by A. M. Sexton
“Fucking traitor!” one yelled.
I wished I could say it was a lie.
At Donato’s house, I was directed to the bedroom. Occasionally, we had dinner in the dining room before retiring to the bedroom. Dining room evenings were often more pleasant, but tonight, I didn’t mind skipping it. I thought I’d grown used to being a whore, but for the first time in ages, I felt dirty. I still had a handful of il hidden around the room, and I took one, lest my dark mood make Donato unhappy. I debated taking one of the sedatives, too. A quick check confirmed that the packet I’d hidden between the mattresses was still there. It wasn’t that I was afraid of him, though. It was simply that my thoughts had turned traitorous. I loved him, and I hated him. I wanted to be his, but I wanted to escape. I wanted to help my clan, but I no longer felt like one of them. Taking the drug seemed like a good way to quiet my brain, but it wouldn’t free me from my real dilemma.
I wondered how Donato would treat me after the day we’d had. I hoped he’d embrace me. I wanted more than anything to huddle in his arms and let him comfort me, but it wasn’t to be. I could tell the minute he entered the room that he was in a foul mood. His anger at Benedict was greater than his love for me.
“Why so glum, darling? Something wrong?”
The words were benign, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. He didn’t really care how I felt. Not yet, at any rate. He was testing me. I feigned a smile, although my heart was heavy. “I was lonely without you. That’s all. I’m glad you’re here.”
He stepped closer to me, his fists clenched at his sides. “Are you really so anxious to be fucked?”
A lump began to build in my throat. I needed my lover, Miguel. But I’d have to go through my master, Donato, in order to reach him. I took a deep breath and resigned myself to whatever was to come. “I’m anxious only to please you, in whatever way you wish.”
He almost smiled, but it only served to heighten the glint of cruelty in his eyes. “Good. Now get undressed.”
My hands shook, but I did it, as quickly as I could. When I was naked, he looked me up and down. A slow pulse ticked under his eye. “You’re not the one who’s displeased me. I think you know that. But I fear you’ll be the one to bear the brunt of that anger.”
I swallowed hard and forced myself to nod. “I understand.”
“I could take it out on the boy instead—”
“No.” I wanted to see Ayo, but not like this. Not now, when the beast was tugging at Donato’s grip. And right or wrong, I wanted this punishment. I wanted him to hurt me. The pain would make everything else go away. “Whatever you need to do to me, I can take it.”
“Good.”
I’d barely had time to process the word before the first blow came, a vicious backhand across my face that knocked me to my knees.
“Get up.”
I did. I didn’t allow myself to touch my cheek, where he’d hit me. I rose to my feet, although my legs trembled.
“Whore,” he sneered, and struck me again.
I was ready this time. I stayed on my feet, but I regretted it immediately. He hit me a third timer, harder than before, more a punch than a slap, and I fell to the floor, tasting blood, my head spinning. I had a moment to catch my breath as he swore at me, fumbling with his pants. He grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head back. His hard cock stood ready, and I swallowed it. I sucked him as if my life depended on it. He called me a filthy whore. He pulled my hair and slapped my face. He fucked my mouth without mercy. It was like my first night with him, all over again. Failure was not an option. My only choice was to appease him, and I lost myself in my duty. I let everything else fall away and focused on pleasing him, hoping that once his rage had passed, I’d be granted a bit of tenderness.
He didn’t last long, and when it was over, I could tell by the way he touched me that his orgasm had quenched his rage. The fist that had held my hair as I sucked him softened, his fingers gently caressing my scalp and the nape of my neck. I shuddered in relief, counting myself lucky. Some nights, an orgasm wasn’t enough to tame him, and although I’d invited his violence, I was glad it had run its course tonight.
He went into the bathroom and returned with a cool, wet cloth. He sat next to me on the floor and touched it gently to my face. As careful as he was, it still made me flinch.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mind.” After all, I was betraying everybody I’d ever known. It seemed right that I bore this kind of punishment in exchange.
“You chose right. If it had been him, the anger would have lasted longer. But with you...” He dabbed carefully at my lip. The cloth came away spotted with blood. “I doubt that’s much consolation.”
It was, though. I’d wanted to protect Ayo, if only for tonight. In that, at least, I’d succeeded. “Will you ever let him go?”
“How could I? He has no friends but the butler. No knowledge of the city or the larger world. No skills at all save those granted him by the Dollhouse. I’m sure he could make a living on his back. Is that what you’d have for him?”
He was right, of course. There were plenty of men—and maybe a few women—who would pay to abuse Ayo’s deceptively young-looking body, but would that life really be any better than the one he had now?
He laid the damp cloth against my cheekbone, just below my eye. No blood there, but the coldness helped ease the pain. “I’m sorry, love. I was so angry. It’s this business in the city. Damned Benedict and his raids. When I saw you standing there in that cell...” He made a growling noise, low in his throat. “I wanted to throttle him with my bare hands.”
“I wish you would.”
