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Bought and Paid For

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Max got out of the car and walked around the front to greet Elliot. He stood up from the window and the two shook hands warmly. It was cool out, but he was comfortable enough in just his sweater for a few minutes.

“How was the trip?” Elliot asked.

“Not bad,” Max answered, opening the passenger side door. He held out a hand and Jessica took hold of his arm with two hands to get herself up and out of the seat. “Not too much traffic. I could have made it in one night if I wasn’t so tired.”

He wrapped his arm around Jessica’s middle. He was the only reason she wasn’t falling to the ground. She pressed her face into his chest and held onto him tightly. She was trembling slightly. He wondered how she might have reacted if she was still not so heavily drugged. Max punched the button of his key fab and the trunk popped open. Elliot walked over with him and retrieved his bag. Max slung Jessica’s bag over his shoulder.

“I do envy you over this one,” Elliot said. Fog was coming off of their breath. Max looked down at her. She looked back up, eyes glassy and slightly widened, lips parted.

“She’s a special one,” he agreed. He looked back up and then glanced at the old hunting lodge in which they would be spending the next week. “Is Radoslav here?” he asked.

“I told you he would be,” Elliot said with a wry smile.

“If we ever get caught, my friend, it will be because of him.”

“He’s grown up. I doubt you were always cautious at that age.”

Max bristled. Thinking back at some of his more dangerous dealings, he was always horrified at how easily he could have been found out. He would give this young man the benefit of the doubt, if his own liberty were not in jeopardy.

“I don’t want to see him.”

He looked down at Jessica. She was looking up at him, chin to his chest.

“I don’t like him.”

“Well that’s damn rude. I thought we got along quite well,” Elliot chuckled. When she spoke next, it was to her master.

“Not him, the other one. I –”

Elliot chuckled smugly. Max bristled and shot him a glare. Max touched her face gently and assured her, “He’s not here.”

“We’ve got more civilized men within these doors,” Elliot added.


Max collected her around the waist and readjusted the back on his shoulder. He began walking them up to the front of the hunting lodge. “You piss on little girls, don’t you?”


“Young women,” Elliot snapped defensively. It was the one thing he was very sensitive about. His preference was teenagers, far younger than Max was comfortable with, but Max had never known him to touch a girl under the age of sixteen. Still, Elliot was fiercely sensitive. His sexual kinks, coupled with the age of his conquests, opened the door for some playful teasing, teasing that Elliot had never appreciated. I’m not a fucking pedophile, he had shouted one night, hurling a full bottle of brandy across the room at Max. Elliot added acidly, “And I don’t pour boiling water on them.”

They shared one last angry glare. Max looked up at the hunting lodge. It was a beautiful building. Eight rooms, a sauna, a hot tub, one dining hall, a few dens, and a magnificent infrastructure. It was white stone with a long wrap around porch and a red roof. It was nestled in the Romanian countryside, miles from prying eyes, and was owned by their host, Aleksander Dragoi. Aleksander was one of the few of those he had met before, excluding Elliot, that he truly liked. He was responsible, cautious, even tempered, and was by far, the most tender to his slave of any others he had met. He’d had her nearly… my goodness, it would be close to thirteen years now. He looked down at Jessica as they made their way up the steps. Her feet shuffled up the steps and his arm tightened around her middle. She was intently watching her feet go up the shoveled off stairway.

They swung open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the warmth. It opened into a modest hall, old portraits covering the wooden walls within. A gorgeous staircase rose up to their right, and a manner of doors were closed, keeping the rest of the bottom floor blocked from view.

“I’ll bring you up to your room first. She should sleep the rest off. She’s still pretty stoned.”

Max readjusted the strap on his shoulder. “Will you examine her tomorrow?”

“I will,” he agreed.

“How many girls here?” he asked out of pure curiosity. He did not make note of Jessica’s head jerking upward to look at him, but a small smile crept over Elliot’s face.

“The Russian brought three with him. Sweet little girl from France, I rented out for the week, very timid, and two Poles. I’ve never been very interested in blondes myself. Then of course, Elena. Elias has a girl, I think her name was Katerina –”

“Elias is a German name?” Max asked curious. “How do I not know him?”

“He knew Aleksander from University. They used to rape women together. He has no presence on the dark web.”

