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My lips jerked back into an understanding smile. “My thoughts exactly. It’s been hell. Let’s hope we never have to repeat that again.”
We walked through the door, and I broke off to the opposite side. There was no way I could do small talk. I wasn’t in the mood. Right now, I needed to focus. To find a sofa and look through one of the binders sitting next to each seat. As I peered around the room, I noticed it wasn’t anywhere close to being as lavish as the main auditorium. There was no crème seating and lavender accents. This place was darker, decorated in gruesome gold paintings of torture and death. Blue lighting shone on some of them. Red lights on others. A machine resembling a kiosk rested further away, and I barely paid the guard attention as he explained for us to put the numbers of our slaves in the system so we could view them.
Moving to the far side of the room, I took a seat, trying not to snatch the thick binder resting inches away. It was heavy as I lifted it, full of what had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of slaves. Each laminated sheet had four portraits, with a small summary of their crimes. I took in the tabs off to the side, sliding my finger over the one marked breeders. I noticed immediately they weren’t in any particular order like the criminals had been. The numbers were random, some even higher than I expected.
‘A tablet will be supplied for more information’was listed on the top of each page.
Well, I wouldn’t need that. I wasn’t looking for a real pedigree, I was looking for the appearance of it. The right face. The right body and build. One I could see myself settling down with had I been anyone other than myself. A trophy wife for the genius she was married to. After all, I was on the occasional magazine. I was well known for my company and my role in technological discoveries. She’d have to be worthy of being my wife. Admirable. Not some model. She’d look just as smart as the man she adored:me.The slave would look like the motherly type. The perfect mother, not that she’d ever truly be one, but that was, after all, the fantasy.Like with Laura.
My eyes scanned the pictures. I was thankful for the binder on my lap. My cock was in a constant state of being hard. Ready. The slave would be dead before I learned the truth, but that wasn’t the point of this new, taboo adventure. Not really. It was to recreate snippets of my past while igniting highlights of my ultimate kill.Or maybe my ultimate regret. It would be the not knowing. The possibility. The chance…while she lived. It upped the degree of wrongness and was the perfect twist for the return to my old ways. A test like nothing I’d undergone before.
I flipped the page, stopping on the bottom-left at the woman who caught my eye. Even though there was no way she’d just come from a stylist, her hair had natural waves, as though the layers had come from rollers. It looked shiny, standing out from the other slaves surrounding her. Aside from that, her eyes weren’t just a natural or normal shape. They were round with just the hint of a slant. She was naturally beautiful with her ivory skin. Her cheeks had a glow and rosiness, even appearing full as if she were already heavy with a child. Was she, or was my mind inventing exactly what I wanted?
Fc1315
age:26
height: 5 ft. 1 inch
hair color: brown
eye color: hazel
She was tiny, which I liked even better. It fed my need to dominate and hurt her in every way possible.
I kept my finger in place, turning the page as I continued to look through the binder. Had this been my Whitlock days, I would have jumped at any of these women. They weren’t all beautiful, but they all had distinct characteristics that called to me.
Tapping against the picture of a blonde woman, I turned back to the brunette I’d seen first. Back and forth I flipped, not sure whether to choose one or keep going. Impatience. It had me wanting to pull at my tie. I’d need to see them both. To compare them in person. Maybe neither of them would be the one. I had to make sure. Standing, I headed to the machine, entering both slave numbers. I was barely sitting before a guard called me forward. His finger was holding to an earpiece, and he was talking into it as I laid the binder down and headed his way.
“Master Nine-hundred-ninety-nine, if you’ll follow me, please.”
I didn’t speak as he led me down a hallway, only to turn onto another. When we approached double doors, both slid open. Two women were walking in, led by two guards. The men had guns at their hip, and another guard was at the door with an even larger weapon at his back. He was watching me cautiously. Untrusting. I only gave them a moment’s notice before I turned my attention to the women. Both were in black sheer robes, marking their place as crows. What I noticed immediately had my lips parting. The brunette, she wasn’t what I expected. She was small, but her stomach was slightly rounded. The information hadn’t said she was pregnant so she must have been at some point. Definitely in the last few months. Even her breasts were bigger than I’d expected. I couldn’t even look at the blonde as I waved her away. When the guards led her out, I still couldn’t break my gaze from taking in every detail of the dark-haired slave’s frame. Her hips were wider, as were her enticing thighs. Everything about her screamed new mother.
“Turn.”
My voice was deep. Slightly strained. The woman’s lips quivered as she obeyed my command, turning in a slow circle. When she came back to face me, tears were running down her cheeks.
“You’ve already had a child.”
“Yes. Not long after I was b-brought here.”
“You were taken pregnant?”
The surprise in my tone couldn’t be hidden.
“Seven months along.” She sniffled. “We...they. Tunnels. We went through underground tun—” Her mouth clamped closed as if she’d caught herself saying too much, and maybe she had. I gave one last look at her, feeling…different. Off, as I imagined her big and pregnant, being brought here. I glanced at the guards, nodding. They came forward, immediately, one grabbing her arm as they led her back towards the door. Medium length, wavy brown hair swung over her shoulder as she peered back, pleading to me? Screaming to me with those unique eyes? Yes, that had to be it. Stupid woman. I wasn’t here to save her. I was here to make my wildest, bloodiest fantasy come true. My teeth ground, and I bit down hard as I turned my back to her, leaving the room.
This changed things. How, I wasn’t sure. I wanted a breeder. She fit the bill in every way and could give me more than I could have imagined; but seeing a truth I couldn’t process was throwing me for a loop. This wasn’t the fantasy of a woman I could make into a mother. Thiswasa mother. A mother to a baby the Gardens had taken. I hadn’t expected that was even possible. She was everything I wanted. But if that were the case, why the hell was I so hesitant?
As fantasy and reality drew blood in their battle, I returned to the sofa not able to move. Not able to see anything but the curve of her stomach. The fullness of breasts still heavy with milk from a baby she’d never see again. She could have been anyone. A wife. A single soon-to-be mother finishing college for a degree in something honorable. Life changing. Or maybe she could have even been one of those independent types that didn’t need a man, but decided she wanted a family. There was admiration in that. Fuck, she could be anyone. I could make her into Laura and start over.I could make her mine.
FC1315
Silence. Not a single fc1in the waiting area made a sound as they announced the numbers of those who’d been bought. Where some had been chosen and returned, it didn’t appear everyone who’d been picked were actually bid on. I prayed that was my case. Two men had asked to see me, and although they seemed cordial enough, I didn’t think I could go through another birth again. I couldn’t lose another child. And that’s what I was meant for. That’s what they’d implied with my title and the threats. Breeder. God, this wasn’t happening. Out of all the female crows. Out of all the slaves I’d seen in the months I’d been here…me? Who would want me for this act? This couldn’t be real, but it was, and it was worse than a nightmare. I wasn’t going to wake up back home. I’d never get to see the child I still supplied milk for, and it killed me. My only comfort was knowing he was getting his nourishment from his mother. It was the only solace I had when heartbreak or the madness became too much. Patrick was alive, and he was getting taken care of. Hopefully better than me.
“Fc thirteen-fifteen.”
I took a step forward on shaky legs. The guard gestured to me, and it took everything I had to make it to the small desk he stood at. Not a foot away was a computer. He’d been typing something on it before he called me. Whatever it was only sealed my fate in my eyes. They wouldn’t be returning me too. I’d been bought. Question was, by who?
