by Kitty Thomas
“Come on. You just have to get through this. It will work out.” But there was nothing convincing about her words. They were programmed, commanded words—simply a script she followed to avoid punishment from her own master.
Unlike the other times Mina had descended the endless stairs to get to the ground level, this trip felt like it took no time at all. In fact, time seemed to speed up to deliver her to her doom that much quicker.
Annette nudged her and she dropped to her hands and knees to crawl across the thick, plush carpet following the direction she was pulled.
When they stopped, Annette spoke. “S-sir, may I present your slave, Mina.”
If this man made someone who lived here and saw everything stutter…
Mina couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down her face. And all she could think was that she might already be making him angry by not appearing happy and eager to be there. Would she be punished for these tears once he got her out from under the watchful eye of the house? How far would they travel to get to wherever he planned to keep her?
She flinched when a large hand cupped her cheek, and a thumb wiped tears away. She could hear quiet conversation between the buyer and someone else. Mina assumed final papers were being signed. A moment later a grape was pressed into her mouth. And then a strawberry. She heard liquid being poured into a glass. He seemed to be leisurely sipping something. Wine perhaps? Maybe champagne to congratulate himself on his acquisition.
After several long minutes he stood and tugged the leash, taking her back in the direction she’d come in. She wanted to scream. She didn’t care about the spectacle, but she was too afraid of what they’d do to her if she embarrassed them. Whoever this was had paid a lot of money. People with large sums of money to throw away on frivolity were often extremely entitled. She’d seen as much on a nightly basis as a waitress.
If she stepped out of line now, nothing would save her. She had to appease him and not make him angry. Maybe this person had a soul somewhere in there. Maybe she could reach it and find some softer part of him to appeal to.
It was the plan she’d employed with Jason and the other three before him. The plan hadn’t worked then, and it wouldn’t work now. She knew it. But it was all she had to hold onto.
When they reached the edge of the carpet and her knees hit harder floor, he helped her to stand, then he swept her up in his arms. She could do nothing but lay her head on his shoulder as he took her… to a waiting car?
She felt his strength as he carried her like she was nothing.
Mina didn’t hear the outside door open. In fact, they were going too far, and now they were moving down. Down. The dungeons were down. Why weren’t they leaving?
Panic seized her, but the man only gripped her tighter. When they reached solid ground, he moved with purpose several more steps, then opened a large, creaking door. He set her down on a bed as the door shut with a heavy thud.
She knew where she was, but she couldn’t admit it. She refused to admit it. Lindsay didn’t want her so she was supposed to be leaving the house, not be taken further inside it. It was quiet. Too quiet. Had she been left alone in here?
A weird part of her brain—probably for survival reasons—began to concoct a wild story about Lindsay having mercy on her, the sale being a ruse. He’d keep her somewhere hidden to secretly get her out later. She’d promise never to breathe a word of anything, and Lindsay would believe her and allow her to go back home.
If she just kept the blindfold on… if he didn’t speak, she could keep the fantasy a little longer.
But he wouldn’t allow such a kindness. Instead, he ripped the cloth away and she was face to face with the man she’d feared most in this house.
Brian watched her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“W-where’s my master?” She didn’t know where the bravery to speak had come from, and she’d known the answer before she spoke, but she was willing to grasp at anything—even the idea of some fictitious master out there who’d been somehow thwarted by Brian.
“I’m your master.”
Even though she knew, even though she’d suspected from the moment they’d started descending the stairs… until he verbalized it, she’d taken refuge in denial and unlikely scenarios to explain it all away.
That was the fear in Annette’s eyes. She lived in this house. She’d seen Brian in action. She knew it was wise to be afraid.
Mina scrambled back. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” She couldn’t stop the word from tumbling out of her mouth over and over, until the panic attack hit in full force, and her breathing escalated to the point that words couldn’t come out at all. She was breathing too fast. The room was spinning. She felt dizzy.
She heard a door slam, but she was too lost inside herself to think about anything but the fact that she couldn’t breathe right.
She jerked back when Brian invaded her physical space a few moments later. She recoiled at the sound of a snap. Her vision had narrowed in the panic, but she could barely make out a brown paper bag.
“Breathe into this.”
Her hands shook as she took the bag from him and tried to do what he said to make it all stop.
His hand was steady and surprisingly gentle on her back, his words soothing instead of harsh. “Slowly in. Now out. Good. Again.”
She breathed into the bag until she felt she could maintain the steady rhythm on her own.
She flinched when his fingers trailed gently through her hair. The way he touched her was a complete contradiction to his reputation. And she knew his reputation wasn’t just stories. Every single person in the house reacted to him in such a way as to give credence to any story that spread about him.
Their previous encounters he’d been gentle as well. He’d helped her up when she’d fallen the first night. And then in the dungeon corridor, the way he’d touched her back and pressed his cheek against hers… He’d held her arms over her head, but he hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t been rough or violent.
