B0114

Liquor.I smelled the nauseating stench before I heard a sound behind me. Before the squeeze to my shoulder nearly brought me to my knees. The overwhelming aroma had me holding my breath to escape my past, but it quickly got trapped in my lungs as the pain had me dipping and crying out. I went to turn, unable to see who kept me trapped at the pressure.

“The registration is complete. She’s yours, Master Seventy-seven, and the other two slaves have already been delivered and restrained in your room. If you come across any issues or need a pick-up, there’s a list of numbers in your pamphlet. You’re free to enjoy the party or head back to your room now. Have a nice night, Sir.”

“Thank you…guard.” We both swayed at his weight coming forward. “Mine. Just like I said.” His tone was deep, smooth, just behind my ear, and for the briefest moment the pressure eased. “You. Slave. You’re going to walk, and you’re not going to turn around. One look at me and I’ll drop you. Do you understand?”

The voice was suddenly full of anger. Tears welled in my eyes, but I held them in as I nodded. I had been trained in what to do. I wasn’t stupid like some of the rebellious girls here. There were reasons I couldn’t die.

“Yes, Master.”

“Start walking. Go straight, towards the elevator.”

“Pistol!”

A voice yelled out from behind. Instinct had me wanting to turn, but I knew better. That name. It rang bells in my memory, but I wasn’t sure why. At times, my other life was so far away. Unreachable after giving in to the constant demands and classes I’d undergone. How hard had I let go of my past so I could put all of my strength into becoming a d1? I had wanted it so bad if it meant to live, but I wasn’t granted the position. One screw-up. One outburst, and I was condemned to stay a b2. I’d ruined my chance at possibly being safe, and now I wasn’t sure what to expect. Death…if the Main Master was right, and all because of my explosive temper. I’d tried so hard, but it was sometimes impossible to separate myself from what was ingrained in the oldest parts of me.

“Pistol, hey, wait up.”

“What the fuck did I tell you? You need to call me by my Master name. I’m Seventy-seven and you’re Master Eighty-four. I’m not your friend. I’m nothing, just some random fucking guy.”

“That’s dumb, and I’m too drunk for that shit. Don’t tell me you’re bailing already? Send the slave back to your apartment and come party with me.”

“I have plans. You know, the entire reason we’re here? You should go back to your own apartment and see your slave.”

“There’s plenty of time for that.” A sound came from the other man. Relief at the distraction had me trying to relax as best as I could given the circumstances. The grip wasn’t painful anymore, just merely there, holding to me. I’d been ready for this night for weeks. Months. Although I was terrified at what it might mean, I was too drugged up on the oil to feel the true effects. There were moments I was fine, and others where it didn’t even feel like I was here at all. That was a good thing if this new Master was ready to get right down to hurting me. I needed all the numbing I could get.

“Thirty minutes. That’s all I ask. It’ll give you time to calm from the auction, and you can wind down. Pete…that guy is pissed.”

“Let him be; I don’t care. I told him he wasn’t going to win. Besides, he seemed just as interested in the slave that took this one’s place. He’ll get over it.”

“A few more drinks.”

“I’ve had enough. I’m calling it a night. Stay out of trouble. You can’t talk your way out of the bullshit if you fuck up here. The Main Master isn’t messing around. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Go…have fun with your slaves. Three. I should have got me a second.”

The pressure became unbearable again as he squeezed and led me forward. I tried to stand up straight as I kept a fast pace, but I couldn’t with the amount of pain. My body was screaming just as loud as my mind. This Master was here for only one thing, and that was evident as we approached the elevator.

“Well, well. Look who we have here. I should have known you’d make the list.”

The purr of the female voice didn’t slow us down. It was the elevator door being closed that brought us to a halt.

“Aren’t you even going to say hello, or are we playing this game down here too? Number?”

The Master let out an aggravated curse, again loosening his grip. “Seventy-seven. You?”

“Mistress Forty-two.”

“Great.”

“So…three slaves? That’s what I hear. Groupie syndrome?”

“I don’t kill my fans, Lilian. That’d be you from your horrible voice. Is there something you want from me again? More promotion? Another jumpstart to your dying career? Or maybe it’s my dick you’ve been missing. I told you it won’t happen again.”

“Fuck you. You didn’t help my career. If anything it was the other way around. I did very well modeling before I picked up a microphone. I was already well-known.”

“You sure were. You made your way around twice as much as any greedy up-and-coming, didn’t you? I’m just glad I got to it first before the industry got sucked down the black hole of not-so-good pussy.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“I thought you said you loved me?”

