Distorted Hope

by Marissa Honeycutt

  He glanced down at me and pulled me onto his lap, holding me tightly and burying his face in my hair. I could feel his body shaking as he tried not to cry, though the sniffing indicated he wasn’t entirely successful. I wrapped my arms around his neck and repeated his own mantra back to him. “I’m here… I’m here… “ It was foolish to try to tell him everything would be okay; he never said that to me and I wouldn’t say that to him.

  After a long while, he took a deep, shaky breath and kissed my cheek. “Thank you, Kyra,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  I laughed softly. “I know what you mean. I’m glad you’re here with me.” I felt so close to him, closer than I’d ever been to anyone. I’d shared my body and spirit with him and I felt like he was a part of me and I was a part of him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He cupped my cheek and kissed me. I nipped at his lower lip and he chuckled. “Naughty girl,” he whispered. “I have a feeling I’d get in trouble if I tried anything with you.” But his hand slid up my thigh, anyway, making my whole body tingle.

  The kiss deepened, his tongue darting into my mouth and teasing me. His hand slid higher to my hip and I parted my legs slightly as his fingers brushed my curls and then teased my slit, making me gasp and wiggle on his lap.

  “Jason,” I moaned softly.

  Someone cleared their throat and we both looked up to see Mark frowning above us. “Don’t.” He took my hand and pulled me back into my seat, fastening my seatbelt and then returning to his seat. “You are now property of Nathan Pierce,” he said to me in a firm tone. “No one touches you without his permission.”

  Tears burned my eyes and I clasped my hands together in my lap, staring at them. And it begins.

  About a half hour later, I began to see flickering lights ahead. The lights gradually grew brighter and a dull, orange rectangle came into view. Inside the rectangle were several clusters of lights, the biggest cluster being at the far corner in the form of a giant yellow ‘U’ with three separate rows of lights. The main house maybe? As we got closer, long buildings appeared, dimly lit, around the perimeter of the rectangle. I thought I even saw the blue glow of a lit swimming pool before we landed on the helipad.

  “C’mon. Let’s go.” Mark stood and unbuckled my seatbelt. His eyes had hardened and he was all business as he yanked me out of my seat.

  I tried to look at Jason before Mark led me off, but Mark blocked my view and pushed me ahead of him. I stopped at the edge of the helicopter. “What about my shoes?”

  “You don’t need them. The grounds are kept very clear, except for places you shouldn’t go.”

  I looked down at his feet. “You’re wearing shoes.”

  “I’m not a woman.”

  “Oh.”

  He pushed me gently and I stepped out onto the cool cement of the helipad. The air was much cooler here and I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goose bumps. I looked around but couldn’t see much. The grounds were obscured by the glare of the landing lights, and I couldn’t see anything beyond the fact that there were buildings. Mark took me by my arm and led me off the helipad and into the cool grass in the direction of the large building in the corner of estate—what I guessed would be called a hacienda.

  My legs felt wobbly as I walked beside Mark past the pool I had seen from the air. Lights in the turquoise water illuminated the surrounding greenery. The three-story building seemed to grow and grow and grow in front of me, and several minutes later, we walked up stone stairs and onto a huge, stone courtyard with a tall, cheerful fountain in the center. The stone beneath my feet felt cool and smooth, but they weren’t totally even.

  The courtyard was bordered on two and a half sides by the house; a narrow passageway separated the house from another building which took up the rest of the third side. The fourth side of the courtyard—the direction from which we approached—was open to the rest of the estate.

  The second and third stories of the house had well-lit wraparound balconies facing the courtyard, several with glass doors open to the rooms beyond. These balconies made a cover for a patio running the length of the entire first floor.

  One large, glass double door, set into a huge stone archway in the center of one side, gave access to the first floor. Sconces lined the inside patio, bathing the empty outdoor seating area in soft, golden light.

  I could hear men talking and laughing from various parts of the house, the sounds echoing off the stone in the cool night air. Women’s voices intermixed occasionally and I thought I could even hear people having sex, but I wasn’t positive.