The opening of Chopin’s Nocturne 2 began to play on the CD player. She wasn’t a classical music buff. She just knew what it was because she’d listened to it so many times on the discs Lindsay had given her. It was a famous piece, she’d just never known the name. It had been familiar. Safe.
On the CD, The pianist had played as if the music surprised him, or as if he were creating the piece himself in the moment. It felt unplanned. For some reason every time Mina listened to it, it made her cry. And yet she’d kept playing it.
She cried now as the piano played and Brian sat again beside her.
“The music… when I was going through withdrawal… it was from you?”
“It was. I sat outside your door. I didn’t want to scare you.”
His voice remained quiet and soothing but Jason had done the same in the beginning. Jason had seemed so reasonable. He’d magnanimously given her a safeword. And then he’d ignored it when she used it. There was no safeword with Brian. There was no point in pretending they were playing a game.
“D-did you buy me or did Lindsay just give me to you?”
Somehow it would be less of a betrayal if big money had actually exchanged hands. Though if he was just going to sell her to Brian, she didn’t understand why he’d put her through all the drama in the medical room.
“Bought.”
“H-how much?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She tensed and was quiet for several minutes, afraid she’d crossed a line already and was about to see first hand exactly how he’d acquired his reputation.
“Keep talking,” he said, brushing a long strand of hair behind her ear. “I know that’s not all that’s troubling you. You will keep no secrets from me. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Master.”
“Well?”
“W-why did you buy me?” This time she felt him tense beside her.
“The why isn’t important. Just know I will honor the contract. I won’t hurt you or cross the bound
aries laid out. You will trust my word on that eventually. I have… other outlets.”
The other girls here—the ones he would fuck and beat in Mina’s place. She felt sickened that she had a split second of relief that maybe he could and would protect her as long as he had others to hurt instead. That thought should have produced revulsion, not relief. How would she stand to let him touch her, knowing the things he did to others and would continue to do?
“How will I trust that? I-I’ve heard about the things you do. And I can tell from looking in your eyes that you like it. You told me to run. And then the threats when I was in that cage…”
He rubbed her back, and the part of her that was in complete panic overload just wanted to rest and lean into him. It was crazier than any faith she’d put in the other men who had failed her, but all she wanted was something to hold onto, even if it wasn’t real. If she could just pretend for a while and delay the inevitable.
“I told you to run because I didn’t trust myself yet. But the man they were going to sell you to… I couldn’t let them. I knew you wouldn’t be safe.”
“Why would you care?” This didn’t match anything she’d heard about him. He should be gleeful at the idea of her suffering.
She wanted to believe this alternate reality in which she had some special power that not only kept her safe from Brian but shielded her from all outside harm under his protective wing. But how could she believe or trust that out of all the women in this house she was the sole one who was truly safe from him? That he wouldn’t turn on her later? If he hadn’t trusted himself near her only a week ago, what had changed in that time?
“Just know that I do care, and you will not be harmed. I don’t want you to fear me.”
“But the threats…”
“I didn’t want you in the cage.”
“But why?”
“That’s enough. We’re done discussing this.”
Already he seemed to exist in that schizophrenic place she’d seen so many dominants in. That place of “You will tell me everything. No, shut up.” It had been a favorite ploy of Jason’s. She was beginning to think these men believed their own bullshit when they said they wanted no secrets, that they wanted to know everything. But they only wanted to know the things that kept their own fantasies going, not anything that might be real or true.
The intercom on the wall buzzed. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a behavioral problem for you to deal with. A fight broke out at the pool,” Lindsay said.
Brian sighed. “Who?”
“A new girl.”
“Put her in cell B. It’s set up and ready to go.”
Brian turned back to Mina like a hawk sizing up prey. He went to a drawer and took out a sweater, sweatpants and socks, and placed them on the bed beside her. Then he handed her some tennis shoes. “I think these are about your size. The other stuff is mine, so it’ll be big. You can roam freely around the grounds while I’m occupied. I’ll send a signal to the bracelet when I’m ready for you. Did Lindsay explain about the beeping?”
“H-he said if it beeped to go to his office.”
“Well, now if it beeps you come down here to me.”
“Y-yes, Master.”
“Good. No one else is to touch you. If they do, you tell them I said no. They won’t test it. You will call all the trainers, including the doctor, by their first names from now on. None of them have any authority over you. You are just like Annette now. Talk to her. She’ll help you understand how you fit in.”
Mina fought not to scramble away from him as he stroked her cheek.
“We’ll get better acquainted soon.”
22
Brian resented being called away from her. He’d just gotten her. Waiting the week while the collar was made had almost driven him insane. It had taken all his willpower to stay away during that time. Each of their interactions only scared her more, and part of that was his fault. Maybe all of it was his fault.