The door opened and I was forced forward, only to be spun toward a woman staring at us with the most hatred I’d ever seen. Dark eyeshadow, liner, and mascara accentuated her slanted, brown eyes, and her black hair was straightened, stopping in jagged angles at her bare shoulders. The white dress she wore looked more like a historical wedding gown, bustle and all.

“See you around, Mistress Forty-two.” The doors shut. “Fucking cunt. God, I seriously can’t escape it. Where is my peace?”

Swallowing hard, I tried to stay as still as possible as the man’s hand dropped from me. My eyes closed and the darkness only made me aware how much I was trembling. Kill. He’d said kill, which meant the Main Master was right. Pistol, Seventy-seven, had no intention of letting me live. So, why was I standing still? Why wasn’t I getting ready to make a break for it once the doors opened? Why? Perhaps I was stupid aside from sedated. My training towards a d wouldn’t let me believe there wasn’t something I couldn’t do to sway my Master’s mind. If he could just see I was there to assist. To help with anything he might need, I could take the abuse. Small. Big. I could bear it to live. I needed to live.

Silence played out between us as the elevator doors opened. I stepped forward, crying out and nearly falling backwards as fingers fisted in my hair, ripping me back.

“I didn’t say to walk. You wait for me.”

“Y-Yes, Master. I’m sorry.”

In fast strides I was led out, but we didn’t go far. We’d barely made it a few steps into the hallway before he froze. I was tugged back by his continued hold on my hair, not sure what to do as his face buried in the side of my neck. With his other hand, he flattened it on my stomach, flexing his fingers as he held still. I tried to stay soft, not rigid against him. Inviting. Calm. A refuge, like I’d been taught. I tried…when all I wanted to do was cry at the overwhelmingness of it.

“I can be a good slave,” I said, softly, holding in the sob. “I would be honored to do anything you wished of me. If my Master would just give me a chance—”

The hand from my hair came to wrap across my mouth, holding securely as the smell of liquor engulfed me. Breaths became heavier as his other arm came to lock around my stomach too.

“Anything?”

The barricade over my mouth flattened harder, and he used it to angle my head to the side. Teeth raked alongside my throat, tugging at my skin as they headed towards the junction of my collarbone. I was shaking against his hard body, being squeezed tighter as he wrapped himself around me. A sound of pain forced its way free, muffling against his palm, and he let me go, pushing me forward, roughly.

“Two doors down. Wait for me. Do not move.”

I did as I was told, stopping and remaining straight as I stared inches from metal. My Master was in my peripheral, digging through his pockets. He took his time, even snorting something before continuously sniffling and clearing his throat. When he joined me and slid the card into the lock, I didn’t go inside when he pushed the door open. I waited for instruction, just like he wanted.

“Ooh. You learn fast.” He gave me a shove. “In. Take that hideous blue robe off and kneel next to the sofa.”

The sheer, bright color pooled at my feet, and I kept my pace steady but not overeager as I obeyed. Footsteps stomped off to the side, and I didn’t dare look to see where they were going. My stare stayed at the bare, black wall ahead, losing myself in the color as my mind began to fade from the adrenaline again. My breathing slowed. My body slightly swayed. Despite a female cry sounding in the distance, I kept in my trance, letting the time drag out as random bangs sounded. Crinkling. Something heavy dropping. My line of vision was disrupted by a blur of colors. What I thought was a possible tarp or blanket was placed down. Then a good size tin tub over it. Tears blinded me and I let them. I didn’t sob. I didn’t cry. If I were going to die, I’d stay here. Right in this nothingness I was losing myself to.

“I can’t stand to look at you. You shouldn’t even be here. Not…alive. Not at all. Did you have a good life? A nice family? Or maybe you suffered like me. Suffering is good. You learn. You fucking survive.”

Whatever the Master was talking about, I wasn’t sure he was truly talking to me. He was drunk. On drugs from what I picked up in the hall. I wouldn’t play into his intoxicated ramblings. It would increase his anger. They’d taught me that.

Stare ahead.

Keep emotions out of it.

Calm.

Serene.

Stay composed.

A tear dropped down my face and I was reminded of my failures and why I was a blue to even begin with. Hadn’t the same thing happened when I lost my temper. It all started with a tear. The screaming in my face. The name calling. The abuse. I snapped and lost it. I tried to defend myself and fight back instead of taking the beating and rape like I was meant to. It was only one time, but it was enough. All the months of training…gone in the blink of a moment to what…land me here?

