Prince Charming.
I kept pretending. Every single minute of my life, I pretended this was not my reality.
But sometimes it was hard. When the pain got too much, when the screams would not stop, I could not hide anymore.
When it felt like my insides were being ripped open, I could not hide. I had to face my reality.
And it was yet another day. I was naked again. Most of the time, we were kept naked.
They said it was for easier access. For them to do whatever they wanted with our bodies.
We were told to bear our marks—their marks—with pride. When our bodies were blue and green, we bore them with pride. We paraded around, showing how good our Masters were to us.
The process repeated. Day after day. Night after night.
Some of the women have been here since they were children. Others when they were only teenagers. But no one was older than twenty.
I was taken eight months ago.
Eight months ago, I was eighteen years old.
Two months ago, I turned nineteen.
Every month, Master reminded me of the date I was taken. It was our anniversary.
I kept counting the months in my head, trying not to lose that small glimpse of the outside world. Desperately trying to keep hold of the string of what was left of me.
Unlike what Master thought, I had not lost my sanity yet.
I was still very much alive.
He thought I was dead.
He thought I was the perfect slave.
He thought I was just another pet. Another doll to play with. Another puppet with whom to do whatever he wanted.
But I had not lost my hope yet.
He thought he owned me.
But he was wrong. So, so wrong.
He might own my body.
But my soul…my thoughts…they were mine.
He could not take that away from me. My soul did not belong to him. My thoughts did not belong to him.
And my heart…it would never be his.
“She is yours?”
His voice snapped me back to the present. Not my Master.
But him.
For an unknown reason, I almost forgot all my training and wanted to lift my head up.
I wanted to see him. To see the man whose voice had caused things to happen in my body.
After so long, I felt something. A strange shiver down my spine.
After being numb for so long, he made me feel something.
What it was, I didn’t understand.
“For now. Until I can get the highest buyer. For now, I’ll just enjoy her until I decide otherwise,” Master muttered drily, his fingers trailing down my spine.
I fought the urge to retch. Every time he touched me, I had to fight against myself. I had to remind myself that I was the perfect pet.
I had to accept this touch. No matter how much I hated it.
The man was silent for what felt like a very long time.
And I felt suddenly desperate for him to speak again. For him to gift me the power of his voice to silent my demons.
“Are you bidding tonight?” Master asked.
“No,” the man snapped.
From my position, with me still kneeling and my forehead pressed against the hard floor, my eyes widened.
Nobody would see this small action. It was my secret.
My breath stuck in my throat. Was he not part of this cartel? Did he not buy slaves?
I listened to them talk. Master suggested the man have a night with me.
My body tightened, waiting for his response.
When he refused, I let out a small breath. So small that nobody would notice.
Was it disappointment? Or relief?
I did not how to feel. Even though I have not laid eyes on this man yet, he was making me feel out of control.
Did he not want me?
Master’s friends always wanted a night with me when they visited. They would say I was their favorite. That I was beautiful.
Did that man not find me beautiful?
I felt ashamed when I realized I cared. His thoughts suddenly mattered to me.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I closed my eyes. I inhaled and exhaled. My muscles stayed locked as he started to walk away.
His warmth faded, leaving me numb and cold again.
Master touched my neck, caressing my back. The soft touch did not last long before his nails dug into my hips, leaving his mark. I always bore hi
s mark.
Even my weak body felt used to it now. His beatings. The endless hours of torture.
It was painful. It hurt more than I could describe, but all I had to do was shut my mind and float away to a magical land with my Prince Charming.
His hands moved upward to my neck, and he gripped it hard. Master pulled me to my knees, but I kept my head bowed down, my eyes on the floor.
I wouldn’t dare to look up. It was a mistake I had done many times. But just like a lesson was learned for every mistake, I learned my lesson too.
In a much harder way.
Master always found ways to hurt me. New creative ways, he liked to call it.
His breath was close to my ear. I didn’t flinch when he licked down my neck, leaving a wet trail.
Disgust rolled off me in angry waves, yet I could do nothing.
“I want you to go there and suck his dick in that pretty mouth of yours. Make him feel good. And then I want you to come back with your mouth full of his cum.”
His words were crude and angry. Dangerous and commanding.
So I did as I was commanded. For he was the Master and I was the pretty doll at his service.
There was no changing that. No matter how much my mind fought it.
No matter how much I hated it.
Getting on my hands and knees again, I kept my head bowed. He slapped my butt, and with his silent permission, I crawled toward the man.
I was halfway across the room when I realized I didn’t know who the man was. I didn’t know who I was crawling to, who I was supposed to pleasure.
It was forbidden to look into the eyes of a Master…not until we were commanded to. In that small moment, I broke the first rule.
My head tilted slightly upward, my gaze quickly scanning the room. My heart drummed wildly against my ribcage, scared that I would get caught and be punished.
All that fear and panic disappeared the second I laid eyes on the man in front of me.
He sat on the couch, only a few feet away from me. His legs were stretched open as he settled against the seat, his head tilted toward the ceiling. I could tell his eyes were closed.
My eyes tracked his movement when he tugged at his tie, almost frustrated. My breath caught in my throat and my heart accelerated again.
I did not realize I was crawling again. This time with my destination in mind.
