Chapter 22

Twenty minutes later, she was fully dressed. She even had cute black shoes on. Her hair was dry and brushed to a shine. And just to see how her men would react, she put on the lip gloss Carmen had given her.

When she stepped into the living room, Nathaniel was already there, and all three men did a doubletake.

There was a long, frozen moment.

Summer looked down at herself. "What? Did I get toothpaste on my shirt?" she joked.

Colter was the first to move. He came to her, pulled her into his arms, pressed a hand to the small of her back, and kissed her. He didn't care that Nathaniel was watching. Maybe he was claiming her.

She was okay with that.

When Colter released her lips, he rubbed his nose against hers. "I smeared your lip gloss."

She giggled. "I'll forgive you." She managed to walk like a perfectly normal person over to the couch and sit like a lady, accepting the cup of tea Bridger handed her. Everyone else had a mug of coffee.

Nathaniel was grinning. "You look like a new person from the last time I saw you."

"I'm finding myself."

He glanced at the piano and didn't hesitate to mention the elephant in the room. "Have you played?"

"Not in four years." She hadn't sung in four years either. She hadn't touched a single instrument, though she suspected she could.

"I hope one day you'll be able to sit down at the keyboard and share your talent again," Nathaniel said.

She shrugged. "I haven't thought much about it." That wasn't true. She thought about it every time she walked into this room and saw the drool-worthy piano. It taunted her. She hadn't had any instruments to consider for four years. The corner of this great room was like a musical mecca.

She knew by now that both Bridger and Colter could play the piano. Colter also played the guitar. Bridger played the saxophone.

"How many instruments can you play?" Colter asked nonchalantly as he took a seat next to her and crossed his legs leisurely.

She took a sip of tea.

Nathaniel answered for her. "I'm pretty sure she can play anything."

Colter lifted a brow. "That's amazing."

Bridger, having sat at her other side, grunted. "She'll play when and if she wants to."

"Of course," Nathaniel agreed.

Summer wanted to crawl onto Bridger's lap and curl into a ball, but she'd been out of hell for a week, and she was growing more and more capable of recognizing what was and wasn't socially acceptable.

If she wanted to strip down and climb all over Colter and Bridger when no one else was in the house, they indulged her, but if Nathaniel or Carmen were visiting, she was able to differentiate and make socially appropriate choices.

Climbing onto Bridger's lap wasn't one of them.

Sipping her tea while wearing a bra was necessary. She didn't feel like she was herself by any stretch of the imagination, but she wanted to appear to be adjusting in front of Nathaniel for some strange reason.

Nathaniel opened his satchel and pulled out a folder. He rose from the armchair and leaned over to hand it to her. "Your new ID, credit cards, banking information, and debit cards. It's all there. You are officially independent and can resume your life."

She shivered and nearly dropped the folder before Colter took it from her and set it aside. There was something so disturbing about the way Nathaniel spoke, as if she could and perhaps should now find an apartment and move out on her own.

Colter spoke. "We'll hold on to these until she needs them. Thank you so much for making that happen."

Nathaniel leaned back. "Of course. Technically, Summer is my client. I'm acting on behalf of her parents and what they would have wanted four years ago."

"And we're appreciative," Bridger added.

There was a strange vibe in the air. Summer didn't like it.

"You were right," Nathaniel said after a moment. "No one filled a missing person's report when you disappeared."

Summer stiffened. She started shaking so badly that Bridger leaned forward and took her tea cup to set it on the end table. She drew in a breath, trying to be calm. "Please don't dig around."

Nathaniel frowned, rubbing his chin, his gaze locked on her. There was a long pause as if he was thinking about his next words. "You said there were six women all held captive at the same time as you and sold at the same time. Don't you want to help the authorities find them?"

Summer started shaking. She was losing the ability to remain sitting there all proper and composed.

Nathaniel leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "Summer…"

Colter leaned forward, too, dropping his crossed leg. "Nathaniel, leave it alone. She has her reasons."

"She's traumatized," Bridger added. "We're respecting her right to tell us what she wants when she's ready."

Colter defended her again. "You said it's not illegal for her to stay quiet."

"It's not. She has no obligation to reveal anything to anyone, but five other women are out there somewhere. If she knows something, anything that might help the authorities find them..."

Colter rose and started pacing. "Half of the problem is that it was a police officer who abducted her in the first place. Even if he was visiting from another state, he was still with the police. She has every reason to be fearful of cops."