“Don’t you fucking cry. You don’t deserve to cry! Do you know who does? My mother. But she didn’t. Not once. Not a single goddamn time. She died strong despite it being his fault she got sick to begin with. He took her from me. Left me alone at fourteen with the memory of a junkie mother. Did he do that to you too? I doubt it,” he answered. “You had it all. I bet he even sent you cards in the mail and gifts for Christmas. Did you have nice things like that?”

Still, I remained silent, staring ahead. Another tear fell, but the Master didn’t see as he turned and left me again. Scuffling echoed and more color was returning. I blinked, not allowing myself to lose sight of the wall. I kept ahead…until I didn’t have a choice. The Master pushed a slave down right in my line of vision, kneeling behind to wrap around her restrained body as he glared at me. For seconds as I stared into his tattooed face, I couldn’t catch my breath. Despite not being able to see him clearly as I stared down at him in the audience, I knew this man. The lights had been so bright. Blinding, but I could glimpse his gorgeous face, here and there. He’d bid, and although I hadn’t known until this moment, he was the one who won. He was clear now with his bleached short hair. A small tattoo of a gun was pointed towards his eye, and there was a money symbol above, a diamond below, and the word lethal above his eyebrow. On the opposite side, a snake slithering from his upper cheek, through his temple, and around his forehead. Nothing stuck out as a trigger to my memory, but…I couldn’t shake his familiarity. There was something about his face. His eyes. I couldn’t stop staring into them.

Pistol. Pistol. Pistol.

My gaze went to the gun as the name the other Master had called him repeated.

Pistol.

No, it sounded familiar, but it didn’t ring a bell. If he was famous or well-known, I couldn’t place it. There’d been no time to focus on trends or have dates with girlfriends. Not when all my time went to working and helping my mom pay bills so we could keep a roof over all of our heads. Me, my mom, and Kyle. He was barely four now. Were they okay?

My lids stayed down longer at the thought. I wouldn’t think of them. I couldn’t. She was fine. My mom raised me okay on her own before I was old enough to help. She’d be okay taking care of Kyle too.

“Open your eyes and look at her.”

A sob exploded from the girl’s mouth as he fisted her hair and the tip of a blade pressed into the side of her neck. Air wouldn’t come. My stare scanned over her beautiful round face. She had blue eyes and long brown hair. Her bottom lip quivered constantly as her gaze begged me for something I couldn’t give: help.

“Do you see what you’ve done?”

The knife pushed in a good half inch, and I sucked in a breath as the girl let out a deafening scream. Blood ran down her pale skin like the serpent on my Master. She fought while he kept the weapon in place, slowly cutting microscopically as his stare stayed on me.

“You did this. Just looking at you, I can’t help myself. I despise you witheverything I am. You make me sick. Don’t you dare take your eyes off of her. See what you do. Don’t miss a thing.”

Although I wanted to disappear or do something, I kept cemented like a statue, obeying his order while she screamed. The slave kept pulling against the hold he had on her hair, but with her hands locked together behind her back, the Master had control. The slit in her neck was getting longer, deeper and beginning to split open as his eyes closed and he rubbed his face against the side of her head. The act was so…intimate as time drug out, it was hard to keep still and not turn away. The color was almost gone from her complexion. The drip-drip of the blood was bouncing against tin.

Frantically, her eyes sprung wide despite they were starting to droop. Her mouth searched for oxygen, but no sound remained. Only a shocked silence and tiny gasps of air. Crimson stained the inside of her lips and tongue and still, she tried flinging her shoulders away. There was no helping her now as the blade reached towards the middle. My Master was starting to slice faster. Blood was gushing out of her neck and spilling from her mouth, dinging against the tin louder as his awareness began to return. Although I looked at her like he ordered, I knew his stare was back on me.

Ragged breaths began filling the space and a growl came from him as he jerked the knife, splitting the rest of her neck wide open. My mouth parted at the brutality, dropping open entirely as he wrapped his arm around her chest and gave hard, awkward tugs. For minutes he jerked and cut against the severed head, fighting the thick muscle and skin that kept her together. Blood splattered over my nude body and face at the jerks, and a deafening yell full of anger filled the living room as he used his strength to pull her head off completely. Heavy, broken-up pants left him, and I fought the urge to pass out as he launched the head right at my chest. It hit with a wet, stinging thud, nearly knocking me over.

“A gift, dear slave. May we both be lucky, and the next head removed belongs to you.”