His low voice rang and echoed through my head as he rose from his chair and began moving toward me. I stared back at him, making my posture seem as assured as I could, being as utterly terrified as I was. Being dressed in nothing but my bra and underwear had no positive effect on my confidence whatsoever, unfortunately. Nor did having my hands tied behind my back.
He looked me up and down as he approached me, and his face contorted in distaste. At first, I thought his distaste was directed toward me. Then he reached out and lightly touched his fingers to the abrasion on my cheek. I flinched and backed away, doing my best to keep a hard glare plastered on my face.
“Easy. I’m not going to hurt you, Sara, I promise.” He paused and placed the tip of his finger on my collarbone, tracing over it and letting his finger drag lightly over the scrapes on my skin, smearing the blood that had seeped out. I inhaled sharply from both the close contact and the stinging sensation of my cuts being touched. “It seems they were quite rough with you,” he finished in a smooth, contemplative voice.
I said nothing.
Was that why he looks upset? Is he displeased that they injured me? Or was he just upset that they had gotten to it first? That they marred his blank canvas?
“I’ll have the maid tend to your wounds once we're through here,” he finished, looking back into my eyes. I still remained silent, giving him what I intended to be a look to kill. “Oh, don’t look so angry, Sara. If you let yourself, you might even enjoy living here with me.”
Doubt it, I thought bitterly.
The way he kept using my name like that put me even more on edge. It was just so
He looked my body up and down again as if he was taking it all in, appraising me once more before circling around to my back and putting his hands on my shoulders. I instinctively tensed up. That movement sent me swirling into a particularly painful memory. I was only thirteen when it happened. It was eight years ago, but I still remembered it like it was yesterday.
I was sitting in my living room. Nobody except for a friend of my mother’s boyfriend was home with me. My mother's boyfriend was living with us, which wasn't amazingly comfortable for my sister and me. I didn’t particularly like the man my mother was dating, nor did I really care for any of his friends. Unfortunately for my little sister and me, our mother did.
At the time, she was out with her boyfriend, Randall, picking up a friend who had been drinking and, thus, couldn’t drive. So, I was alone with Vincent, Randall’s good friend. Or were they cousins? I never really understood the relationship.
I’d never really put much thought to Vincent’s presence because he’d always seemed so harmless. In fact, he was my favorite of Randall’s friends. And I thought that if my mom felt okay having him around us, he must have been a good person. Surely that was how it worked, right? Children were supposed to be able to trust their mothers' judgments, right?
But he proved me wrong that night.
I was sitting on the edge of the ottoman, watching TV. Vincent came out to join me in the living room of our apartment and sat behind me. He was quiet and still for a moment. Then I felt him wrap an arm across my front, pulling my body very close to his. I immediately became alarmed; he’d never done something like this before.
His legs were outside of mine, straddling me from behind.
“W-what are you doing?” I stuttered.
“Shh,” he replied as he slid his hands down my arms.
I tried to get up, but he slung an arm tightly across my body again and let the other on land on my inner thigh. He slid his hand up my thigh to graze his fingers over my most intimate—and entirely untouched— area.
“S-stop,” I tried to say commandingly, but only managed to squeak through the tears that had started falling down my face. Then I felt his member twitch against me in response to my plea for him to stop. I really knew I was in trouble then.
Before I could try to get away again, he quickly maneuvered us so that he was laying on top of me, pinning my hands above my head with one of his, and pressing his knees down on my thighs to prevent me from moving.
“Please! Please, stop!” I cried aloud. That earned me slap across the cheek and a harsh reply of, "Shut up, you little bitch."
"Aw, come on now, be a good girl, sweetie," he cooed cooed menacingly as he slid his free hand under my shirt and bra to grope my barely-in-existence breasts.
I sobbed loudly, begging him to stop as he lowered himself and began grinding his turgid member against my pelvis. He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to free the throbbing erection he was sporting and then continued grinding against my (thankfully) still-clothed sex. He moaned aloud and bit down hard on my left nipple when I tried to get out from underneath him. I shrieked in pain from his teeth and was yelled at again to, "shut my fucking mouth."