"I know that, but you have protection, and I'm sure the entire police force isn't corrupt just because one man kidnapped a woman. What if he does it again? What if he kidnapped all six of those women, and he's still wandering around preying on other women and bringing them in to be sold?"

"Nathaniel…" Bridger warned.

"Here me out," Nathaniel said. "I'm just asking her to think about it. If she went public…if they put her on TV, maybe someone would recognize her or her story. She could provide descriptions of the other women. The news anchors would jump on that. That shit would go viral. Someone might call in because they saw one of them somewhere. Don't you at least want to try?"

Summer thought she might vomit both her breakfast and the tea. She was going to faint. Nathaniel meant well, but he had no idea what he was asking of her.

"Summer," he began, looking directly at her.

She jumped to her feet, and the tightly wound ball of secrets sprang free, unfurling before her very eyes. "You don't understand. Do you think I don't worry about those other women every day? Do you think I don't worry about them constantly? The guilt eats me alive. They were sold as sex slaves," she shouted.

No one interrupted her.

"I can't close my eyes without seeing each of them. We shared a spot in hell together. We rarely got to speak words to each other, but we share a bond. I miss them. I'm scared out of my mind that they are being mistreated. Maybe they aren't even alive. Maybe they've been killed. Certainly, they've all been raped and tormented. They were sold for a million dollars apiece to wealthy fucking men who have no moral compass."

Her hands were fisted tightly, but she couldn't move. If she did, she might shatter into tiny pieces. If Nathaniel was going to hound her about something she was well aware of, then he was going to listen to the reason why what he asked was impossible.

She opened her mouth to continue, but the words hung in the air—vile, nastiness that wasn't fit for anyone to hear.

"The police would make sure you have every protection you need, sweetheart," Nathaniel added.

Summer snapped. Clear in half. She lifted her hands to her temples and squeezed as she screamed. "You don't understand."

Her heart raced as images flooded through her mind, clouding her vision as they taunted her. Images she would never fully escape in her entire life. No matter how fucking kind people were. No matter how long she existed free and safe. No matter if she got ten million hours of counseling, she would never escape the horror she'd seen.

"Honey," Colter whispered. He was standing next to her, not touching her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and kept unraveling as the images flickered around behind her eyelids.

"Summer? Baby? It's okay." Bridger touched her arm.

She jerked out of his reach and moved away. "I'm not like the other five," she shouted. "I broke the main rule. I told you. I told you. I told you."

Both men approached but didn't touch her. "You told us, baby," Bridger said.

She jerked her gaze to him. "I had an orgasm."

"We know, honey," Colter said gently. "It wasn't your fault."

She laughed, a shrill sound that sounded like the cackle in a horror film. "I know it wasn't my fault. I can accept that. But my punishment lasted a week and was meant to break me and ensure that I toed the line for the rest of my life."

Colter flinched.

"You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready," Bridger stated.

She shook her head. "I do. All of you think I should tell the police. You're not going to understand until I fucking tell you what happened."

Colter nodded slowly, but he looked panicked. He was the calmer of the two men, and he was cracking at the seams. It hurt him that he couldn't fix this for her.

When he reached for her, she jumped back. "Give me a minute," she yelled. She wasn't sure a minute would be long enough, but she needed space. She turned and ran from the room as the memories bombarded her, threatening to bring her to her knees.

"No. No…no…no, no, no." She ran into the closet and headed for the back corner, not stopping until she reached the far corner. She couldn't stand the clothing she was wearing. It made her skin crawl every time it brushed against her. She pulled the purple blouse out of the pants and lifted it over her head while she kicked off the shoes.

With shaky fingers, she managed to remove everything else—the pants, bra, and panties. Finally, she could breathe, think, and process. After dropping onto her hands and knees, she crawled into the space under Bridger's suits and huddled in the corner.

She wrapped her arms around her shins and dropped her forehead onto her knees. When she squeezed her eyes closed, the disturbing memories flooded in. Consuming her. Taking her back to that night…

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, cunt," Master J shouts as he pulls a hood over my head. He cinches it closed around my neck, leaving just enough space for me to get oxygen.

"Please, sir. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" I gasp as panic sets in—a new kind of panic unlike any I've ever felt.

He grabs my chin over the burlap material of the heavy hood and holds my face captive. I know he's leaning in, but I can't see him. "You didn't mean to break my rules?" he shouts. "You didn't mean to let your pussy spasm after I told you not to orgasm?"

I can't do anything but stand there and take his wrath. I'm still trembling from the release I got ten seconds ago, the euphoric feeling of my first orgasm having only lasted a few seconds before Master J was in my face.

