You’re no better than they are, Avery.
I lean into her, and demand, “Stare at the floor.”
She averts her eyes immediately when a man approaches us. “Avery. Glad you could make it.”
I reach out my right hand to shake his. “Of course, Conway.”
He smiles that fucking villain smile and then he looks at Bunny. “Gorgeous.” His eyes scan her up and down, lingering on her breasts and face. “No wonder you paid two million for her.”
Her body stiffens, and I ignore it. “Well, pussy isn’t cheap to come by these days.”
He laughs at my joke. “Not the unwilling kind. Can I get you a drink?”
“Scotch.”
He lifts his right hand and snaps his fingers. A man dressed in another signature tux bows to him. “Señor.”
“A scotch for Mr. Avery.”
“Right away, señor.”
“While we’re waiting on your drink, I would like you to meet a good friend of mine.” He raises his hand again and calls out. “Jensen.”
I smile to myself as the man approaches. He wears an all-white tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back. The pretty blonde at his side wears a bright red dress, showcasing a set of paid for tits and thin waist. She too has her hands bound behind her back and a dainty collar around her throat. Her head downcast.
“Jensen, I would like you to meet Avery.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I say, reaching out my right hand.
I shake the man’s hand, pretending not to know him. “I haven’t heard much about you,” he muses.
“Avery here just purchased his first slave.” He fills Jensen in. “He’s new to the scene.”
He nods in understanding. “How do you like it?”
“Can’t complain,” I say with a shrug, ignoring the heat coming off Bunny beside me.
PRESLEIGH
My body is physically shaking due to anger and embarrassment.
I stare down at the marble floor with my hands cuffed behind my back while these men discuss me and these women like we’re nothing. As if we are animals being taken to slaughter.
And I’m pissed at Avery. Why the fuck are we here? What does he have to do with slaves? And he told these men he bought me for two million? It doesn’t escape me that I offered him that amount to let me go. Sick bastard!
“There’s not much to complain about,” the man they introduced as Jensen replies carelessly.
He sounds so familiar.
“Well gentlemen, I’ll let you guys get back to the party. Anything in this house is yours tonight. My women included.”
I feel bile rise in my throat. He just shares them? Hands them out like napkins only to be used and then put away.
I jump when I feel a hand on my ass but keep my head down afraid to look up.
“It’s just me, Bunny.” I hear Avery say softly, and I melt into his side when he pulls me to him.
“Did you get what we needed?” he asks.
I frown. Is he talking to me?
“No.” The man sighs that I know had been introduced as Jensen. “I’ve been here for three hours and no sign of Damon.”
Who is Damon?
“Well, fuck!” Avery hisses. “So now what?”
“You can go if you want,” Jensen offers, and I bite my tongue not to scream yes, please. “You’ve made your appearance. I’ll stay and let you know what I hear.”
“No,” Avery clips, and my shoulders slump.
I shift from foot to foot, my feet and legs tired from the high heels. My back hurts from my arms being restrained, and I have that feeling between my legs that just won’t stop no matter how much I rub them together. And I’d kill for him to give me his scotch that he requested.
“You could fuck one of his slaves,” Jensen offers. “Maybe get some information from them. Or just make use of them.” He pauses.
My head snaps up so fast that I don’t even get the chance to think about my move. Anger making me think irrationally at the thought of Avery fucking someone else other than me.
He took me.
He’s supposed to please me.
But I don’t voice those words out loud. Because everything I wanted to say dies on my tongue when I look at the guy who was introduced as Jensen. I haven’t seen him in eleven years, but he looks the same. Just all grown up.
Only his name isn’t Jensen. It’s Tristan. And he’s Avery’s younger brother. He smiles at me. “Hello, Presleigh. Nice to see you again.”
I snort, unable to hold it back. How is this nice? I’m at a man’s house who obviously runs a sex trafficking ring with my hands bound behind my back, standing next to a man I used to love who kidnapped me but is pretending that he bought me.
“You sure have grown up.” His eyes fall to my tits.
My eyes narrow on him.
He laughs. “I think your slave is jealous, Avery.”
I take a step forward, about to knock his ass out when Avery yanks me back to his side by the back of my upper arm. His fingers digging into my skin.
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I snap. The people who stand around us gasp, but I ignore them.
“Jealous?” Tristan asks with a smile.
“Slave,” I hiss.
Before he can respond, a hand wraps around the front of my neck, and I’m shoved into the nearest wall. My head hits with a thud, and I hiss in a breath before it tightens around my throat. Avery stands in front of me, looking down at me with pure rage in his blue eyes. His fingers and the choker digging into my skin.
I try to wiggle free of his grip and use my hands to help me push away from the wall. I’m unsuccessful.
“What is going on here?” I hear the man’s voice from earlier, think his name was Conway, as he comes to stand next to Avery. He wears a cold smile, staring at my chest. I realize I lost my coat that was over my shoulders, and now I’m exposed to what my tight dress shows off. My nipples harden when I feel the cold breeze, and I hate that I couldn’t wear a bra with this dress.
