The Seller: A Dark Romance

by Renard, Loki

  “A change of clothes,” I say, waking her from her unnatural sleep. I don’t drug my girls with heavy narcotics or anything addictive. My clients, and I, prefer them clean. There’s also the advantage of being able to rouse them when necessary. If I’d pumped her full of heroin like some of my compatriots, she’d be nodding off for hours and this would be impossible.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” she says, her voice light, her smile seeming real. I almost feel as though I’m a sales associate who just went to the back to see if I could find something in her size. She stands up to meet me, and I notice her height for the first time. She’s on the tall side. I like that. It gives her an elegance and a grace. God. Sending her away is going to kill me. I haven’t had anything this good to sell in a long time.

  “Take those filthy clothes off and put it on,” I order, turning my back to give her some privacy. I’m no gentleman, but I can play one when necessary.

  I hear rustling behind me. She’s doing as she’s told. Good girl.

  “Ready,” she says. “Thank you. I hate these tight little things.”

  I turn around to see her standing there looking gorgeous. The yellow picks up the tones of her skin and brightens her face, bringing out the blue hue of her eyes. It’s like looking at a little bit of summer, a flower somehow blooming in the darkness of my basement.

  In that moment, I want to keep her more than anything. I can tell when a girl has good breeding, and she is a prime example of it. This is a girl worthy of possession. But I can’t, because she is a suspicious little blank slate, and I can’t let a pair of sexy legs and a pretty bow mouth set below engaging eyes distract me from that. What I’m about to do goes against every instinct I have, but it’s necessary.

  I clear my throat and hand her the purse she came with. “I’m sorry,” I say. “There’s been a misunderstanding. Follow me, please, Miss Jones.”

  Taking her by the hand, I walk her up the stairs. Usually it would be weeks before any girl goes up these, but I can’t move her up them fast enough. Fortunately, the basement connects to the garage, so she doesn’t have to see the house.

  I put her into my sports car and make sure she’s buckled in safely. Right now, we’re going to the port of Cephalonia. I’m going to get her on a ferry out of here and then I’m going to get hold of my delivery guy and we’re going to have a good long conversation about being more careful in future.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To town.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s been a misunderstanding,” I say as we pull out of the garage and into the secluded driveway which rounds my home. “What I told you before? It’s not quite accurate. I run kidnap parties for high end clients. You know, where people are put through an ordeal of their own choosing? Another young woman booked my services, but you were picked up by mistake. You’ll be fully compensated. I’m terribly sorry for the misunderstanding. It must have been very frightening.”

  “Wow.”

  “Wow what?”

  “I mean, wow,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s one lame excuse.”

  “Lame excuse?”

  “I mean, you kidnapped me, right? You were gonna sell me. At least own it. Don’t be all, oh I’m sorry, I couldn’t get a decent ROI…”

  Is she… mocking me? It’s hard for me to tell. I don’t think I’ve ever been mocked by a captive before. Yelled at, sure, spat at, yep, plenty of times, but just plain mocked? It’s a new experience, and one I don’t care for. If I was keeping her, I’d turn her ass red for that.

  “You look like another girl who was signed up for the experience,” I lie. “A case of mistaken identity, that’s all.”

  “Oh, it was a different teenage girl who wanted to wake up in your basement. Oh.. okay. Sure. Uh huh. Because that happens all the time. One time, I ordered online shopping and the store delivered me someone else’s groceries. They’d ordered chicken tofu, which isn’t chicken at all, but anyway, that’s what I got. They got my actual chicken. So I’m like the tofu you’re exchanging, is that it?”

  She’s babbling. Maybe she’s more nervous than she’s letting on.

  I have to concentrate. My home is on a mountain overlooking the island, and the roads up here are narrow and windy with sheer drops on the sides. It is early morning now, around six, and if I get her down to the port before the first ferry to the mainland sails, then I can start cleaning up this absolute mess.

  When I fail to respond, Siri falls silent, and stays that way. The sun is breaking over the ocean in the distance, and at this time of day the views are nothing short of transcendent. Before we reach the bustle of the port and the busy town, we have a few moments where time stops and everything is as it has been for thousand of years.

  “Wow,” she murmurs under her breath. “This is beautiful.” She turns to me. “And I have you, my handsome regretful kidnapper to thank for it.”

  I shoot her a look. The attitude is something I don’t enjoy. It makes me want to whip her shapely ass, and the fact that I can’t makes me tense. Girls like this, smart, pretty ones, they’re always spoiled. If not by their parents, then by life. They get away with everything. She wouldn’t get away with a damn thing if I was keeping her, but dammit, it’s not worth the risk.

  I take the hair pin bends of the road at reasonable speed. I usually like to blast up and down this part of it, but I have to think. If she is law enforcement, or somehow otherwise connected, I may have to move. This could be one of the last times I get to enjoy the view, the rugged outcroppings of rock jutting out into forever.

  “So how much is it to be kidnapped?”

  “What?”

  “I said, how much is it to wake up in your basement and be told that your life is over? Are we talking Toyota money, or Maserati money?”

