Stolen: The Prequel

by Dani René

  “That will never happen,” I tell him.

  “You never know,” Dante murmurs as he carries the bucket from the cell and disappears, leaving me to wonder if I’ll ever have a chance against our father.

  4

  Caia

  My tormentor left me in the softly lit room four hours ago with an object. It’s small, and when I lift it to the light, I note it’s a pocket knife. But the blade is serrated, and even though I’ve never been a fearful person, this makes me shudder. If I need this, then whatever I’m about to experience may kill me.

  Nobody has come to me, but I’m locked in a small room where I can’t see much. All I can hear is the melody from the other side. I’ve screamed, yelled for someone, but it’s fallen on deaf ears. I have lost all sense of time, when suddenly the music and voices fade, hands grab me from behind and shove me into a dark closet.

  The person wrenches the knife from my hand, and in that moment, all hope leaves me. I’m blindfolded, and there are plugs in my ears to keep out the noise.

  My body aches when I’m shoved forward and then forced to sit on a small wooden chair. My wrists and ankles are bound to the legs of the chair in seconds.

  The person moves fast to ensure I can’t fight, and then I’m left alone.

  Seconds pass, then minutes.

  “Please let me go. If you tell me why I’m here, I can get my father to talk to you. Do you want money? He has money.” Nobody responds to my plea. Tears sting my eyes as my mind plays scenarios like a horror movie before me.

  I’m hunched over. The tension in my shoulders is unbearable. I’ve tried tugging at the bindings, but they’re knotted too tight. With each tug, the twine cuts into the harsh wounds from being bound to the bed earlier, and I know I’m not making it better by trying to pull myself free.

  Suddenly, the plugs are pulled from my ears, and I can hear the music again. Classical and operatic. It’s not loud, merely a whisper, but almost torturous in volume.

  “She’s pretty,” a deep rumble comes from somewhere. The blindfold hinders my sight, and I don’t know how many people are in the room, but if I had to guess, I’d say two. The man who hurt me earlier and another. The stranger’s voice is deeper, more ragged than my captor.

  “Get her ready,” a voice comes, the one of the men who’s keeping me in here. “She’s to be trained as soon as possible. I want her ready for next month’s auction.”

  There are hands pulling at my arms and legs, untying me hastily from my bound position. Tugging my wrists together, he twines the rope tightly. Then suddenly I’m thrust into the air. A hard shoulder pressing into my stomach as he grips my ass and another arm snaking around my thighs.

  He walks through the space I’m not allowed to see. When he finally sets me on my feet, I’m placed against a wall, or something cold and hard. Concrete. Perhaps the same type as the walls of the cell I woke up in.

  My hands and legs are bound against the icy wall, and I’m once again locked in place with nowhere to go. A chuckle comes from my left, and his hot breath on my cheek causes me to shudder.

  “Don’t worry, pet, you’ll soon enjoy this,” he grits out in a devilish tone. His calloused finger paints something on my lips. As soon as my tongue darts out, the metallic flavor causes me to retch. “You look so pretty painted with crimson.” His voice is cold as ice, and it chills me.

  The blindfold is ripped from my face, and the harsh light is blinding for a moment. Blinking to clear the sting, I find myself in a small dark room and realize the blinding light is coming from the television set before me.

  “What are you doing?” I croak, but he ignores me as he moves to the corner and pulls out a small trolley he wheels over to me. Placing it between my legs, I notice it has one of those magic wand vibrators attached to it. “Please, you don’t have to do this.” I know my words fall on deaf ears, but I try anyway.

  He locks it in place and moves to the television shining a bright-white screen. When he clicks a remote, an image appears. It’s a video paused on the title I’m sure is something gory from the word on screen.

  Severed.

  “Enjoy your movie night, princess.” The man who reminds me of an evil ogre smirks viciously as he walks out, shutting the door with a resounding click. My gaze darts back to the screen, and before I can think about what’s about to happen, the wand placed on my core starts a gentle vibration.