He shook his head. “I can’t joke about this, pet. Once he realizes I’ve released you, he’ll become suspicious. If he knows I value you...” He took the cloth away and put it aside. “He’s a dangerous man.”
“I know. But so are you.”
“I’m not sure it’s enough. Not with everything else that’s going on.”
It was a repeat of our conversation at the jail, and once again, his lack of confidence disturbed me. I had no idea how to answer him.
“I hate you being so far away, where I can’t protect you.” He brushed a strand of my wayward hair out of my eyes. “I’m tempted to move you here, into my house, where you’d be safe. Would you like that?”
My heart began to pound. I fought to keep breathing. The thought of it terrified me, but it thrilled me, too. Leave behind everything I’d ever known?
“You’re silent,” he said. “Does that mean you object?”
“I’m not sure.” I swallowed, trying to sort through the frantic mess of my thoughts. Yes, it would be scary, but this was everything I’d ever wanted—the opportunity to leave the trenches behind. I’d be living on the hill. Living in luxury.
Living with him.
“Would I be allowed out?”
“Outside my house, you mean? Or outside the wall?”
“Either.”
“I haven’t decided.” He kissed me gently before helping me to my feet. “We’ll discuss it another time. But for now, I’m afraid I have to leave again, for a few days.”
“On the boat?”
“Yes.”
He guided me to the bed and we sat side-by-side on its edge. He pulled me into his arms. I settled against him, comforted by his strength and his warmth. I remembered the night we’d spent on his yacht. I remembered how it felt to make love to the sky. “I could come with you.”
“No. I hate to leave you, but this is business.”
“I understand.”
“Benedict has forced my hand in this, with the blessing of the Council. I’m furious that I have to go at all. I fear that when I come home, I won’t be myself.”
Meaning he’d be in a rage far worse than tonight. “I know.”
“I have the boy. I can take my anger out on him instead.”
“No.”
“Are you so determined to protect him?”
Yes.
But that wasn’t an answer I could give. To admit it would allow him leverage later on, when his beast was in control. It would give him reason to use Ayo against me.
I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. I touched his cheek, wiping gently at the blue tears that would never go away. I kissed him, letting my lips linger on his. “I want you for myself. I’ll take the anger, if it means I get time like this as payment.”
“You will, my love. I promise. Whatever happens, I’ll make it up to you. Anything you want, I’ll grant. I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild my credit.” He laid me gently back on the bed, and moved down to run his tongue up the length of my cock. “I’ll even give you an advance deposit.”
I lay there, my heart torn in two, my eyes wet with tears, my face still throbbing from his blows. But it didn’t stop me from taking what he offered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The bruising wasn’t as bad this time. My eye was tender, the skin stained as dark as raisins, but at least it wasn’t swollen shut. At least the mark only covered my cheekbone and not the entire side of my face. Still, when I went to the kitchen to find breakfast the next morning, I saw the way the other whores looked at me, their eyes wide.
“That’s the second time this month,” one of them said to another in a whisper that was a bit too loud.
Was that true? The last beating already seemed ancient, practically forgotten, a distant memory. And anyway, this time had been different. This time, I’d wanted it. I’d deserved it.
Not that they’d ever understand that.
Lalo sat next to me. He reached up to gently touch my cheek. “You should ice that.”
“It’s a bit late for that. I think it’s swollen as much as it’s going to.”
“You don’t have to keep seeing him, you know. Talia doesn’t put up with abuse here in the house. If you told her—”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I see.” He’d still been touching me, but he pulled back suddenly, as if I’d burned him. “Forget I mentioned it, then.”
I’d hurt him, without meaning to. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s not worth worrying over.”
He shook his head, biting his lip.
“What?” I prodded.
He shrugged awkwardly, disconcerted by my question. “I just think…that’s what my mother used to say, after my father beat her. She’d say, ‘it doesn’t matter,’ or, ‘you don’t understand.’ And it’s true that every time it happened, he’d be sorry. He’d apologize, and bring her flowers, and promise to never do it again. And everything would be perfect for a while. They’d laugh together and smile at each other. But then...” He looked up, finally meeting my gaze. “Those happy times never lasted. He’d always end up beating her again. And what started out as a slap or two eventually became beating her to death.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“He was angry. He’d had a bad day, and that’s part of what I’m there for.”
He pondered that, but I could tell I hadn’t convinced him. If anything, he looked even more skeptical. “I think in some way, my mother started to believe the violence was justified, too. But you can’t do that, Misha. You can’t play into their cycle. Granting them license won’t save you.”
I turned away to stare sightlessly down at my breakfast. It was as if he’d read my mind. As if he’d somehow known what I’d been thinking when Donato had asked me if I wanted him to beat Ayo instead—I deserved his wrath; Ayo did not.
“Misha,” Lalo continued in his quiet, soothing voice, “if you feel you have to continue this job, then do it. But don’t forget what kind of man you’re dealing with. If he can do these things to you, he’s evil. Don’t make excuses for him.”
