by Henry, Jane
“You better be a good girl for me,” I growl, dropping a kiss on her lips, and releasing her chin, mostly so I can give her sweet little ass a good smack.
She yelps adorably.
“Go get cleaned up,” I say, wishing I didn’t have to. This is not how a woman should be treated. She should be protected, not sent out into the field. Sonya called me sexist before. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I don’t think women should do everything men do. Not because they can’t, but because I don’t like seeing them get hurt. I’ve been an agent for a long time. People do get hurt. Sometimes badly. I’m taking her into a situation where she could be shot, tortured, or worse. I’ll protect her with everything I am, but this is not what I want for her.
She gives me a broad smile and hops up. She’s so happy because she’s getting her way. Her anger at Brava, her need for justice are all feelings I can relate to. We’re cut from the same cloth, her and I. I can already sense that’s going to cause some strife.
I wait in the living room while she trots off to get ready. I’m expecting her to take forever, but about fifteen minutes later she emerges from the shower pink and delicious and wrapped in a towel. Her hair is twisted up above her head, a sleek dark glossy mane I want to get my hands on. We don’t have time for another round though. I’ve been getting some text messages from Brava. Apparently, he’s not pleased at hearing what I did to the guy who tried to put his hands on Sonya.
“Put something revealing on.” I hate saying that.
“Something slutty?” She grins at me. My heart sinks. Even after that asshole tried to rape her, she acts as if this is a game. It’s because I saved her. That time. I hope I can save her next time too.
“Something short. And tight.”
“I know exactly what to wear!”
She disappears into her bedroom and emerges a little while later. I look up from my profanity laced phone to see her standing there in possibly the shortest skirt known to man. It barely covers her ass. It’s bright pink and made of some kind of plastic latex. She’s wearing a tank top with cut outs over and under her breasts, and strappy little heels which would make running basically impossible. Her hair is dry and hanging loose and long down over her shoulders.
She looks hot. She looks dirty. I don’t know whether I want to pin her down and fuck her or spank her butt for even having an outfit like this on hand.
“Why do you own clothes like that, Agent Lee?”
She laughs and flashes me a flirtatious smile. “Reasons.”
“Reasons, huh. Well, they’ll work.”
“I know,” she grins a little too proudly. I think she enjoys scandalizing me. I’m straight laced and traditional. She’s a wild little brat in the body of a federal agent. And we’re about to go straight into the devil’s den.
“Right,” I say, standing up. “You ready to go?”
“Mhm. Hell yeah,” she smiles. She’s laid her make-up on so thick I can’t see where her face is bruised, and the split lip has been turned into a sultry red pout. Good God. I feel my pants start to get tight again. This little minx is a hell of a distraction.
“You’re going to be a good girl for me,” I remind her. “You’re going to do exactly what daddy says.”
“Mhm,” she agrees, bending ever so slightly at the waist to reveal those pert little cheeks framed sinfully in a white thong. Oh God. I am going to have a hell of a time keeping men off her.
“Okay, brat, tone it down,” I say gruffly, giving her a swat beneath the skirt. My fingers curl around her cheek and brush against the fabric of the thong just barely covering her pussy. She gives a little moan and lowers her lashes and I wonder if we’re actually going to make it out of this apartment or not.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I take a quick look. It’s another text from Brava. No swearing this time. Just three numbers. 911.
I put the phone back in my pocket. “Alright, Sonya, time to go.”
* * *
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Brava has come to see me, and he’s brought at least ten of his best, most brutal friends. The basement is full of people milling around, cleaning guns, leering at Sonya who has instinctively taken to using me as a human shield, cowering close to my body. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and shoot glares at anyone who gets too close. They all know what happened to the last guy who tried to touch her, so they keep their hands off. That doesn’t make their leers any less stomach churning. She’s like a fresh fillet of steak in a room full of hungry hounds. If anything goes wrong, they’ll descend on us both and it’s going to take some pretty extreme violence to save her.
“I had to get my girl checked out. Your fucking henchman put his hands on her,” I remind Brava.