  Another older man appears from behind me. He’s dressed like a doctor, with blue plastic gloves and a stethoscope around his neck.

  “We’re going to test your restraint, little one,” he smirks. “They asked for a strong one, a fighter.”

  I frown at this information, wondering who he’s talking about, or even what he’s talking about. “Please, why are you doing this?”

  He doesn’t respond, merely gestures to the screen with his chin, silently ordering me to turn my attention back to the television.

  The name disappears, and a scene appears with a man who looks to be in his early forties, graying hair with a scraggly beard that reminds me of barbed wire. The lens follows him to a bed where a girl who can’t be much older than my eighteen years is bound helpless.

  I can’t look away, and I can’t close my eyes. I’m bound so well with my head fastened to hooks on the wall that don’t allow me to move an inch. There’s something on my eye lids that allow me to blink, but I can’t keep them closed.

  She’s begging, crying, and pleading with him to let her go. The vibration between my legs intensifies, and I’m lost in pleasurable confusion. My body is reacting to the stimulation, but my mind recoils at the scene on the television.

  I’m assaulted by the scene before me of the old man thrusting himself inside the girl. There are feral grunts, screams of pain, and when the lens zooms in, blood is dripping from where they’re connected.

  My body gives in to the pleasure. My stomach convulses from the scene before me. I can’t stop my orgasm, and I can’t stop the puke that’s dripping from my chin. My mind feels almost fragmented, shattered and torn at the emotions racing through me.

  The man, who’s dressed in an immaculate suit, continues to violate her, to torture her with his cock, his grip around her neck tightens as her choking intensifies, while he spits on her. It’s horrific to watch, and I’m afraid to see what’s to follow. His large hand grips her tiny breast, tugging on the flesh harshly, as if he’s trying to rip it off. Her cries echo in my ears, and his grunts fill the room.

  It’s sick.

  It’s vile.

  And I can’t move away, turn away from the scene. The large, silent man dressed in a white lab coat stalks closer, his hand holding an object dripping blood, and when I finally take a good look, I notice it’s a human heart. At least, that’s what I’ve seen pictures of in biology class. My body is rigid with fear, my blood turning icy cold. What are they doing with that? My thoughts are erratic, fliting between fear and revulsion.

  “She had so many pretty parts,” he sneers, pushing his hand holding the organ against my mouth as I try to fight him off. The screams still echo around me as he feeds me. With his other hand, I feel the pressure between my legs as he forces two thick fingers inside me. “You’ll be broken soon, just like her.”

  I can’t close my mouth as he shoves it into me, and I’m painted in the crimson liquid while the video plays, and my body leaps over an edge I’ve been fighting, but the assault on my clit is too much.

  I’m drenched in red. My mouth and my shoulders are slick as he grips me, ensuring I’m soaked in the metallic liquid.

  “So pretty, little girl,” he sneers.

  My body locks and convulses as pleasure shoots through me. It’s not from the scene. It’s from the forced orgasm I’ve been subjected to. But the vibration only intensifies. I cry out, begging for mercy, even though I know they’ll never offer it. I feel another release on the edge, it’s right there, and the filthy words from the TV vibrate though me, and I cry out in pleasure, in pain, in disgust.
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  Another notch on the vibrator is turned up, and I’m wet. My clit is throbbing now, and I can’t stop the moan that slips from my lips. A third orgasm is close, I’m watching a girl get violated, and all I can do is find release, pleasure watching pain.

  The piece of filth steps back, admiring me shaking and shuddering wildly. My captor turns around and calls out to someone I can’t see.

  “Get Dante in here. She needs to be cleaned up.”

  “Why?” I whimper, attempting to spit the blood from my mouth.

  He spins on his heel, glaring at me. “Because, little girl,” he says in a low, menacing tone. “You’re going to bring me a lot of money. Every part of you.” His blue eyes glow with evil intent.

  My body is rising to the edge. I’m standing on the precipice as the old man on screen pulls a blade from under the pillow and severs her head as the wand is turned to full pelt and I come harder than I’ve ever known a woman could.