“My slave forgot her place,” Avery growls, using that word and daring me to argue.
My eyes narrow on his.
The man laughs and pats Avery on the shoulder. “That’s the best part.” His voice drops. “When you get to remind her she belongs to you.”
I swallow roughly as his hand tightens. I press up to my tiptoes in my heels. “Take her downstairs. Teach her a lesson,” he says simply. “Come. I’ll show you the way.”
“No—” He cuts off my air before I can protest any longer. I beg Avery not to do it with my eyes, but he yanks me from the wall before wrapping his hand around my upper arm and walks me next to him as we follow the man.
I take a deep breath and catch Tristan winking at me as we walk by. I want to slap him.
I lower my head without being told like a dog in trouble as we’re led down a set of stairs and through a door that has locks on the outside.
“Take all the time you need,” he states before turning his back to us and walking out.
He shuts the door, and I feel my chest tighten when I look around at the chains that hang from the walls and ceiling. A metal cross leans against the far wall with straps lying open to bind your wrists, ankles, and neck to it. A black padded table on my right has thick black leather straps hanging open from it as well. A wooden bench on my left has hooks bolted to the floor in places where a person can be tied down or chained.
It reminds me of the room where Avery threatened to leave me. Panic starts to rise.
I turn and stare at the back of Avery as he still faces the closed door. “Please don’t …”
He spins to face me, and I take a step back at the look in his eyes. He looks as if he wants to murder me. He rips his bow tie from the collar of his shirt, and then he’s undoing his buttons. The fabric is ripped from his broad shoulders and hard chest. His muscles flex as he breathes deeply.
“I am not your slave!” I shout at him, finding my anger. How have I ended up here? We both
swore we would never be a part of this life.
He storms up to me and slaps me across the face. My head snaps to the side as I take in a shaky breath. “I warned you, Bunny.”
I taste blood, and my eyes narrow on him. I refuse to back down. Not this time. Not in this house. And not even for him. “You are pathetic.” I spit in his face. A muscle clenches in his jaw. “Gonna hit a restrained woman?” I snap. “Then fucking hit me,” I shout.
He slaps me again, and I find myself laughing like a mad woman. “Go ahead, Avery. Make me black and blue.” I hate that I’m egging him on. I hate that my body feels something when he treats me like a whore. Maybe this is how it was supposed to be all along. Him destined to be a fucking bastard and me a worthless slave.
I’ve been with him for what, a week? Maybe two? I honestly don’t know. The days all run together. He has yet to kiss me on the lips, but the slaps, they feel like a kiss in the most intimate way.
I’m so fucked up!
He grabs me by my collar and yanks me forward. I trip over my feet but manage not to fall on my face. He brings me to the center of the cold and dimly lit room and spins me around. He undoes one of my wrists and then turns me to face him again. Before I can get my balance, he’s locking my hands in front of me.
Then he’s yanking them above my head. I look up to see a chain hanging from the ceiling with a hook on it. He places the chain that link my wrists together over the hook and then yanks on the one dangling next to it.
I cry out as it pulls me up onto my tiptoes. My shoulders and back pulled tight.
He places a finger in the hook of my collar and yanks my neck forward once again. I refuse to cry out at the pull in my arms. “You wanna learn the hard way, Bunny, then that’s exactly how we’ll do it.”
He lets go, and my body sags in defeat. He turns away from me, and I watch the muscles in his back move like waves as he rolls his neck. He opens a door. Whips and chains of various lengths hang from hooks along with pieces of leather. Some look like belts, others like paddles. Ball gags and full face masks along with ropes and collars. A sadist’s dream. Our fathers would be impressed.
He grabs a long, thin black leather belt and turns back to face me. My heart races as I pull on my restraints even though my pussy throbs.
He walks behind me, and I feel him lift the back of my dress, exposing my bare ass. I whimper.
He steps into my back, and I feel his hard cock press into me, his hand going to my thighs. I try to pull away when it slides between them to cup my pussy.
“Tell me you don’t want it,” he whispers roughly in my ear. “Once again, you’re fucking wet, Bunny.”
I wiggle my hips and tears start to sting my eyes. “I hate you.” Because of what he makes me feel. Makes me want.
He ignores it. “You’re gonna count. To ten. Do you understand?”
“Bastard,” I whisper, feeling my hands start to go numb from being pulled tightly above my head.
He takes a step back from me, and I bite my inner lip. Waiting for that hit, I refuse to show any sign I like what he’s about to do.
“Wanna know something, Bunny?” he asks, and the first tear runs down my cheek. “I like doing it to you as much as you like taking it.”
Then the belt hits my ass.
My body jerks in the restraints, and I cry out, unable to hold it in as the leather strikes my skin. So painful it takes my breath away for a second.
“Count!” he orders.
“One.” I gasp, and my pussy tightens at the feel of his power behind it. He’s not holding back.
He strikes me again, and this time, it’s lower, across my upper thighs. My skin burns as it feels split open, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming out at the pain, but at the same time, it has me panting with need.
“Two.”
