by Kiru Taye
He wasn’t afraid of death. It came to the best people.
But, he wanted something else more. Vengeance. The chance to find those responsible for destroying his life and wrecking theirs.
So, he had agreed. They had cleaned him, fed him, and given him a room with a futon mattress instead of the cold cell floor he had slept on for weeks. Still a shadow of his pre- captivity self, but he could hold his own weight, and his mind was returning to full function.
“Lot number three-fifty-two is a fine specimen of a man.” Madaki’s voice echoed although Ebuka couldn’t see him.
The pulley swivelled slowly so that his naked form rotated three-sixty degrees for however many people were out there bidding for him. “He is rough, hard, and good looking. Bidding starts at fifty thousand dollars.”
Damn. Someone out there was going to pay at least that amount for him?
His nostrils flared, and his grip curled into fists around the chains holding him. The world had gone mad.
“Lift your head,” Madaki said.
Ebuka’s jaw tightened at being put on display like cattle, and his body curled tight with the urge to smash a fist into the man’s face. Counting to five, he inhaled a deep breath as he remembered the endgame.
With head raised, he stared straight ahead into the darkened auditorium, swallowing the simmering rage in his stomach.
In his peripheral view, the auction house owner stood before a large monitor, with a microphone headset and fingers padding across the screen. A lanky Hausa man, clean-shaven.
The first time Ebuka met him, he had thought the man appeared gentle. Delicate. Boy, had he been wrong. The man was a sadistic son of a bitch. He got a sickening enjoyment from watching others suffer.
Ebuka shuddered as he remembered the torturous use of a cattle prod.
Since no one else could be seen or heard, he assumed the bidding was being done anonymously via electronic devices.
Eventually, Madaki turned to him.
“Congratulations, Ebuka,” he said in a soft voice like he was talking to a child who had pleased him. “You have a new owner.”
Taking a deep breath, Ebuka suppressed anger. For the first time in weeks, a kindling of hope ignited within him. The future remained uncertain, yet he wouldn’t lose the one thing that had kept him together.
He would escape this degrading life. He would reunite with his family and mete out revenge on those who had wronged him.
Hope. He clung on to it as the guards returned and untied him from the pulleys, leading him down the bright corridor accompanied by the sound of shuffling footsteps and rattling chains. The holding cell had nothing in it but stripped back brick wall.
“On your knees,” Guard Number One ordered.
Usually, his tone would’ve irritated Ebuka. Now he was indifferent as he complied, the only thoughts in his head of getting out of here.
He removed the metal cuffs and chains attached to Ebuka’s wrists and ankles. He rubbed the unbound arms, getting the circulation going again.
The other man tossed some clothes at him. “Put these on.”
Baring his teeth, Ebuka glared from the items on the floor back to the guards. Even two against one, he could take them down and make a run for it.
Easier said than done though, considering he still had the damned electronic collar around his neck. The contraption was nasty. It delivered crippling electric shocks to the wearer. He knew from first-hand experience how much it hurt.
The guards smirked as if they knew what he was thinking. He could do nothing to harm them now. One day perhaps. Not today.
Suddenly, the men stiffened and stepped outside the room. Eyes narrowed, Ebuka wondered if Madaki was back. But it wasn’t the purveyor of flesh blocking the doorway.
Breath caught in his throat.
A woman in a fitted black jacket and trousers, a dark-blue shirt and flashy sneakers. Expensive shiny fabrics and immaculate tailoring. Her hair was short, curly and suited her heart-shaped face and petite body.
Ebuka was a plaid shirt and faded denim kind of guy. So, he could smell rich city slickers a mile away. But she didn’t project the usual arrogance associated with spoilt rich people.
She had short brown hair, and a slender, feminine body. Her cold and piercing eyes got his attention—the most intense irises he had ever seen.
She showed no emotion, neither smiling nor frowning.
Still, his body temperature rose under her gaze, and he resisted the urge to adjust his position.
Damn, she didn’t even blink.
She stepped into the room and shut the door, leaning against the bare wall.
Once they were alone, it seemed her demeanour changed. Her expression softened—steady eyes contact, large pupils, fingers skimming jawline.
Was that admiration?
What was there to admire about a man who had been sold to the highest bidder?
Still, his pulse raced, and his skin tingled under her gaze. Warmth spread through his body, converging at his groin. The last thing he wanted was to sport a hard-on while he was naked in front of this stranger. As a distraction from his unease, he asked, “Who are you?”
Asking a direct question when he hadn’t been spoken to was asking for trouble. Madaki would’ve punished him. He braced himself for her retribution.
Instead, she frowned, jerking back. “What do you mean? You don’t know who I am?”
His body tensed. “No. I’ve never seen you before.”
“Wow. They told me you had suffered some memory loss. I thought it was a ruse.” She narrowed her eyes and rubbed her chin. “I admire your resilience after everything you’ve been through.”
Her voice was soft and almost intimate. She reached for the clothes on the floor and handed them to him.
His mouth dropped open. Warmth bloomed in his chest.
This was the first nice thing anyone had said to Ebuka in weeks, probably months. Since his captivity.
