Page 1 of Stevie
Stevie
New Orleans
“Puppet!” Cringing at the sound of Vincent’s voice, I force a smile as I hand the young woman the aftercare instructions for her new tongue piercing.
“If you have any problems–”
“Puppet!” He yells again, making my eye twitch and sending a cold chill running down my spine.
“Don’t hesitate to call.” I continue, fake smile still plastered on. The girl gives me the universal woman look, silently asking if I’m alright. I’m not, but that’s not her concern, so I give her a nod. She says thanks and leaves the shop. Once I’m sure she’s left, my mask drops and I turn to see why my boss, mentor, and boyfriend - Vincent, is screaming for me this time.
“Yes?” I ask softly as I walk into the tiny closet he calls a break room. I watch the blond-haired man raise a pierced brow at me, and I feel it as the dread sinks into my body. My straight stance to wilt, and my gaze falls toward the floor.
“Wanna try that again, Cher?” Cher is a common term of endearment here in my hometown of New Orleans. Yet every time he calls me it, I feel my stomach churn. Puppet is bad enough, but Cher only comes out when he’s giving me my last warning, even if it’s my first.
“Yes,sir?” I say feebly, and I feel my cheeks warm from the embarrassment. If my Mama and Baka could see what I’ve turned into, they would be so ashamed. Hell, I am ashamed. I am a strong Louisiana woman raised by the strongest Croatian women ever to exist. I was brought up to take no shit from anyone, to hold my head high, and to never,everdirty my knees for a man. Yet, here I am, reduced to being this man’s servant at his beck and call. He says jump, and I do it without question. He says down, and my knees drop faster than my brain can register.
Vincent chuckles lightly as he walks up to me. He stands about my height, which is an unimpressive five foot seven, but his icy, steel-colored eyes have a way of striking fear into my very core.
“Such an obedient puppet.” He pats my face with more force than necessary. “I saw your circle on the calendar at the apartment,” he purrs as he curls my long black hair into his slender, tattooed hand.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper. Tomorrow is the day. The day that my two-year apprenticeship is over. The day I’m supposed to begin my paid job as a piercer here. Two years of living in his apartment, working under him ineverysense of the word. Seven days a week, fourteen or more hours a day, with no pay. If I needed clothes, I had to ask him. And since he was paying, he got to decide the outfit, along with my meals, my shampoo, and even the feminine care products—all had to be approved by him.
“Well,” he leans in, running his pierced tongue over my neck, causing a shudder to run through me. “Do you feel like you’ve met the… requirements to graduate?” My heart stops as I stare at him, eyes wide.
“Vincent,” I breathe out. “I-I’ve done everything you’ve asked and more! I’ve done ninety percent of the piercings for nearly a year now.”
“And?” He flicks his wrist, pulling my hair and forcing a sharp cry from me which only angers him further. Quiet obedience is what he expects—demands–of me. But I can’t… two years of this hell, and I only stuck it out because his shop is, or was, the shop to work at in New Orleans, at least until his partner left six months into my apprenticeship. Now, the place is mainly known for his erratic behavior or him sexually harassing the clients. Vincent’s cold laugh pulls me back to the present as he jerks my hair again, pulling my face towards his.
“You, Cher, have only finished part one of the apprenticeship. Next is you have to pay me back.”
“W-what?” I sputter while trying to remove my hair from his grip, but it’s useless.
“You’ve been my financial burden for two years. Start paying me back, and maybe you’ll have a job here.”
“How can I do that if I don’t get paid?!” I snap, and my eyes widen. Oh no. No, no, no. I didn’t mean to. “Vin–... Sir. I’m sorry.” I squeak out as his cold eyes narrow.
“Oh, Puppet,” he sighs in faux disappointment. “Have you learned nothing? We have rules, Cher, and when you break the rules, you must be punished. Now, get on your knees.” My lip wobbles as I try to shake my head. God, please, not again. I can’t, I can’t do this one more time.
“Vincent,” I beg, my eyes filling with tears, but they only make him smirk as he runs his tongue over my cheek before hovering his lips over my ear.
“On your knees, Puppet.” His voice is cold and unfeeling. “That pretty mouth only has two uses, agreeing with me and sucking my cock. And it’s done neither today. Now, do your job.” He says through gritted teeth as he yanks me by the hair, forcing me to my knees. I take a slow breath as my shaking hands go to his jeans to unzip his pants.
“Hurry up before I make you take it up the ass.” He’s both made and delivered on that threat before. I’m pulling his zipper down when I stop. I can’t explain why, but at this moment, I can’t handle it anymore. Something inside me snaps, and before I realize I’ve done it. I drive my fist directly into his crotch, and Vincent screams and falls over. I cry out, feeling my hair ripped from my scalp when he doesn’t loosen his grip. Flailing around, my hand collides with a penholder. It falls, and a pair of office scissors lies within my reach. Without a second thought, I grab the scissors and cut the hair he has wrapped around his hand, freeing me from his grasp.
I stumble back as I get to my feet and run out of the piercing shop with Vincent’s promises he’d make me regret this following me out the door. I believe he will, too, but what other choice do I have? Stay and continue to be sexually assaulted and abused by the man who is supposed to be my mentor? How did I let it get this bad? How did I go from being completely independent to having a monster of a man controlling every aspect of my life? Never again. I will never allow a man to hold power over me again.
Stevie
CHAPTER ONE
TATTOO CONVENTION - NEW ORLEANS
“On your knees, Puppet.” Vincent’s voice behind me is just as cold and unfeeling as I remember. How is this happening?Again, after all these fucking years.His familiar words cause my knees to buckle and my palms to go sweaty. This can’t be happening. I thought the shop’s bodyguard, Brooks, had scared him off earlier, but Vincent was waiting for me when I came down from checking on Indy. My old mentor, the man who abused me in every way, is here, and I can’t get away. “Get on your fucking knees and do your job.” He says through gritted teeth as he yanks me by my short hair, forcing me into a private bathroom. I stumble against the wall as he shuts the door, nearly crumbling at the deafening sound of the lock being engaged. I won’t let him take me, not again. Not without leaving him a bloodied mess. Even as I think this, my body trembles, and the burning sensation starts up in my nose and behind my eyes.
No, Stevie, you will not cry in front of him.
“Please,” I whisper, forcing the tears to stay down as I touch my smartwatch behind my back and pray that I’m calling Janie or Ren.
