AllFreeNovel
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He walks towards me.My prize girlhe says.He kisses me, hard, groping me, shoving his fingers inside me. It hurts. I struggle, and he hits me across the face before bringing a syringe out of his pocket and sticking it in my arm.
“Just enough to keep you still,” he states.
Ice floods my veins.
You’ll make the big boss good money, he says.And that means I’ll make good money.And then he instructs me to be quiet and to be good.
Time passes. My head feels foggy, my body weak.
Five men come into the room, each of them of various heights and weights. One is dark-skinned, another is mixed-race. Three are white. There is also an Arab via a computer screen.
From two metres away, I am looked at but not touched. My owner talks to them in English. They barter, money discussed. The Arab gets angry, shouting words I don’t understand.
I seem to fade, struggling to stay alert. Awake. There’s something wrong about the sale. Something missing.
My owner walks towards me to hold my head up. As he does, he pulls out some strands of hair—I feel them rip from my scalp. He cups my breasts from behind, whispering obscenities in my ear.
A good fuck.
A tight cunt.
Wide mouth for sucking big cocks.
Some of the men laugh. White male A is aroused. I feel sick. I fear I will vomit and my owner will belt me again.
Tell me you love me,Owner coerces.Say my name, tell me you love my fat cock pumping inside your wet, greedy cunt.
The dark-skinned man and white male C get hard.
My sale continues, the price escalating until white male B wins. My buyer.
Everyone except for Buyer and Owner leaves. There is a delay as money is arranged.Immediate transfer,Buyer says. His accent is English. He’s from the north.
He leads me to a black car outside. There’s a driver in the front.
I’m led to the backseat, where another man waits.
My stomach soars.
It’s Lionheart.
When I wake,it’s not violent or startling, but with a feeling of cashmere softness. Of cotton and fleece and silk. My heart is pounding though, sweat beading on my forehead.
“Are you okay?”
I twist towards the figure standing in the shadowy, gloomy light. “What are you doing?” Max has his phone in his hand and appears to be recording me from the side of the bed.
“I think you might have had a significant recollection, and I’m recording you in case you say anything as you slept.”
I rub my eyes and sit up. The memory from tonight comes sharp and fast now, elements of it repeating vividly. “I think I might have been close to getting my owner’s name.”
Max’s mouth drops open in shock or surprise. “Wh-what is it?”
“Luca,” I say after thinking it over. “He wanted me to say his name when he . . .”
I can’t say the words. They repulse me.
Slowly, as if I might push him away, Max gets onto the bed, wrapping me up in his strong arms. Like this, we watch the video on his phone. I am mumbling, little words clear as day to me now that I’m remembering:Mole, labels, Owner, hurt, white, five, tired, male B, car, Lionheart.
