by M Dauphin
“For what?” I whispered, letting lust and hope ooze through with my words.
I’d been sexually assaulted, raped, beaten, violated in the most fucked up ways without my consent. But for Jasper, I’d give myself to him because I was certain his smoky words that swirled around me, and that cold hand that barely touched me could make me feel something I once wanted. Love. I wanted Jasper to make love to me, protect me, and embrace me in the ways I filled my head imagining he did to other women.
“I have an issue.” He pulled a kitchen chair from the table and inspected it before sitting. “With your parents.” His eyes looked around the kitchen and at the time I didn’t know it, but he was memorizing everything in that room, like he eventually taught me to do when I entered a room. “I don’t think they’re being very honest with me, Little Bird. How can I help them if they aren’t being honest with me?” He wanted an answer and I didn’t know what to say because my thoughts were elsewhere.
They were in wonder what was under his suit. They were in wonder what his bedroom looked like. What his bed felt like. What his weight pressed against my body would feel like.
“Little Bird.” It was like a whip crack and my eyes flit to his so quickly I got dizzy from not having eaten in a couple days. “Steady.” Before his word even came out he was on his feet and holding me up. “Are you sick?”
“Hungry,” tumbled from my mouth and put immediate shame in me.
“Hungry? When’d you eat last?”
I wasn’t sure what day it was; I definitely didn’t know when I last ate.
“I’m not sure.” I held his bicep and neck, pretending to be weaker than I was actually feeling just so he wouldn’t let me go.
“Your parents don’t feed you?”
I looked up into that beautiful face and saw an anger that made me tremble. A flitter filled my stomach, and hope that he hated my parents as much as I did sickly brought me satisfaction.
“We don’t have any money.”
A passing car’s headlights came through the window at my back and the light reflected in a flash across Jasper’s face. The anger that was there was spoke in volumes I wouldn’t understand until later in my life. It was a calm rage that I wanted to possess. I had rage but I couldn’t keep it calm, and I would normally destroy something beautiful to let it out.
“I gave your dad a thousand dollar incentive less than a week ago, Little Bird. Your parents have money. They want you to suffer. They want you to beg. They want you weak so they can have a power over you that a rat like Rod shouldn’t hold over anyone.” With each of his words, his body moved closer to mine until he had me pinned to the counter with his face in mine and our lips brushing with every word he spoke. “You want him to have that over you, Little Bird?”
“No,” I breathed.
“No.” His fingers slid into my hair on both sides of my head. “And Jasper will take care of you as long as you promise to take care of me. No lies, Little Bird.”
I began to frantically nod until he firmly held my head still.
“When you’re eighteen, you’re mine.” His head tilted downward slightly so he could look down my body until he pressed against me again. “All of you. You want that?”
“Yes,” I breathed again trying to stretch my lips so they’d brush his but he was just out of reach.
“Do you know how you’ll take care of me?”
“I’ll do anything.”
“I know you will.” It was such a beautiful smile that filled his face. “Remember when we first met? Remember Rod had to come to me?”
I nodded remembering that first time I met him, I was so scared. Like I should have been then, but there was too much lust in me for the man that I hoped would be my savior.
“I don’t normally come see my employees like I am today. People come to me. But you’re special, Little Bird. You’ll be more than my employee. You’ll be mine. But.” He let me go and stepped away, which almost made me fall because in an instant he took away a world full of happiness just by putting distance between us. “You have to prove to me your loyalty. Can you do that?” His eyes hit mine again and I nodded with such franticness it was borderline begging. “On your eighteenth birthday. One year from today. You’ll prove your loyalty.”
He knew my birthday. The elation that I was swimming in was so pathetic and I had to come across even worse.
“H-how?”
“By killing your parents.”
The dread that weighted down my gut practically took my face with it. Kill my parents. I hated them but I didn’t want them dead. I didn’t want to kill anyone, especially not them.
“They don’t have the respect I know you can possess. They’re lying to me. And you. My Little Bird.” The sadness that morphed his features made me grab his hand and step closer.
“I’ll never lie to you.”
“I know you won’t,” he said with his eyes locked on my hand trying to hold his. “My good Little Bird,” he whispered pushing me against the counter again before letting his lips press to mine.
I didn’t move, I’d never willingly kissed anyone and didn’t know how. His tongue slid over my lip and I opened my mouth but he was already pulling away, wiping his lips.
“In one week I will text you instructions. You’ll follow those instructions without letting your parents know. Clear?” He was no longer seducing me, but he didn’t have to. I was under his spell.
“Yes.”
“You will meet with someone at the specific time and place I tell you and they’ll take you to the dentist.” His hand wiped his mouth again before he looked at it and the color drained from my face, making me dizzy enough I had to grab the counter.
He was disgusted by me. I was so stupid. And humiliated. And when he looked at me, I turned to hide my shame.
“By the time you’re mine, I’ll have you fixed,” he told me as his pointer finger pushed up on my chin and turned my head to look at him. “You’ll be a beautiful bird.” Those cold fingers tucked my hair behind my ear. “Fail me, and lose everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“I won’t,” I promised with a louder voice than I had ever possessed.