Max nodded. They entered a long corridor, walls white, floor a dark wood, old landscapes dotting the walls. Elliot began to chuckle.

“This is good, there’s this Bosnian here, Tarik Ahmetevic, survives the genocide, right, first thing he does, goes out and gets himself a little Serb girl to torture. Her father worked in one of the camps, I think. Now if that’s not justice, I don’t know what is. From the looks of things, it seems like he’s quite fond of her. He’s kept her anyway, and she’s in her thirties now.”

Elliot stopped at a door and opened it, “This is your room. And then there is Viktor, who brought two girls.”

“That’s quite a surplus,” Max mused. Elliot’s face brightened.

“I know. I’ve fucked five different women in three days,” he laughed. “It’s been a wonderful vacation. Tarik won’t share, Alex won’t share, Elias says he’s willing, but set such a high price, I don’t think he has any intention of sharing. He just doesn’t want to admit he doesn’t want another cock inside of her.”

“Radoslav didn’t bring a girl?” Max asked. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I didn’t bring a girl,” Elliot pointed out.

“You’re also travelling from America. I don’t think any of us want you to risk getting a girl on a plane. Jessica, lay down on the bed.”

She obeyed silently. Elliot’s eyes lingered on her as she struggled to crawl up onto the mattress. It was a queen-sized bed. Max didn’t mind. He enjoyed being pressed up against her soft, warm body as he slept. Elliot said nothing, eyes still on Jessica, and Max asked, “Who is this Russian?”

“Some pimp in Moscow,” Elliot said. “Nice guy. Gets girls from clubs, gets them hooked on heroine and then rents them out. The prettier girls he sells. Stays primarily in Eastern Europe though.”

“Mob related?” Max asked.

“I think so. He’s not a bigtime player though. I think he actually got Elias Katerina. That’s how he got to know Alex.”

“And this Viktor?”

“You met Viktor two years ago at my birthday party.”

Max wracked his brain and then laughed. “Is he the one that made that girl eat dog food?”

Elliot nodded and the two shared an amused chuckle. Max glanced over at Jessica. She was sitting up on the bed, staring at him with an odd look on her face. He stared her down but she stared back. Her mouth was open and her eyes were still glassy. She didn’t have the sense to avert her eyes. Eliot stepped closer, drawing his eyes away from her.

“What are the chances I can get a piece of her this week?” Elliot murmured. “She doesn’t need to remember it. Give her a few of those pills and give me an hour. She’ll probably think it’s you.”

“No,” Max said simply enough. “You had your fun with her last time.”

“A lap dance?” Elliot asked in slight disbelief. “That’s all you give a friend?”

“You have five girls here to fuck, Elliot, you’re not getting mine,” he answered. He then added, no judgement in his voice, just genuine confusion. “Besides, she’s too old for you. Why do you want her so badly?”

“Because I can’t have her,” Elliot responded honestly.

“It’s a no, Elliot,” Max said. Elliot nodded and stepped back.

“I’ll give you your time to settle in. Go down the stairs and turn right. It’s the first door, go through the den until you get to the far side of the house. We’re all in there.”

“Thank you, Elliot,” he said and slapped him on his shoulder. “I’ll be down shortly.”

Elliot left and Max dropped the back to the floor beside his own. He looked over at Jessica and let a small smile come to his face. Without speaking, he went over to the bed and climbed on top of her. He straddled her hips and plucked at the button of her jeans. He unzipped her next and then pulled them down over her hips.

“Master?” she breathed. He looked down at her.

“You were so good,” he praised, settling down between her legs. He put a firm kiss to her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m scared,” she told him. He kissed the side of her neck. Her hands went into his hair. Unless he gave her the order, she was allowed to use her hands as she wished. He liked the way she’d stroke him.

“Do you trust me?” he asked against her throat. He felt her nod and her arms wrapped around him. He fumbled with his pants and freed his erection. It was hard and fast. He just needed some relief and he didn’t really care what she got out of it. His body remained pressed to hers as he jerked his hips. He fucked her as hard as he could manage in that position. Once finished, he pulled himself free of her, collected himself, and retrieved a pair of shorts from her bag. He ordered her to put them on and she pulled them up over a pair of slender, creamy legs. He pulled the blankets down and ordered her to get in.