It had seemed best to avoid causing her more panic. It would only be harder to undo the damage later. He still couldn’t believe he’d let Lindsay practically clean out his bank account. But he’d never been in this for the money. They let him feed the beast here. He could satisfy the thing that wouldn’t let him sleep. That was worth far more than wealth.
Maybe it was better this way.
The doctor had acted nonchalant over the intercom, but none of them seemed to care much for Brian’s methods. If they were calling him in, what had transpired upstairs must have been spectacular.
He should get this urge out of his system before trying to engage with Mina. It would give her time to process, maybe make peace with things. But if the look in her eyes was any indication, she’d never make peace with things. And why should she? She knew he was a monster.
The look she’d given him was a mixture of terror and revulsion. On anyone else it hadn’t bothered him. He didn’t care if any of the others lived or died. But from her… it hurt—even though he’d expected the reaction.
He shook those thoughts away as he opened the door to cell B. He hadn’t believed this would be a fairy tale. Mina would obey him, he was sure of it. She was too afraid not to. But she wouldn’t love him. She wouldn’t care for him. There wasn’t a soul living who could be expected to take on such a task. He didn’t require her body or her soul. Even her obedience was somewhat incidental. He just needed her near. He needed her safe. He just needed to know that at least one of them was okay and not being tormented and abused. If she could be okay, maybe he could somehow absorb that energy and keep the nightmares locked away forever.
Brian pulled a rolling metal cart in front of an iron chair. There were straps at the arms and the two front legs. The other partners set a limit on how much Brian could mark them, though occasionally he got carried away. But he could at least scare the shit out of them.
He laid out a fresh white paper sheet on the metal cart, then began to carefully place the sterilized tools on it. Some looked medical. Some looked like standard horror movie torture fare. He couldn’t do anything that would damage the merchandise too much. And what marks he did leave would be intensely cared for upstairs in the infirmary so as to ensure the best healing. But when Brian punished, he did it right the first goddamn time.
Only one girl in the house had failed to succumb to him: Sabrina, former house brat and social queen bee. She’d somehow wormed her way in with Anton and gained his protection from Brian—a strategy increasing numbers of girls had tried since then as the rumors had drifted down. In the end, Anton’s mercy cost the girl everything. She’d been disposed of. She was a liability. And a disruption. Ever since, any signs of rebellion or the girls organizing behind this or that brat leader were dealt with swiftly to spare them similar fates.
Brian’s eyes lit when Lindsay brought his new toy in. He’d only seen her once or twice in passing and hadn’t paid her much mind. Though he often pushed many of the girls in the gym and got to zap them a few times on their bracelet with the remote when they were too slow or lazy or whining, a lot of them never saw the inside of his dungeons. The stories were enough to keep them docile.
Lindsay threw the girl down on the ground and tossed a phone to Brian. It was the video footage of what she was being punished for.
“Close the door behind you,” Brian said. “And lock it.” He had his own key, and he didn’t want this fresh new find—who was just becoming aware of the danger she was in—to get the opportunity to flee.
When the door shut and the lock turned over, he smiled.
“And what is your name, sweetheart?”
“Jessa, Sir.”
“Jessa,” he repeated. He hadn’t even had this one in the gym. This was the first time they’d spoken. What a treat for their first time to be down here. This room was a place where lifelong bonds were formed. Desperate alliances between captive and captor.
“And how long have you been with us?”
“T-two days.”
She was already
crying. Delicious. Two days. She’d barely had a chance to take in the sights. She probably hadn’t yet fucked half the men she would fuck in this house before her time came to be sold. It was practically like deflowering a virgin.
“Come here.”
She crawled to him and pressed her lips against his boot. “P-please. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you will be.”
Brian strapped her into the chair while she blubbered and begged, then he pulled up a rolling leather chair and sat to watch the surveillance footage on Anton’s phone.
He let out a low whistle as he watched the trembling girl in front of him hold another girl underwater in the pool. Jessa wasn’t just fighting. She wanted to murder the girl. He knew that determination and hatred. It took three guys to get Jessa off of the victim and get them both out of the pool.
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t care, but I’m in a good mood today so I’ll indulge you… what did she do to you?”
“She called me a cunt.”
They were right. She needed swift discipline or she’d be another Sabrina, bringing the whole house down while she got away with murder. Maybe literally.
Brian rolled his chair closer to his captive and placed the phone next to the tools. He picked up a gleaming, sharp knife. He couldn’t actually use it on her today, but she didn’t know that. And even after only two days in the house, he was sure the name Brian had passed in hushed tones through somebody’s lips.
He dragged the blade against her arm, then raised it so that the point pricked and drew the smallest drop of blood. “We can’t have behavior like that in this house.”
“P-please don’t. Please.” Her eyes were wide as they took in the various instruments on the cart, convinced he was about to use them all on her.
Oh, if only.
He knew she wanted to ask what some were, but she was smart not to call attention to them. At least she wasn’t as idiotic as she’d seemed in that video.
