Raised For Him

by Farrar, Marissa

  He stepped more fully into the room, his expression curious. Could he smell me on the air? Did the room stink of sex, even though I’d been the only one in it?

  I sat up hurriedly, pushed a hand through my hair. I wore a sleeveless tank top, and no bra. It was cut low, and my chest was flushed both from my arousal and from my humiliation at getting caught. My nipples were hard and pressed like bullets against the material, creating outlines that were impossible to miss.

  “I thought I heard you crying...”

  His gaze flicked over me, and something changed in his eyes, concern morphing to a flash of panic. His Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably, his eyes widening. His gaze stopped at the swell of my breasts, still heaving from my orgasm. God, had he heard me calling his name? I wished the bed would part in the middle so I could sink right through it.

  “I’m fine,” I said, staring down at the sheets covering my legs. What else could I say? Sorry I made so much noise—I was just masturbating while imagining you were the one who was doing it. For one brief, crazy moment, I almost opened my mouth and said exactly that, but I managed to clamp my lips together, preventing the words from spilling out.

  He didn’t see me that way; that was the problem. He still saw me as a little girl and not a young woman who had a sexuality of her own. If it had been anyone else, and he’d walked past the door and heard those noises, he’d have recognized that they weren’t cries of pain at all, but because they’d come from me, he hadn’t even considered that they might mean something else.

  He did now, though. I saw it in his eyes. It wasn’t disgust or dismay, or even embarrassment. It was a sudden burst of lust, a darkening of his gaze, a slacking of his lower lip. He sucked in a breath and quickly glanced away again, but it was too late. The moment had happened.

  He shook his head. “No, sorry. I... I must have imagined things. It’s been a... difficult night.”

  Wanting to make him more comfortable, I pulled the sheet up around my chest, hiding my breasts. I suddenly didn’t want him to go. My heart reached out for his.

  “Are you all right?” My voice was softer. He’d been about to back out of the room but stopped at my words.

  He looked down at the ground, his head hung. “I have no right to complain about anything.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “I can’t talk about this with you,” he blurted. “It’s too hard. Not when—” He gestured into the air in front of him.

  “Not when I’m going to be leaving soon,” I filled in for him.

  He nodded but didn’t answer. I wished he would come over to me, sit on my bed and talk to me like we did when we were children, but he remained lurking in the open doorway, like he knew he didn’t belong.

  “Just because I’m leaving,” I said, “doesn’t make me a different person. Nothing has changed, Angel.”

  “Everything has changed. You’re not a little girl anymore, Kitty.”

  We’d fallen into our old names for each other.

  “I know that.”

  “The world out there isn’t a nice place, especially for girls like you. It has teeth, and it’s ready and willing to bite.”

  “The world in here isn’t such a nice place, too, sometimes.” I thought of all the women we had lost, to the times when one of the men visited and the woman ended up with a broken nose and spitting teeth. The master always made sure those men paid for what they did, and they were never seen again, but that didn’t stop it from happening.

  He paused, and I readied myself, waiting for him to speak. “When I was out there tonight, all I could think about was you. I kept imagining that you were the one who’d tried to escape, only from Mr. Torres’s house, not the compound, and that it was his men chasing you.”

  “You were thinking about me?”

  Was that why he’d been walking past my bedroom in the middle of the night as well? Had he needed to come? Had he been worrying about me, and needed to check that I was all right, and then when he’d walked past, he’d heard my cries, and his already fear-ridden mind had translated them into a cry of a different kind?

  But my heart felt full. He did care.

  “I’m worried you’re too soft for Torres’s world. I’m worried he’s going to eat you alive, and because I haven’t given you the tools to prepare yourself, you’re going to end up like the new girl tonight.”

  “I’m stronger than you think, Angel. I’m not as naïve as you believe either. I’ve seen things, heard things, even if I haven’t experienced them for myself. And that girl tonight didn’t grow up like I have. This was all new to her, but it won’t be for me.”

  His expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he gritted his teeth. His fists were clenched by his sides. “Being with Mr. Torres will be new for you. He won’t be gentle, either, Catalina. It’ll hurt.”

  “There’s nothing I can do to change that. But you can, Angel. You can do what your father asked and help me.”

  He was Angel. My Angel. The boy who had always taken care of me and protected me. Though we’d grown up in the same place, I’d never thought of him as an older brother. Our lives were too separate for me to ever think that way. He was the rich boy with the powerful father, and I was a girl with nothing and no one.

  Yes, I’d been sold to someone else, and I wasn’t fighting against that—I’d always known what purpose I’d been raised for, and just like the other women here, if I didn’t have a value, I’d never have been given a home—but this felt right. We’d been given a few days, and Angel had been given a job to do. He should be the one to give me all of my firsts, apart from that one thing he could not take from me.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “This is too hard.”

  “No harder than it’ll be for me when I’m given to him.”

  He shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Catalina. I shouldn’t have disturbed you. You need to get some sleep.”

  “No, Angel. Wait.” I desperately didn’t want him to leave, but he backed out of the room and gently closed the door behind him.

