by Tillie Cole
As soon as her taste touched my tongue, need surged through my body.
More. I needed more.
Reaching out my hands, I gripped the back of her thighs and pulled her spread legs over my lap. She shouted out as her cunt landed over my cock. Lifting one hand, I grabbed the clothing covering her tits and pulled it over her head. My nostrils flared as I glanced down to her bare top half. My heart beat louder, my blood rushed faster, and I ran my finger down her body from the bottom of her throat to the waistband of her pants.
She was perfect.
She had no scars. Master hadn’t hurt her.
Relief ran through me knowing that she hadn’t endured pain like me. The man in the white coat hadn’t strapped her down, hadn’t cut her, hadn’t injected her with the needle that brought venom to the vein.
Moving my hands from her front to her ass, I dragged her forward, the warmth from her cunt immediately rolling over me. I groaned as my mouth sucked on her tit, the feeling of her sitting on top of me taking its hold.
The female’s hands raked through my wet hair. They slid right through, her sharp nails on my scalp making me grunt and thrust my hips.
No one had ever put their fingers through my hair. No females Master ordered me to fuck had ever touched me that way. They didn’t care; they didn’t want me. I didn’t want them. But I wanted her.
Releasing one tit, I moved to the other and flicked my tongue over the nipple. Her hips began to roll over my cock faster and a growl rumbled in my throat.
It felt good.
Gripping her ass harder, her cunt getting hotter, I snapped my head back. The feel of her against me was too much.
The female gripped my hair, and when I brought my head back down, she was watching me, big brown eyes watching me.
She was so beautiful and she looked at me like she cared. No other female had looked in my eyes before, no one looked me in the eyes. Master said I wasn’t worthy.
I studied her pale skin. Her blond hair fell forward on my chest as her forehead leaned forward to meet mine.
Her breathing was short, and she rocked faster. Her full tits bounced, but I couldn’t take my hands off her ass, my eyes off her eyes.
“Oh, God…,” the female whispered, her eyes fluttering and her body starting to jerk. “Oh, God, God … I’m…”
The female’s hands fisted my hair and she threw her head back. I couldn’t stop watching as her pink lips parted, her hot breath drifted over my skin and a long cry raced from her throat.
Her hips ground harder against my cock. As her cunt jerked back and forth, I gripped her ass. My thighs tensed and I snarled as pleasure built at the base of my spine. Then I came. Thundering out a shout, I tucked my head into the female’s neck. Her skin was damp and warm. I pressed my cheek against her shoulder and breathed in her scent as her hands stroked over my head and through my hair.
I closed my eyes, calmed by her touch. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around her back, keeping her close.
My stomach fell when I thought of Master coming to take her away from me. I didn’t want to lose her.
I thought of the other females he owned and what he made them do. They would fuck other males, several males at a time. He would make me fuck them. Hard. Rough. Unleashed. He would try to make them cry. He would laugh. He wanted me to make them bleed.
The females wore no clothes and had their number tattooed on the back of their necks. I stiffened. Did this female have her number there, too? Was she forced to fuck men, too?
Loosening my grip, I pulled back. I looked at the female’s face. Her eyes were confused. She bit her bottom lip. My gaze dropped to her smooth body, her pale skin. There were no marks, no numbers.
“Are … are you okay?” she asked softly. I frowned.
Why did she talk? Did she not fear Master’s punishments? I was forbidden to talk, never to raise my head, only to follow his commands and to kill.
I waited for the poison to return to my blood. I waited to feel pains in my stomach. I waited for the need to kill to overwhelm my body. But nothing happened.
No poison.
No pain.
No rage.
I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Nothing made sense.
“Please,” the female whispered, and shuffled back off my lap to bend down and look in my eyes, “are you okay?”
Gripping her arm, I spun her around and lifted her hair off her back. She let out a fearful cry when I did so, but I needed to see her number. Her neck came into view. There was no number. I searched her back, her arms, and her wrists. No number.