“We’re down a man now. Steve was a good guy. You shouldn’t have done that.”
I really don’t like Brava’s tone. The respect he had earlier isn’t there anymore. I’m starting to wonder what’s gone on in since yesterday. Something either made him a hell of a lot more cocky, or so angry he doesn’t care. Either way, it’s not going to fly with me.
“I should have cut his fucking dick off and made him eat it,” I growl.
“We don’t have time for this. We gotta problem.”
“What problem?”
“The truck got stopped at the border. The fucking Mexicans found the girls. We got no shipment.”
That wasn’t part of the plan, but I can’t say I’m displeased. Those girls have been saved several more days of suffering.
Next to me, I see Sonya biting back a smile. This isn’t great news for our operation, but it’s great news for the victims and that’s who we both care about the most.
Brava looks worried, like he knows the net is closing in on him. Some of these criminals have excellent instincts. Brava is one of them. He’s utterly without morals or remorse, but he has the cunning of a sewer rat, and I know I have to be careful around him.
“We got no shipment, then we got a problem. I paid good money for those girls, Brava.” I put a bassy snarl into my voice. “I want a return on my investment.”
“Then maybe you should talk to that girl you’ve got there,” Brava says, his beady little eyes settling on Sonya. “She was in my office. She heard things. She might be a cop. She might be tipping people off. Gotta get rid of her.”
“She’s not a cop,” I say, feeling the blood start to pump to my muscles in case I have to crack his skull.
“What the fuck was she doing in my office then?”
I have to think quickly. I wasn’t expecting to have to defend Sonya to Brava. “She’s a drug dealer. She was trying to get a line on your stash.”
“No fucking shit,” Brava swears. “Little cunt…”
I grit my teeth. I want to defend her honor, but we’re playing a role now. It’s not believable that I’d want to protect a girl’s honor after turning her into my personal fuck doll over the last day or so. Some rough talk is expected.
“She’s no threat to any of us,” I say. “Just as long as she gets her fix.”
“Her fix of what? Dope or dick?” Brava smirks.
“I’ve got her on an all dick diet,” I reply. It’s a crude way of talking about her, but that’s how these men treat their women. And it’s how I have to treat her if we’re going to get through this.
Sonya lets out a snort.
“You think that’s funny?” I look down at her.
She gives a little shrug. She looks every inch the part of a fuck addled girl that I wonder if they see what I see. The pure joy in her eyes. These words are rolling off her, because she knows something Brava and the rest don’t. She knows that very soon, every single one of these assholes will be in jail. I need to get that look out of her eyes and off her face before it tips Brava and the others off.
Reaching down, I hike her skirt up over her ass and give it a hard slap. She gasps and reaches back, a curse on her lips.
“Don’t you swear at me, girl,” I growl before she can get
the word out. She bites her lip, doesn’t swear. Good girl. She doesn’t look nearly as happy anymore, and that’s a good thing.
“We’re gonna have to make up the shortfall,” Brava says, turning the conversation back to the topic of the rescued girls. “There’s a few ways we can do that on short notice, if you don’t care too much about race or age.”
“Oh yeah?”
“We’ll do a sweep. See if there’s any new hookers we can pick up. There’s always a few little sluts who will get into any car if they see a ten dollar bill first. And they’re already in the trade, so all you gotta do is brand them and turn them out. Most of them already have habits too.”
What they’re describing is pure evil. These men don’t see young women as human. They see them as a commodity to be traded.
“I’m not interested in street trash. I want pure girls. Virgins. That was the deal.”
“It’s pretty hard to get a slit that hasn’t been stretched these days, if you know what I mean.” Brava scratches his face. “I mean, even the ones that ain’t eighteen yet have usually been fucked a few times. We could knock ’em out, sew ’em up for you?”
“You fucking piece of shit,” Sonya bursts out. “You’re all fucking sickos!”
These conversations are hard to listen to without reacting. It takes a lot of training to be able to pull it off without losing your mind. I’m not surprised Sonya broke character. I am going to have to do something about it though.
“You let your girl talk to you like that?” Brava snorts.
