Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Elizabeth

The first thing I feel when I wake up is pain. I try to blink open my eyes, but my eyelids burn. The pain stings so much that it makes my eyes water. I feel around my bed to try and get my phone, but I freeze when I feel the pain in my breasts, pussy and fingertips.

What the fuck happened to me?

"Mother? Mum? Daddy? Is there anyone there?"

A large hand touches my wrist, and I sigh in relief.

"Daddy, what's going on?"

I hear a chuckle.

"I am definitely not your Daddy." A deep voice said.

I force my eyes open, blinking back the tears. I yank my hand away, but it hurt my fingers.

"Who the fuck are you?" I said as I blinked away the tears to see the man. My lips are stinging.

"I suggest you learn to stop using foul language. I will lay out all the rules for you shortly."

He looks familiar. He is wearing a dark grey hoody and black sweatpants. The man is sitting relaxed on a chair beside me.

"You're Zak Henderson," I said, but my voice cracked. "I don't understand. What do you mean by rules? Where are my parents? Was I in an accident?"

Nothing seems to be adding up. I can only feel brain fog. This feels like a dream. When I look around the large bedroom, it looks like a log cabin. Wait, why does my pussy hurt?

"If you remain quiet, I will tell you everything. I am going to verbalise all the rules, but I have put them up behind the door. It's up to you to learn them. I am not here to baby you."

I feel my eyes widen in shock, but it hurts my eyelid. The fear makes my body rigid. Before he speaks, I know my life has changed. I'm certain there are drugs in my body. I know I went to bed last night.

I shakily lick my dry lips but gasp as I feel more pain. When I glance at Zak, he is scrutinising me.

"First, I will tell you why you feel so—tender."

My immediate reaction is to glare at him but temper the urge.

"You were drugged, and I collected you from your house. We stopped off in Russia. You underwent some procedures. Which I will cover off if you keep your mouth shut and let me talk."

This time I can't control myself I glare at him.

He pulls his hood down, and his hair sticks up at the back. The dark stubble is still on his jaw. His blue eyes are dark with the sinister look he has in his eyes. His lips curl upward to one side in a smug manner. Everything about him makes me angry. He fucking did this to me.

He openly smiles at me.

"In Russia, I had tattoos put on your face one on your pelvis and pussy. Both your nipples are pierced, and you have two tracking chips implanted in you. Your nails have been implanted into your fingertips. Your old birth control IUD was removed, and a new implant replaced it."

My breath caught in my throat, and I exhaled in a series of short breaths. I try to keep myself calm. My brain feels scrambled as I try to comprehend what he has told me.

"Oh, and your asshole was cleaned out. I forgot about that," he said with a grin.

It sinks in that he said he had my face tattooed, and I put my hand on my face.

"Why does it not surprise me that out of everything I said, you are worried about your face?"

I glance at him when he leans over to the side of the bed and passes me a small round mirror. When I look in the mirror, I shudder a breath of relief out and see he hasn't—No. I bring the mirror closer to my face. My eyebrows look darker, and I have black eyeliner, and my lips are tinged in an unnatural pink colour. It's not garish, it reminds me of what my lips look like when I eat cherries. It isn't distasteful, but this was done without my fucking consent.

I pull myself up on the bed and lean against the headboard, ignoring my body"s pain. He still looks relaxed in the chair when I look at him, but he watches me.

"What have you done? Do you know who I am?" I said, trying to keep the indignation out of my voice, but it didn't work.

Any amusement he had on his face vanishes. He leans forward, and I automatically lean back into the bed. He looked at me ominously. I gulp and try to sink further into the bed.

"I know exactly who you are. Let me tell you something. We are out in Mongolia, close to the Gobi desert. There is nothing but wilderness in all directions. I am the one who flew us out here. There are no phones, no internet, I am the only one who can fly the plane to pick up supplies. You are welcome to try and leave, but the night temperature dips below minus in some parts, and you will die."

He leans back and gives me a moment for the information to sink in. Not able to keep my eyes on him, I look down at the mirror I put on my lap, and I notice my nails. I try to focus on the nails and ignore what he says. There is no way I can be in Mongolia. Perhaps he is a lunatic. After I met him at the homeless foundation charity, I looked him up on the internet. He is only in his thirties but is a recluse. This must be why. He is fucking nuts.

I refocus on the nails. He said something about implants. The colour matches my lips, and they have tiny white diamantés in them. They look pretty. Maybe this is a dream. No. I can feel the cold air.

A cold shiver runs down my spine, and I pull the covers over my bare arms. I glance down at my chest, and I'm wearing a plain cotton T-shirt.

Trying to understand why he is doing this to me, and my mind comes up with no comprehendible explanation. Keeping my head down, I shoot him a glance.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm glad you asked. You are going to be my pretty little sex doll. We are here so I can train you to my liking."

My head snaps up at his words.

"No! Absolutely not. I am not a fucking whore."

"That's the second time you have cursed. Do it a third time, and you will be punished."

"I am not a fucking whore." I said with the words hissed out between my clenched teeth.

He pins me with a feral look but calmly gets off the chair. My eyes follow him as he walks toward the chest of drawers beside a wardrobe.

My bravado is failing me as I can't see what he is doing. His gorilla sized body covers everything from sight.