Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Roselia stared at the closed door for long moments, uncertain what to do. She hadn't been alone in four months. Not even for a moment. There had always been trainers around if Master J could not be. She'd even slept in the same room as the other five slaves on narrow cots placed only a few feet apart.

The first thing she did when she was finally able to yank out of her stupor was head for the bathroom. She opened the door and found herself smiling. It was nothing more than a boring gray bathroom. Very small. Toilet, sink, small glass shower.

There was a gray bath towel hanging perfectly on a rack next to the shower, a gray hand towel hanging with precision next to the sink, and a gray rug on the floor. Obviously, Master liked gray, or he refused to allow her any color.

She didn't care. The thought of taking a shower by herself, washing her own body, peeing alone… They were luxuries she had been denied for four months. If she could keep her head down, do as she was told, and follow his rules, this new life would be an improvement.

Except for the possibility of sex. He hadn't mentioned a word about fucking her.

She shuddered and put it out of her mind as she reached into the glass enclosure and turned on the water. She held her hand under it, half expecting to find it wasn't attached to a water heater and would not get warm. However, to her delight, it did. When the water was hot enough, she stepped in and let the spray run down her body.

The collar on her neck was heavy and annoying. It was going to take some getting used to. It was certainly effective. No way in hell would she go near a door or lean out a window. Which also meant she was truly a slave in this prison.

She finally let tears run down her cheeks. Now that she was in the shower, they would mingle with the water. She would let herself cry quietly in the shower. She wouldn't wipe her eyes or let any sound come out, but she could have this one privacy. She could let tears fall.

A glance at the corners of the room revealed two cameras in this small space. One was in the corner of the inside of the shower, and one was across from the toilet. It was invasive but so much better than what she was used to.

Another bonus. So far, her Master had not touched her sexually. If he didn't intend to spend most of every day edging her by playing with her nipples and labia, this would be another blessing. After months of nudity and constant inspection and comments about her intimate parts, she almost didn't care what uniforms Master had in that closet. She'd take it.

Not wanting to start her first day in trouble for lingering in the shower, she quickly washed her hair and then grabbed the body wash. Her hands were shaking as she started with her arms. It felt weird to touch herself. The hot water was heaven. The soap wasn't expensive, but it smelled better than whatever Master J's trainers had used on her.

The collar was very awkward. It was hard to wash around it. It was also tight. That was intentional. As she ran her fingers under the edge, she found the two small prongs that would shock her if she tried to leave.

She lowered her hand, trembling at the weight of her plight. She was stuck here. For how long? He wouldn't live forever. Maybe there was a phone somewhere. Could she find it and call for help? What about a computer? She would have to pay close attention all the time until she found a way to escape. It was her only hope.

The only way she could survive this next stage of her slavery would be to keep hope someone would eventually find her. Someone who cared to rescue her. After seeing all the men who had come and gone from Master J's house for the past months, she was beginning to think the entire world was upside down. She hadn't encountered a single person who would care to rescue her. All of them had been disgusting pigs who'd seen her as nothing more than property.

After quickly rinsing, she turned off the water, opened the glass door, and grabbed the towel—another luxury—to dry herself. She headed for the toilet next. Peed, wiped, flushed. She was almost smiling. She was so warped that the tiniest thing made her happy.

After washing her hands and brushing her teeth, she found a comb, worked the tangles out of her hair, and dried it with the hairdryer as Master had instructed.

She knew it was late, and six o'clock would come too soon, so she set the alarm, double-checked it three times, turned out the light, and climbed naked into the bed.

It wasn't until she was under the covers that she remembered to pull her hands out. She also noticed there was only one small window, and it was up higher than she could see out. That made her room seem more like a prison cell, which was depressing.

It did at least give her some faint light, but it had no curtain. She stared at the closet. Maybe she should have checked to see what the uniform looked like, but she decided to wait until morning.