I could feel blood trickle down from the spot he'd just bitten.
Vincent reached down with one hand and undid the button on my jeans as he bit down on the sensitive skin of my neck, causing me to squirm and cry out in a panic.
Still rubbing himself against me, he said "I can't wait to feel you tight pussy around me. It's so little I doubt I'll even fit. Oh, but don’t worry, I'll make it fit."
"No! Get off of me, you bastard! STOP!" I yelled and struggled with all the might I had in me.
His hand had just pushed aside the fabric of my underwear and placed the tip of this rigid manhood at my entrance so he could ram himself into me when I heard the key in the door and Randell’s voice calling for Vincent. He and my mom needed help with the friend they had just picked up. “Coming! Just a sec!” Vincent replied nonchalantly.
He looked me dead in my terrified eyes and began beating himself off at a blinding pace. A minute later, his breaths became gasps and his semen covered my chest and abdomen.He sighed, satisfied, and took an extra few seconds to stare at me, covered in his disgusting release, with pride.
The his proud stare turned into a deathly glare. He grabbed the pocket knife from his pocket, flipped it open, and held it to my throat. He wrapped a hand around my throat, just below where the blade was pointed, and squeezed. “This. Never. happened,” he threatened though a tight jaw, making sure to enunciate each word very clearly.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Sara. Did you know that?” my new “owner’s” voice brought me back to the hell I was presently in. Again, I said nothing. I kept my face forward and as neutral as possible in spite of how uncomfortable I was with his much-too-close-for-comfort proximity. I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips barely an inch away from brushing against my skin. Anxiety welled up inside of me. “Not much of a talker, huh?” he chuckled to himself.
Moving his hands down to my hips, he sighed and paused a moment before speaking again. “Well, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, I’ll tell you how things are going to work. My name is Noah Lee. But you will refer to me as Master. Master Noah.” His voice was low and ever so slightly husky. “There will be a few rules that you must follow, no exceptions. Understand?” He paused, again, waiting for an answer that would never come, though I don’t think he actually expected me to say “yes.” Rather, he just assumed that was the answer that need not be voiced. “First, I am you master. I own you. You must do exactly as I say, exactly when I say, or you will be punished.” Noah’s hands slowly went up my sides and then back down, and I suppressed the simultaneous urges to cry, grimace, and punch him in the face. “Second, you must never lie to me. If there’s anything I hate, it’s dishonestly and disloyalty. Especially in a woman.”
“Third, all of the doors in this housed are locked by keys. You will not be given said keys, for obvious reasons. The doors and windows leading outside have alarms, and locks that require a passcode to open from the inside once said alarm is activated. While in the house, you will wear what I tell you to, no objections, even if I order you to remain in the nude all day.” The more he explained how things worked in the Lee household, the more I wanted to scream. I detested when people told me what to do like they owned me. And It really wasn’t any better when it was by somebody who actually “owned” me. Not that people can actually be owned, but that was a different story and not seemingly relevant to this man.
“You are here to give me pleasure. I’ll have you whenever I want you, wherever I want you, however I want you. When you behave well, I will reward you with pleasure in return. You see, this is a mutually beneficial relationship. We give each other pleasure. But we shall discuss that dynamic further when the time is right.” I gulped fearfully. “And all of your pleasure must come from me. You are forbidden from touching yourself unless I say otherwise,” he breathed against my neck, tracing a finger along the inside of the waistband of my underwear.
“What you need to know for now is that, once we have our agreement settled, when we have sex, you will be my submissive, and I your Dominant. Anything I say during, any harsh names I call you, it’s all just bedroom talk. I guess you could say it’s just how I like to play.” I could hear the smirk in his voice and wanted to vomit. “We'll have safe words, but, again, we'll work that out later. You must do your best to please and satisfy you master in bed, or wherever it is that we are being intimate, and know that I will do the same for you. But what’s most essential, absolutely of the utmost importance, is that you trust me, in and out of the bedroom. Trust that I won’t hurt you.”
