Mercy's Angels Box Set (Mercy's Angel #1-3)

by Kirsty Dallas

  I rarely wore bras and panties. Master Jonas and some of his clients occasionally requested I wear uncomfortable bustiers and corsets with garters and leather, but mostly they preferred me easily accessible at all times. I wouldn’t exactly say I was comfortable without underwear, but it had been so long now it was normal. Offering Braiden a small nod of understanding, he gifted me a small lopsided grin that did something funny to my heart. I liked his smile; it made him appear more youthful and carefree. Braiden’s hand moved forward as if to reach for my cheek and I winced. Not because I thought he might hurt me, his actions were too slow and careful to be brutal. I winced because I wasn’t familiar with this sort of touch any longer, and I hated any kind of skin contact with those I perceived as innocent. It made me sick to my stomach. Although my skin looked and felt clean, there was a fine coating of shame and revolt that never seemed to leave, and I’d be damned if I was going to taint anyone else with such filth. When I realized my slight, I cringed further, knowing punishment would surely follow. To shy away from a master’s touch was forbidden. Forcing away my fear, I lowered my head like the perfect submissive.

  “I’m sorry, Master,” I barely managed to whisper.

  Braiden was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if he was considering how he might punish me.

  “I’m the one who should apologize, Em. I shouldn’t assume I can touch you without your permission, and unless it is given, I will keep my hands to myself. It is me who is sorry.” Braiden shifted slightly. “And I’d rather you didn’t call me Master. Either call me Braiden or if you aren’t ready for that yet, call me…”He seemed to contemplate his next words carefully before speaking them. “Mой.” It sounded like Moi, a short word, easy to pronounce even though I was certain it was not English. I had no idea what it meant, but I assumed it was some form or variation of ‘master’. I had been so focused on learning his preferred title that his solemn apology suddenly hit me full force. He was sorry? Such a simple and innocuous word that slammed into me with stinging shock before warming and settling into a small place in my heart. No man had ever apologized to me.

  “Thank you, мой,” I said slowly to make sure I had pronounced it correctly. Braiden’s small grin of approval helped my shoulders relax. Mой, I played the word over again in my mind. I liked it even though I had no idea what it meant. It felt personal and intimate. Braiden’s eyes dipped for just a moment then quickly returned to my eyes. If I hadn’t been carefully watching him, I wouldn’t have even noticed. It was then I realized that Braiden hadn’t once looked over my naked body the way men usually did. He hadn’t leered. He hadn’t ogled. Each time I had looked up at him, his eyes had been on mine. I wondered if he didn’t find any pleasure in my body; it was scarred after all. My skin was no longer blemish free; instead it was mutilated and tarnished, just as scarred on the outside as I was on the inside.

  “After you have showered and dressed, just head through that door. There is a living area and kitchen beyond. I’ll have something ready for you to eat when you’re finished.” Braiden stood slowly and left the room.

  I remained on my knees for a long time, my thoughts a tangled web of confusion. My future hadn’t been a thought I particularly entertained. My life was servitude and slavery, I had no future. Uncertainty prickled at my senses and the anxiety and insecurity made me nauseous. Finally I succumbed to the need to clean myself. I washed often, sometimes several times a day. No matter how often I scrubbed my skin though, I was never fully clean.

  After showering, I carefully went through the few garments that had been left out for me: two simple knee length sun dresses in light cool fabrics, a sarong and a simple black bikini. I hadn’t worn a bikini since I was a teenager back in Claymont, and even then I could count the occasions on one hand. Opting to go without the bikini—any association with water made me incredibly nervous—I slipped one of the dresses over my head. The dress was a pale shade of blue that didn’t cling too tightly to my body and managed to look innocent yet feminine. I couldn’t recall the last time I wore something so simple and comfortable. Studying myself in the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door, I found the reflected image one of youth and innocence. It was a lie though, however youthful I might look I felt older beyond my years and my innocence went out the door a long time ago. Running a hand through my cropped hair, I took a moment to miss the waist long hair I had once had. It had been the first thing to go after being introduced to the nefarious lifestyle that was to become my world. Men liked to pull hair—they had pulled mine often—by cutting it short I had taken that away from them. Master Jonas had agreed, but only because he knew it would encourage his fellow Dom’s to get more creative with their restraints. Turning slightly I noticed the scars on my back peeked out the top, but there was nothing I could do about them. The only gratification I could find in the unsightly scars was that men might find me unappealing now. Damaged goods, as William had reminded me of often. After standing in front of the mirror, behind the protection of the door for at least a good twenty minutes, I finally gathered the courage to leave the room.