  I’m not going to answer that question. It doesn’t have an answer, of course, and she damn well knows it. Why can’t she just play along? She’s getting luckier than she could ever imagine. By this stage, most girls are begging for the light of day, and here she is, taking it entirely for granted.

  I should stop, strip her down, make her walk beside the car. I should deprive her of every privilege she doesn’t even know she has. This girl makes me think dark, dirty thoughts. The kind that would usually be oh so perfect for a situation like this, but with her, I have to restrain them. I can sense the danger on her. It’s in every glance she makes at me, the way her eyes flash with amusement that shouldn’t be there.

  Nothing about this is funny. This is life and death. Mine. Or Hers.

  I knew this would happen one day.

  I knew I’d fuck up.

  It was inevitable. Nobody gets away with everything forever. Sooner or later, consequences find people. Sometimes it’s the law, sometimes it’s another criminal, but in the end, nobody lives this lifestyle and dies an old man.

  I know all of this has an inevitable end. I just don’t want that end to be today.

  I am running on instinct now, doing my best to stay away from the abyss of hell that has been crumbling ever closer to my feet since this all started, and the first girl I sold went from being a person to a piece of owned meat.

  Is it paranoia sneaking up on me? Am I losing my edge? I don’t know, and it’s not as if I can consult a therapist to ask. They tend to frown on my chosen profession.

  This girl has shaken me, and I don’t like what’s come loose. I can feel my palms sweating against the steering wheel. I can’t get this over with quick enough. I’m eager to get into town, down to the dock. I’ll buy her a ticket and send her on her way.

  It occurs to me she might not make that easy. Do I really want to deliver her directly to a location with a police station if I think she has law enforcement connections? Hell no. We’re not too far from town now. It is close enough for her to get herself there. Far enough away for me to get back home, fire up the helicopter, and get off the island for a while until the heat - if there is any, dies down.

  I s
top the car, get out, and walk around to her door, opening it into the countryside. “Get out.”

  “What?”

  “Get out,” I say. “Sami is about ten minutes walk down this road. I’ll give you cash for plane or ferry.”

  “You’re not even going to take me back into town? You’re going to make me do the walk of shame?”

  “That’s for people who got laid. You didn’t. Go. Now.” I put some bass into my voice. I can sound threatening when I want to, and usually it gets an immediate response.

  She doesn’t get out. She just sits there. Goddamnit. I don’t want to get rough with her. I definitely don’t want to leave marks.

  “Get out, or I’ll drag you out.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” she says, her lips spreading in a smile. “Why don’t you call the police and they can make me get out.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. I am a very patient man, but she is trying me. She has no idea what happens to most women, how they would give anything for the chance she’s been given, but instead of running away like she damn well should, she’s staying put. I have to escalate the pressure. I have to show her a sliver of the monster inside.

  “Out now,” I say. “Before this gets painful.”

  “Eh, it can get painful,” she shrugs.

  I stand back, as confused as I am annoyed.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I don’t know, Mr Human Trafficker, why don’t you tell me?”

  There is a sneering judgement to her tone which makes me want to smack the smirk right off her face. She thinks she’s better than me, and maybe she is, but I don’t take attitude from women, not even women who are probably undercover officers.

  “Get out of my car. Now.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’m going to drag you out and whip your bare ass with my belt.”

  “Is that part of your accidental kidnapping service?”

  Fuck. She’s actually funny, and to tell the truth, on some level I am enjoying this back and forth which I don’t usually get with my captives. Goddamn, I need to get rid of her. All she has to do is leave and I’ll never bother her again. At this stage, I’m getting even more certain that this girl is connected. I’m going to have to sell the bloody house, get rid of this car, basically burn this entire portion of my life.

  I didn’t think I’d be planning my immediate exit from this line of business today, but strangely enough, I find that I’m not that angry about it. The truth is, as many girls as I’ve taken and on-sold, I’ve been ready to quit for a while. This has become something like cigarette smoking to me, a bad habit I can’t quite quit.

  I tell myself I’m not that bad. I like to think I’m a humane trafficker. I don’t hurt my girls. I don’t get them addicted to drugs. They’re princesses while they’re in my care and they go to their new owners ready to be of service. The men I sell to know better than to mistreat them too. I’ve broken limbs and on one occasion, taken a life for what was done to my girls.

  I am a monster, but one with ethics. Anyway, I’m getting too old for this shit. I’ll be forty this year. Maybe this is the sign that it’s time to get out of the business.

  “This is your last chance. Get out, or this is going to hurt.”

  She doesn’t move, and I’m done asking. I’m not going to be treated like a punk by this girl. I reach in, take her by the upper arm and pull her out of the car.

  I expect flailing and screaming, but as usual, she subverts my expectations and just lets me do what I want. What the fuck is happening, I wonder to myself as I push her down over the hood of the MG and start working at the buckle of my belt.

  This is a pretty private road. I’ve trained girls out here before, made them walk naked and barefoot down the grassy side of the path, exposed to the elements and what they think are they prying eyes of people in the distance. It’s a good way to instill obedience even in the face of shame, but I don’t know if this girl is capable of shame.

