by Renard, Loki
Oh fuck no. Not this. It can’t be this. No. God. Fucking. No.
Not. Love.
I can’t love her. I don’t know her. This is madness. This is literally not possible. It’s just sex. It’s her soft body wrapped around mine, drawing me in, casting that female spell.
I try to pull free before I fill her up. Cumming inside a girl I’m planning to sell is a bad idea. Buyers don’t like it when their girls arrive swelling with babies in their belly. It happens from time to time, though not with me. I’m careful. I use condoms. I put my girls on birth control. I… I’m fucking cumming inside her.
“Jesus!” I scream to a savior who won’t help me as my seed rushes inside her, filling her hot little hole and bringing my world crashing down around me.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
She collapses down on the floor of the cage and lies there, panting softly. It’s amazing how little light the eye really needs to make out the important shapes in the dark. The curve of her breast, the swerve of her thigh. She’s stunning in the shadows and even though I can’t see her face, I can feel her eyes locking onto mine.
Her juices cling to my cock. Her scent is slicked all over me, and I’m not sure I want to wash it off.
I have fucked a lot of women. I have done depraved things to many, if not all of them. I have used female flesh a thousand times. But it was never like that before. Those were experiences of the flesh. That, whatever happened just now, was spiritual - and I don’t believe in anything.
I rest against the bars, getting my bearings. That fucking orgasm was more powerful than any I’ve had before. Not because it was wrong. Most of my orgasms are wrong. It’s because it was so fucking right. It didn’t feel like I was forcing myself on her in any way, because I wasn’t. I hadn’t manipulated her, not in the way I usually do. She wanted me. She presented herself to me, and there was real lust there.
I am in trouble. So is she.
“Are you happy now?” She asks the question softly. She hasn’t moved from her place on the floor where she lies crumpled, a well fucked, cage discarded doll. God she is hot. She doesn’t know how she appeals to every part of me - and she never can.
“Never,” I reply.
I turn around and sit down in the dark, my ass on the same concrete she’s lying on, my back against the same bars which cage her. I drink in the darkness of the room, the silence which is almost complete apart from the soft little sounds of her breathing. Usually, the first time I fuck a girl I feel a thrill of domination and control. There’s nothing like claiming a pussy I’m going to sell. It’s the ultimate rush to know that the most sensitive core of a woman is wet for me, wrapped around my cock, given to me in spite of the fact she knows what is in store for her. I never have to force any of my girls to do anything sexual. By the time my dick gets near them, they are dripping for it. Just like Siri was.
I’ve been blaming her for being different, but the truth is, it’s not her that’s different. It’s me. It’s the way I react to her. There is something about Siri that reaches into the very core of me. I thought fucking her might get it out of my system, but it has only made it worse.
“When are you going to sell me?” Another question breaks the silence.
I don’t reply. I don’t have an answer. Right now, I want to keep her in that cage and have her all to myself, but I know that’s a pipe dream. Men like me can’t have relationships with women, not of the sane, monogamous kind. If I ever settle down, I’ll be out of this trade for good - and frankly, I don’t want to be. I like this work. I’m good at it.
“Is it going to be soon?”
“Be quiet.” There’s just enough grit in my voice to make her obey - for all of ten seconds.
“I hope it is soon,” she says quietly, almost to herself.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the bars. They never want to be sold after the first time with me. It takes a few more times, a few friends to break them in and make them willing with other men. Siri is defying my expectations again, and I both love that and hate that. I only control her as far as I can predict her, and her habit of being completely unpredictable makes that impossible.
Siri
“Why were you studying Economics, Siri?”
What kind of question is that for a man who just coated me in cum? I think about it for a moment before I answer honestly.
“I, er, think it’s the only subject matters.”
“Is that right?”
“Mm. Everything is for sale, right?”
“So the irony of this situation can’t be lost on you.”
“No.”
I don’t want to talk too much. We’re not lovers, even if we did just fuck. We’re certainly not friends. We’re two people making up part of a transaction. He is the seller. I am the sold. It’s as simple as that, and it helps me to keep thinking of it that way. I know lots of girls would probably start wanting him. He’s handsome, charming, and utterly ruthless. He’s exactly the sort of man our animal brains are programmed to want, and I’m no different. I can feel the temptation to give in to instinct and start craving him, but I refuse.
“Why do you want to be sold?”
“I want out of here.” Close enough to the truth.
“You think whoever you are sold to won’t cage you?”
I fucking know they won’t, but he doesn’t.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No?” I hear the change in his tone. This is a post-coital interrogation. He thinks I’m off-guard now, but that’s because he’s a man and men are stupid and sleepy after they orgasm.
“Don’t you ever feel bad about what you do?” I answer his question with another question.
“No.”
“Is that because you’re one of those people who can’t feel anything? Or because you’ve managed to justify this to yourself?”