I didn’t speak, and after a moment, Lalo stood and left me in solitude to contemplate what he’d said. Was I playing into Donato’s sadism? After all, it wasn’t as if it was part of a mutually pleasurable sexual experience. That would have been different. The bruises he gave me were the result of his rage. And that was a part of him even he had no control over.
Had I actually believed that I deserved it?
Did I still believe it now?
I couldn’t answer either of those questions. The truth was, more often than not I liked being with Donato. In some strange way, I loved him. I’d come to think of the bruises as part of the job. As long as he didn’t make me hurt Ayo, I felt he was holding up his end of the bargain.
I also hadn’t forgotten what he’d said to me about leaving the trenches. I’d even begun to hope it would happen. I’d dreamt of nights when he’d share my bed until morning, cuddled against me, whispering praise into my ear while we made love. I’d imagined him sneaking into my room in the dark of night, telling me he couldn’t stand to be away.
But if I was in his house, I’d be within easy reach when his rages came upon him, too. What would happen then? Would the beatings happen more often? Would I learn to enjoy them?
The thought turned my stomach.
I stared down at my breakfast. It was nothing but a lump of hard bread and a bit of fish. My appetite was gone, but it had nothing to do with the fare. I wondered what Donato had for breakfast. Eggs? Maybe even bacon? Would I be allowed those luxuries, too?
And if so, was it a fair trade, knowing that his rages could someday cost me my life?
I didn’t have an answer to that question, either. I loved Donato, but he terrified me, too. I was glad to be granted some distance while he took care of whatever business the council had for him in Deliphine.
And yet, I found no clarity in my time alone. As the days passed, I grew more confused. One minute I missed him, and the next I wished I’d never have to face him. Sometimes, I wanted to pretend I’d never known him. To forget about either loving him, or hating him. But other times, I longed for the familiarity of his touch. After all, there was no going back to my former life. The idea of returning to Anzhéla’s was depressing. As much as I had rejected the idea of being a whore, I fit in better at Talia’s now than I would with the young thieves in Anzhéla’s clan.
But was that what I wanted?
I thought often about Donato’s offer to move me into his house. He might do that when he came back, and if that happened, I might never see the lower city again. I longed to go out, into the trenches. To revisit my old haunts. To pick some flat’s pocket, simply to prove to myself that I still could. But the lower city had become a dangerous place. I paced endlessly, wanting out, but not wanting to face the crowds and the anger. Part of me prayed that the revolution would happen while Donato was away. At least then he’d be safe.
But what about Ayo?
It was enough to drive me mad. Even playing chess with Lalo didn’t ease my mind. I felt his eyes on me across the chessboard, assessing my mood.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I let him beat me rather than face his inquisitive gaze.
Later that day, I finally received the message I’d been waiting for: Dharma had completed her translation. The relief of finally having something to do was overwhelming.
She was waiting for me when I arrived at the temple. I could tell the moment I looked at her that she’d managed to learn something. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the bruises on my face. She dragged me to the far corner of the temple and pinned me to the wall with a suspicious glare. “Are you toying with me?”
Her accusation brought me up short. “No. Why would I be?”
She sighed and pushed her long hair out of her face. “Where’d you get the tattoo?”
“I told you. From a friend.”
“So, you’ve actually seen it?”
“Yes. Why? What does it say?”
She chewed her lip, glancing around the temple to make sure nobody was within earshot. “A slave?”
“Yes.” Because there was no point in denying it.
“Fine,” she relented. “I’ll tell you. But not here.”
Sh
e led me around the corner, through a door, down a hallway and into a small room that held a table and a few chairs. There were no gas lamps, but a few candles burned on the small altar that filled one corner of the room. “What is this place?”
“We have lots of rooms for study or prayer. Sometimes people need to talk in private.”
She sat at the table and I followed suit. “What did you find?”
She sighed again and pulled a roll of paper, as if by magic, out of some hidden pocket in her robe. “Parts of it were easy. Parts of it, not so much.” She unrolled the scroll on the table to reveal a copy of the tattoo I’d made, with notes written next to it. “The first bit is basically filing information.” She pointed to the first few symbols. “This says, ‘Product of the Dollhouse.’” She turned to stare at me, as if expecting an explanation. I simply nodded. “You’re not surprised?”
I met her gaze. “No.”
“It actually exists?”
“It looks that way.”
She shook her head and turned back to the paper to indicate the next batch of symbols. “As far as I can tell, this is basically a serial number. The last part of this first line says it —”
“He. Not ‘it.’”
“Sorry. He was gifted to somebody, and there’s a date, but there’s no name. It’s only another number.”
Gifted. Not purchased. That was one bit of the puzzle solved. But gifted by whom? “So they have their customers numbered as well.”
“I suppose it helps to protect their anonymity.”
“What’s the date? How long ago was it?”
“Not quite four years ago.”
I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Somehow, I’d hoped that Ayo hadn’t been held prisoner in Donato’s house for long, but nearly four years? And even if he was, technically, an adult now, he wouldn’t have been at that time. Not unless he was more confused about his age than he realized.