  My body is wracked with a sob, convulsions, and an orgasm that turns me inside out. My toes curl. I watch the head of a beautiful girl fall off the bed, and the man finds his own release in her now dead body.

  When the door flies open, I’m crying. The white-coated man steps back after turning off the vibrator that’s assaulted me for as long as the video had been repulsing me. He smirks at the newest member to the room.

  “Get her cleaned up,” he orders, then leaves us, his footfalls disappearing into the darkness.

  The screen is black, but the dim light streaming in from the room beyond offers me a glimmer to see who’s walked in. My tormentor. The dark-haired man with the blue eyes that remind me of an ocean. Dante.

  “You’re quite surprising,” he tells me. “He’ll make sure you break.” It’s a veiled threat, and I wonder if he’s telling me that in warning, or if he’s disgusted at what I’ve just been through.

  “Help me.”

  He stills in his need to unchain me. “I’m not the good one, pet. Perhaps you’re mistaking me for my brother. There’s no escape from the dungeon. You either conform, or you die.” Brother?

  He continues to move swiftly, and then I’m in his arms, and I realize it’s not my captor from earlier. He smells different. Not as spicy. He has a unique scent which I commit to memory. If there’s two of them, perhaps I can figure out how to get them to help me.

  When we enter the adjoining space, there’s a bed he places me on. I’m shoved onto my stomach and once more bound to the metal poles on either end.

  I’m open to him as he washes me, his fingers probing me painfully. I can’t stifle the whimper and attempt to close my legs, but he only chuckles at the movement.

  Once he’s completed his task, he leans in close to my ear. “If you can survive this,” he starts, “then perhaps there’s hope for us all.”

  With that, I’m left alone to wonder what he means.

  All I do know is that it can’t be good.

  5

  Drake

  I haven’t seen her in hours. My mind is filled with images of what I imagine is going on inside that room. The cameras before me are empty. None of the girls who are in their cells have moved.

  But Caia hasn’t been returned to hers. I’m angry that she’s captured my fucking attention so much, but I haven’t been able to focus on anything else. Even River has been in here a few times to check if I’m still breathing. I don’t think I am.

  Shoving the chair along the concrete floor, I cringe at the noise it makes. The moment I rise, I see her cell door open and her body flung onto the mattress like a rag doll. Rage implodes through me, simmering in my veins like a goddamn poison.

  What have you done to me?

  I wait for the asshole to leave her cell before my feet hastily carry me to her door. As soon as it creaks, she opens her eyes wide and watches me. Her long, dark hair hangs matted to her head. I notice the blood that’s been knotted in her locks, and my fingers itch to wash it out, to clean her, but I know if I go near her now, she’ll scream. She’ll lose her shit.

  “Are you okay?” The question comes unbidden from my lips, causing me to cringe. Of course she’s not okay.

  “Does it look like I’m okay?” she bites back, causing me to chuckle. Jesus, she’s beautiful when she’s angry. Her pale flesh is marred with red welts, and I know she’s been through phase one.

  “Don’t mistake my question for caring, little bird,” I growl, stalking closer to her, causing her to cower in the corner. Her small frame shifting, offering me a glimpse of her white panties. She must’ve been changed before they brought her back in here, because those weren’t what she was wearing earlier.

  “Fuck you,” she mumbles, her wide eyes pinned on me as I lean over the bed. Reaching for her, I grip her hair. Fisting it harshly, I pull her closer toward me. A tremble trickles through her; goosebumps rise on her porcelain skin. She’s perfection. Pure perfection.

  “I’d be happy to oblige you, little raven,” I smirk down at her.

  Her lips purse into a tight line, and from the way her body is shaking, I’m certain she’s a virgin. With a fierce tug, I pull her to the edge of the bed, her face against my groin.

  “Feel that?” I whisper, a low hiss of a question that earns me a whimper, which only causes my dick to jolt against her cheek. “That’s all yours if you want it,” I tell her.