“Go to sleep,” he ordered.

“You’re satisfied, Master?” she asked him. She reached out and slid her fingers into a belt loop.

“I am,” he answered. He unhooked her fingers.

“I can do more,” she offered. He chuckled and sat down on the side of the bed.

“Greedy girl,” he said, stroking her hair with a smile. “I’ll return when I want you.”

She nodded.

“You’ll be safe up here. Don’t leave the room until I come back or I am going to assume you’re trying to runaway from me. Alright?”

She nodded again. He cupped her cheek. “You were so good,” he whispered. “So good for me.”

“I love you,” she whispered as well. He gently nudged her to lay back. He rose to walk away. She stopped him as he got to the door. “Master?”

He turned to find her sitting back up, holding a blanket up to her chest. He did not let her speak. He said curtly, “Jessica. Lay down and go to sleep. You’ve been a good girl for me. Are you going to be a bad girl now?”

She shook her head and laid back down without a word. He left the room and headed down the way Eliot had instructed.

“Master,” she called hopefully as the door opened. He bladder was about to burst. She did not know what was to come, but none of that mattered. Not until her bladder was empty.

“It is me, slave. Awake, I see.”

“I need a bathroom,” she pleaded, throwing off the blankets. He was not angry with her. He saw the urgency in her eyes and he understood how long she had gone without using the bathroom. Her jerked her head and nudged her into the hall. Just a door down, he pushed her into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Without a care in the word, she yanked down her shorts and sat down on the planet. Her bladder emptied and she titled her head up to the ceiling, eyes closed, lips parted with pleasure as the agony dissipated. It was violent and loud. She felt no embarrassment as her master chuckled and leaned against the door, arms crossed over a broad chest. She finally bent forward, pressing her face into her hands, elbows on her knees, and said bluntly, with a sigh, “I was picking out which corner I was going to piss in when you came in.”

“It would have been my fault if you did,” he surprised her with that admission. She looked up at him. He lifted his brow and shrugged, “I told you not to leave the room until I returned.”

She wiped herself and pulled up her shorts. He remained leaning against the door as she washed her hands.

“What is the last thing you remember?” he asked. She dried her hands on an expansive hand towel.

“Seeing Dr. Elliot. But everything is so blurry. That last thing I remember clearly, was being at home, in the kitchen.”

His lips twitched, no doubt at the word home. She turned to face him, squinting and wracking her brain. “And then… we stopped somewhere to sleep. That wasn’t at home…”

“No. It was a motel.”

“And then very vaguely, I remember… I thought I was in Baltimore, driving toward the bridge. It looked like it,” she said. She stopped in front of him. “And then being here. I remember you talking to Dr. Elliot, and putting me into bed.”

She grabbed onto the front of his sweater. He was dressed casually. Jeans, slippers, a white cotton sweater over his dark collared shirt underneath. She looked him directly in the eye and told him, “I trust you.”

She knew those words, and certainly the depth of sincerity and pleading in her gaze, resonated with him. He was a good master and he wanted her to know it. He would protect her… he promised to. He wouldn’t let someone hurt her. His hands touched her face. His eyes bore into hers, a little smile creeping over his face. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. Finally, he told her, “Get on your knees.”

She obeyed immediately, dropping to the ground as if her legs were made of concrete. She begged him to protect her through her motions. She worshiped him as lovingly and desperately as possible. He stroked her hair and gazed down at her intently. She saw the heat in her eyes when she glanced up. He didn’t like to hold eye contact. Her liked her shy and timid glances, then he liked her to go back to her task, and focus on the rock-hard cock in her mouth.

“Work for it,” he ordered. She knew what that meant. Her lips wrapped around the head of his cock, she jerked her hand back and forth along the shaft, waiting anxiously for that explosion in her mouth. She wasn’t to open her mouth. He wanted to see her lips still wrapped tightly around him when he came. Finally, he did. She showed him what was in her mouth, and once given permission, swallowed. She remained on her knees and pressed her face to his thigh as he readjusted himself. She looked up with one of his fingers under her chin.

“We’re in Romania,” he told her. “To spend Christmas with like-minded people.”

He gently stroked her cheek. “Remember what I let Elliot do with you?”