  I slid back down in my bed and turned to my side and wiped away the tear that traced its way down my cheek.

  Chapter Twelve

  Present Day

  THERE WERE FOUR DAYS left until she would leave this place forever and be taken by another man.

  Three days left until her eighteenth birthday.

  And then I would probably never see her again.

  I didn’t understand how she accepted her fate so calmly. I knew she’d always been aware of what was going to become of her—she’d been told since a young age—but I was in awe of her bravery.

  I felt time dripping away, and with it built the urgency of needing to see her. I couldn’t get the image of her from when I’d walked in on her last night out of my head. A part of me wanted to push my fists into my eyeballs and block out the picture forever, while the other part kept flicking back to it. The reaction my body had to her disgusted me. I shouldn’t be thinking of her like that. And yet she’d looked incredible, her face and chest flushed, her lips full and parted, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure. Her dark curls had been mussed up around her face, and when my gaze had traveled down her body, checking to see if she was hurt like I’d thought, it had been impossible to miss the perfect curve of her breasts against the top she wore to bed.

  What a fucking idiot. I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought there was something wrong with her. I’d been worried about her after the events that night, and hearing those noises, my brain had leaped to one conclusion. And then when I’d heard my name, I’d thought she was calling out to me for help, when actually she was calling my name for a whole different reason.

  Had she really been thinking of me while she’d been touching herself? How had my sweet little Kitty changed her opinion of me so drastically? How long had she thought of me in such a way? I hoped it was a recent thing. I couldn’t stand to think of her having such thoughts when she’d been younger.

&nb
sp; I was a total hypocrite, of course. I’d lost my virginity at the age of fifteen with a girl a year older, who was the daughter of one of the cleaners at my school. I didn’t know what the mother thought she was doing, bringing her sixteen-year-old daughter into an all-boys school. Not that the girl had seemed to mind, however. In fact, she was far more experienced than I’d been when it had happened, though the whole experience had been quick and embarrassing on my part. But that was over eight years ago now, and there had been plenty of women since then. Yet I’d had no problem with that sixteen-year-old girl having had sexual experiences, but now I couldn’t imagine Catalina, at effectively eighteen years old, having the same kind of thoughts.

  What made things even more ridiculous was that she was a sex slave. Admittedly, she hadn’t been put into practice yet, but that was what my father wanted me to teach her, and she’d already been sold. The stubborn part of my brain simply couldn’t align this new, adult, sexual side of her with the cute little girl who’d followed me around for so many years.

  I wished I could reach inside my head and scrub my brain clean—not so much from the glorious sight of the young woman pleasuring herself tonight, but of all the memories I had of her as a child. They all just made my body scream that this was wrong and that I shouldn’t think of her in such a way.

  But Elliot Torres would.

  Torres wouldn’t care about the innocent child she’d once been. Her innocence had been a selling point to him. It was what made her valuable. But that didn’t stop him wanting to take her away and turn her into something worthless.

  I knew now that I couldn’t bring someone else in to do the job my father had given me. This wasn’t going to be easy, and my heart already bled for what I was about to do, but I had no choice. I couldn’t send her out into the world unprepared. I owed her this much. I knew I’d need to get a little rough with her to show her how it was going to be, but I’d still have boundaries. Rules.

  And most importantly of all, there would be no emotion involved. I needed to remove my heart at the door and leave it there. I needed to stop seeing her as Kitty, and instead tell myself at every moment that she was a sex slave who would be passed onto her owner in a matter of days.

  The atmosphere was subdued in the compound after last night’s events.

  I did the rounds, making sure everyone was in place. None of the women I passed would meet my eye, ducking their heads down and hurrying past me. They were frightened of me, and I understood why. One of their own had died last night, and I was the one in charge of the compound when it happened. Stupidly, I wished I could explain to them that I hadn’t ordered for Dani to be shot, and that I’d wanted her brought back alive, but there was no point. Besides, my father would argue that it was good for the women to be afraid of me. They’d be less likely to cause trouble if they were worried they’d end up with a bullet in their backs. That was my father’s way of managing people—I knew that better than most—but I didn’t want fear to be what made people do as I said. I’d rather respect-inspired loyalty.

  What would have happened, even if I had managed to bring the girl back alive? I couldn’t have kept her here. One bad seed, whispering negative thoughts into the other women’s heads, would fester and rot, turning them all against us and their way of life. For the most part, the women were content here, and I couldn’t allow one of them to ruin things for the rest. But I wouldn’t have been able to let her go, either. She’d go to the authorities, and even though most men could be bought off to turn a blind eye, there was always the good Samaritan who thought he could rescue women like this. The truth was, even if these women were released, they’d end up back on the streets. They’d pick up their drug habits and prostitution right where they’d left them.

  Everything seemed to be in order, so I went back to my father’s office, contemplating what was to come next.

  I watched from my window as Catalina crossed the yard, her arms filled with the basket containing laundry. She had chores to do, but as soon as she was finished, I’d summon her. Where would be the best place to do this? Somewhere professional, like the office. Or my bedroom. Or hers? The bedrooms felt too intimate, and yet the office would be strange—too much of my father here.