The collar was heavy on her throat, so she turned to her side, careful to keep her hands out from under the covers. She tucked her palms under her cheek, another luxury. This position was more comfortable. The weight of the heavy electrical box wasn't pressing on her throat.

Closing her eyes, she immediately slid into the special place she let herself go every night. Yes, she'd been abducted. She knew she was a victim of human trafficking. She knew there was a good chance she would never be freed. It was depressing and disillusioning.

They could take away her autonomy. They could steal her dignity, humiliate her, torture her, force her body into arousal against her wishes. They could order her to clean, spread her legs, and stare at her naked body. She'd been forced to accept injections to prevent pregnancy. She'd been held down while strangers had waxed her. She'd had a tattoo put on her inner thigh—one of the scariest days of her life.

But they could not take her mind, especially when she closed her eyes alone at night. She let herself think of Marco. It was all she had. His voice. His smile. His attentiveness. It didn't matter that he probably had only seen her as a stupid young girl. He'd been kind to her, and she'd fallen in love with him.

Love? Did she even know what love was? Probably not. She had a girl's crush on him. Didn't matter. No one could take it away. She had a fount of memories to draw upon…

"Whatcha reading, Rose?"

Roselia lifted her gaze, relieved to find Marco smiling down at her. He pointed at the book in her hands.

Embarrassed, her cheeks heated as she looked down at the book.

He gently took it from her hands, not losing her page. "A History of the American Revolution." He grinned as he handed it back, his fingers grazing hers. "Heavy reading."

She shrugged. He must have thought she was a complete dork.

"You're a sponge when it comes to learning, aren't you, Rose?"

She lifted her shoulders again. Why did she always get tongue-tied around him? Suddenly, she worried he might think she wasn't doing her job. She was in the stairwell at the back of the estate. He must have thought she was hiding.

She rose to her feet, clasped the book behind her, and stood tall. "I'm on a break."

He frowned for a moment, and then his face softened. "I wasn't accusing you of anything, Rose. I'm not in charge of your work schedule, sweetheart."

She sucked in a breath when he called her sweetheart. He'd never used an endearment for her before. She liked it. She didn't even care that he most likely saw her as a silly girl. It meant something to her.

"I'm a bit of a history buff myself. I could bring you some of my favorite books if you'd like to borrow them."

She licked her lips. "That's very kind of you. I'd like that." She lifted the one she held to show him the spine. "I checked this out from the library." Buying books was certainly not in her budget.

His brow furrowed. "How are you doing? I know it's been hard without your mom. You two were close."

She nodded, trying not to cry. The last thing she needed to do was cry in front of him. "I'm okay," she murmured. It had been a few months since she'd lost her mother so suddenly. Mostly, she was lonely, especially at night, alone in the apartment she could barely afford.

"I didn't see your car parked behind the estate this morning. I thought maybe you weren't here today. I was worried."

He was worried?

She lowered her gaze. "It wouldn't start. I got a taxi this morning."

He lifted his fingers to her chin and tipped her head back. His brow was furrowed even further. "Let me drive you home when you get off. I'll take a look at it."

She stared into his eyes. Was he serious? "I…" She didn't know what to say. Anything she said would be a lie. She couldn't have it towed. She didn't have the money for that. The truth was she needed to accept his offer of help. She was stuck. "Thank you. That's very kind."

He smiled. "Any time, sweetheart. Come to my office when you're ready to leave."

Emotions welled up inside her. She'd spoken to him many times but never for quite this long and never in such a private location as the back stairwell. He was still holding her chin, and she loved the feel of his fingers against her skin. He was even gently stroking her with his thumb.

She nodded. "Thank you," she repeated.

As he released her and turned to jog down the stairs, she held her breath and watched him. As soon as he was out of sight, she closed her eyes and blew out a long breath. She could still smell his scent around her, feel his fingers on her chin, picture his eyes boring into hers with concern, and hear his voice as he called her sweetheart.