  Peeking through the doorway I noticed the living area on the other side. It was just as opulent as the bedroom and bathroom. A large horseshoe sectional sofa filled one side of the room and wrapped around a huge glass coffee table. On the opposite side of the vessel was a large kitchenette. I found Mой sitting on one of the tall chairs that lined the tall, high polished granite table in front of the kitchen. Having not noticed me enter I took the opportunity to careful study the intriguing man. He was wearing a pair of khaki colored cargos with a pale blue t-shirt that stretched across his wide muscular back. Many handsome men had come and gone from my life, but Braiden’s good looks captured my attention like no other. He was tall, perhaps around six feet, his hair a shaggy cut but expertly done and black as night. A straight nose, full lips and a masculine jaw filled an exquisitely beautiful face. His eyes were just as dark with almost no noticeable difference in color between the pupil and iris. His charming looks were dark and mysterious, he reminded me of an avenging angel. My former Master was a handsome man too, but there was a softness hidden in Braiden’s eyes that had been clearly absent from Master Jonas. Mой, however dark and mysterious he appeared, didn’t frighten me. Remembering how he sat with me in the hospital back in Claymont for hours without even attempting to touch me almost brought a smile to my lips. He did nothing but talk, telling me about B and Charlie, his security firm that he owned with his cousin, his travels overseas, and when he had run out of things to talk about, he had picked up the local paper and simply read it to me. He offered me a feeling of safety that I hadn’t felt since before my parents died. At the same time though, the feelings he invoked confused me and having such blurred emotions made me nervous. Before Mой had taken me from Master Jonas, I knew my place. I stopped feeling long ago and just existed; it was easier that way. Now I had no idea where I stood or what my future held. Hope had always been a notion that I tried hard to ignore. Now it threatened to spill from my heart and flood my senses. I didn’t want to hope; it was an illusion that would only lead to disappointment.

  As I took a small tentative step forward into the living space, I realized Mой was talking to someone. Another small step forward revealed a man standing in the kitchen next to him. Their voices were lowered in deep conversation, but when the stranger noticed me he fell silent. Mой turned, and his eyes took a quick perusal of my body. The way he looked over me didn’t make my skin crawl with distaste though. Where Master Jonas and his men looked at me with assessing eyes—judging my figure, my breasts, my skin—Mой’s evaluation seemed to be one of genuine concern. I found myself oddly comfortable with the weight of his gaze.

  “Em, this is Larz, the Captain of ‘Utonut' Moi Grekhi.”

  I had no idea what that meant. It was obviously a foreign language, but I wasn’t about to speak out of place and ask questions. Not sure what the etiquette was in meeting Mой’s guests, I simply nodde
d. Larz was a big man, not as tall as Mой, but wider, and quite obviously older. Weathered skin told a story of too much time in the sun, and his hair was filled with a healthy dose of gray. He had soft, kind eyes that didn’t linger on me for too long. The mention of ‘Captain’ reminded me that we were on the water, and I cast my gaze to the windows. On my right was sparkling blue water as far as the eye could see, and to my left was an island but not exactly what I would call close. And I couldn’t swim. All that deep, unforgiving water between me and land wasn’t good. My eyes widened slightly in panic, and my fists clenched.

  “You don’t like yachts?” Mой asked, his voice holding a trace of humor as I turned back to face him. Larz had left the room so it was just the two of us now. I shook my head but didn’t elaborate, I couldn’t until he granted permission to speak.

  “May I ask what you don’t like about them?”