  I suddenly remembered there was a room free now. I gritted my teeth, my fists clenched. Would that be wrong, to use the dead girl’s room for this? On some level, it felt wrong, but for some strange reason that also made it feel right. It would be more detached, certainly, a room designed for events like this to happen. There was a private bathroom attached, and all of the women had their own new selection of items for use. Because the new girl hadn’t even had the chance to get started, they’d all still be untouched.

  I lifted the phone and placed a call to Rufus. “Can you get Catalina to come up to my office? I need to speak with her.”

  “Of course.”

  I ended the call, knowing it would be done right away. Sure enough, less than five minutes passed before a knock came at the office door.

  “Yes?”

  The door opened, and Rufus stepped through. “I’ve brought the girl.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and Rufus backed away, allowing Catalina into the room, before shutting the door and giving us some privacy.

  She kept her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor a couple of feet in front of me. Her dark curls fell around her face, and I had the sudden urge to push my hands through them.

  “Yes, Angelo?”

  “Catalina, I want you to clear out Dani’s old room. We’ll be needing it.”

  “Do we have a new girl coming already?” Surprise heightened her tone.

  “No, you’ll be using it.”

  Her gaze flicked to mine, her blue eyes widening. “I will?”

  “Not like that. You won’t be meeting with other men. I’ve decided I need to do what my father has asked of me, and I need somewhere... impersonal to carry out the tasks.”

  “The task of teaching me,” she said.

  “Exactly.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she inhaled a breath. “You changed your mind? Why?”

  “After last night—” I started, and her gaze leaped to mine, her eyes even wider, and I realized she thought I was talking about me walking in on her. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I mean, after losing one of the women last night, I realized that I didn’t want you to be put in the same position. I don’t want you to go to Torres unprepared.”

  “Thank you, Angel.”

  “While we’re in the room, you address me as sir.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Obedient. That was good. She was going to need to remember that above all else when it came to being with Torres. Remembering to behave would protect her.

  “I have some rules.”

  She nodded, her gaze cast downward. “Of course.”

  I counted them off on my fingers. “First of all, no emotion. This is a job, Catalina. I don’t want to hear how you’re feeling. I don’t give a fuck. Understood?”

  She nodded again.

  “Secondly, I will not touch you. You must remain intact and pure for Elliot Torres. This is about you learning, not your pleasure.”

  That duck of her head again, showing me she understood.

  “Thirdly, no talking about the past. I don’t want to have to think about that. Our conversation will be limited to what I’m teaching you, that is all.” I exhaled a sigh. “And finally, and this ties in with number one, I do not want to see any tears. There will be times where I’ll be rough with you, because that is what it will be like for you, but if you cry and beg me to stop, then I will. This whole thing will be over and you will be given over to Torres just as you are. Got it?”

  She nodded again, but I wanted more.

  “Tell me you understand, Catalina.” My voice was sharp, but that was how I needed to be with her. My rules were for myself as much as they were for her. No emotion. No thinking of the past. And no goddamned touching her. That was going to be the hardest par
t. Already my fingers itched to rake through her shiny, dark hair, to cup the swell of those perfect breasts, to work my way down to run my palms over the globes of her bottom.

  I had to remain detached and cold, and to keep my fucking hands off her. That was the only way I was going to get through this.

  Her voice was small, but she replied. “I understand.”

  “Good.”

  Her hands were folded in front of her body, her head bent. Meek. Subservient. “I’ll go and clear up the room now.”

  “Yes. I want it free from even a speck of dust. I want all trace of its previous inhabitant removed.”

  “Of course.” She hesitated and then said, “Will you come to me, then?”

  A spark of tension rose between us. “First, go and clean yourself up. It’s how Torres will want you, understand?” I gestured to the t-shirt and dungarees she wore—fine to do chores in, but not an outfit to charm and seduce. “This won’t do at all. If you need to know how to dress, go and speak with Yolanda.”

  Her cheeks flamed red. “I know how to dress,” she muttered.

  I’d embarrassed her, but that hadn’t been my intention. It was all these things she needed to consider when Torres took her.

  “Good. You have two hours to prepare, and then I will come to you. I expect you to be ready.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Present Day

  MY HEART THRUMMED AS I left the room, dizzy with anticipation. It was actually going to happen. Angel was going to show me how to pleasure a man, and for the next few days, he would be the man I was to pleasure.

  How would he feel? How would he taste?

  I swore to myself that I’d give him everything he wanted. I’d do everything within my power to make him proud of me. When the time came for Elliot Torres to take me away, he’d be honored to hand me over, knowing I wouldn’t let him or his father down.

  I looked down to my grubby dungarees. I had never really given much thought to my clothing. I wore items to be practical since most of my days were normally taken up by chores. I knew what was expected of me, though, and the master had already provided me with items to wear for Mr. Torres. He hadn’t expected me to leave this place with nothing. None of the women here dressed slutty. That wasn’t what the men wanted. They didn’t want to think that they were paying the women to be with them. Instead, they preferred to think the women chose to be with them. Of course, some of the outfits were sexy, but not to the point where they’d be embarrassing to wear.