He wanted me to trust him? Mad as a hatter, that’s what he was! He was holding me here against my will as a sex slave that he would debase and abuse. After all of what was going on, after all of what I’d already gone through, after all of what he’d just told me, how on earth could he possibly expect me to ever even come close to trusting him? It made me even more determined not to break.
If anybody here breaks, it’ll be him.
“That’s all you need to know for the moment being. Should the need for further rules arise in the future, I will make sure to put them into place,” his voice was still low, and his enunciation was very clear, as if further trying to emphasize his point and his perceived authority with the manner in which he spoke. His grammar and perfect eloquence in speech were admittedly impeccable. I couldn’t believe how native his English sounded. Not even a trace of that tough Busan Korean accent. I wondered if he had it when he spoke Korean.
To be honest, if the circumstances were different, it would be a total turn on; I’d always loved a smart man, somebody well spoken and able to challenge my intellect. And a slightly tough accent would make for a rather sexy juxtaposition.
It was a shame he and I had to meet under such circumstances. Not that I’d ever want to be in any way associated with somebody who would keep another person as a sex slave. And I knew for a fact that if he hadn't found me at that auction, there would have been another girl in my place.
I wondered if his friends knew the kind of man he really was. If his brothers or sister, his parents, anybody who loved this man… did they know the kind of things he did? The kind of monster he was?
He moved in front of me to observe my body once more. He again began tracing a finger over the cuts on my collarbone. I couldn’t stop myself from flinching the second his skin met mine. His eyes flickered to mine when I flinched, but I refused to meet his stare. I refused to move my eyes away from that spot on the wall opposite me, the spot on which my eyes had been locked the whole time he was talking to me.
He moved his finger down over the abrasions covering the right side of my chest. My breathing picked up as he moved to my breast, and it took everything in me not to run. Where would I go, anyway? I’m in a locked room. He probably has the key in his pocket.
“It’s a real shame they treat women in such an indecorous manner. Men are supposed to be gentlemanly towards the fairer sex, especially ones as delicate and pretty as you,” he mused, referring the cuts and bruises my body had sustained. “Does it hurt badly?” he asked calmly, without looking away from his hand, tracing his finger across the edge of the cup of my bra, keeping his movements steady despite the rapid up-and-down movements of my chest.
His eyes narrowed in a way that looked slightly amused. “You’re breathing quite heavily. Am I making you nervous, Sara?” he asked, his eyes boring straight into my eyes, with a tone in his voice that matched the expression on his face, making anger rise in me again. “Or is your body just responding to my touch, the touch of a man?” he breathed huskily, still moving his finger over the edge of my bra.
I almost spit on his face. That was infuriating. I was being held here and told I would be used as a slave. I was most certainly not turned on. I was mortified! How could he possibly confuse the two?
“It’s okay, you know,” he continued. I could feel him looking intensely at my face, though I still wouldn’t look back at him, “to feel aroused when I touch you like this.” He slid his finger delicately into the space between my breasts, causing me to cringe internally.
I flared my nostrils and my jaw clenched, still refusing to make a sound.
“This game where you refuse to answer me is not amusing. You are to answer your Master when he speaks to you. I should punish you for your disobedience right here,” he said with a devious, yet clearly irked, smirk, snapping my bra strap. I was filled with a small sense of satisfaction knowing that I had gotten to him at least a little bit. It may have been a small victory, but it was a victory, nonetheless. I wouldn’t let it show on my face, though. That would anger him, and I didn’t want that. Not just yet, anyway. “Unfortunately, I have to leave very early tomorrow morning for a business trip. I’m afraid our fun will have to wait until I return, my pet,” he said almost slyly. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “I’m already excited just thinking about it.”
I shuddered at his words but just tried to remain calm. The relief that washed over me when he said he was going away for a couple of days was marred by the fact that he’d be returning. And with ill intentions, at that.
