Page 21 of Don't Say A Word

I’ve been at Atterton’s side as he attended the auctions. I’ve seen the girls. Naked. Dressed in leather. Dressed in lace. Dressed in silk. Bound and gagged. Chained. On leads like pets. But I’d never felt the slightest attraction to any of them. They looked more like dazed sheep than humans. Dull and lifeless eyes. Limp. Why anyone would want that was beyond me.

So, my attraction to her comes as something of a surprise. Personally, I’d prefer someone just as fucked up as I am. Not someone to sit meekly at my feet and follow commands. Pushing thoughts of how her skin would feel under my tongue from my mind, I start to unbutton her jeans, ignoring her screams. I wrestle them down her legs as she twists and kicks. Her knee connects with my chin and I stumble backward, yanking the last of her clothing with me.

Now she’s completely naked and my eyes roam her body hungrily. My eyes don’t know she’s not mine. All they see is naked flesh and pouting lips. She’s trembling. Goosebumps cover her skin. I want to soothe them with my tongue.

Fuck. I’m screwed.

But Atterton’s words sound in my mind.Don’t let me down.They sound innocent enough if you don’t know the man. But I do. And I know the punishment for my disobedience will be in the form of a pretty smile and innocence.

As I lower the chains, the girl huddles against the wall as though it will shield her from me. Her head jerks in different directions as she listens, both hoping and scared to pinpoint my position. Her chest heaves with heavy breathing but she doesn’t scream anymore.

I leave her there and walk out into the hallway, choosing to watch via the monitor and let her sweat her fate for a little longer.

Marcel is sitting on a chair, stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. “She’s a feisty one, huh?” he mumbles between bits of bread. “You should have slapped her around a bit. It helps them realize the gravity of their situation. Makes them a little easier to work with.”

I don’t answer and jerk the seat out from under him. “Go find another chair.”

Marcel drags another chair over the concrete floor and it scrapes noisily. He dumps himself beside me as though we are friends watching a rugby game. He nods to the second screen.

“That one’s Star.”

The girl is skinny and blonde. There is bruising on her side, stained purple. “She’s been here a while. Didn’t sell at the last auction. I think she had too much spirit. They could see the defiance in her eyes.” He grins, once again showing the bread between his teeth. “Pretty sure she’ll fetch a good price next time though.”

Wordlessly, my eyes move to the next screen.

“She’s new,” Marcel says. “Only been here a few days. Lots of work left to do. She’s been fun so far.”

The girl sits huddled in the corner, crying. Every so often she bangs her head against the wall repeatedly before letting it drop to her knees again. “Shipped all the way from Aussie, that one. I call her Danielle. Not sure why, but it suits her, don’t you think?”

I just glare at him. But then I relent and nod to the next screen.

“Ah, Petal. I make up names for them all. She’s hardly been any fun, too broken when she got here.”

Getting to my feet, I swing my bag over my shoulder and nod down the hall. “Room that way?”

“I’ve got the bed on the right. You can take the left.”

“There’s only one room?” I’m not used to sharing a room. I’m not used to sharing anything.

Marcel blows me a kiss. “Welcome roomie.”

The room is simple and sparsely furnished. There’s a bed along each side, a small square of window that is ground level from outside, a bathroom off to one corner. It’s basically the same as the cell, minus the soundproofing and chains. There are a few more comforts though. Carpet on the floor. A dresser for clothes. A TV screen in the corner instead of a camera. It’s old and there’s no remote so I reach up to press the buttons and flick through the channels. Cartoons. Marcel watches cartoons. Finally, I reach the channel which shows her.

She’s fallen asleep, her body slumped, but I can see the rise and fall of her chest so I know she’s okay. Well, as okay as she can be under the circumstances.

Pulling my bag open, I dump the few items of clothing I brought with me into the dresser. They only fill one drawer. Lowering myself to the bed, I push off my shoes, content to study the girl as she sleeps.

She keeps jerking herself awake, panic flooding her movements as the realization of where she is dawns on her again. I suppose I should go back in there. I need to start her training. The command Junior wants me to use is, ‘Don’t say a word.’ Upon hearing that, she’s supposed to fall to her knees, hands clasped meekly in her lap and await the next command. Should be simple enough. All I need to do is let her know what’s at stake, scare the shit out of her without damaging her. Knowing Junior’s command means he wants her silent, I grab a handkerchief, recalling her screams last time I entered the room.

She doesn’t heed the command. Of course. She tries to beg and plead with me as though I have the option of letting her go. Shoving the handkerchief into her mouth, I muffle her scream before it starts. Raising the chains, I lift her until she is stretched fully, her toes searching for the ground as she dangles.

She’s fucking perfect. Her breasts heave with each breath she takes. They’re calling out to me, begging for me to touch them. They would be more than a handful, just big enough that her flesh would bulge between my fingers.

For a moment I allow myself to imagine meeting her in a different place, at a different time, for a different reason. The appeal of her being trussed doesn’t diminish, but in my mind, it is because she wants it, asks for it, enjoys it. Her body would arc toward me, desperate for my touch. She’d still be trembling, but it wouldn’t be from fear.

Her skin is smooth under my finger. I follow the lines of her body, the curve of her hip, the swell of her waist until I am back where I began. But her body does not arc toward mine and she’s scared of my touch. She’s trembling, but it’s from fear. The gag has panicked her and she begins to hyperventilate. I try to calm her, but what can I say? Anyone would be terrified in her position.

And she should be.

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