The corner of his lips tugged in a would-be smile, but he suppressed it.
In praising him, she offered deference to him, a power swap. It was subtle. But it was there.
Her words called to Ebuka’s protective instinct. The confident, generous man who had almost disappeared with the onslaught of the past few months.
“It’s surprising what the human spirit will do to survive when tested. I’m sure you would have done well under the same circumstances,” he said in a gentle voice.
Her eyes sparkled, and she nodded toward the clothes in his hand. “Put those on for now. I'll provide you with better clothing when we get home.”
Reminded of his current state of undress, he pushed off the hard floor and pulled on the loose-fitting sweatpants and shirt. They were more than he’d had to wear for a long time.
“Home?” he asked in a tense voice, giving her a side glance.
A word filled with distant promise. Would he get to see his soon? A ranch house that had been in the family for a few years; acres of land for livestock; his sister and mother gathered around the dinner table.
He pictured their smiling faces. His throat tightened, chest aching.
“Yes, you’re coming home with me.” The stranger's words augmented his despondency.
Ebuka shook off the crushing disappointment weighing down his shoulders and straightened to his full height.
“You just paid for me. What am I, your slave?” Tired of bowing and scraping, he spat the words out, not caring about the penalty of the rash words.
She flinched, jaw tightening. “You won’t be beaten or debased in any way.”
Lips flat and jaw set, he narrowed his eyes. What did she take him for? A fool?
“Lucky me. I suppose I’m going to be your sex toy. Is that it?” His words dripped with sarcasm.
Something flickered in her gaze, and she shifted from one leg to the other. “No. I won’t treat you that way.”
If she was trying to play the benevolent owner, he could play too. “So, can I go home
to my family whenever I want?”
“No.” She shot the word at him with vehemence she hadn’t shown before. “You can have anything else you want, but you can’t leave.”
***
You can’t leave.
The finality of the words rattled in Ebuka’s head as they left the auction house, enraging him. The muscles on his neck corded and his nostrils flared as he rushed his breaths. The idea of being confined permanently sent his brain into overdrive, and he assessed all the possible chances of escape. It became imperative now more than ever.
They were escorted by guards down to the car park, where his new owner allowed him to sit in the front passenger seat of a grey BMW. The guards left, and it was just the two of them.
It was the first time he had been this close to another human in months without being restrained.
In the enclosed, intimate space, he smelled her clean, feminine scent—flowers, citrus and musk.
The urge to lean into her made his skin itch. Made him picture their bodies aligned, writhing together.
Fuck!
He nearly laughed out loud as the word bounced around in his mind. He needed to fuck. It had been too long. Too fucking long. Sucking in a deep breath, something in her scent was familiar and comforting.
Had he known her before today?
Shaking his head, he shoved the thought away. It was a dangerous idea to develop at this moment. Needing a distraction, he stared at the switches and dials on the control panel.
“How am I to address you?” he asked.
Others demanded they be called ‘master’ or ‘mistress.’ He couldn’t picture using any of those honorifics.
“My name is Xandra.”
Xan. He rolled the word around in his head.
Even the sound of her voice was familiar, like a lover’s, making his heart lurch.
But he couldn’t have taken a lover because he was only recently separated from Sabina, his wife and he had sworn off women.
A pounding started in his ears as it always did every time he thought about his old life.
His fingers curled into fists, digging into the flesh of his palms.
There were so many questions that needed answers. The last place he wanted to be was in this car, especially since it was taking him further away from the people he needed to see again.
“Do you promise to behave for the duration of the journey? That way I don’t have to anaesthetize you.”
Her words drew him out of his thoughts. He frowned.
Had she read his thoughts of escape somehow? Weeks of torture had obviously demolished his ability to hide his expressions.
Damn her. Damn Madaki. Damn the whole lot of them. Jaw clenched, Ebuka gave a taut nod.
“I need your verbal agreement,” she said.
Turning, he glared at her. “Yes.”
He had a twinge of guilt at telling a lie, but she was a fool if she expected him to go home with her without a fight. Never.
“Good,” she said.
She drove out of the car park and onto the street. Soon they left the bustling metropolis of skyscrapers and lights onto the highway leading out of the city and then there was nothing but headlights against the inky night.
Xandra pressed a button, flicking radio stations.
Seizing the opportunity, Ebuka lashed out, hitting her across the chest. Her neck snapped back, and her head hit the backrest.
With the other hand, he unclipped the seat belt and reached for the controls.
Any other person would’ve passed out cold from the impact. Not Xandra.
She lunged at him, and they struggled, their bodies hitting the panel. The car jerked to the side and swerved all over the road.
Pressed against her lean body, he felt primal and exhilarated, a heady rush of arousal and adrenaline. Her strength and agility surprised him. Turned him on.
Something pricked his nape. A sharp pain shot down his spine, and his limbs became heavy.
Frustration bubbled in his chest, making him growl. He slumped onto the seat and fell into darkness.
EIGHTEEN
EBUKA OPENED his eyes to the streak of sunshine through open windows. A gentle breeze cooled his face as he blinked and studied the environment.