  The glass doors were open and Mark walked inside, still holding my arm. Just as they were outside, the floors inside were stone, although even and polished. The smooth, stucco walls were bright white, except where rough stone archways stuck out every twenty feet or so.

  Directly across from the entryway, two long, parallel staircases with beautiful wrought-iron railings led up to a landing before doubling back over themselves. A giant, windowed dome loomed high above my head.

  To my right, a wrought-iron and crystal chandelier hung from the beamed ceiling above a large living room with a giant, red oriental rug in the center. Several large black and white photos of desert landscapes hung on the walls between the many windows and doors. An unlit fireplace occupied the far end of the room. The rug had one large seating area on it and several other, smaller, seating areas lined the edges of the room. The furniture was dark, heavy wood and leather. Very masculine. Several men and a few women sat in the room, but one man stood out from the rest. Nathan Pierce.

  Even though I had never met the man, I couldn’t imagine him being anyone else. His presence filled the room and I couldn’t help but stare. Power and confidence radiated from him, even while he appeared relaxed.

  He sat in a large, brown leather chair in an easy manner with his chin resting on one hand, smiling at something the man next to him said. A young woman sat on her heels at his feet and his other hand rested on her head. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he petted the woman’s dark hair, and she seemed to enjoy it.

  His shoulders and arms were broad and muscular under the khaki button-down linen shirt he wore. His face was tanned, as if he spent a good deal of time outside, and he had a dimple in his left cheek. He was clean-shaven and his skin looked satiny in the golden light from above. His ash-brown hair was neatly trimmed in a military-esque style, though longer than I imagined would be allowed in the military. A fair amount of gray showed at his temples. When he smiled, lines appeared next to his eyes. I guessed him to be in his early forties. The only piece of jewelry he wore was a simple, gold band on his left ring finger. Was he married?

  The room became quiet when we entered and Nathan turned to look at us. His gunmetal gray eyes met mine and I blinked, stepping backward slightly from the force of his gaze. His expression remained inscrutable as he studied my face, but it felt as if he were reading my soul. His eyes slowly worked their way down to my feet and if I had closed my eyes, I would have sworn he was touching me.

  When he reached my feet, he turned his eyes to Jason and studied him for a long moment, as well. “So, you are Jason Marshall,” he said. His voice was amazingly deep and silky. There was no hint of an accent, and I assumed he was American.

  Jason looked at him evenly, chin lifting slightly. “I am.”

  A hint of a smile broke Nathan’s stern expression and he stood and walked across the room, his tall frame moving easily across the floor. He was taller than Mark by a few inches, so he had to be almost six and a half feet tall.

  He extended his hand to Jason and they shook in greeting. “I’m glad you came. I am in need of your expertise with a project I recently acquired.”

  “I didn’t really have much of a choice,” Jason said in a dry tone.

  Nathan laughed. “No, my engineers usually don’t. But they find, after a while, it’s an enjoyable place to work. No government
interference, no regulations to have to deal with. They just do what we were meant to do: create.”

  “What do you want me to create?”

  “We’ll discuss that in the morning,” Nathan said, waving his hand. “Have you eaten dinner?”

  “We ate on the yacht,” Mark answered. “Neither of them ate much.”

  Nathan nodded. “That’s to be expected. The unknown can be… difficult.” He turned and nodded to a woman who stood behind him with an expectant look on her face. When he nodded, she gave a slight curtsy and disappeared through an archway. “Juanita will bring some refreshments. Girls,” he said, turning around, “it’s time to go to bed.”

  The women, who had all been sitting on the floor, stood silently and left the room, beaming at the men as they left, especially Nathan. He watched them leave with a fondness in his eyes and didn’t move until they were gone. A few of the men left, as well, but several remained. I wondered at this man who had sex slaves but was apparently so well-liked they looked at him with such affection. Why did he have them? What did he do with them? How many men lived here with him?

