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The way he spoke was with authority, his voice deep and rough as it caressed my body.
I stayed kneeling down beside my Master as this new master spoke. They were talking about me, I knew that. I could feel their eyes on me.
My skin crawled with disgust. I hated it when they gazed upon my naked body, stripped bare of everything. Even my dignity. My pride.
I had nothing left.
Nothing belonged to me anymore.
I was wholly his. Every part of me belonged to him—my Master.
And I hated every single day of it.
I wished, prayed, and hoped for my Prince Charming to come. Maybe he would come on a beautiful white horse. He would look at me with love and sweep me away. He was going to save me from the bad men. We would ride off in the sunset, toward his castle.
And there, he would love me with his whole heart.
We would live happily ever after.
But it was only a dream. A fantasy I built up in my head so I could stay alive.
When my Master touched me, I closed my eyes and pretended he was my Prince Charming.
I kept pretending. Every single minute of my life, I pretended this was not my reality.
But sometimes it was hard. When the pain got too much, when the screams would not stop, I could not hide anymore.
When it felt like my insides were being ripped open, I could not hide. I had to face my reality.
And it was yet another day. I was naked again. Most of the time, we were kept naked.
They said it was for easier access. For them to do whatever they wanted with our bodies.
We were told to bear our marks—their marks—with pride. When our bodies were blue and green, we bore them with pride. We paraded around, showing how good our Masters were to us.
The process repeated. Day after day. Night after night.
Some of the women have been here since they were children. Others when they were only teenagers. But no one was older than twenty.
I was taken eight months ago.
Eight months ago, I was eighteen years old.
Two months ago, I turned nineteen.
Every month, Master reminded me of the date I was taken. It was our anniversary.
I kept counting the months in my head, trying not to lose that small glimpse of the outside world. Desperately trying to keep hold of the string of what was left of me.
Unlike what Master thought, I had not lost my sanity yet.
I was still very much alive.
He thought I was dead.
He thought I was the perfect slave.
He thought I was just another pet. Another doll to play with. Another puppet with whom to do whatever he wanted.
But I had not lost my hope yet.
He thought he owned me.
But he was wrong. So, so wrong.
He might own my body.
But my soul…my thoughts…they were mine.
He could not take that away from me. My soul did not belong to him. My thoughts did not belong to him.
And my heart…it would never be his.
“She is yours?”
His voice snapped me back to the present. Not my Master.
But him.
For an unknown reason, I almost forgot all my training and wanted to lift my head up.
I wanted to see him. To see the man whose voice had caused things to happen in my body.
After so long, I felt something. A strange shiver down my spine.
After being numb for so long, he made me feel something.
What it was, I didn’t understand.
“For now. Until I can get the highest buyer. For now, I’ll just enjoy her until I decide otherwise,” Master muttered drily, his fingers trailing down my spine.
I fought the urge to retch. Every time he touched me, I had to fight against myself. I had to remind myself that I was the perfect pet.
I had to accept this touch. No matter how much I hated it.
The man was silent for what felt like a very long time.
And I felt suddenly desperate for him to speak again. For him to gift me the power of his voice to silent my demons.
“Are you bidding tonight?” Master asked.
“No,” the man snapped.
From my position, with me still kneeling and my forehead pressed against the hard floor, my eyes widened.
Nobody would see this small action. It was my secret.
My breath stuck in my throat. Was he not part of this cartel? Did he not buy slaves?
I listened to them talk. Master suggested the man have a night with me.
My body tightened, waiting for his response.
When he refused, I let out a small breath. So small that nobody would notice.
Was it disappointment? Or relief?
I did not how to feel. Even though I have not laid eyes on this man yet, he was making me feel out of control.
Did he not want me?
Master’s friends always wanted a night with me when they visited. They would say I was their favorite. That I was beautiful.
