Violet
“Eh. I thought she’d be prettier,” the man standing in front of me said. “Five million is a lot of coin to spend on a bitch. Wanna explain why my merchandise has marks on her face?”
“We had a problem with her during transport. She’s strong willed, something I’m sure you’ll enjoy breaking her of,” Manuel Ortega told him.
A chill ran up my spine as I processed his words, a problem during transport. This was my new reality. I was no longer a person, I was merchandise to be bought and sold. When I’d tried to jump from the helicopter, I was yanked back to my seat and Manuel promptly went about teaching me a lesson on disobedience and escape. My face still throbbed. I didn’t have a mark, I had two black eyes and I was pretty sure my nose was broken.
“Turn around,” the man demanded.
I couldn’t get my body to follow his command. Whether it was sheer stubbornness or stupidity I didn’t know. But as I stared at the man in front of me, I was beginning to believe it was stupidity. His deep brown eyes narrowed, and he took slow, measured steps closer to me. I lost sight of his eyes when he stopped in front of me. He was huge, maybe six-five or taller if I had to guess. He wore a perfectly pressed suit, and not a single strand of his salt and pepper hair was out of place. He didn’t look like the type of man that would engage in such disgusting activities. He looked like any other good looking respectable businessman. I could picture him in a boardroom somewhere. But he wasn’t respectable, and we weren’t in a boardroom. This man had bought me to be his sex slave. He now owned me and would do what he wanted with me. An angry tear slipped down my cheek, yet I didn’t move to brush it away.
“Turn. Around.” His words didn’t leave any room for further insubordination and I turned my back to him, presenting him with a view of my panty-clad behind. The man’s hand on my bare shoulder made me startle and he wrapped his hand around my bicep preventing me from jerking away from his filthy hands. “Yes. She’ll do just fine. Big tits, nice ass, and some spunk. I will enjoy the struggle while it lasts.” He released my arm and stumbled forward. “Half has already been wired into your account, Mr. Ortega. Now that I’ve inspected the goods, I’ll transfer the balance and be on our way.”
This was it. I looked around the warehouse and wondered if I could escape somehow and how I’d survive in the jungle barefoot and only wearing a pair of panties and bra. I decided I didn’t care. I’d rather die in the jungle than allow this man to own me, but there was no escape.
He owned me!
I struggled to keep my emotions in check, the travesty and unfairness of my current situation was closing in on me. I grasped at any hope I could. Maybe if I explained to this man I was here against my will, and that my brother and Jaxon would pay him for my safe return, he’d let me go. I was holding on to anything, even the smallest sliver of hope. I couldn’t allow myself to feel the full impact of what was happening to me or I’d crumble. The depth of my despair was bottomless. It was useless; I couldn’t escape but I could fight. I would never give this man my body freely. He would never break my will. He could rape me, beat me, and torture me, but my mind, heart, and soul belonged to Jaxon.
I would keep the memory of us locked deep. He would be my mental escape. I would dream of the life we could’ve had. I would build upon what we had begun until in my mind we’d grown old together. Jaxon would hold my hand, and kiss me, he’d love me, and each night when I fell asleep I’d dream of our legs tangled together. I belonged to Jaxon. This vile pig might own my body, but Jaxon owned my soul. He didn’t have to buy it or force himself on me to get it. Jaxon had earned it - my trust, my loyalty, and my love.
“Did you hear me, bitch?” Manuel said and smacked me. My head jerked to the side and I could taste blood.
Before I could answer, a menacing growl came from the man. “If you would kindly keep your hands off my property, I would appreciate it.”
“I believe she is still mine, Mr. Cutsinger. Until your final payment has been verified, I will punish those in my care as I see fit,” Manuel corrected.
“Very well. Then if I may, I have a request. If you feel the need to strike her again, do not do so in the face. We will be traveling today. I’ll already have to excuse away the current clumsiness of my new bride. While here in your country, no one will look twice. However, in mine, people will take notice. As it stands I’ll have to keep her away from my staff so as not to raise concerns.”
“You plan on allowing her around your staff?” Ortega chuckled. “I would think a cage would be more appropriate.”
I shuddered at the thought of being locked in a cage in a dark basement dungeon.
“I am a civilized man. She will not need a cage. She’ll know her place as all the others do. Within a week, she’ll be housebroken.”
Civilized man? The tears I was desperately trying to keep at bay were now freely leaking from my eyes. My future had come into striking clarity and the clear understanding how I was going to spend my life was horrifying. Jaxon had warned me there were things far worse than death. At the time I couldn’t fully comprehend what he meant. However, now, in vivid living technicolor I understood.
I prayed Jasmin and her babies were safe, that me standing here nearly nude in front of a man that was going to violate me in all manner of ways wasn’t for naught. Some good had to come from this. Jasmin and Linc and their babies happy and healthy was my reward. Jasmin could be the mother I knew she’d be and together they could teach their children how to be courageous and brave. Jaxon would move on in time and my brother, he was the one that would feel my enslavement the most. For that, I was heartbroken.
“Put this on,” Mr. Cutsinger shoved a black sleeveless wrap dress in my hands and dropped a pair of black ballet flats at my feet.
Robotically I dressed in front of both men and tied the dress at my waist, covering myself the best I could. I slipped my feet into the shoes and was surprised they fit perfectly. I didn’t want to think about how this man knew what size clothing and shoes I wore. The thought was too depressing. It only reminded me of how long Ortega had been planning this. Had he rummaged through my apartment finding my sizes? Had he looked through my underwear drawer, too?
Fuck him! Fuck them both!
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Manuel said, and offered his hand to the man who had bought me, Mr. Cutsinger.
The men shook hands and Mr. Cutsinger turned to me. “It’s time to go.”
Go? I’d wanted to escape this place since the moment I’d been dragged in the room. Now the prospect of leaving was terrifying. I guess the saying the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t was true. I shook my head and my eyes pled with the man not to take me. I couldn’t do this. I had been lying to myself when I thought I could drift away in my mind as this man took me against my will. I was a fucking liar; I couldn’t do it.
The moment I walked out the door Jaxon would be forever lost to me. Mr. Cutsinger would break me. He grew impatient waiting for me to move and yanked my arm until I was pressed up against his side and his cologne assaulted me. It was expensive and musky, the opposite of Jaxon’s clean smell of soap and man. This man stank of immorality and depravity.
“Let’s go,” he growled, pulling me tight against him. He lowered his head to my ear and whispered, “When we walk out of here you are to listen to everything I say, to the T.” I struggled to gain some distance from the man, and I heard him sigh. “Violet.” The use of my name gave me pause. He called me merchandise and property but never my name. “Please trust me and do what I say.”
Even though he’d softened his voice, I wasn’t buying the nice guy routine. He’d bought me for five million dollars. That didn’t scream man of the year, it screamed douchebag of the century. He pulled me alongside of him to the door, my feet reluctantly moved toward the death of my humanity.
“Violet. When I open this door, things are going to happen quickly. Do as I say, and we’ll get you out of here,” he whispered.
“Who are you?” I whispered back.
He didn’t answer; instead, he pulled me out into the hot humid jungle air and my breath caught in my throat.
I was going to die.