Page 1 of Fractured Heart

Fear.

Four simple letters. They mean nothing when they are separate but once you put them together, that single word can mean so many different things. Fear of the unknown, fear of losing someone you love or fear of failing. I never felt any of that before year one, I was happy, loved and adored by the boy who wanted nothing more in this world aside from seeing me smile.

Alexander Grayson was my Robin Hood, he stole my heart and I never wanted it returned, I wanted him to keep hold of it for the rest of our lives and cherish it. That all changed in the blink of an eye when I chose to save my best friend, my soulmate.

Fear.

That word finally meant something to me.

If you think this is going to be a story about how a girl was adored and loved by everyone and found her prince charming then close this fucker and move along. This is a story about a girl who was broken and grew to become a fucking queen. She stole her fucking freedom back and went after all of those bastards that wronged her, including her family who stopped looking for her because it was easier to believe she was dead than continue to hunt for her.

My name is Doxy Da Luca and I am the bitch your mother warned you to stay the fuck away from.

Fear is a constant, it’s my only friend, I find comfort in its presence and know I’m not alone. It amazes me how one emotion could incite such an irrational feeling inside someone but that feeling is the only thing that reminds me I am alive. I wish I wasn’t.

The moment I woke up in this strange place and found myself chained to a table, my hands bound to one end while I was bent over the edge with each of my ankles strapped to the legs. The second I registered I was naked, I knew what would happen. That’s when that one fucking emotion took flight inside me, fear. I tried to remain strong and prayed that my family and friends would find me in time but a prayer is as useless as wishing upon a star. They all assumed I was dead but I still held a sliver of hope that my brother, Xander and my best friend Lake wouldn’t give up on me, that they would never think I was dead unless they found a body.

The first time Karl raped me I was a wreck, he shattered something within me the instant he slammed his cock inside me. The innocence of my youth was ripped away from that very moment. I screamed and fought with everything I had only for him to punish me with the bite of his whip, splitting open the skin on my back to teach me a lesson. He allowed his men to use my body as their own plaything and even introduced them to me by name so I would feel comfortable—he’s a sadistic fuck.

Any sound that came from me or if a tear should fall I was whipped, some of the men liked to cut me and use my own blood as lubricant to rape me. They said I should be thankful they aren’t fucking my ass dry, like they were doing me a favor and I should be fucking grateful. They tore away my humanity and turned me into a pet, a doll of sorts. I was treated worse than a dog.

I thought being raped and beaten was the worst of it, until four days of being chained up meant I had no choice but to piss myself and I couldn’t hold it any longer, I also soiled myself. Then and only then did the final man, who hadn’t laid a single finger on me, come for his turn. He used my shit as lube, smeared it all over my open wounds and used it as body paint, then forced me to eat it while he watched. Ron has a coprophilia kink and I fucking hate him nearly as much as I hate Karl, they are at the top of my list.

“That’s right, you’re nothing but a useless cunt who takes our cocks!” I block out Ron’s words and focus on the crack in the concrete wall, the same crack I stare at every time any of them come to me. I hate it when Ron comes the most. I hate myself for shitting. I fucking try as hard as I can to hold it so I don’t have to see him but I can’t. I’ve been here for what must be months now. Tears silently roll down my cheeks. Every sound I make I’m punished for, my back is still raw and bleeding from being whipped yesterday. If I fight, I’m whipped and beaten, if I cry or make a sound, I’m whipped and raped again. Karl–Master as I’m forced to call him—watches every time his men take their turn, he says until I can be trusted to behave he won’t allow me any privacy. He thinks allowing me to be alone with each of these vile fucking rodents would make me happy. He is the worst type of fucking human.

“Those tears are costing you space on what used to be flawless skin, Doxy.” I cringe and bite down on my lip trying to force my tears to stop falling at the sound of his voice. I know my family will be searching for me, I just have to hold out until my brother and our friends come for me. I know Xander won’t stop looking until he finds me, he promised he would always be there when I needed him and I need him now more than ever.

My mom told me a dream is a wish you make with your heart, my heart must be in default setting because my wish of freedom and a painless death has yet to come true…

I’m starting to lose hope that no one is coming for me.

You know how you can feel it inside your heart and soul when something is off? I feel that in mine. I know they aren’t coming for me but I can’t give up. The moment I do, they have won and I can never fucking allow that.

It’s been two years, two fucking years of this hell and I want to die. I want it all to fucking stop and no longer exist, I fucking hate it. How the fuck can people go to church every Sunday and praise God. If there is a fucking God, why would he allow this to happen to me?

I’m starting to learn that fighting gets me nowhere. If I just give in and let them have me, they leave me quicker and don’t hurt me as much. Mike and Tom are different, they love it when I fight them, they enjoy the fire inside as they call it.

“Come on, Doxy, fight. You know how I fucking like it,” Mike shouts and I flinch when he punches me and my head smacks against the concrete wall. I fall to the ground and curl into a ball. Master still watches and regardless of what they like from me, Master will punish me if I don’t obey him. I must always obey him and no one else, he is the one with the power here not them and definitely not me. Their beatings may hurt but his are worse, he gets off on tearing my skin open and making me bleed. “Fucking bitch,” he roars as he spits in my face and stomps on my leg. I scream out in pain when I feel a distinct crack.

He broke my leg.

Before the haze of pain can even clear, I’m dragged to my feet by my hair. I scream out when I’m thrown face first against the wall. I almost pass out when my wrists are shackled to the wall and they yank on my legs, securing them to the chains on the floor. I go lax in the restraints, my arms taking the brunt of my weight. I know what this means, I fucked up and cried out so now I’ll be punished.

The pain in my leg is nowhere near as painful as what is about to come. I tremble when I hear the whip crack, he does this every time and each time a sick laugh escapes him. This is what he loves, he thrives off my pain, it gets him hard watching my skin tear open and seeing me bleed. No matter how I try to brace myself for these punishments or try to force my mind to a happy place, the bite of his whip always draws me back to the present.

“Oh, I love it when you misbehave and I get to remind you what happens. Master isn’t happy with you, Doxy.”

My bottom lip trembles. “I-I’m sorry—” My words cut off when the first snap of the whip tears across my back, the unhealed skin splitting instantly and I become dizzy with pain.

“Take it and start counting or I won’t stop,” Master snarls as he cracks the whip again and again and again, until I finally pass out from the pain after shouting twenty, the amount of lashes I just received. I relish the moments I black out because I feel nothing, I just fucking wish I never woke up!

Doxy

I don’t fight, I don’t try to escape, I don’t even speak anymore. I used to sit in my cell and hum, or make up stories to keep myself entertained but now, I don’t do any of that. I just sit in the corner and wait. Master has moved me to a room in the house now. I was good and allowed out of that concrete prison I was held in for years. He says he will train me to be the perfect Doxy so I can show the others he brings home. I tried to train three of the girls but they didn’t last very long.

Two died from infections thanks to Ron and his fucking shit kink, I still hate him the most. I hate how he stands in the corner and watches the men take their turns, sometimes he’ll even get himself off and blow his load in my face. The Master only lets him play with me once a month now, he won’t risk his pet dying from infection. Tom and Mike still beat me because I refuse to fight back out of fear of Master’s punishment.

When I hear the lock on my door click open, I kneel and place my hands on the tops of my thighs and drop my gaze to the floor. This is the only position I’m allowed to meet Master in, I must never look him in the eyes or I am punished, only worthy people are allowed to gaze upon his face.

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