“I know you won’t. That’s why you’re my Little Bird. You’ll like your new cage.” He winked at me. “One year. Not a day sooner.”
I watched his retreating back as he exited the house and I practically melted to the floor.
In that year, I did everything he told me. Met with strangers and allowed them to take me to the dentist. To the gynecologist. To do anything Jasper told them. He kept me fed. He kept me clothed in items that didn’t have holes, but wouldn’t draw too many suspicions that Rod or Judith would notice. And, well, you know what happened.
I became a caged bird.
***
“How long are you in town for?” I look away from Jasper.
“Just the night. I had to see you.” His hand on my knee pushes, spreading my thighs and I turn my head farther.
He is no longer an object of lust for me. He has betrayed my trust too many times. But I’m his caged bird and will never get away.
“Look at me,” he demands in a tone that would have weaker people pissing themselves.
To avoid pain, I look at him. His thumb presses to my bottom lip and pulls downward, spreading my lipstick down my chin. I have a meeting with a potential tenant and just spent an hour perfecting my makeup to hide the scar, that’s from him, across my face.
“Tweet,” he demands shoving his hand between my legs.
He hasn’t made me tweet in years. I almost roll my eyes but that’d bring on unwanted pain so I lean into him so I don’t have to see the most beautiful face on the ugliest man while I fake an orgasm.
“I have a meeting in an hour.” I force out a moan following my words so we can speed things along.
“I need longer than that.” His hand stops before he shoves me away from him. “Why didn’t you mention that prior?”
“I didn’t expect you to move
so fast.” I untwist my thong.
“We move at my pace,” he bellows and it echoes around my sparse house.
“It’s always your pace.” My mouth always gets me in the most trouble with him. I have great control over my body, making it do things it doesn’t want to, fake things with accuracy, but my mouth slips too many times and I feel the wrath.
By the throat, he slams me to the ground and kneels on my abdomen.
“I am the master and you are the bird,” he snarls in my face while I try not to make a noise that shows my struggle as I ease air back into my lungs.
“I know,” I wheeze and softly caress his cheek so he eases up on his knee.
“Your defiance always makes me question your motives.” He gets to his feet and straightens his suit.
“I’m not defying you.” I take his waiting hand and he pulls me up against him. “I love you,” I lie so well he never sees the proof of deception dangling in his face.
“I know you do.” He sighs and kisses my forehead. “You’ll hurry with the meeting. I won’t scar you tonight, but you’ll feel it.”
I pause before going to the bathroom to fix my lipstick. Avoiding another scar is good, but his promise that I’ll feel it is just as bothersome as the threat of a new scar.
***
He delivers on his words while he fucks me hard enough to make me bleed. The knifepoint spins in the same spot at the back of my shoulder while he pounds, grunting with every thrust that slaps our flesh together with an echo.
“Please stop!” I beg over and over because if I don’t, he gets more creative with ways to break me.
There is will and defiance inside me and I cannot admit to being weak until it’s more than I can take. Something in me still wants to prove to him I can take an extent of his torture and this is why I never start out begging.
The knife drags a line down my shoulder as he slips because he’s at the brink of his orgasm, and the scar he promised not to deliver is currently pouring blood from my flesh. I always know when they’ll scar. If the blood only seeps, there will be no evidence, but I felt the rush of heat the second the knife slipped, promising another mark amongst the collection he’s made across my back.
After his grunting release, he tosses the knife to the side and grabs my hips flipping me to my back and sliding me to the edge of the bed where he forces my thighs open. Kneeling between my thighs, he drinks himself from me as if his cum is the fountain of youth. It’s not until he pulls his face away that I see the blood surrounding his lips and realize how badly he tore me this time.
“My two favorite delicacies,” he says as he slides up my body. “My seed and your blood.” The tongue that used to bring me to a euphoric state of orgasmic bliss slides across his lips before he kisses me.
All I can think about right now is the fact I’m going to have to buy new sheets.
***
The unexpected knock at my door makes me clutch the knife in hand a little tighter while I stare toward my living room. It’s a gated community, there are no solicitors and if a tenant needs me, they know to call, not show up. When a second knock sounds I place the knife next to the onion I’m chopping and I turn down Angelica Negron’s Bubblegum Grass Peppermint Field; her music always relaxes me while I cook.
At the door, the peephole only gives me the view of the back of a dark head of hair and I sigh. Doing a few quick muscle-stretching exercises of my face I then plaster on a smile while pulling open the door.
I quickly look from head to toe at the back of this man before forcing a bubbly, “Hi,” from my mouth.
When he turns around, I’m not expecting a younger man. All my tenants are fifty-five and older. This man is at least twenty-five years younger than that. He’s smiling but it’s morose and I’m waiting for him to say he hit one of my decrepit tenants or something fucked up. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Hi.” His voice seems strained and I can’t tell if he’s forcing it to sound that way. He looks like he’d have a much more masculine voice. “I’m Luke.” Stretching out his hand, he holds it there waiting for me to return the gesture.