  “Never.”

  I smile. I shouldn’t be proud of her, I shouldn’t even be hard for her, but something inside me has awakened, a beast that’s hungry and wants a piece of the sweet fruit on the bed before me.

  I lower my gaze to hers, finding her looking up at me. Her face has paled even more, making her eyes contrast against her flesh. Her lips are a soft, rosy color, and I wonder what they taste like. More so, I wonder how my cock would look sliding between them. Deep into her throat until she can’t breathe. Until she’s clawing at me, attempting to push me out.

  “Your feisty little mouth is going to get you into trouble,” I inform her, still holding onto her. Strangely, she allows me to keep hold of her hair. I wonder why she’s not fighting.

  “Just let me go,” she says then. “I just want to leave, to go home.” Her plea, along with that beautiful pout, is enough to have me shoving my zipper down. I reach for my cock and pull it from its confines.

  “If you keep begging, I’m going to have to shut you up,” I tell her, slapping her cheek with the thick angry shaft.

  “You’re disgusting,” she bites out, and I’m done. Pushing her to the bed, I grip her throat and press my fingers on either side, cutting off her air. Her tiny body flails wildly on the filthy mattress.

  As soon as her lips open to attempt to pull in air, I shove my dick deep inside her pretty throat. It tightens, pulses, grips the bulbous head, and I’m lost in pleasure. Holding my dick in her body, I close my eyes, feeling her teeth scrape the base as she attempts to bite me.

  Too bad the little princess will find out that I love the pain. It makes me even harder, throbbing inside her as I slowly pull out and slam back in. This time, the heat of her puke rises. Before she throws up, I pull out completely as she scrambles for the bucket.

  Righting myself, I zip my slacks and watch her empty her stomach in the plastic bucket that’s going to waft a stale stench all night. Her watery eyes meet my hard ones.

  “You’re worse than them,” she tells me, stilling me for a moment before I reach for the bucket and head for the door. I don’t respond, taking the filthy object to the cleaning room and grabbing a clean one.

  Back in her cell, I set it down and turn for the door once more.

  “You’re broken, aren’t you?”

  Her question halts me at the door, my hand wrapped around the steel handle. Lowering my head, I cast a glance over my shoulder at her kneeling on the floor. She’s shattered, her body still shivering as she regards me.

  “I’m not broken, little bird,” I tell her. “You’d have to be whole before you can break.” I leave her alone to mull over my words b
efore I go to my room for the night. I shouldn’t have done what I did, but I couldn’t help it.

  In the shower, I recall how she felt. Just those few seconds of ecstasy and I’ve got my cock in my fist once more. As much as I fucked up, I don’t regret a moment of it. If I could do it again, I would.

  6

  Caia

  He’s violent and dangerous. My throat burns from his abuse, but my mind wonders how he’s become so cold. When he looked at me, there was a flicker of affection, of something he refused to admit. His anger was palpable, a force that made him act out in a rage, but then guilt marred his handsome face.

  He is handsome.

  Far too beautiful to be in this place.

  I’ve known what it’s like to be hidden away. My father was overly protective of me, ensuring I’d never gone out partying like the other girls my age. I was like the princess locked away from the world, until the night I was stolen.

  I stupidly went out of my way to defy my father for the first time in my life, and it’s landed me in here. I lie back on the bed. In an attempt to close my eyes, I’m assaulted by the eyes of my captor. The man who looks so haunted it made me question him. I expected him to stalk toward me and slap me, or worse, but he merely glanced my way with such sadness it tugged my heart.

  Stupid girl.

  There’s no way he can be good. He works for the devil, but he looks like an angel. My thoughts are at war. I can’t shake the questions racing through my mind. I want to ask him everything. I want to delve into his mind and find out what he’s hiding. But something tells me climbing those high walls he’s built will be pointless.

  He could be my way out of here. I should’ve asked him about his brother. Or even perhaps why they do this, what the point is of hurting people. No, not people, girls.