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“You’ll die trying,” I spat back, unable to hold my words back any longer.
He laughed in response, shaking his head in disbelief.
“So, she speaks,” he said triumphantly. “Kind of hard to take you seriously when you contradict yourself with every word out of that pretty little mouth, don’t you think, little one?”
Once again, I went quiet. I was done talking.
“Alright,” he said. “Why don’t I run you through some things, since you’re so fucking intent on listening instead of speaking. First of all…”
He turned to face me, his arms open in a welcoming gesture and his expression devilish.
“Welcome to the Mansion.”
He looked like the ring master of some sick circus. This was all it was to him, a fucking game, and the girls he’d trapped there were the caged animals. I hated him.
“Who’s in charge?” I asked, and once again, he laughed at me.
“You don’t get to ask that,” he said. “And I’d watch your attitude if you want to stay in one piece.”
“You won’t hurt me,” I smirked. “I bet you wouldn’t even dare to–”
Before I could finish my sentence, his fingers wrapped around my throat and he squeezed the breath out of me, easily walking me over to the wall and pressing my resisting body against it. I struggled and tried to scream but he was holding me so tightly I could barely get the smallest of sounds out.
“Watch your tone with me,” he said pleasantly. “And you only address me as Sir, by the way, as you do the rest of the men in here. You should really be on your knees as well, naked and waiting for me, but since it’s your first time and you haven’t officially started your training yet, I’ll let it slip this time around. So, what do we say?”
He tightened his grip and I coughed and sputtered in his grasp.
“S-Sir,” I spat out, my eyes shooting daggers at him.
He could make me say what he wanted but I would never bend my will to his. I would go down trying to escape, trying to get the fuck out of that hellhole.
“Good girl,” he muttered. “And now, would you like to ask me for something?”
“Let go,” I croaked out, feeling all the blood rushing to my face as he raised me off the floor. My fingers clawed at him, and I broke one of my pretty long nails as I tried to get away from him. But he wasn’t letting go, in fact only squeezing harder as I attempted to break free of his iron-like grip.
“I didn’t hear the magic word,” he growled, and I cried out desperately, unable to fight the pure survival instinct inside my body kicking into high gear.
“Please!” I begged him. “Let go, please!”
“And what do you call me?” he asked easily, as if this was a simple child’s game and I wasn’t barely conscious from lack of oxygen.
“Please let me go, Sir,” I rasped, and he laughed, dropping me to the ground.
I collapsed in a heap on the floor and cried softly as I pulled my knees against my body, averting his gaze. In moments, he’d reduced me from a pretty little plaything into a ruined mess. I knew my makeup was running but I didn’t care, and he didn’t seem to give a shit, either. Instead, he grabbed my hair, gathering the locks in a ponytail, and pulling me up on my shaky feet. If I hadn’t had muscular legs from all the dance training, nothing would’ve kept me standing when he let go.
“You will learn to obey quickly,” he said. “You’ll learn you have to if you want to get some privileges around here.”
“What is this place?” I whispered.
“The Mansion?” He grinned. “Why, it’s your new home, of course. That is until you are sold to a new owner.”
“Sold?” I shivered.
“Sold,” he confirmed. “To the highest bidder. We have an auction for all our girls. I think you’ll bring quite the price.”
Somehow, the idea that my journey wouldn’t end there, that I would be bought and sold to some man who could be even sicker and more twisted than this one, made me cry openly. I didn’t even hide my tears. I was tired of hiding things, exhausted from the fear pumping through my veins in a mixture of adrenaline, pure terror and the need to get away.
The man didn’t say a word, just circled me as he paced the room.
“You don’t have a name anymore,” he went on. “You will receive a new name when you are bought, and that is what you will respond to. But for now, you remain nameless.”
I didn’t dare argue that I had a name. All I needed to do was remember his fingers around my throat, squeezing tightly. I wasn’t about to make him go back to that feral monster who’d thrown me against a wall in an effort to punish me. God knows what else he was prepared to do to keep me on track, to keep me his obedient little plaything.