I shoot a look at Sonya. She’s bristling with anger and disgust and hate. She’s in character perfectly, in other words. But Brava is going to get suspicious if I let her mouth off without doing anything.
“I think she was talking to you,” I say calmly, in an effort to talk my way out of this. “And she’s right, isn’t she?”
“Fuck off,” Brava snorts. “You can’t let pussy walk all over you. You gotta show them who is boss. You gotta…”
“I know how to handle my woman.”
“Do you? Because seems to me like you can’t keep that pussy on a leash long enough to stop other guys from climbing on. Maybe you should have let Steve fuck her. Maybe it would have taught her some respect.”
I want to drive my fist right through Brava’s smug face. I want to rip his arms off and beat him with them until he begs for mercy. But I smirk right back at him.
“I can train my girl to do things no girl would ever do for you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling Sonya close to me. I yank her up onto her tippy toes and kiss her roughly, passionately. Her lips open obediently and my tongue slides against hers, teasing and dominating her sweet mouth. It’s a long kiss. A passionate kiss. A kiss in which we both forget just for a second where we are.
I break the lip lock and look over at Brava. Sonya is pressed against me, her crotch grinding against my hip. In spite of everything, she’s aroused. I encourage it with a pat to her skirt clad ass.
“You can’t get any girl to kiss you like she means it. When I break my girls, they crave my cock. That’s what real training is. It’s not beating some drugged-up crack whore until she lets you stick it in her.”
For a split-second, I see jealousy in Brava’s eyes. It passes almost instantly.
“You sell girls and you make them fall in love with you? Well aren’t you fucking Prince Charming,” he laughs. “Where do you want your next shipment from? Narnia?”
“Prince Charming doesn’t come from Narnia, idiot,” Sonya pipes up.
“Cut it out,” I growl, my hand meeting her ass in a much harder slap which jolts her against my body. “That’s enough talk.”
She presses her lips together, but I see rebellion. And so does everyone else. If she doesn’t settle down and be the good girl she promised she’d be, I’m going to have to really teach her a lesson.
“She’s mouthy,” Brava says. “Don’t seem to me like she’s broken in at all. Seems to me like she does whatever she wants to.”
“Hmmm,” I say, looking steadily down at Sonya with a dark gaze which spells out trouble in her very near future if she doesn’t make a decent show of submission. “It does look that way, doesn’t it?”
Chapter Eleven
Sonya
I’ve got to get my head on straight. I don’t know if I want to laugh or scream or cry. Brava makes me so mad my blood boils, the way he talks about these women as if they’re goddamn chattel and I want to hurt him. I want to scrape my nails along his pasty skin and make him bleed. But Colt’s giving me a look that if I make one more move out of line, he’ll whip my ass, and I know he will. I should heed his warning, and I’m trying, but I know I’ve barely got a grip on my fury.
Brava’s lip curls. “Good. Teach the little bitch her place.”
“Shut it,” Colt growls at him. His words ring in my ears like the sounding of a gong. I feel sick inside. Up until recently, I thought he was one of the bad guys, his only redeeming quality his fearless protection of me, but even that memory fades when I listen to him talk about training and breaking girls, his crass, heartless words playing an endless loop in my mind that’s fucking with my head. He doesn’t care about me at all, I tell myself. I’m just a means to an end.
The other, logical side is telling me it’s in my head, that this is the game he has to play, and he’s really the good guy. But I’m not convinced. My heart wants this to be true. I want to know I really mean something, and I’m not a plaything to him. Has he fucked with my mind? He’s drugged me, whipped me, and fucked me. He’s turned me into a little slut begging for daddy’s cock. That isn’t me. I shake my head, physically trying to clear my thoughts. What’s real? What isn’t?
There’s warning in Colt’s eyes and I intentionally ignore it. He’s having a conversation with a guy standing over by the bed, but his eyes are on me, pinning me in place. I know what he wants me to do. Don’t catch their attention. Pretend to be trained. I’ve barely got control of my temper, though, and I can feel the simmering fury coursing through me. I need to get my shit together. I promised him I’d behave.