“Mr. Jang, the butler, will show you to your room. I trust you’ll behave. Sleep well, Sara,” he said, going back to sit in the chair behind his desk as Mr. Jang came in to lead me to my room. I followed wordlessly, suddenly feeling quite tired and in desperate need of sleep. Sleep in a bed, not tethered to a wall, in a cell, in a sitting position with my hands behind my back. Thus far, that seemed to be among the very few perks of being here.
We walked through several hallways and I became sure I’d never be able to find my way around this behemoth house; it may as well have been a maze, especially when it was so dimly lit.
We stopped in front of a wooden door that was just like all the others, except for the fact that it not only had the key lock beneath the knob, but another two locks that were installed manually on the outside of the door. One with a chain and one with a metal bar that slid into place.
Would they all be locked all the time?
Inside the door was a simple, but pretty room. If I hadn’t been where I was, the situation being what it was, then the room probably would have been quite pleasant.
The walls were a light peach-pink color with off-white accents. The bedspread matched the walls in color and its off-white accents were done in lace. The furniture in the rooms was a beautiful dark chocolate brown shade of wood with gold colored accents. There was a dresser and a matching vanity that could double as a desk. The vanity had the same style as the other furniture, but looked to have been painted that same off-white color. The paint looked worn and antiqued from years of use.
All of the furniture looked to be antiques, and I wondered how old it all actually was.
Upon closer inspection, both the dresser and the vanity were nearly completely empty. And all that was inside of the closet was a cellection of flimsy lingerie that made my stomach churn just looking at them.
Aside from the contents of the closet and lack there of in the dresser and vanity, the room had a quaint, innocent, princess-like feel to it. How ironic that a room that looked so sweet and innocent would be witness to such tainted, vulgar events. I couldn't help but wonder to what the room had already been witness.
“Master Lee will supply you with clothing and other amenities for your room shortly. He’ll need your measurements and a list of things you’d like to keep in your room, Miss,” Mr. Jang reported. “I’ll leave you to sleep. I’m sure you must be tired. I must ask you not to try to escape, though. I assure you Master Lee has made it nearly impossible. All the rooms are locked and soundproofed, as he said before. And he had a state-of-the-art security system installed on top of that,” came his earnest warning. “Goodnight, Miss.” And he left with a bow. I heard the door click shut and three locks slide into place before everything was.
For about a minute, I just stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing what to make of my life anymore. I knew it would be locked, but I had to try to open the door that lead to the hallway anyway. When it wouldn’t budge, I went to the door further down on the same wall. This one lead to my own bathroom, which I found, kept to the peachy ballerina-esque theme of the bedroom.
I raced to the door that I assumed lead to the hallway, hope rising in me. I twisted the doorknob with all my might, but to no avail. It was well locked, too. It was only then that I noticed that the door separating where I slept and the bathroom had no lock; it looked like it had been purposely removed.
I guess I should erase the word “privacy” from my vocabulary.
Next, I ran to the window. I didn’t open. I slammed my fists on it, only jarring and further injuring my already sore wrists. I was thankful for to Mr. Jang for untying them, however.
I was sure the material the window was made out of was that fancy soundproof, bulletproof nonsense so nobody could hear me scream when he tore into my body or smacked me across the face.
After that, I just collapsed onto the floor and cried. "Somebody! Somebody, please! Help me!" I sobbed like one of those helpless victims in a horror movie. And that was exactly what I felt like. There was no way out. I was stuck in this hell with all this torture that had yet to even start. What had I done to deserve this? No, I wasn’t a saint, but I certainly wasn’t a bad person either. So then why me? Why?
I just lay there like a pathetic lump on the ground crying harder than I’ve ever cried before and screaming more hysterically than anybody in the history of humanity ever had. I kept thinking I’d walk up from this nightmare any minute. But the minutes ticked by in time with my unchanging reality.
But this wasn’t the end. No, sir. I was far from broken. But I think crying was warranted in this situation, broken or completely whole. I don’t know how long I was there on the ground like that before I finally passed out.