  “Please, sit,” Nathan said, walking back to his seat and motioning to the chair next to him. I assumed he meant Jason and didn’t move.

  Jason went to sit in the smaller leather chair next to Nathan. I saw a slight smile on his face as he sat. It must have been comfortable.

  Mark and Nathan exchanged looks and then Nathan motioned to me. “Come sit by me, Kyra,” he said, his voice soft, as if speaking to a scared kitten.

  It wasn’t far from the truth. I started walking slowly over to him, the rug tickling my feet, and he motioned to the floor where the woman had been sitting when they came in. My brows came together in confusion. He wanted me to sit on the floor? Why?

  “Kyra,” he said. “My girls don’t sit on the furniture unless they are invited to do so. You’ll get used to sitting on the floor. I make sure there are comfortable rugs wherever you may need to sit. Unless you anger me.” The last words were slightly lower, as if a warning.

  I quickly moved across the room, not wanting to anger him, and settled on the floor cross legged, which was how I normally sat on the floor.

  Nathan frowned. “Are you five years old?” he asked in a sharp tone. “Sit on your heels, back straight, hands on your thighs, eyes on the floor unless I tell you otherwise.”

  Tears burned my eyes at his sharp tone and I quickly moved into the position he had instructed.

  He stroked the hair on top of my head. “Good girl,” he said, his warm hand lingering for a moment. Then it was gone.

  The men talked around me and I sat, bored, staring at the floor. The design in the rug was interesting and I followed it with my eyes until Nathan tapped me on the head. “Eyes on the ground, Kitten.”

  Kitten? Something about the nickname warmed me and I shook my head slightly. This was a bad man. He sold guns and bombs to people—something learning as I sat next to him. He worked with drug lords from Colombia.

  “Do you like chocolate, Kitten?” Nathan asked at one point, putting his hand on my head and pulling back slightly, making me think he wanted me to look up at him.

  I looked up and nodded. He smiled warmly. “Open your mouth.”

  I did so and he popped some sort of chocolate heaven in my mouth. It melted and I couldn’t help but let out a little moan, which made him chuckle. “That is from a nearby cacao plantation. Delicious, isn’t it?”

  I nodded and gave him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

  His brow twitched slightly. “Would you like another?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Open.” I opened my mouth and he put another piece in my mouth and then petted my hair. “Good girl,” he said softly.

  I saw Mark watching the exchange, his face impassive, though I thought there was a hint of… satisfaction in his eyes.

  I glanced up at Jason and met his gaze.

  “No!” Nathan exclaimed suddenly and slapped my face.

  I fell to my hip and put my hand on my cheek where he had hit me. Tears filled my eyes as I looked up at him, bewildered. What did I do?

  “When you are sitting at a man’s feet, your attention is to be solely on him. You do not look at anyone except him. Do you understand?”

  I nodded and looked down at the ground.

  “When you answer me, you say ‘yes, Patrón’ or ‘no, Patrón.’ Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Patrón,” I responded automatically, rubbing my cheek.

  He petted my hair a few times. “Good girl.” He ignored me the rest of the night, except for a few strokes of my hair every once in a while, which I quickly came to anticipate. It assured me he hadn’t forgotten about me and for some reason, that comforted me.

  I wished I were sitting at Jason’s feet. Being even a few feet from the man I loved made my heart ache, but I didn’t dare look at him; I didn’t want to get hit again.

  Did Nathan hit his slaves often? Was I to be beaten regularly? He seemed quick to punish disobedience. I wished I knew what to expect. This kind of on-the-job-training was stressful.

  The men drank and ate for several hours. Even Jason seemed to be having a good time. I was happy for him, but my legs were cramping and I was so tired. I just wanted to go to sleep, but I had a feeling Nathan wouldn’t appreciate me asking if I could go to bed. I began to envy the girls he had sent away earlier.

  When my eyes started drooping, Nathan patted my head and stood. “I think we will call it an evening. Let me show you to your room, Jason.”