People are gathering around. I hear them murmuring. Men. A dozen or more. They're laughing at my plight. I try to block out their voices, but they seep in anyway.

"Look how her legs are shaking. The little whore enjoyed herself."

"Her thighs are wet. She was so horny she squirted."

"The cunt couldn't control herself. Lusty little bitch. They're all alike."

"Just proves why girls need to be trained. Why men coddle them, I'll never know. Sluts, all of them. Can't even control their twats."

"It's all she thinks about. Look at her. Still shaking."

"Females need a heavy hand to keep them in line. Submission is in their nature. They crave it. The proof is between her legs. If she didn't enjoy slavery, she wouldn't have been able to come so hard."

My teeth are chattering. I can't block their vile, nasty words. I want to cover my ears, but I don't dare.

Suddenly, my feet are no longer on the floor. Instinctively, I squeal.

"Shut up, cunt, or I'll give you a reason to scream," Master J says as he tosses me over his shoulder and carries me from the room.

The hood is tight enough around my neck that it doesn't slide off.

Master J carries me out of the house. The cold air hits me, but my adrenaline is pumping so hard it doesn't bother me.

I hear a strange popping noise right before Master J lowers me from his shoulder and lays me on my side.

Renewed panic consumes me as I realize I'm in a trunk. The noise had been the latch popping open.

Master J's voice comes in clear, so he must be leaning over me. "You're worth nothing to me, you little cunt. You're nothing but a trashy piece of ass until I sell you. If I want to, I can drive you out into the mountains, slit your throat, and leave you for the bears and lions to tear apart. No one would ever find your body. If you want to live, you'll lie in this trunk really still and accept your punishment. If you injure yourself during your punishment, I will not hesitate to leave your naked corpse in the forest. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir," I murmur, though I'm not sure if he can hear me.

"I expect you to keep your greedy fingers away from your tits and your pussy. You already came like a whore. You shouldn't need to come again while I drive."

When he slams the truck shut, I draw into a ball. I haven't curled into myself like this in months, not since I arrived here. We're not permitted to lie on our sides or pull our knees up. We're not permitted to let our thighs touch. We must never ever touch our tits for any reason.

I'm doing all of those things. I can't stop myself. I'm cold now that I'm alone. Shivering violently. More scared than I was when I first woke up naked and restrained in Master J's basement.

He drives for a long time. Hours. I think about all those crime shows I've seen where the victim kicks out the lights and reaches an arm out to wave down a car. Is this my chance? Will I ever get a chance like this again?

I'm too chicken to do anything like that, though. He'll catch me. He'll punish me even worse. Maybe he'll kill me. He just said he wouldn't hesitate. I believe him. I only have value to him as long as I'm well-behaved and make him believe his training is working. Every day, I tell myself that if I just do as I'm told, eventually, someone will find me and the others. We'll be rescued. Surely, one of the dozens of men who come to the mansion to visit will call the police. Why can't one of them be undercover or something?

And I remember who got me into this situation in the first place—a police officer. My faith in humanity is permanently shattered.

Maybe death is a better option than whatever punishment lies before me tonight. Maybe death would be better than being sold to a new Master, with whom I'm expected to live out the rest of my life as a sex slave.

I roll onto my other side and reach out with my hands to feel around and find the light covers. Could I kick them out? If I do, one of two things will happen. I'll either manage to flag someone down who might call for help, or I'll piss off Master J and end up with my body dumped in the forest.

I doubt anyone is even looking for me. I could lie in the forest for years before someone encountered my bones. And then what?

Kicking out the lights seems too risky. Even if I do manage to get someone's attention, what are the chances they can do anything to save me before they lose sight of me? Do I even want the police involved?

I shudder as I imagine the same officer who abducted me, pulling Master J over and giving him a high five before the two of them dismember me and toss my body to the side of the road.

I lift the edge of the hood so I can get more oxygen, but I don't dare take it off. If he suddenly stops, he could have the trunk open before I can put it back in place. Plus, it's pitch dark outside. I won't be able to see inside the trunk anyway.

The car makes several turns before slowing down. We must have been on a highway, but now we're not. I curl up in my tight ball to keep warm. I'll unravel myself the moment he stops the car so he doesn't catch me touching myself.

Finally, the car slows to a stop. The driver's door opens and closes. I roll onto my back and spread my legs and arms. A few seconds later, the trunk pops up. "I see you heeded my advice. Keep it up, and you might live to see another day, you little cunt."