Confused, I sat back. Why didn’t she have a number?
The female turned to face me, her brown eyes wide. I stared at her. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember what the other females looked like. But I couldn’t remember their faces. Something stopped me from remembering. I remembered fucking them. I remembered their numbers. But I couldn’t remember them … yet I remembered everything since I’d met her. Every part of her face, every strand of her long blond hair, every inch of her soft pale skin.
The female suddenly moved, catching my attention, and retrieved her clothing. Without breaking her gaze, she pulled it over her head.
Her cheeks were red, and she was shaking.
She stood, and my heart seemed to stop. She was leaving. I didn’t want her to leave. Her brown eyes filled with tears, and she turned in the direction of the stairs. I’d hurt her. I hadn’t meant to. I didn’t want her to go.
Something inside of me made me lurch forward and I wrapped my hand in hers. She looked back, her lips trembling.
My chest tightened.
Something inside of me made me pull her forward. She gasped, but that didn’t stop me. I wanted to hold her, touch her. When her stomach hit my chest, I wrapped my arms around her waist.
I heard her sniff and closed my eyes, hoping she wouldn’t leave me. I always felt fire, my mind stabbing with hurt and pain. But since she had been brought to me, I hadn’t felt any of it.
She took the fire and pain away.
She made me feel … safe.
The female didn’t try to pull away. Instead, she ran her hand down my cheek. I pulled back and looked at her. Her eyes softened and she said, “What is it? Tell me please? What were you looking for on me?”
I took a couple of steps back and lifted my hand. Taking my finger, seeing she was watching me, I traced my finger over my identity number on my chest, 221. I was 221.
The female’s eyes were still watching me as I lifted my head. I nudged my head toward her body and pointed to her chest.
Her eyes widened and the redness drained from her face. “You want … you want to know my number?” she asked.
I nodded my head. I tapped the back of my neck and pointed at her neck, too. A fast breath left her lips.
The female carefully moved forward and gently got down to her knees. She reached down for my hand and threaded her fingers through mine. I stared at our joined hands and felt warmth wrap around my body.
“Look at me,” the female said. I lifted my head.
She brought our joined hands to lie over her chest. With my palm against her skin, I could feel her heart racing.
I gazed into her dark brown eyes and she explained, “I don’t have a number.” My eyebrows pulled down. She didn’t have a number? I didn’t understand. Her hand squeezed mine. “My name is Talia. I have a name, not a number.”
My eyes dropped as I tried to understand how she had a name. Her hand tugged on mine. “Do you understand? Do you understand that I don’t have a number?”
I nodded my head slowly. I saw her take a deep breath. Her eyes fell to my chest, to my number. “Do you … do you know your name?”
Confusion fogged my mind. My name? I had no name. I was 221. I was Master’s 221.
The female’s hand pressed against my cheek. As soon as it touched me I felt calmer, warmer. “Listen to me,” she whispered. “You’re safe. You’ve been freed from that man.
”
My body tensed. I didn’t understand. Why was she saying these things?
“Do you understand? You’ve been freed,” the female repeated. I looked into her eyes, but I could sense in her no lie.
Dropping my head, my heart beat faster as I thought of the word “free.” I was free? From Master. From …
But when I looked around the dark room, it looked like everywhere else I’d ever lived. Chains. Chains trapping me to the floor. Darkness, no light, and only me for company. I was always alone.
“Look at me.” I did as the female asked.
“Do you know your name?” she repeated. I moved my hand to trace my number, when she stopped me, gripping my hand. She stared at me for a long time and asked, “Can you speak?”
A pain flashed through my head and images came to my mind.… Master hanging me to a wall with my hands behind my back. I had spoken my name. I had tried to speak.…
“You’ll never speak again!” he shouted. “You’ll never say that fucking dog name again!”
I opened my mouth, but Master pulled the chains tighter. I cried out in pain as my arms pulled further back, my shoulders on fire with pain.
