Page 1 of Lily

Prologue

“We can stay here all night, Lily. Makes no difference to me. But you’re not getting any sleep until you master this position. It’s a simple table, Lily. Try again.”

Roselia. My name is Roselia. One of the most degrading parts of her life as a slave in training was having her given name stripped from her. It was dehumanizing, and, of course, that was the intention.

“Now, little slut!”

Roselia’s lip quivered as she repeated over and over in her head, Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

She gasped as Master J grabbed her long, thick braid and tugged it hard. In the three months since she’d arrived in this hell, she’d learned he would not harm any of the six girls he was training. He would not strike their skin or do anything that might leave marks. They were to be sold pure in every way—smooth untouched skin, virginal untouched cunts and asses.

But her hair… That was another story. Master J seemed to derive great pleasure in pulling her braid so hard she thought he might scalp her. He rarely did so to the other girls. It was her he liked to pick on.

“Again,” he shouted so loudly she flinched. “Elbows to the mat, hands crossed over your forearms, forehead low, feet together, knees wide.”

She resumed this table position for the millionth time. At least, it seemed like it had been a million times.

“Wider, slut,” he yelled. “Your knees need to be wide enough that your back becomes level. If I can’t set my drink on your back without it spilling, you’re not a good table.”

She pursed her lips as she inched her knees outward. Her arms and legs were shaking badly from doing this over and over well into the night. The other girls had been put to bed hours ago.

“Hold still, slut.” He tapped her inner thighs with his crop.

She hated that crop more than anything in the world. It was the bane of her existence. He had it with him constantly. All of his trainers carried one at all times. The sight of it made her lightheaded.

Roselia was fairly certain that crop would leave a vicious sting in its wake if it were used to strike her as it was probably intended. Master J and his band of trainers used the crops to torment the six female prisoners in many other ways, though.

“You’re weak, Lily. You need to build muscle strength before I can sell you. I have the perfect buyer for you, but I won’t auction you off with the other girls if I’m not certain you’re capable of living up to my standards. I have a reputation.”

She gritted her teeth, trying hard to do as he wanted. She was exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. She’d needed to pee about an hour ago, but the feeling had passed, which meant she was dehydrated.

Master J tapped her inner thighs with that damnable crop. “Wider!”

She pushed her knees out further.

“That’s better. Now, hold the position. I’m going to set my scotch on your back. If it falls, you will be severely punished. I expect you to hold it steady.”

Roselia held her breath as he set his glass on the small of her back. She couldn’t hold it forever, but she’d learned to take very slow, shallow breaths in and out when holding one of his many positions.

He circled her. “This is a good position for you, Lily. Your darker skin tone is extremely sexy, especially now that you’ve been here in the house without sunshine long enough for it to even out.” He tapped her butt. “Your ass is so tight and firm.”

She wanted to die, and she still might. He’d threatened death often enough. Life in this place was no life at all. It was hell. She often wondered if she even wanted him to be able to sell her, though. Was she better off here enduring his incessant training? She had no idea what might happen after she was sold. Her new Master could be ten times more demanding than Master J.

She let her mind go over the plusses and minuses of this life in order to distract herself from focusing on the strain on her muscles. On the one hand, she was to be sold as a virgin, which meant no one raped her. She was also to be sold unmarked, which meant no one beat her.

However, the physical demands on her body every day were nearly unbearable. Master J trained her more hours than any of the others because she’d been the last one to arrive—the last one to have been abducted and forced into slavery.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she reminded herself how many times she’d spent hours in the dog kennel on her elbows and knees, how many times she’d peed herself in that kennel, how many times she’d been forced to stand on her tiptoes, wrists chained to the ceiling while the trainers crudely washed the urine off her body with a garden hose. Was life here better than taking her chances and performing well enough to be sold?

Master J tapped her most private part. She might have thought that would have been her vagina before she’d arrived in hell, but she’d learned having her asshole touched was far more humiliating.

“This tight, puckered rosette is going to please any buyer.” The snap of a camera made her nearly forget herself and flinch. She was used to the way he and his men took photos of her all day long. It was humiliating and degrading, and that was why they did it.

He tapped her pussy next. “Your cunt is a sight to behold, too. I think of all the girls I’m training, yours is the prettiest little cunt. Smooth and well-formed. I’ll wax it again soon to prepare you for auction. My buyers like a smooth, naked cunt.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Until she’d arrived in hell, she’d never heard such crude words so often in her life.

He rounded to her side, dragging that damn leather crop along her body.

---