I hold my breath as he lifts me out of the trunk and stands me on my feet. It's so cold. The concrete below is freezing. Master J pulls my hands behind my back and cuffs them with a nylon cuff. He always uses a soft material to restrain us so nothing mars our skin.

"If you struggle and I find marks on your wrists, you're dead. If you say a single word during your punishment, you're dead. If you can behave, do as your told, and prove you are sorry for breaking my rules, I'll consider taking you back. You have no idea how lucky you are that you have me and my men to train you on the proper ways to serve a man, you little cunt. I'll show you what your life could be like instead. Make you appreciate how good you have it. I give you food, water, and a place to sleep. I keep you clean, let you use a toilet, and train you to behave. You are expected to follow my rules. Did you follow my rules?"

"No, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again."

"You're right, you little cunt, because if it does, I will slit your throat in front of the other girls while they watch to teach them all a lesson."

I don't know where I am or what's going to happen next. I don't know if I'm in Alaska or Maine, or even another country. All I know is that it's cold out. Frigid. And I'm naked.

Master J puts a leather collar on my neck and then attaches a leash. "You better not struggle because if I find one scratch on your neck, you're dead." He tugs me forward, and I rush to keep up, stumbling as I try not to fall. I don't have my arms to balance me.

I'm relieved when I hear the squeak of a metal door opening. The concrete beneath my feet is warmer. We're inside. It's so loud. So many voices. People are shouting over one another. I think it's a bar of some sort. I can smell cigarettes and alcohol. But then I realize the sounds are not happy. Women are crying, begging, and pleading.

A crop whistles through the air somewhere to my right, followed by screams of pain. My blood runs cold with fear.

I don't think Master J will let anyone hurt me. That's the one thing I can count on. I'm useless to him if I have blemishes. People brush against my shoulders as I follow blindly behind Master J. The fact that I'm naked is the least of my problems.

Master J stops and pushes down on my shoulders. "Kneel, you greedy little cunt."

I lower to my knees as gracefully as I can, calling forth every moment of my training. He has put something on the floor to pad my knees. I'm not surprised. We kneel for hours every day as part of our training, but Master J wants our skin protected. He certainly doesn't care about our comfort. He only cares about possibly bruising our knees.

Suddenly, he pulls the hood off my head. For a moment, I squeeze my eyes closed against the bright lights after being so long in the dark. When I finally focus, I'm met with a scene from a horror movie.

There are so many people. I'm in some kind of dungeon. I'm on a platform that extends all the way around the room along the walls. It's elevated five feet off the floor, a place where people can look down on the action and watch.

There are so many women, all of them broken. Their stares are blank. Maybe they were hookers at some point, but someone bad got hold of them, or drugs made them incapable of making good choices. Now, they are nothing more than shells of their former selves, abused slaves.

Men are wandering around the room, keeping the women in line with crops. Many of the women are bleeding from open wounds on their backs, butt cheeks, and even their breasts. They're restrained to every kind of device imaginable.

Some of the women are screaming, some are sobbing, and many are gagged. It's like a giant orgy, except none of the women are here of their own free will. They're here to be tortured and raped.

I close my eyes, not wanting to witness this any longer, but Master J fists my hair and yanks my head back so hard tears come to my eyes. It's the first time he's ever inflicted physical pain on me. My scalp hurts, and I struggle to keep from falling to one side with my wrists restrained behind my back.

He meets my gaze from inches away, making my breath hitch. He never lets any of us slaves look him in the eye, but tonight, he is staring right into mine. "You'll watch, you greedy little cunt. You'll watch all night long. You'll kneel here like a good girl and watch until I'm satisfied you've learned a lesson about disobeying me. Do I make myself clear?"

My mouth is dry, but I manage to answer, "Yes, Sir."

He releases my hair and angles my head toward the horror below. "I want to see you demonstrate what you've been taught. Pull your shoulders back, cunt. Tits high. If I'm lucky, someone here tonight will decide they want to buy you when your training is done. If you're good, I won't tell them what a greedy little cunt you were today, taking your pleasure without permission."

I gulp back the sob welling up in my throat and do as I'm told. I hold my position for hours. I have no idea how long. I'm numb to the noise and the spectacle. I have to disassociate. It can't be real. It's too horrifying.

Eventually, I stop seeing anything. I learn to keep my head at the right angle, focusing my gaze just above the action. All I can think about is my thirst and how much my muscles hurt. My arms are cramped from being tied behind my back.

