Page 6 of Redemption

Megan

It’s been really quiet in the house today. I shiver at the eeriness of it all. I’m used to strange noises, screams, and various sounds I don’t even want to think about. I suppose I should enjoy the silence because I’m certain it isn’t going to last, but the fear of anything different is too ingrained in me, now.

I don’t know how I’ve survived the last two years in this house, which I eventually learned is in Louisiana. I’ve been conditioned to accept everything I’m subjected to: brutal beatings, continued rapes, and my mind is scarred like my twisted arm and mottled back from the relentless punishments. I’ll always remember the first time I was taken by M—it’s imprinted into my memory:

“Put her in the bedroom we prepared for her.” The man who less than twenty-four hours ago purchased me orders. I’m a commodity now—a chattel to be owned. The memory of a carefree life has already begun to fade away. The guard holding me drags me up a grand staircase and into a bedroom. It’s sparsely decorated with grey walls and a bed, complete with chains at the head and foot. The only other pieces of furniture in the room are a chair and a table with various instruments set out on it that send a shiver down my spine. There is nowhere to store clothes, and I can’t see a mirror or any of the basic amenities such as a hairbrush or hair dryer I would expect to find in a bedroom. I’ve been naked since the moment I was captured, and I long for some clothes to cover my body. I’ve no idea where I am except, considering the amount of time we traveled, it can’t be Sweden anymore. The accents I’ve heard sound American. But if I am now in the States, I’ve not been brought legally into this country. I’m a slave.

“I hope you like your bedroom.” I spin around at the voice intruding into my thoughts. It’s the man who purchased me.

“It’s a little sparse, and I don’t think much of your choice of ornaments.” I roll my eyes toward the instruments on the table.

M comes to me without warning, pushing me forward and onto the bed.

“I can’t decide whether your sarcasm is a turn on or a turn off.” He flips me over and effortlessly cuffs my feet to the bed. I try my hardest to struggle against him, but his strength outweighs mine, and it’s futile. Before I can even register him doing it, my hands are cuffed as well. He stands back and licks his lips. “I’m going to certainly enjoy finding out, though.”

I can only watch as he removes his clothes and folding them carefully, he places them over the back of the chair.

“Please, don’t do this.” I can’t stop the whimper from leaving my lips. The man who owns me is naked in front of me. He’s muscular, and I know I won’t be able to stop him. He strokes up and down the length of his hard dick, and I shudder with fear.

“Beg me again, slave,” he demands as he quickens the pace of his hand on his shaft while his stare is intently focused on my naked flesh.

I purse my lips together not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a desperate plea. It’s a mistake, though, for it only angers him, and he steps forward and punches me in my cheek with his balled fist.

“I said…beg again, slave.”

My ears ring with the strength of his assault on me. I try to shake it off, so I can recover my senses, but the pain shatters through my cheek, leaving me helpless.

“Answer me,” he orders with another punch to my face, and this time, I lose consciousness for a moment. When I wake, pain is ripping through my body, radiating from my groin. My tormentor is already inside me. He’s broken through the barriers of my virginity while I languished with the effects of his beating. He’s pumping his length into me like a wild animal during rutting season. I can feel the delicate flesh of my abused pussy tearing under his assault. I try to push him away, but I can't. I squirm harder and harder under him until his frustration grows to mammoth proportions, and he rains blow after hard blow into my face, and I black out once again.

When I wake, it must be some time later, for the room is dark. The covers of the bed are gone, and I shiver against the icy chill in the room. Air-conditioning blasts out freezing air, causing my teeth to chatter together. I crawl across the bed, willing my body to stop pounding its painful lamentation. I ache everywhere: my face, my arms, and particularly between my thighs. Reaching between them, I find evidence of my blood mixed with the sticky essence of the man’s orgasm. I was violated while unaware. I don't bother to try to find respite from the cold. Instead, I curl up in a ball and pray for the ice in the air to freeze me to death. Of course, it doesn’t happen.M is a sadist and loves to torture me way beyond the level of my abilities. He does it purely for his own gratification, enjoying seeing me in pain. This isn’t a consensual relationship where I have a safe word if I want him to stop. There is no stopping until he’s cum and left me bleeding. He broke my arm once and left me alone for days. It’s healed but not as it once was. It’s misshapen and weak…just like my mind.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed. I’ve slept for a few hours, and I know I won’t get any further respite from the demons in my head. I reach for the book I found one day, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. I’ve read it so many times now, but I love it. It describes a happiness I know I’ll never have: a future with a man who adores me. It’s my dream, and the place I escape to when M comes for me. I settle back onto the bed and start to re-read it. I don’t manage to get very far, though, when my door opens, and I know instantly who it will be. The only person who ever comes in this room. I place the book down and scramble to my knees before him. It’s the way he likes me to present myself to him. I didn’t do it once, and I was given no food for a week after being beaten black and blue. The next time he entered the room, I got to my knees, but he forced so much food into my mouth I was sick for days because my body couldn’t cope with the sudden richness after being starved. Ever since that day, I always kneel for him.

