Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I nod at a man they call Rune as he passes. The man has never hurt me. He’s never forced me to do anything with him, but I know better than to make the assumption that he isn’t capable of it. I find it insanely unlikely that someone can work here, witnessing what others do, and not be just as demented. If they had a problem, they’d speak up or find a different type of job.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he simply nods before moving further down the hallway.
The next shadow takes my breath away. It isn’t often that Raul Cortez makes his way down to this end of the house. I know when the man is present on the property with the way Pirro acts, because he’s insanely more violent and terrorizing when the man is gone.
Without a word, he enters my room, holding out the burner phone to me.
Slowly, I reach for it, knowing he has all the power and can jerk it out of my grasp anytime he’d like.
It’s warm in my hand, making me think someone else was using it but DON’T FORGET is the only contact listed like normal.
I lift the phone, holding it to my ear as I count the rings. My heart pounds as each ring goes unanswered. Alani is like any typical youngest child. She’s the baby, the one that expects to be catered to, and it wouldn’t surprise me after hanging up on me last week, that she’s using this week to punish me.
When the call switches to voicemail, I do my best not to cry but I can feel the tremble in my chin.
“Hey, Alani. It’s me,” I say, avoiding eye contact with Raul. “Just checking in. Guess I’ll try again next week.”
A sinking fear settles inside of me as I end the call and hand the phone over. There was only one other time she didn’t answer my call, and it left me terrified for an entire week that she’d been taken. I can’t even describe the relief I felt when she picked up the following week.
Before Raul takes it, DON’T FORGET pops up on the screen, the thing vibrating in my hand. I know better than to answer it, and Raul simply silences it before putting it back into his pocket.
He’s never been an intentionally cruel man, considering what he does for a living, but it also doesn’t mean the man doesn’t take what he wants. He’s what I’d consider a vanilla fuck, but he’s too busy really to waste time giving into any sort of fetish or fantasy. It’s a lot of work, I imagine, counting all the millions I have no doubt he’s making by abducting people and selling them into sexual slavery.
“I wanted to commend you for such a good job yesterday. The customer was incredibly happy.”
Translation—he made a lot of money from the scene I performed with that man.
I want nothing more than to look away from him, but I know better. He’d see it as disrespectful, and although he doesn’t go out of his way to hurt people, he doesn’t avoid reminding us of his expectations.
“I’d say I’m surprised how much people talk about their depraved participation, but he must be chatting to like-minded others. The books are filling up with very similar requests. It’s like a brand-new market for male victims and female assailants.”
His words make my skin crawl. Before being abducted, I always knew there were sickos in the world. Hell, anyone who has a television can’t escape the horrific stories on the news and the documentaries. But coming face-to-face with it on a daily basis, really opened my eyes up to just how many people like that exist. Hell, Raul has built his business on perverts. He seems to be doing extremely well for himself, but that would be expected, considering his limited overhead since we’ve all been fucking abducted.
“I don’t think the demand will ever overtake the need for women to be hurt, but the change of pace is a breath of fresh air.”
His eyes skate over my body, and as much as I want to cover my exposed skin, I fight the urge.
“We have another special order scheduled for later this week.”
I barely stop myself from scrunching my nose in disgust.
“The same customer wants to see the opposite, with you tied to the bed.” He looks down at his fingernails as if he’s bored with revealing that I’ll once again be assaulted, like he’d tell someone he had a package delivered to an alternate address.
“Do you still have any fight left in you?” he asks, his eyes lifting to look directly into mine. It isn’t a taunt or a tease. The man is well aware of what he’s created. He knows I’m going to do what’s expected of me, but he also has to consider how it will look for the customer. Pretending to fight and really fighting are two very different things, and there aren’t many people who like playing with a broken toy.