Her lower lip trembled. She waited for him to tell her that was what all the men present would be able to do to her.

“You’ve been so good for me, such a sweet and obedient girl, that I’m not going to let anyone do that to you. No one here will touch you. I knew you’d be perfect, but so perfect? … I could not fathom a woman like you could exist. A good woman. An obedient and loyal woman.”

“I am,” she assured him, heart swelling with such affection she thought it might burst from her chest. She gripped his hands pant legs. He liked that.

He murmured, “stand up.”

She did and his arms circled around her middle. He bent down and she pressed her mouth to his. “Make me proud?”

“I will,” she murmured, stepping up on her toes to kiss him again. “I’ll make you proud.”

He opened the bathroom door and walked her back into their room. Opening the door, he gently nudged her inside. She stopped in her tracks, stepping backward right into the chest of her master. Dr. Elliot sat on the edge of the bed, elbows to his knees, examining his cellphone. He looked up with a little smile as she tried to turn in her master’s arms, but he held her firm by the shoulders. He bent down to murmur in her ear, “Trust me now, girl.”

“Good morning, Jessica,” Dr. Elliot greeted, getting to his feet. “How’re you feeling today?”

“Hungry,” she answered honestly. He chuckled.

“Just a quick check up,” he said. “Take off your clothes.”

She looked over her shoulder to her master. He nudged her along and nodded. She stripped out of the shorts and removed her shirt. With another nervous glance at her master, she removed the bra she had been given and stood naked in the center of the room.

“Any unusual aches or pains?” he asked her. He stood beside her, hands gently prodding her throat.

“No, sir,” she answered. His fingers prodded lower, breaking off at the shoulders.

“Lie on the bed.”

She obeyed and he pressed her belly. “Any problem with your menstrual cycle?”

“No, sir, it’s very regular on the pill,” she answered.

“Excessive pain or bleeding?”

She blushed, but answered in the negative.

“Will that scar?” Max interrupted. Dr. Elliot looked at him with a confused frown. Jessica knew what he was talking about.

“Her shoulder,” he said. Elliot looked at her shoulder and nodded.

“It’s already scarred,” he answered.

“But it won’t fade?” Max asked, stepping forward. His fingertips brushed the skin.

“It might fade, but you bit her pretty good. You’re very lucky she didn’t get an infection.”

“So, it won’t go away completely?” her Master pressed. Dr. Elliot looked up with a slightly annoyed smile.

“No. It won’t.” He looked back at Jessica. “Any pain during intercourse?”

“I mean… not more than normal,” she answered. He chuckled.

“I mean internally,” he said.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”

“Any family history of –”

“No,” her master stopped him. “No.”

“Max, you want to know if –”

“No. Stop,” he answered. Elliot dropped off and Jessica looked over at her master. He hunched down in front of a duffle bag and rummaged inside. Dr. Elliot gave her a breast exam and examined the fading stripe on her thigh and then gave her the go ahead.

“Think about my offer,” he said as he walked from the door.

“The answer is no,” her master said. Dr. Elliot stopped in the doorway, shot him a glare, and then left the room.

“What offer?” Jessica asked, sitting up.

“None of your business, slave,” he answered. She fell silent. “What are you murmuring?”

She looked up. She hadn’t realized she was talking out loud. “I trust you.”

He rose from the bag and walked over to her. He put a hand on either side of her on the bed, smiling at her. “Trust is hard for you, isn’t it?”

She nodded. His eyes went to her shoulder. She spoke, “It’s hard… being so helpless. I just, you know, no control over what happens to me. It’s scary.”

“I understand,” he murmured softly. “I want you to work on trust this week, ja?” she nodded and he continued. “I want you to remember when you get scared, that you can trust me. Good girls get protected and cherished. Good girls aren’t shared. Are you a good girl?”

She considered the risk of answering in the affirmative. “Yes,” she said softly. He cupped her face and straightened.

“Yes,” he agreed. She smiled at him. He wasn’t cruel, she reminded herself. He had always been honest with her. If she was going to be shared, he would tell her. He turned and returned to the bag. “What should I put you in, hmm?”

“Did you bring the black babydoll?” she asked. “You like that one.”

