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Prologue
JAKUB
My brother and I watch as Konrad shackles our newest acquisition to the stone wall with chains. Manacles secure her wrists and ankles, spreading her feet and arms wide apart and showing off her perfectly proportioned figure. She’s naked and cast in an orange glow from the flaming torches attached to the wall. Yet, despite her ample breasts, small waist, bare pussy, curvaceous hips and long, dark hair, I feel nothing but apathy.
Even her screams bore me.
“Your efforts are a waste of energy,Twelve, no one will hear your screams,” Konrad reminds her, his middle finger swiping at the tears that cascade from her dark brown eyes and slide over her smooth olive skin. He places the jewelled teardrop in his mouth, tasting her fear.
“Fuck you,hijo de puta! My name is Carmen. Car-men! I am not a number!” she screams, yanking at the chains and darkening the bruises around her wrists and ankles further.
“Hush now. Don’t make this any harder for yourself,” he whispers, his voice a warm caress as he slides his fingers over her collarbone and down the centre of her chest all the way to her bellybutton which he circles lazily with his finger. “Allow yourself to feel the pleasure.”
“Touch me again and I’ll…!” she warns, hissing between gritted teeth.
“And you’ll do what,Twelve?” he taunts, baring his teeth in a slow smile and showing a glimpse of the man he could be if pushed too far. He wears his mask with pride, just like Leon and I do. It covers the majority of his face, leaving his mouth, chin, and left eye free. We wear these masks not because we wish to hide our identity at this point, but because they instill a level of fear in our acquisitions. No one leaves the castle once inside of it, no one, but nevertheless the masks we wear remain on our faces. The only time we remove them is in the sanctity of our private rooms.
“Please,” she whispers, her instincts kicking in. Her anger subsides, replaced instead with fear and the innate need to please the one man who she believes has the power to free her. Whilst that might be true, and Konrad could very well let her go, he won’t, because the man with the ultimate power isThe Collector, our father, and he wields that over the three of us like an iron fist.
“Giving up so soon?” Konrad taunts.
“You don’t have to do this…” Twelve continues, her fire tempered.
She glances at me hoping that I’ll step in and stop what’s happening. Instead, I watch with detachment. She’s just like all the rest, breakable, malleable, and ultimately submissive, though not in a way that gives her power, but in a way that relinquishes it. Eventually all of our acquisitions come to accept their life here, and are comfortable, even. Once they accept their fate, we treat them well. No harm will come to our Numbers from any of the clients we entertain. The last person who tried to fulfil his fantasy on Eight without her permission is now a rotting corpse in the catacombs beneath our home. Leon’s wrath that night was exquisite to behold. We protect what belongs to us. Always have. Always will.
“Keep any marks to the bare minimum,” I warn Konrad.
Leon smirks. “Let him have his fun. Besides, this one likes it.”
Of the three of us, Leon is by far the most dangerous. I’ve seen what happens when he lets go, and it’s not pretty. He may be beautiful, with thick black hair and deep set, pale green eyes but there’s nothingprettyabout him. Like Konrad and me, Leon thrives in the darkness. The masks we wear are more our true faces than the ones we were born with.
“I know the rules, Brother…” Konrad’s voice trails off as he strokes the flat of his hand over Twelve’s stomach and hips, caressing her gently. She flinches away from his touch, the shackles rattling. “She’s exquisite, no?”
“Yes. She’ll draw the attention of many of our clients,” I agree, adjusting my mask.
“Such a fine specimen,” Konrad growls, the low rumble of his voice intoxicating to many.
Yet her appearance, however beautiful, isn’t why our father acquired her. No. This woman—who from now on will only be referred to as Twelve—is a soprano. Her voice is enchanting, beautiful, and the real reason why she’s here now. Ten women, and one man have come before her. Aside from their beauty, they have one thing in common, they’re all artists and they will live the rest of their days in this castle to serve one purpose: to entertain our clients.
“I amnota whore!” Twelve screams, visibly shaking as Konrad cups her pussy, telling her without words, that we own her.Allof her.
She’ll be a whore if we ask her to, and shewillenjoy it.
Eventually.
Her screams die down to whimpers as he coaxes her with his talented hands. Leon and I watch with mild interest as he gently fingers her. For someone with so much brutality inside of him, he certainly knows how to keep it under control when required.
“You’re wet,” Konrad muses, his thumb slowly circling her clit as he runs the tip of his tongue against her jaw.
“And you’resick!”
“Your body doesn’t seem to think so,” he chuckles, bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucking on them. Twelve’s nostrils flare and her cheeks flush as he reaches back between her legs and rubs her clit once again. She hates him, there’s no doubt about that. Regardless, her body reacts to the pleasure he brings her, twisting her up inside, fucking with her head, just like he intended. That’s the idea, break them down until they crack, then build them back up with a mixture of fear and pleasure. We train them to respond to both. They’ve all learnt to heel, craving the attention we give them. Good or bad. So long as they behave, accept their lives here, we give them what they want, what they really,trulywant.
For Twelve, that’s passion, the high of an orgasm, being owned and taken without her permission, punished with a whip or a paddle. She may not like to admit it, but it’s the truth nevertheless. It’s why Konrad is the perfect man for the job. He studied her for weeks before she arrived, watched her social media posts, delved into her private chats that our hacker, Charles, managed to get hold of. He knows her better than she knows herself. Ultimately, he’s giving her what her soul craves. That’s the key to what we do.
It’s different for each of the Numbers, and the three of us are masters at delving into the deepest parts of their psyches to draw out what makes them tick. To give them their ultimate sin.
We do it with ease, whilst never truly indulging our own wants or desires.