My brows furrow but I catch myself before my face falls to complete aggravation.
“Luke?” I gently place my hand in his.
“Sorry.” When he chuckles it exposes more baritone to his voice and leaves me wondering why he’s talking so nasally sounding. Maybe he’s sick. “Luke Milkey. My aunt and uncle, Ron and Liza…” He trails off and looks towards their house down the block. “I’m their only living family. I’ll be here for the next few days cleaning out their place. They have a lot of things to go through.”
Milkey. Before I ask this asshole what the fuck he wants, it hits me that that was the couple that died a few days ago in a car crash.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” I place my hand on his firm bicep that’s hidden under a blue polo and catch myself looking toward the muscle. Bringing my attention back to his face I tell him, “They were such nice people. Don’t tell my other tenants, but The Milkeys were my favorite.” Pushing my bottom lip out, I pretend I care about his family that I couldn’t tell you what they looked like or when they moved in. I think they were some of my first tenants.
“Thank you. It was a shock, to say the least. It’d been awhile since I last came to see them. I’m not sure we’ve ever met, but my aunt and uncle always had nice things to say about their landlord every time we talked. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ll be in and out and I didn’t want you to think some young kid was in here looting.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Hopefully it doesn’t take too long.”
“Young kid.” I smile softly. “You look like a sophisticated gentleman to me, Mr. Milkey. There will be no problems. And if you need anything, just let me know. If you need help clearing out their things, I know a great moving service.” I start to close my door as indication to get the fuck off my porch. The man’s nice to look at but I’ve looked long enough and this smile hurts.
“Hey,” he blurts, his arm leans on the door frame, showing no intention of leaving me alone any time soon. “I never got your name.”
“Ms. Porter.” I’m not sure how much longer until this smile cracks and my face shatters into bitch mode.
“Well, Ms. No-first-name Porter. It was nice meeting you. I guess I’ll get out of your hair and start cleaning house.” He extends his hand again and waits, yet again, for my hand.
“Take your time. I won’t put their place up for sale for about two weeks.” I keep a smile so my eviction demand stays hidden under a layer of nice and let my fingertips shake this time because it’s too much contact with a stranger and I can only play nice for so long.
“You won’t even know I’m here.” He smiles at me again and nods gently before making his way down the front steps of my porch.
I shove the door but catch it last minute before it slams, remembering the role I’m playing.
***
“If you don’t show up, Regina, you become an issue. It’s once a month. You shouldn’t have a problem finding a babysitter once a month.”
Regina is my best employee as far as sales go, but she’s unreliable when it comes to the smooth system I’ve created for my operation.
Once a month I hold a dinner for the tenants in the community and on that day I expect my twenty-five dealers to show up clean, well dressed, putting forward a façade so they can collect the month’s profits. It’s easier and safer for me this way. Especially because it helps my newest venture that brings my willing employees more of a profit. Sometimes my tenants want a spice of life and it’s easier to obtain a prostitute from me than it is for them to drive around the streets looking for sex on their own. These are rich tenants that have images to uphold; if they were caught buying a street hooker, their CEO statuses would probably leave them faster than their families. So any of my employees looking for more profit will also flaunt their availability and I generally have a new inquiry from one of my tenants a day later.
Taking on a darker tone, I move my mouth closer to the receiver. “Do you know what happens if I don’t believe you?”
“Y-yes.”
God I love it. The stutter of fear.
“You’re expected to come pick up your monthly sales. I don’t make house calls and I’m not meeting you out on the streets. Do you know why my operation brings in the most revenue and least police activity out of every organization Jasper runs?”
“No,” her pathetic voice comes over the phone.
“Because I’m not a fucking crack whore running a circus. I’m a business woman and I demand the respect of my overly paid employees. Regina, I know you know what happens when you lose your job.”
“I lose my life.”
“That’s right. Lose your job, lose your life. Don’t I take care of you? You’re paid well enough to have a sitter six days a week, eight hours a day, unless you’re using. Tell me you’re not using, Regina.”
I know she is.
She’s the only one of my employees that can’t keep their hand out of the honey pot but I don’t hold it against her. She was using when I employed her and she made several honest attempts at getting clean, but then she got knocked up and now she has a four year old that she can’t leave for a month long stint in rehab.
“I’m trying here, Birdie. It’s hard. You don’t know how hard it is with a kid.”
“Because I’d never put myself in that situation. I don’t want excuses, I want you at the dinner. You are the most sought out for my side project. My customers want to fuck you, you want extra money. Be at the dinner.” I hang up because there is no room for compromise.
Inhaling a breath through my nose, I exhale out of my mouth and when my phone chimes with a text, I growl.
REGINA: Can I bring Bronson?
Bronson is the child, and as much as I hate kids, old people love them in small bouts.
BIRDIE: This ONE and ONLY time
I won’t admit this to anyone, but I don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. I need her there selling her body, because she alone brings in triple what the other two girls and one male I sell do.