“I do like that one,” he agreed. He tossed it onto the bed. She was relieved. It was not see through. It was dark, black silk with spaghetti straps and it ended just above her midthigh. He tossed a lacy black thong on top and then retrieved a small plastic bag from the bag. It had her toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shampoo and conditioner, and shaving cream. He also pulled out a bag of makeup she had never seen before, but was curious to look at it, a hair dryer and a hair straightener. He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Come on.”

He brought her into the bathroom but did not shut the door. He turned on the water for her and waited for the water to get warm. She went to the sink and opened the makeup bag. He had gotten her new make up.

“Nothing too heavy,” he ordered, holding her chin. “Straighten your hair and wear it down. Shower, get dressed, and come find me downstairs. Go left out of the bathroom and go straight down the hall until you get to the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, turn left. It’s the first door. Go through it and walk to the end of the house. Will you remember that?”

“Yes, master,” she said. He nodded.

“When you come into the room, get down and crawl to me, and sit at my feet. Ja?”

“Ja Meister,” she smiled, holding onto the front of his shirt. He smirked down at her and placed a kiss to her mouth.

“On your way down, if you see someone in the hall, just walk right passed them. Alright?”

She nodded, heart racing a bit. She squeezed her master’s hands one last time and then he went on his way. He shut the door behind him. She took her time in the shower, though she did not linger. She knew better than to push her luck. She shaved herself bare, scrubbed herself clean, and left the shower feeling refreshed.

Her eyes flickered to the fogged up window and then she glanced at the door. She approached the window, glancing over her shoulder at the door. With a racing heart she wiped the fog from the window and looked outside. What she saw was truly magnificent. She saw snow covered trees, sinking downward, and stretching out in the distance were rolling hills. A small smile came to her face. Well, at least she was still seeing Europe.

She cracked a window to help remove the steam from the room. Surely if her master walked in at that very moment, he would not think she was trying to scale down the second floor window in the middle of winter, wet and naked.

She dried her hair thoroughly with her towel and then applied her makeup. She knew what he liked. Enough to be dolled up, without looking like a whore. He bought her red lipstick some time ago and had her put it on. She had rather liked it. Her complexion was well suited to red lips. He had railed against her for an evening for looking like a hooker. She had a dangerous thought as he struck her with the belt. I wonder if his mother wore this shade of lipstick.

After her makeup was done, she dried and straightened her hair. She got dressed last. She was quite comfortable being naked now, but of course, not in front of a group of men, and she was very grateful her master had picked a rather modest outfit.

Be a good girl, she coached herself as she put on the mascara. He wants a loyal, submissive girl, a whore only for him. He won’t share you, not if you love him.

She tried to remember more from the road, but everything was so blurry. She remembered seeing people, being outside, but had possessed no desire to speak. She had hardly been able to get her brain into focus.  

Love him the way he wants and you’re safe, Jessie. Worship, obey, serve, please, trust. Trust. Do all those things and you can trust.

She checked herself in the mirror. She had managed to remain calm for quite some time, but as she walked down the hallway and toward the staircase, her heart started to burst in her chest. She walked as slowly as she could, rubbing her hands together nervously. She paused at the top of the stairs. She took a long, steady breath. Another, and then she took a step down the stairs. She continued, one step after another, telling herself she needed to trust her master. He’d been so good to her, and when Dr. Elliot last visited them, she had not been very good for very long. It would be different now. It had to be.

She followed his instructions and soon she heard voices. She paused before the door and rang her hands anxiously. She was started by sudden movement to her right. She was in a small, but comfortable room. It had white walls, a wooden floor, and some nice furniture, a large oriental run on the floor. Curled up between the dark red couch and the white washed wall, was a small pale figured with her arms wrapped around her legs, knees pressed to her chest. She had wide blue eyes, a small frame, and looked absolutely terrified. She slunk further back into the wall, pressing her face to her knees.

“You better hurry.” Jessica jumped. Her head whipped around. She found another woman on the floor before the couch, draped lazily, but not seductively. She looked tired, older than she really was, yet Jessica knew it from the look of her. She was younger than she looked. Her eyes were glazy, not quite focused. She was high. Her accent was eastern European, though she spoke English well. “I was late once. Ilya whipped me so badly I couldn’t leave my bed for a week. Didn’t stop them…”

She lifted a thin dark eyebrow and jerked her chin toward Jessica. “Go. They’re in some sort of mood.”