“You’re not that name anymore. You won’t speak ever again. You’ll be silent. You’re 221, and you’re under my command!” The chains pulled harder and harder until my arm snapped from the socket and I screamed out in pain. My body hung from the wall, my head bowing forward to Master.
Don’t talk. Don’t talk ever again, I told myself. Master will bring pain if you do.…
I gasped as sweat poured from my head. The female moved in closer and wiped at my face with her hand. “Breathe,” she soothed, “breathe.”
I looked into her eyes and saw them shining.
I could talk. I used to talk. But I wasn’t allowed to talk now.
She sat back and watched me. “Your name?” she whispered, wiping the wetness from her face.
I glanced down and my stomach clenched as I tried to push words from my mouth. I opened my mouth. The female held her breath. My eyes searched the room for Master. I’d be punished if I talked.
“It’s okay,” the female again soothed. “Speak. No one will hurt you. You’re safe. You’re finally safe.” I wanted to speak. I wanted to please her. I didn’t want her to leave.
I cleared my throat and it felt raw. But I could feel my voice. I startled—I had a voice. Master wasn’t here to take my voice.
The female’s hand squeezed mine, still lying over her heart. She repeated, “My name is Talia, who are you?”
Squeezing her hand back, I forced my voice to work. It croaked, “2 … 2 … 1…”
The female sat back and sucked in a breath. A few tears streamed down her cheeks, but as I was about to back away, thinking I’d hurt her, her lips moved and she smiled even though her lips trembled.
“You speak,” she said in relief. “You can speak. And your accent…” She blushed, but shook her head, lip curling. She seemed … happy?
“Can you say my name?” she asked. I concentrated on her mouth as she said, “Talia.”
I listened to the sounds. I rolled them around my mind, and said, “Tal … Tal … i … a…” A relieved sigh burst from her mouth. She moved until she was right in front of me.
I stared at her face, her pretty face, her soft eyes, entranced by the way she looked at me. I put my finger to her heart, then put my finger over mine, and I asked, “You are … for me?”
A whoosh of air passed through her parted lips. Her words caught in her throat. Her dark eyes shone brightly as water filled them, soaking her long black lashes.
Slowly, her hands moved to each side of my face and threaded in my long wet hair. I held my breath, heart beating loudly. Then, she did something I’d never felt before, she pressed her lips to my forehead.
I swallowed at the feeling this press of her lips brought to my heart. The sun. Something inside of me told me it was like the feel of the sun shining on my face.
I frowned as that thought crossed my mind. I did not remember standing out in the sun, head tipped back as it warmed my face, but something inside told me that I had done it once, or a lot, I did not know.
The female broke away. Her finger drifted down and traced over my number tattoo. Her long lashes fluttered, and she said, “This is a slave number given to you as a child. What was done to you was sick, twisted, and very, very wrong. They, that man, called you by this number your whole life. But you had a name. You still have a name.”
I stilled, something long forgotten trying to push through to my mind.
A name. A name? I have a name?
I’d always been 221.
I am 221.
I am Master’s 221.
I am—
“Zaal,” the female said suddenly. My body tensed, a wash of pain stabbing at my flesh. “Your name is Zaal. Do you remember?”
I clenched my jaw as it hurt to think of that name. Zaal.
I slumped, out of breath. Tal … Talia’s arms wrapped around me. I thought of what she’d said. I was free. Master wasn’t here. I had a name. Zaal. So much raced through my head. I pulled away. I turned my attention to my chains against the wall and felt ice cold.
I wasn’t free. She was lying.
Talia sat back in surprise and abruptly, I moved. I could see the hurt etched in her face, but she was lying.…
“Zaal—” she spoke, and reached for my arm. I pulled it back with a snarl, giving her my back.
Anger ran through my veins, fire building in my stomach. Master was punishing me, I knew this. Giving me this female, getting her to make me believe I was free. I was being punished. He was punishing me for something. I just didn’t know what I’d done wrong.