He hits me again, and my hips jerk forward, making my arms stretch above my head, and I bury my face into my upper arm. Tears slowly run down my face at the pain, and I sniff.
“Three,” I mumble into my arm.
“I can’t hear you!” he growls.
“Three!” I repeat, pulling my head out of my arm, trying to suck in a breath.
My head falls back, and I look at my hands hanging from their cuffs above me, and he hits me again.
“Four,” I say through watery eyes as wetness runs down my inner thigh.
I’m not sure what he wanted to accomplish by spanking me, but I did, in fact, learn a lesson. I like to be whipped. By him. And the shame accompanying that thought has the tears falling faster.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AVERY
I WHIP HER OVER AND OVER. Her ass and upper thighs are red. Her head sags forward, and her hair has fallen out of its bun. Long dark curls cascade down her exposed back.
I tighten my hand on the belt and hit her one last time. The sound bouncing off the dark walls.
“Ten,” she cries out roughly. Her shoulders shake while she sobs.
I drop the belt, and it hits the floor with a thud. Then I yank her dress down to cover up her exposed, reddened flesh. I pull my cell out of my pocket and send a quick text to Darrell, telling him to get his ass ready and be waiting on us.
I walk around to the front of her and reach up, loosening the chain and her body falls into mine. I catch her and slide my free hand behind her knees. She whimpers when I pick her up off her feet. I then proceed to carry her out of the room, and I don’t stop until I’m walking out the front door and into the cool night. Darrell opens the back door for me, and I crawl in with her in my arms.
He gets behind the steering wheel and pulls us out onto the road. “You did well, Bunny,” I say, running my hand through her hair while she quietly sobs against my chest. And for the first time since she entered my life again, I hate that I hurt her.
_______________
I carry her in my arms, entering the bedroom back at my house still in Rio. I lay her sleeping form on my bed, and I go to the bathroom, throwing some cold water on my face.
My phone rings in the pocket of my slacks, and I pull it out to see it’s my brother. “Hello?” I answer roughly.
“You did it, man,” Tristan says with too much excitement in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” he assures me. “He did exactly what we wanted him to do. As soon as you left, he had me watch the tape. It doesn’t matter what Preston tells anyone. That tape proved she didn’t mean anything to you.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Good.”
He sighs heavily, picking up on my mood. “It had to be done, man. If you took her there and just showed her off, it would have been suspicious. They think you love Presleigh and that will put her in much more danger than you whipping her.”
“I know.” The men who are after her know who I am but not Tristan, so we set him up with a fake name. They never suspected him because he stays behind the scenes.
“How is she?”
I walk to the bathroom door and look at her sleeping on her side. “She cried herself to sleep on the way back to my place.”
“She’ll only hate you for a little while.”
“She already hates me.” Now for more than one reason. “But I knew what was going to happen before we went there. I knew it would only end one way.”
We say our goodbyes, and I remove my shirt followed by my slacks. We set her up. My brother knew exactly what to say to tick her off, knowing damn well she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut, and that I would have to punish her.
I look up when I hear a sniff to find Bunny now standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Her eyes red from crying, brown hair a disheveled mess, and still wearing her black sequin dress. Black smears her face from crying off all her makeup.
My chest tightens that I hurt her. That I had to hit her as though she didn’t mean a fucking thing to me when she still means everything. Even after all this time, I can’t hate this woman no matter what she put me through.
She wraps her
arms around her chest and lowers her eyes to the floor. “May I shower?”
I hate how she asks as if she needs permission—as if she is a true fucking slave—but I say, “Yes, but the water will hurt your backside.”
She just stands there, so I walk over to her and cup her chin, forcing her to look up at me. Blue eyes full of sadness.
She sniffs, unfolding her arms from around her chest, and surprises me with a hug.
I slowly wrap my arms around her, waiting for her to punch me. Stab me. Something to show me anything but affection. And I feel a pain in my chest when she buries her head into it. Her brother is fucking shit up even more. I should have shot that bastard in the face instead of the leg when I had the chance.
“I’m so ashamed,” she admits softly.
“Why?” I pull away from her.
Fresh tears slowly roll down her face, and I wipe them away with my thumbs. “Because I liked it.”
My fingers pause on her cheeks. “Liked what?”
She licks her wet lips, tasting her own tears, and whispers roughly, “What you did to me.”
I release her and take a step back, giving us space. I think she’s talking crazy. “What I did—”
“You have to understand,” she interrupts me. “I’m fucked up, Avery.” She drops her head in shame. “I’ve gone so many years with nothing but emptiness. Not able to feel anything.” She lifts her head, and her eyes look into mine. “You make me feel something. It may be pain, but it feels like love. It feels like life. I don’t feel dead. And I welcome that.”
I stand there staring at this woman confused. That felt like love? I used to show her love every fucking day of my life. How can she compare what we used to have to how I treat her now? When did she start to like being treated like nothing? When did she lose her self-worth? For her to like the way I punished her? It wasn’t like it was a mind game. Or tying her up and not allowing her to come. I physically beat her. Hurt her. Made her bleed. All because I had to show the world that she meant nothing to me.
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