  Siri’s ass is up high, presented adorably in that yellow summer dress which clings to her waist and hips like it was made for her. It’s the work of a second to flip it up and expose her bare ass. Goddamn. She’s got skin like cream, and that taut little peach nestled between her cheeks and thighs is ripe for taking.

  If she’s law enforcement, she’s going to report this as part of her investigation. I should stop. I need to get control of myself. I need to…

  “The safe word is pineapple,” she says, taunting me again.

  She thinks this is a game? She thinks there are limits to what I can and will do to her? She’s so fucking wrong.

  WHACK!

  I bring my belt down against her ass in one hard, oh so satisfying stroke. I don’t give a fuck if I spend the next year tied up in legal shit. It’s worth it just to see the bright red stroke flare across her ass.

  She lets out a shriek of shock and pain. I don’t think she was expecting that. She thought she had the upper hand. She’s fucking wrong. I grab the back of her dress and use it as a tether to keep her in place as I whip her ass with my belt, landing harsh stroke after harsh stroke until she is crying out the way she should have been the first damn day we met.

  In this regard, she is like every other girl I’ve ever trained. Her ass colors up the same way, her skin blooming red, the belt leaving hot pink marks across her upturned cheeks. Oh fuck yes. This is how it is supposed to be. This is what control feels like, having a writhing young lady dancing over the hood of my car.

  I want to fuck her. It’s not just her ass and pussy on display. It’s the tight little hole of her anus too. It’s that smaller, darker hole that draws my attention now. It would serve her right if I were to grab the lube I always keep in the glove box, smear it on that tight little ring of muscle, and fuck her in that hot, tight hole.

  “Has anyone ever had your ass?”

  “What!?” She gasps. “No!”

  “I’m going to,” I growl, lashing the belt down across her bottom one more time. I’m going to leave marks. I’m going to make an impression. She’s going to regret whatever little game it was she decided to play with me.

  “No! Please!”

  She’s safe for the moment. As private as this road is, I’m still not so reckless as to break her in anally right here in front of the world at large. That will happen elsewhere, but it will happen. There’s not going to be a part of her that isn’t mine.

  Siri has managed to start with me on very much the wrong foot, but half the heat in her ass is because of my own failings. She almost managed to make me turn tail and run scared. Well, that’s not happening anymore. I’m taking her back, and I’m going to make her fucking mine. Law enforcement or fucking not, everyone can disappear.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her voice is shaking as I pull her up from the hood and put her back in the car. Oh, I’ve got her attention now, that’s for sure. The belt made an impression on her, left her sore and shaken. As I get into the driver’s seat, I see that she’s hovering over hers, using her thighs to keep her butt off the seat proper. I swing the car around and head back to the house and as I go I make sure to send the car into every pothole possible, making her bounce on that bottom.

  Siri

  I was almost free. Part of me thinks I should have gotten out when he told me to. I could have gotten away. I feel almost as though I’m betraying every girl he’s ever had by not getting out of the car and running as far and as fast as my legs would take me, but I couldn’t. This isn’t over if I leave now.

  I need to stay. Nothing has changed in that regard, but the energy between us has shifted, and I am on the wrong end of it.

  My ass hurts. My pride is bruised. I’m afraid, moreso than I’ve been at any other time, except maybe the very beginning when I first opened my eyes in that dark place and knew that it was real, that it is possible for the world to be a bright, fun thing in one moment, and turn to pure dark degeneracy the next.

  Stavros has
been controlled since I met him, but just now I saw a wild side, the dangerous part of him. I knew it was there, lurking, but to see it on display, to feel it against my skin, that was something else entirely.

  “Don’t sell me,” I say as we pull back into his garage.

  He looks over at me, his jaw set hard.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You can do whatever you want to me, just don’t sell me.”

  “The first part is right,” he says cooly, stepping out of the car. This time he doesn’t even ask me to get out. He walks around and just pulls me out. I’m all too happy to come because my ass is on fire and is better not pressed against a leather seat.

  “I almost let you go,” he purrs, pulling me close and looking down at me with those dark eyes of his. “You almost made it out of here. Do you know how rare that is?”

  “Like, holographic trading card rare?”

  His expression darkens and one of those animal growls escapes him. “You’re not taking this seriously enough,” he snarls, his white teeth snapping at the end of my nose as he holds me there, in thrall to his power and his anger.

  Ever since I was small, I’ve been that girl who laughs when bad things happen and resorts to jokes to lighten the mood when things are tense. I can’t help it, though I guess I’m going to have to if I ever want to un-piss him off.

  “I do take it seriously,” I promise him, not soon enough to stop him from smacking my bottom with his open palm, driving me up onto my toes.

  “Ow, fuck!”

  “You could have been free,” he says, throwing the door to the basement wide open and pushing me toward the dark hole. “Now you’ll never be free again.”

  Chapter 2

  If you love something, set it free.

  If it comes back, it is yours.