He lay on a bed, soft mattress and cool white sheets that smelled like the outdoors. White walls and large pane glass windows. From this angle, the clear blue sky stretched forever. The sound of crashing waves made him stir.
Standing from the bed, he walked naked toward the window. His head swam. Waves crashed against rocks more than one hundred feet beneath him.
Sweat broke on his forehead. His stomach lurched at the weird sensation of almost walking on air. What crazy person built a house hanging off the sheer face of a cliff?
Images flitted through his mind. Was it last night that he had been sold to Xandra and they had fought in the car? He had blanked out.
Did Xandra bring him here? Was this her home?
Moving away from the windows, he opened one of the tall drawers, searching for something to wear. He pulled out a white T-shirt and pair of shorts that were perfect fits.
He wandered the rest of the house filled with white furniture and glass surfaces, a minimalist haven. Xandra must have an army of servants. How else could she keep everything shiny?
Peering into each room, he checked for any sign of life, he called out, “Xandra?”
No one responded. He walked past an open-plan living room overlooking the sea into a kitchen. The sight of the teapot made his mouth water. He hadn’t had tea in months.
He ignored it and pushed open the door leading out into a garden filled with shrubs and flowering plants. Somebody had gone to great lengths to create a tropical paradise here.
He stood still and lost himself in the sounds of chirping birds and the beauty of the architecture of the house which blended with the breath-taking landscape.
After months of being locked up and staring at brick walls all day, he felt as if he was in Heaven with the salty breeze on his tongue, the hot sun on his face and the grainy sands under his toes. His limbs loosened, and his breathing slowed down. Lifting his face, eyes closed, he pictured living here.
You can’t leave. The image of Xandra from the auction house loomed over him.
His eyes flew open, the brief peace ruined.
The anger that had been festering inside him for months returned, eating away at his gut like acid.
He would be damned if he would become a rich girl’s toy.
He stomped across the sand, down a slightly rocky path. The sun wasn’t high yet, and the trees provided cool shade. A little walk away, he came to a timber hut beside a small waterfall and sparkling pool. But still no Xandra or any other sign of another human.
Was she hiding somewhere, watching through cameras?
Madaki liked playing games, testing him. Looking for opportunities to punish and mould him into a better captive. Was this what Xandra was doing?
Balling hands, his knuckles cracked as he swivelled and headed in the direction of the much cooler house.
Xandra had to learn that he wouldn’t be easily cowed. At least Madaki had the sense to restrain him. But there were no cuffs on his wrists, chains around ankles, or collar weighing down his neck.
Why hadn’t Xandra done the same? After he had fought her in the car.
Lips flattened and brows wrinkled, he entered the kitchen, suspicion spiked.
His new owner was playing games for sure. He would bide time until he figured it out.
Rolling shoulders to shake off the tension, he opened the white cabinets until he found a white porcelain mug. He poured some tea and strode over to the beechwood table, pulled out a matching chair and settled on it.
He took a sip and savoured the dark liquid. Sighing with pleasure, he lowered eyelids, letting the smooth taste and rich aroma permeate him.
“I see you’re awake.”
Eyes flying open, he sat up and put the cup down on the table.
Muscles tensed, adrenaline rushed through him, ready for a fight.
How did she get in here without any noise?
Xandra stood in the doorway to the kitchen in sports leggings, long-sleeve top, and trainers. Sweat dampened her hair and clothes. A casual version of the woman he'd met last night. Had it been last night?
His heartbeats seemed loud and fast. The strange pang he felt in his chest when they met at the auction returned. His grip around the mug tightened as he shoved the feeling aside.
“About yesterday,” he started. His attitude had always been to deal with issues head-on. No better time than now. And by bringing it up, he gained the upper hand. Regained some control over the situation.
“I'd rather forget about what happened. It’s done. No need to rehash it,” she said as she pulled the fridge door and took out a bottle of water.
Head tilted to the side, he watched her with narrowed eyes. Did she not mind that he’d been rebellious? She had bought him at an auction, paid at least fifty thousand dollars. She owned him.
The fuck she did.
Chin lifted; his teeth ground together.
She believed it.
Still, she didn’t look perturbed about her slave who sat at the kitchen table drinking tea. Instead, she held a plastic bottle of water to her lips and drank her throat rippling.
Like that, Ebuka was ensnared in lust. Warm blood rushed to his groin. His shorts constricted his rapidly swelling cock. He fought the urge to reach down and adjust himself.
Watching her drink water had to be one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen. He pictured her mouth wrapped around his dick. His tongue darted out, licking the bottom lip as the urge to taste the salt on her skin made his mouth water.
He lifted his gaze.
Xandra stared at him, need burning in the depths of her grey eyes.
His annoyance returned. She was the damned enemy, and his dick couldn’t seem to get the message.
He stood from the chair, wood scraping stone tiles. “I couldn’t resist the tea. What is my punishment?”
The sooner she got to behaving like Madaki, like the owner of a slave, the better for them.
Jerking her head back, she lowered the bottle in her hand. She looked dazed as if surprised by his question. “Punishment? Why?”