“Good evening, my slave.” M shuts the bedroom door behind him. I can’t open it anyway. It’s locked via a security system that requires his fingerprints. I’d need to smash through it to stand any chance of escaping. That or chop his fingers off, but with the absence of anything remotely sharp in this room, I’ve no hope of doing that either. He starts to remove his clothes. “I see you’ve been reading again. Such a waste of time that story. It’s a frivolous dream for a slave. Maybe I’ll get you a better book like the ‘Karma Sutra’. It’ll give you some lessons on how to be more exciting for me. Mind you, things could get interesting soon.” He lowers his trousers and underwear to reveal his already hard cock. My stomach turns because I know what comes next. He doesn’t come to me though. He pulls a picture from his pocket and tosses it next to me on the floor.

“Look at it.”

I tentatively reach out and pick it up. The photo is of a girl who looks similar to me. Her long blond hair falls over her body but doesn’t cover any of her nakedness. She’s scared—I can see it in her eyes.

“I’ve bought us a new slave to break in. She can join you and give you a friend. I’ll be leaving tonight to go and get her. She’s a virgin as well, and you’ll watch me take her for the first time when I get her back here. I’ll tie her down to the bed and fuck her until she bleeds all over my cock. We’ll see if she begs for mercy or if I’ll need to beat her like I did you.”

M comes to me now and wraps his hand around my hair. He twists it tightly and pulls me to my feet. I’m thrown face down onto the bed with my ass in the air. Before I have a chance to think, he’s inside me, old wounds ripping apart, weeping fresh blood.

“You need to remember you’re only here for me. Several holes for me to fuck when I have need. I’ll have you both bowing at my feet, licking my shoes, and worshiping me as the master I am.” His hips buck, and pain tears through me. I try to disappear off into my dream world, but M hits me and brings me back to consciousness. “You’re nothing, slave. I own your dreams, life, and future. Disappoint me, and you know by now I’ll make you suffer, but not with death. You know my methods of punishment. They are sick and degrading. I’ll let all my men fuck your asshole while I watch. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He grunts as he pounds into me harder and harder. “Answer me.” He hits me again.

“Yes, Master!” I shout in desperation, and withdrawing, he flips me over like a rag doll before slamming back into my dryness.

“Yes Master, what?!” he shouts and grabs one of my breasts, digging his filthy fingers into the delicate flesh.

“Yes, Master, I’d like all your men to fuck my ass.”

“Such a good slave. Maybe I’ll arrange that for you when I return.” M leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s tender and a complete contrast to the rough treatment my pussy is currently receiving from his dick as he pounds into me. “I’ll leave you with a present to remember me by whilst I’m gone.” He kisses me again and bile rises in my throat because I know what‘s coming next. He lowers his mouth down the curve of my breast and sinks his teeth deep into the tender flesh. It’s excruciatingly painful, and I realize I’ve blacked out when I find myself immersed in my dream of hope:

“May I have this dance please?” The tall gentleman bows before me. He’s handsome with a strong jawline and dark brooding eyes. They bore into me, and my stomach does a flip.

“You may,” I respond, holding my hand out to him, so he can help me up from my seat where I’ve been sitting, watching the other debutants dance. My chest heaves in the tight, white corseted bodice I’m wearing. The long skirt my maid paired with it is a stunning teal colored lace with thousands of beads. My blonde curls are pinned up with antique clips, loaned to me by my mother for this very occasion.

“I’m Mr. Darcy,” the gentleman informs me as he leads me onto the dance floor.

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