One of the guys pulls his phone out and starts flashing pictures of girls at Colt. He doesn’t even flinch, just nods, and when they get to a buxom blonde with cherry red lips chained to a bedpost, Colt’s brows rise appreciatively. “That pussy’s worth a mint,” he says, earning lewd chuckles of approval, but all I hear is him praising another woman, and my barely-controlled resolve snaps. I kick my foot out and hit the man’s wrist, sending his phone flying.
“Fucking douchebags,” I hiss. I’m literally dizzy with fury. The man’s phone crashes into the floor and they watch me in stunned silence as I walk over and smash my heel into it. It’s like the finality of the cracking glass snaps them all into the action.
The man whose phone I just destroyed growls out, “You fucking bitch,” and goes to backhand me, but Colt’s faster. He grabs the man’s wrist before he touches me, twists it, and the man howls in pain at the audible crack. Colt shoves him and glares at the rest.
“She’s new,” he says. “But she’s fucking mine to train. Anyone touches my girl they answer to me and you all fucking know it.” The others stand down, even Brava, backing away from me, but I’m far from safe. Colt’s furious, heated gaze scorches me as he shrugs off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. He stalks over to me, wraps his fist through my hair and pulls my head back so hard I scream. “Made a mistake taking your cuffs off,” he says, and I can hear real fury in his tone. My rational mind tells me he has to do this, he has to save face. I fucked up, and if they catch on that I mean anything to him and that he hasn’t really broken me, the entire operation is at risk. I know what has to happen next like I know the sun is going to set: it’s decided and certain. He’s going to punish me, in front of all of them, and I have to play the part of the broken woman.
He releases my hair and grabs my arm, half-dragging me to the weight room. My stomach lurches
. I know what’s in there and I know what he’s going to do. The men stand stock still, and none follow us. When we’re out of ear shot, he bends down and whispers in my ear, his heated breath making my pulse race, “You had to open your mouth. I’m going to enjoy whipping your ass for this.” He pushes me out in front of him. Before I know what’s happening, my wrists are in restraints against the post, above my head, and he’s kicking my legs apart and yanking up my skirt to bare my ass. I close my eyes. I’m in so much goddamn trouble.
I hear him unclasping his belt, the furious snap and whir as he yanks it through the loops, and before I’ve even processed what’s about to happen, a lash of fire lights across my ass. I scream, and barely recover from the first vicious lash before another falls, then another. It burns and stings and sears my skin. I twist but can’t get away. The room fills with the sound of leather meeting bare flesh and my screams of protest. He whips me hard and mercilessly. I’m choking on tears and begging for him to stop.
“You asked for this,” he says, his voice strangely quiet. What? What did I ask for? I can’t think straight. The other men are hearing him humiliate me and my cheeks flame. I hear another whir through the air and then another searing stripe of fire lands across my upper thighs. Again, and again his belt falls. I can’t breathe. Every time I gasp for air the belt lands again.
“You’re mine,” he says, both for their benefit and mine. I hear the zip and whir of a zipper, then feel his hands on my hips, painfully tight. “Mine,” he grates in my ear, a heated whisper. “And every motherfucker who ever lays eyes on you will know that.” I don’t know what’s real and what’s for show, then his hand is at my neck and his mouth is at my ear again. “Scream your apology, Sonya,” he whispers, so low they won’t hear him. “Do it for daddy, baby.”
I’m so starved for real affection, for some sign at all that this isn’t just for show and I really do mean something to him, that my sobs aren’t an act at all. “I’m sorry,” I wail, “I’ll obey you.” Tears stream down my cheek when I feel his cock at my slit. He slides into me and groans. I close my eyes and welcome this, pain followed by blissful pleasure. My pussy clenches around his cock like I was meant for this, like I was meant for him. The pain ebbs away with every thrust of his cock, my pulse racing and need rising. He shoves my top up and palms my breasts like he owns them. I stifle a moan when he drags a thumb across my nipple. He’s driving into me with wild, savage thrusts.