  And there was the permission I was seeking. “I have nothing against boats, Mой, I just don’t like the water.” Mой laughed and the sound stopped me in my tracks. It was a loud, carefree sound and I got the impression that it wasn’t a sound he made often. Of the few times I had been with Mой, he had remained unerringly still and passive, his lips forming neither smiles nor frowns, his eyes always watching with a quiet intensity. He didn’t seem like a man who indulged in moments of lightheartedness. I could appreciate that though, since I could barely remember a time when I smiled, let alone laughed. So long ago in my foggy mind that I wondered if I had made it up. Back in the days when Claymont was my home and I was safe.

  “The two kind of go hand in hand, Em.” Mой signaled me forward, and I moved without hesitation.

  I didn’t exactly trust him yet, but I could obey a command without fault. It was one of the many lessons I had learned with Master Jonas and that thought made me shudder. I moved forward not sure what to do. Many masters required their slaves to get down on their knees, but Mой had made the comment that he didn’t like it.

  Noticing my hesitation, he pulled back the chair beside him. “Please sit.”

  I hesitated only a moment, years of conditioning to act a certain way made it hard for me to move forward without reluctance. I had never been allowed to sit at a table with my Master. My position was on the floor at his feet, always.

  Mой sighed. “It would please me very much if you would sit beside me,” he murmured, his voice not unkind, but it still held an edge of command. Climbing into the tall chair I glanced over the food laid out before us: toast, cereal, fresh fruit, and juice.

  “Breakfast, even though it’s three in the afternoon. Dinner is a little ways off, so I thought we should just go ahead and start the day late.”

  I nodded, still hesitant. In Master Jonas’ home I was fed. I sat on my knees to his side, and as long as I wasn’t disobedient, he would feed me. I never fed myself and the thought to simply do so was abhorrent.

  “Is there anything in particular you would like?” Mой asked, nodding towards the food.

  I shook my head; I didn’t really care. Food was sustenance; nothing more, nothing less. Master Jonas mostly made sure I dined on good food, fresh food. In an ironic twist he found it important that I ate a strict diet that would keep me healthy and slim, regardless of the fact that he and his friends would hurt me physically afterward. What I truly missed were sweets. Chocolate, oh God how I missed chocolate. Master Jonas would never compromise my health with sweets. Ridiculous since he had no problem compromising my health and wellbeing in other ways.

  Mой buttered a slice of toast and placed it before me. Then he went about filling a bowl with cereal and placed it before me, too. Some sliced pineapple and kiwi fruit was nudged in my direction and finally a glass of juice.

  “One of everything, at least that’s the way I like to eat. You don’t have to eat it all, whatever you can manage is fine.”

  I stared at the food before me, my eyes darting between the utensils and my plate.

  “Everything okay?” he asked after taking a small sip of his own juice.

  I looked from my new Master, to the food, and back again.

  “You were fed, weren’t you?” He sighed.

  Of course I was, always. The last time I fed myself...

  “YOU ARE MY SLAVE!” he roared. He towered over me as I cowered on the floor. I had only taken a small piece of potato from his plate. I had been starving, though and I hated being fed. It was beyond degrading, it took humiliation to the next level. He struck me so hard, it sent me sprawling across the tiles. Now he was looking down on me with fury radiating so thick I could almost see it wafting off his skin. Whimpering with fear I curled in on myself as Master Jonas kicked me hard. “KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT, YOU WHORE!” He kicked me again, and I clenched my teeth so hard they ached with the effort to keep quiet. Then he was gone. I barely had time to roll to my back before he was on me again, his hand full of food. “You want food?” His voice had lowered, which scared me even more. This voice meant I was in a whole new level of trouble. He knelt at my side and stuffed the handful of food into my gaping mouth. I began to choke and cough. “A slave’s place is at her master’s feet, and if she behaves she is fed, and she most certainly does not eat from the same table as him. Do you understand?” I spluttered and choked on the food forced into my mouth. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes and I nodded fiercely, my body racked with throbbing with pain, my throat sore, and my heart was screaming with sorrow.

  “Em?”

  My shoulders were held in an unfamiliar grip, and the loud resounding voice of my new Master brought me back to the present.

  “There you are, Malen’kaya. I lost you there for a moment.”