“Slow down there, Ms Freud,” he chuckles. “It’s like you said. Economics makes the world go round. Women have value, and men have been buying them for years. Sometimes it’s the price of an engagement ring and then alimony. Sometimes it’s more of a bulk payment situation.”
I’m familiar with this line of thinking. It’s what I grew up with. It makes me sick to my stomach, but I’ve also accepted that it is true. This is a world of commerce, where everything has a value assigned to it. I don’t have much in the way of personal riches, but I’m young. I’m female. I’m pretty, and I look innocent. Men will pay to defile that.
“You’re fucked up,” I tell him. I don’t add the second part of the sentence. So am I.
“Mhm. The world is, Siri. You’ll keep discovering that as time goes on.”
If only he knew how very well I already know that. The bars creak as he gets up.
“Sleep well,” he says. “It gets worse tomorrow.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Why would I do that, when I have you?”
Chapter 3
Stavros
“Boss, Trevayan is dead.”
The early morning phone call catches me off guard. I am still distracted by the events of last night, trying to untangle the mess of feelings which would usually not be there. Siri and I ended things on an argumentative note, but before that, I almost bought her upstairs and took her into my bed. I managed to avoid making that mistake and left her down there. I can’t start to treat her like a girlfriend, that always ends badly. It sets a girl up to fail, and that’s not fair.
“Boss?”
Shit. I haven’t said anything.
“You’re sure he’s dead?”
“Unless he can live without his brains, yeah, boss. He’s pretty fucking dead.”
“Any indication as to who killed him?”
“Someone walked up, shot him, walked away. We have it on tape, but the guy kept his face away from the camera.”
“Could have been personal then?”
“Could have been.”
This guy was low level security. I haven’t even heard h
is name before today. I can’t say I’m going to mourn him, but I am worried about my men being killed. My reputation should be enough to keep them safe. Of course, if the guy had something going on in his personal life, it might not have anything to do with me, or my reputation.
The delivery guy dying was suspicious, and I immediately linked his passing to Siri’s appearance, but this one seems unrelated. A minor player. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about, but I’m worried. More than that, I’m hypervigilant. The web of my world is being tugged in many little directions, and though I may be the spider at the center of it all, I am not untouchable.
“Okay, keep me informed.”
“Sure, boss.”
“I mean it. Anything out of the ordinary, a new driver on your route, a new face in the circle, I want to know.”
“Yes, boss,” he says. “I’ll be certain to let you know.”
“Be careful. I’m shutting the supply line down for now. No new girls. No matter what. Let’s go dark.”
There’s a pause. “Yes, boss.”
“What?”
“We just got a blonde. She’s pretty cute.”
“Let her go.”
“Boss?”
“Let her go,” I repeat. “There’s something going on, and I don’t want cargo on board if we have to go hostile.”
“Yes, boss.”
I hang up. They better let her go. It’s hard to keep an organization like mine running smoothly without constant personal oversight. I like to get away when I can, but right now it’s pretty obvious that Cephalonia is a luxury I can’t afford anymore
I make the decision to take Siri, and head back inland.
As I get ready, it occurs to me I’ve never said no to a delivery before. Not for any reason. I didn’t think twice about turning this one down, and now I feel almost good about it, knowing that some blonde is about to get away with a close brush with a lifetime of servitude.
I have managed to convince myself that I’m doing these girls a favor. Maybe I am. Maybe, I’m not. Maybe what makes you a monster is the point where you stop questioning what you’re doing to others and think about what you can get for yourself.
I’m not going to pretend not taking that blonde makes me a good person. If I thought she was useful, I’d take her. If she interested me, I’d take her. But Siri is the center of my world right now, the dark question mark lurking in my basement.
* * *
Pulling Siri out of her cage is gratifying. I don’t think she’s been enjoying it. She wasn’t meant to. She needs a shower after twenty four hours of being covered in my cum, inside and out. Smelling my scent on her body is quite enjoyable though, as is the look on her face, stricken and yet relieved. Her composure is starting to break down. She wants to stay strong, but there is something about a cage which will start to destroy almost any human being almost immediately. No animal was made to be kept in confinement.
“What do you want from me now?” She snipes the question at me.
I don’t answer her. I haven’t said a word since I opened the cage, and I say nothing as I lead her upstairs to a bathroom. She hasn’t seen my house before. I’m not expecting a compliment on it, and I don’t get one.
“Get clean,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the vanity.
I’m expecting an argument, but I don’t get one. She turns the shower on and climbs in, letting out a sigh of relief as the warm water hits her skin.
It’s good to watch her, her youthful beauty so perfectly on display through the clear glass of the shower. It has been too long since I’ve seen her in the light of day, since I first took my belt to her and watched her hips dance as they turned red over the hood of my car.