At some point, I have to pee. My humiliation is at its worst, and I don't want to add urinating on myself to the mix. I know Master J gets a hard-on when any of us pisses ourselves in his wretched kennel, but I'm afraid he will be furious if I pee in this warehouse.

Finally, he tugs on my leash. "Get up, slut."

It's difficult for me to obey his command. My legs are too stiff and wobbly, and I still don't have the use of my arms, but I rise.

I'm hoping we're done, and he will take me out of this horrid place. I want to go back to his mansion. I've decided it's heaven compared to what he's subjected me to tonight. I'm certain that was his goal.

Instead, to my horror, Master J leads me down to the main floor, driving my panic to new heights. He holds that damn leash, dehumanizing me, making me feel like a dog as he drags me into the center of the room.

It's near dawn, and there are fewer people than earlier. He walks me to a post, unfastens my wrists, hauls my arms over my head, and reattaches them high on the post, forcing me to my toes.

This is the position I was in when I'd reached orgasm so many hours before. People gather around to watch this display. Not people. Men. How are there so many men with no scruples? No morals? It's depressing.

I'm not surprised they've taken notice and moved in closer. I'm untouched and clean. My hair hangs loose down my back. It's not combed, but it's not filthy like most of the women in this room. I'm the only woman without blood on me and come running down my inner thighs. Hell, most of the women also have come on their breasts and in their hair.

Master J circles me, making me wait. "Lower your gaze now, cunt."

I drop my gaze to the floor. I'm grateful for that command. I don't want to see anything. I'd rather close them entirely.

Master J stops in front of me, drags a finger along my breast, and flicks my nipple.

I gasp, arching into his touch by instinct even though I want to vomit.

"There's still dry come on your legs. Your come from disobeying me. You're a dirty whore who can't control yourself, aren't you?"

I swallow. "No, Sir. It won't happen again, Sir."

"You get off on slavery." He laughs, the sound grating and vile. "You could make someone a very nice pet if you can learn to control your greedy cunt. Can you do that, Daffodil?"

"Yes, Sir." My chest hurts. I hate him. Is he right? Do I get off on slavery?

He leans in closer to my ear and whispers, "Would you like me to leave you here in this hellhole?"

"No, Sir."

"Do you realize how good your life is in my care?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Would you rather spend your days with your legs spread open while hundreds of men stretch out your greedy cunt and your tight virgin asshole with their cocks?"

"No, Sir." Bile rises in my mouth.

"My job is to train you to service a well-respected Master, an upstanding member of society who will pay top dollar for your untouched twat. But you need to control your base urges, or you will never get that opportunity."

"Yes, Sir." My arms hurt so badly I want to cry. My humiliation is so thorough. A hundred of the world's most despicable men are circling me, ogling my naked body, and making comments about my tits.

I'm dying inside. Part of me wishes he would just do as he's threatened and slash my throat. It would be preferable to being left here to be raped and ruined and broken until I die from malnutrition, some sort of sexually transmitted disease, or a drug overdose.

Live.

Live, Summer.

Fight.

Survive.

"I will take you back to the mansion, but your punishment is not over. You will spend the next week in solitary confinement. You will spend that time thinking about your choices. This is your only warning. If I catch you touching yourself or if you ever reach orgasm again, this is where I will bring you and leave you. I will sell you to the owner of this place and never look back."

"Yes, Sir." I'm trying so hard not to whimper.

"If you're lucky, I will find a buyer for you who doesn't care that you broke my rules and succumbed to your base instinct, that you could not control your lust. After you are sold, you will be the best-behaved slave I've ever trained. You will make me look good. You will remember my teachings every day of your life. Your job will be to prove to your Master that I'm the best slave trainer on this globe. I expect him to report back to me with rave reviews. I expect him to tell his friends they should purchase their next slaves from me. If I get a single complaint, I will replace you with another slut who can control herself. I will drive you back here and never look back. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." My voice is weak. My entire body is weak. I haven't had anything to eat or drink all night. I'm starting to sway. I can't hold my weight up any longer.

Master J releases my hands, grabs my leash, and guides me out of that hellhole.

The throng of men parts in front of us, no one daring to touch me. Without a word, Master J lifts me back into the trunk and shuts the door. At least this time, I'm not wearing the hood.

I curl up on my side and silently cry for the girl I am no longer. Summer is gone. She slowly died a little every day for the past several months. Now, she's gone. I'm Daffodil. I'm a sex slave. I'm trained to service a Master. I have no other options except death.