  I stayed where I was until Nathan held out his hand to me. I looked up in confusion.

  “Unless you’d prefer to sleep down here?”

  I shook my head. “Er, no, Patrón,” I said and took his hand. My legs were unsteady and tingly and he held onto my hand until I was steady. I fought the urge to glance up at Jason.

  “You’ll get used to sitting like that. It will take a few weeks.”

  When I was ready to walk, only Mark, Jason, Nathan, and I were left in the room. The other men had disappeared, though I could hear their footsteps on the tiled stairs. Mark and Jason walked up the stairs first, followed by me and Nathan.

  I hoped I would get to stay with Jason tonight, but Mark had indicated I’d be staying with Nathan. The thought of being away from Jason made my heart ache even more.

  At the top of the stairs was another set of stairs leading up to the third floor, and to the right was a small living room. Ahead of us, double glass doors were opened to a U-shaped covered patio lined with glass double-doors. We turned left and Mark stopped and opened the second set of doors. He turned a light on and stepped aside for Jason and Nathan to enter. I stayed outside by the door and looked in.

  The room was large and spacious with white walls and a dark wood floor. On the far wall, double wooden doors stood open to another room. The wall to my left had a large bed with a carved wooden headboard and flowing white bedspread. Across from the bed was a dresser and a TV on the wall. A wardrobe stood in the far left corner.

  “This will be your room,” Nathan said to Jason. “There are clothes in the dresser and wardrobe. The bathroom is through those doors.” He motioned to the opened doors in the back of the room. “We have satellite TV, but no internet. Well, not in the bedrooms.” He grimaced. “It wouldn’t do for you to try and contact anyone from home.” His tone held a firm warning. “Breakfast is at eight-thirty. My other engineer will meet you then and take you on a tour of the facilities after breakfast.” He started to turn toward the door but stopped and turned back around. “You may have any of the girls when you are not required to be working.” His eyes became hard. “You will not touch Kyra without my permission.”

  My heart fell into my stomach and I stared at Nathan.

  Jason frowned. “Why?”

  “Because Kyra belongs to me now. This is not to say you won’t be able to be with her, but you must have my permission first.”

  Jason glanced at me and growled.
“Then may I have her now?”

  “No. Not tonight. Do well on your first day and we’ll see about tomorrow night. Mark can answer any questions you have. Goodnight.” Nathan turned and strode out of the room.

  I stepped back out of his way. “Come,” he said to me and walked past the living room doors, around to the far side of the patio, to a set of glass doors.

  I followed, running to catch up with his long strides, my footsteps echoing slightly on the cool stone beneath my feet.

  Nathan pushed open the doors to a very large bedroom. The floors were dark wood and the walls white, like in Jason’s room, but my gaze was immediately drawn to an enormous four-poster bed on the wall to my left. The dark wood posts were carved with elaborate floral designs. I didn’t want to think about Nathan and bed, so I quickly moved my gaze across a huge white rug that began under the bed and extended out almost to the fireplace across the room. I could see the lighted balcony out another set of double glass doors directly across from the entrance. An elaborate wrought-iron chandelier hung from the high-vaulted ceiling, providing light for the room, supplemented by lamps on the nightstands flanking the bed.

  Beyond the bed was a set of opened, double wooden doors like in Jason’s room, which I assumed led to the bathroom. Along the wall to the left of the fireplace, a narrow wooden staircase led up to a mezzanine sitting room with a large window.

  “Undress and get on your knees on the floor at the end of the bed,” Nathan said, closing the doors behind him. He crossed the room and walked through the double doors, turning on the light showing it was, indeed, the bathroom—a very spacious one, from what I could see.

  He wanted me to undress? I shook and stared at the opening he’d just walked through, then looked around the room, wondering if there was a way to escape. This was obviously his room.

  A single, framed photograph on the mantle above the fireplace caught my eye. I cautiously moved across the room to look at it. It was a picture of a smiling young woman with long, brown hair, about my age, holding a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket.