“Come with me,” he ordered in Spanish. “I have something to show you.”
I heard buttons being pressed on a wall panel, and the door clicked open. I followed Marco into a high-tech room filled with a static ringing from hundreds of television monitors.
“You may look,” Marco said, again in Spanish, and I knew that’s all I’d hear from now on. I wondered if I’d ever hear or speak English again.
I looked up and held in a gasp. Every freaking corner of the villa was being watched. A man sat in front of the screens with an earpiece and a gun, watching every movement on the property.
“This room is never empty, Angel,” Marco crooned. “Nothing escapes me.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” whispered, and my voice cracked. I knew I was speaking out of turn, so I wasn’t surprised when Marco smacked me across the face.
I dropped my eyes and held my sore cheek. Marco put a gentle hand on top of my head.
“Watch with me,” he said.
I slowly lifted my eyes. Marco nodded to the man, who pushed a button, and a blank screen came to life. It was mostly dark, but my eyes focused on the moving figures and I had to clasp a hand hard over my mouth. It was Josef and I fucking. He turned the volume up. We were loud. I couldn’t believe that was me—primal, graceful, wild.
“Hmm…” Marco made a sound of interest when I came in the video for the third time. “You are beautiful when you take your pleasure, Angel. Why is it that you do not come for my patrons?”
I bit my lip and dropped my eyes. I couldn’t tell him the truth…that I refused to enjoy them, even in the few instances when the sex was decent. I couldn’t tell him that his patrons disgusted me, the way they looked through me, and used me. That I felt strangely sexy all the time, but not because of them.
“Do I treat you poorly?” he asked.
“No, Master.”
He was thoughtful and quiet for a moment.
“I thought if I allowed you to keep your few, precious things…your language…your books, you might be more comfortable, but all it has done is made you hold on to the past. You must let it go, Angel. You will never leave my home. I have spoiled you. The others…” His voice trailed off, as if gathering his thoughts about the other slaves. “They came from poor circumstances. Terrible lives. They were grateful when I took them in—grateful to me. But with you…” He touched my head. “I wanted to win you over. For you to see how good life can be for you here. But you cling to your past and cannot see the beauty in front of you. What must I do to win your loyalty, Angel?”
I looked at him, and I swore his eyes held a sort of desperation, or maybe exasperation. I bit my lip, unable to respond because I had no answer to that question.
“Do you know what my business partners do in cases like this? They sell their slaves to rougher masters who can handle them. Shall I sell you?”
“No! Please!”
“Other masters drug their slaves. Make them rely on them to feed their addiction. Those slaves will do anything to make their masters happy. Is that what you want? Do I need to drug you?”
“No!” Panic flooded me at the thought of losing my mental facilities to an addiction. “Master, please. No drugs!”
“I fear you must learn the hard way.”
A sound escaped the back of my throat. I wanted to speak out again, to apologize and beg, but I held my tongue as he continued.
“There is no reason why you should not enjoy the attentive men I choose for you. From now on, if you are too stubborn not to come for my patrons and you find yourself needing release in the evening hours, you must practice self-control. Or, if you’re willing to swallow your leftover pride, you may call out to me and I will be notified. I will send someone of my choosing to pleasure you. How does that sound?”
Awful. Like it would never work.
“Bueno, Maestro.” It was so strange to speak Spanish to him, but I did. “I will never, ever touch Josef or myself again. I swear—”
“Silencio.” His voice. So soft. It sent a chill down my back because I knew what was next.
“It’s time for your punishment.”
He let the words settle over me, making my breathing ragged, tremors of sickening anticipation lancing through me.
“Vamos.”
When he said let’s go, I followed, crawling, terrified of what was to come. It would be worse than the belt, that much was certain. Would they cane me? Scar me?
All for three orgasms? Josef was wrong. It wasn’t worth it. Not to me. I could never let myself get to that desperate state again.
When we got to the punishment room I felt numb and stiff all over. I don’t know how I got myself to crawl inside the dark, creepy room with its black walls and gleaming instruments.
I sat at Marco’s feet barely containing my urge to grab ahold of his ankle and beg for mercy.
“Are you ready, Angel?” he asked in Spanish. Always in Spanish now. I missed my mother tongue already.
I needed to answer, but all that came out was a strangled whimper as I shook my head.