Siri is essentially ignoring me now, focused on cleaning her body, the hot water of the shower creating steam which curls around her curves, obscuring her for a moment, then exposing her all over again. In spite of my concerns for what might be happening to my organization, I find myself relaxing. It’s like watching a tropical fish tank, only far more enjoyable.
Siri
I never knew I would enjoy showering so much. This feels like pure luxury. The hot water makes my skin sing with relief as the soap helps the dried cum and filth of my ordeal melt away. For a brief moment, it almost feels like life is normal. Then I become aware of the fact that he is just standing there, watching me. I turn my head away so I don’t have to meet those dark eyes which haven’t left me since the basement. He doesn’t just look at me. He devours me.
Is this shower a mercy? Is it a matter of mere necessity? I’m not going to question it. I’m just going to enjoy it.
“Get out,” he snaps.
That’s a harder order to follow, but I do. Being left in the dark, cramped in the cage, alone with my thoughts, the awfulness of the past and the horror still to come has left me fatigued. I’m not going to fight him over a few more seconds under the water.
I step out, trying to keep quiet, looking away from him so I don’t get spurred onto another one of those spats which always ends badly for me. He takes a towel and dries me off, patting the water from my skin in a surprisingly caring, nearly tender way.
“We’re going on a little trip,” he says gently and calmly. “I’m going to take you to Athens. If you’re a good girl, you won’t be put back in a cage. I know you didn’t like it.”
I don’t deny that. I fucking hated those hours inside the bars. I didn’t think it would be all that much different than just being in the basement, but it was. It amplified my helplessness, and my fear. I felt confined to my very core, and I felt the fear that I might never be allowed out.
But… Athens.
Anywhere but Athens. The cage, rather than Athens.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean I’m not going there. I’d rather stay here in your basement.”
“Well, that’s not a choice you have,” he says, patting the towel between my thighs and moving it back to the crevice of my bottom.
I don’t have the power to tell him what to do, but I might have the power to change his mind.
“Athens is a big city. I might escape into it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You beat my ass, came on me, and locked me in a cage. You don’t think I’ll run at the first chance?”
“No.”
I bite my lower lip. Shit. Does he know? There’s no fucking way he knows.
“Put this on.”
It’s another dress. Blue, and very conservative this time. It falls all the way to my ankles, covers everything from my neck almost to my feet. It doesn’t fit very well, but it is quite comfortable. I find myself fixating on the small things, because these are the things I might be able to control. I am on the verge of very seriously panicking, more than I have been this entire ordeal.
The length and cut of the garment tells me he doesn’t want me to draw attention. He’s making me look plainer and maybe even bigger than I am. This is a disguise, of sorts, and I am glad for it.
Taking me out of the bathroom, he leads me up a winding staircase which leave the interior of his home and winds around the exterior with thick stone steps. From the outside, his home is a bright white Grecian house built in traditional style. It has an ancient elegance and solidity to it and being planted on top of the hill, it forms a natural fortress. We are going up atop it, to the roof where a helicopter is perched like a dark bird of prey.
He puts me into the passenger side of the helicopter and takes the controls himself. Of course he’s going to fly. Most men have pilots, but Stavros is the sort of male who can’t hand over control to others, not in any way. I hope he’s competent, and I suspect he is. He’s also the sort of man who does things right.
The helicopter roars with the beating of the rotors and soon we are rising into the air. I didn’t know where I was until now. I could tell that it was an island, but which island? Now I see that we have been tucked away on Cephalon
ia, hardly one of the least inhabited islands, but far smaller and much more remote than Athens.
My stomach churns as I think about Athens. After all I went through there, to be taken back… I try to breathe and relax. I have a plan, and that plan doesn’t actually depend on me being in any particular place. As long as he sells me, that’s all that matters.
Greece is a stunning country to fly over. Under any other circumstances, I’d be enjoying this trip immensely. After a few dozen minutes in the air, I may be enjoying it immensely anyway. Being high above the world, in the company of an attractive, ruthless man who can fly his own helicopter is quite an experience of freedom, ironically. It’s like nothing can touch us up here. We’re free, not bound to follow the rules of man, or the solid attachment to earth which is usually forced on us.
My mood dips as we cross over open land and approach the Acropolis. Soon, the city of Athens is laid out below us. It is an extensive, sprawling mass of buildings which almost completely blanket what was once pristine land. This is a place where innocence has long been lost.
Stavros’ aircraft descends over an exterior part of the city, not quite suburban, but far enough out from the center that there are large mansions with grandiose grounds. We are heading to another island of sorts, but this time it is not bordered by water, but by high walls and extensive gardens. As we drop down toward the roof of the place, I can see men patrolling with dogs in the gardens below.
Suddenly, Cephalonia seems like a paradise. The cage I was taken from was small, located in the dark, but outside the bars, and then the walls, was an expanse of rock and water which protected me with its remoteness.