Getting to my feet, I walked back to my chains. The water with which Talia had cleansed me was still pooled on the dark hard surface.
I sat beside my chains, on the cold wet floor, my back against the wall. I kept my head down. Master would soon be here to punish me.
“Zaal?” Talia’s voice questioned. She had quieted, her voice barely above a whisper.
My chest tightened as she called me that name. Zaal. A white-hot pain burst into my head on hearing the name Zaal. It took my breath away, causing me to rock back and forth. I pushed my hands against my eyes to stop the pain.
A hand pressed to my cheek and stayed there until the pain passed. I opened my eyes. Talia sat before me. She was looking at me with sadness in her eyes. A lump crawled up my throat and I rasped, “Why … why are … you … doing this … to me…?”
Her face scrunched in anguish and she sat back, her lips trembling. “Doing what?” she whispered. Her voice was shaky.
“This…” I told her, my hand over my aching chest. “You hurt … this.…” I tapped my finger over my heart. It felt bruised, cracked at her deception.
I’d trusted her.
She paused, her pretty face frozen until she glanced away, her lips pursing. “How?” she asked quietly. “How do I hurt your heart?”
“You … lie,” I replied. I watched her snap back to face me, seemingly in confusion. I picked up a chain, lifted it beside my arm and showed her the marks on my wrist. “I am not free.”
I didn’t know how long I’d been in here, in this new cell, but I’d been chained. My wrists and ankles bled. Food had been thrown in a bag at my feet twice a day. I pissed in a bucket in the corner. Just like I did with Master.
“No,” Talia said. Her voice crackled. “You are free. Your captor isn’t here.”
More pain pierced my chest as she continued to lie. “Chains,” I said. “I am not free. I am kept in chains, in darkness. I am not free…”
The dark cell went silent. Talia didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she stood. I didn’t look up. I knew she was leaving. But her feet didn’t move.
“Zaal?” she called. “Take my hand.”
I shook my head. Still she didn’t walk away. I felt her watching me. When I lifted my gaze, she was staring a
t me. Her hand had remained outstretched.
“Why?” I asked. “Why take your hand?”
A single tear ran down her cheek. “Freedom,” she replied. “I want to show you freedom.”
11
TALIA
You are … for me?
Even now as I held out my hand for him to take to get him out of this fucked-up torture cell of a basement, I couldn’t shake those words from my mind. I couldn’t remove the image of his face, looking up at me with such hope, such relief that I was his.
You are … for me?
In that moment I was every hope he’d had. I could see it; see it in those sea green eyes. He moved me. Completely moved something inside of me with those simple, earnest words.
He hadn’t moved; he stared at my hand like it was a forbidden fruit he so badly wanted to savor. He was shattering my heart as, internally, he warred with himself. His conflicted eyes flitted from side to side; he wanted to believe me. He wanted to believe in me so badly, it shone like a desperate beacon in his green eyes.
I edged forward and pushed my hand closer to his. “Take my hand, Zaal. Let me show you the truth. Trust me, always trust me. I won’t ever lie to you. I promise.”
He glanced down at the heavy chains spooled at his side, then back up to my face. He was frowning. An accepting expression passed across his face, which made me believe he was going to trust me. His hand lifted, but stopped in midair. His jaw and fist clenched simultaneously. Then he made my heart swell; he took a leap of faith and wrapped his big hand in mine.
We stayed there, suspended in our relative sitting and standing positions hands joined. After rolling to his feet, Zaal’s huge frame towered over me. His hand still held mine, and by the tight grip, I knew he wouldn’t let go. He was so fierce and untamed in his looks and demeanor. But his tight grip on my hand told me how fearful he was about the concept of his freedom … about putting his trust in me … when, in his tortured mind, I might lead him to nothing but more punishment and more pain.
He took a deep breath, and rasped, “I am weak. I feel weak.”
Sighing, I tipped my head to the side. “I know. But you’re getting stronger. Each day, you’re getting stronger again.”