  I pushed the lingering flashback away, far away where I couldn’t crumble under the weight of such a horrifying memory.

  “I’ll help with this, for now, okay.” Mой dipped his head a little to look me in the eye.

  Nodding, I forced myself to concentrate on my new Master. I was terrified of slipping back into another unwelcome memory. Mой slid around to face me and took a small piece of sliced toast, holding it to my lips. I took it graciously and lowered my gaze.

  He was quick to place a finger under my chin and lifted my eyes to meet his. “Eyes up, Em. You have beautiful eyes. I would prefer to see them.”

  The compliment slipped from his lips, floated through the air and melted into my heart. Compliments had evaded me for more years than I cared to remember—nice tits, perfect ass, tight pussy—those were the common observations I was accustomed to, but they weren’t compliments; they were made with no endearment or care behind them.

  “Baby steps, Malen’kaya. We are going to do this in baby steps. I know you need certain things now. It’s a part of how you have been conditioned to live, but I swear that I am going to give you back what you’ve lost, alright?”

  I briefly wondered what malen’kaya meant, but my thoughts were quickly replaced by thoughts of what exactly my new Master intended to ‘give me back’. I had lost so much, and a big part of me knew I could never get back the moments that had been stolen from me. I would never again have that innocence all young girls are born with. My hopes and dreams had been killed under the brutal hands of a monster. Mой continued to feed me, and I kept my eyes on his at all times. It almost felt intimate, too intimate.

  “In the bedroom, when you flinched from my touch, can you explain why?”

  Mой’s question made me nervous. I wasn’t sure how to answer, not wanting to displease him, but I didn’t want to lie either. Lying to your master was disrespectful and would only end in punishment. On the other hand, he might dislike my answer and punish me anyway.

  “Truth, preferably, Em. I don’t want any secrets between you and I, which is how we’ll build trust. Anything you ask me, I will answer honestly, and I hope you will offer me the same courtesy.”

  I nodded, understanding his command. Taking a deep breath, I gave him my truth. “I didn’t want to taint you, Mой. I’m...uncle
an.”

  Mой’s head tilted thoughtfully to one side. “Explain,” he calmly ordered.

  “I...I’m spoiled. I’ve been d...defiled. I have sinned and it’s not only on my skin but...under it.” My voice was so low I could barely hear it.

  Mой’s eyes flared with fury, and I knew this was the moment where I would be punished. By the most subtle of degrees I tensed. Mой’s perception must have been outstanding because he quickly took a long deep breath and calmed himself.

  When he spoke, his words were careful and low, “You are not tainted, Em. You were abused, forced. That. Is. Not. On. You. Those are not your sins, and your touch will not taint others, do you understand me?”

  Keeping perfectly still I didn’t say anything, because no, I didn’t understand how he could feel that way. He let out an exasperated huff and shook his head.

  “I understand sin, Em, I understand what it feels like to be beyond redemption.”

  Chapter 4

  BRAIDEN

  I didn’t need her words to know that she didn’t believe me. The look in her eyes said it all, she truly believed she was beneath me, that her touch alone would taint me. I needed to give her a piece of me that no one else had, to show her that she wasn’t sinful, or bad, or tainted. Sin was something I was well acquainted with and if anyone in this room should carry such a burden, it was me. I didn’t want to scare her away though, so I would share just a slither of myself, just one fine layer of the many dark layers that were wrapped around my own soul.

  “I didn’t always do this, Em, I didn’t always help people. My childhood was unconventional to say the least. My biological father left when I was still a baby. My mother was fortunate enough to meet a man who treated her well, but outside of his family he was, and still is, a ruthless man. He was a good father in his own way; he taught me things I would never have learned otherwise. My stepfather’s business is somewhat...illegal,” my eyes were still riveted on hers, “and I worked for him, did things, bad things and I’ve reaped the benefits.” My arms opened wide to take in the lavish yacht surrounding us. “If anyone in this room is tainted by sin, it’s me. By definition, a sin is a willing or deliberate violation of moral principle, and I chose to do the things I did; therefore, I was willing. You had no choice in your life or over the things you did; therefore, they don’t constitute a sin.”