Jessica scanned the room. She saw no others. The other just looked back at her hands, eyes too old for her age. She gave one more glance toward the girl hiding in the corner and then timidly opened the door. She stepped inside and then very quietly closed the door behind her.

Some of the men turned to look at her. They glanced lazily, draped comfortably along couches and puffed on cigars and drank dark colored liquor. She found Dr. Elliot, and despite herself, she found comfort in his little smirk and small nod. She found her master next, on the far side of the room in a dark brown, leather chair. She felt a burst of love. She knew it was wrong, but she felt it anyway. She was truly lucky. Very blessed. She paused, unsure what to do, suddenly feeling all these eyes on her. She looked back at her master. He was watching her intently. Then she remembered. She dropped to her knees and crawled to him. She blocked out everyone else around her. Then, she bent down, pressing her lips to his sheepskin slippers.

“I could make much money on her,” came a thick Russian accent. Illya, she knew. “Five hundred Euro an hour. Just for pussy. American. They expensive. You know rare women. The rarest women, very expensive.”

“Jessica Allen,” a new voice with a different accent said. She kept her face pressed to his shoes.  “I saw her on TV. I was glad. She was not fucked and killed. Cute girl. A waste, it would have been.”

She glanced upward at her master. He was smiling down at her.

“I could imagine her raped and thrown into a ditch somewhere,” her master said. He reached his hand downward and she sat up. He touched her cheek. “But what a waste. She was not meant to be used and discarded.”

He smiled warmly at her and her heart sang. He reached down and gently guided her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a loving kiss to his jaw. She could feel his smirk. She could feel his arrogance, his pride. She felt it in his arm as he circled it around her middle.

She turned her head to survey the room. She could look at only part of it, but she saw one grim faced man in his late forties or early fifties with a woman at his feet. She was sleeping, her head resting against his knee. His hand lazily stroked at her hair.

Another man sat on the other side of the couch. He looked to be in his sixties or so, with a small pot belly and balding head. She turned her head as far as she was willing and saw one other man on the other side of Dr. Elliot. He was a younger man, maybe a bit younger than her master, but had a bulbous nose and bad skin. He looked mean. She tried to hide her face back into her master’s neck but his hands gripped her waist.

“Don’t be rude, Jessica. Turn around and say hello.”

He turned her on his lap so that she was facing the men. Her master’s hands remained on her protectively and she felt more secure. She looked at Dr. Elliot the longest, finding some comfort in the familiarity of him.

“Will she be for use?” a young man said, accent thick.

“She will not,” her master responded curtly. The man scoffed and leaned back with a huff. “She is a good cook,” he told the man with the pot belly. “She can help Elena.”

“Elena would like that,” the man said. “I can have her collect her now, if that is alright?”

Her master must have indicated it was, because the man reached over and rang a little bell. Jessica took the time to glance around the room. That was when she saw the other women in the room. There were three of them, draped on a velvet blanket off to the side, looking tired and bored. They were all very young and very beautiful, but they reminded her of the girl in the other room. Eyes hard and dead, looking older than they really were.

A woman then entered the room. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties and was dressed in a modest dress that she thought was only slightly more fashionable than what an Amish woman would wear.

“Elena, take Jessica into the kitchen. She will help you.”

Elena nodded and smiled kindly at her. She spoke English very well, “Come with me, Jessica.”

Jessica looked at her master for permission and he gently pushed her toward the older woman. She followed her out of another door and she followed her into a long but narrow kitchen, a counter stretching from one end of the room to the other. There was another girl in the room, cutting carrots with a large knife. She glanced over at her, took in the sight of her, and then went back to cutting carrots.

“Katerina, will you not say hello?” Elena asked. “This is Jessica.”

“Hello, Jessica,” Katerina said. She was a dark-haired woman with low cheekbones and green eyes. She was absolutely stunning. She was dressed in a dark green, silk robe, her hair down and draped over her shoulders.

“Hello,” Jessica murmured back shyly.

“Come here, darling, cut potato.” The woman took her by the shoulders and guided her to free counter space beside Katerina. “Do you speak language other than English?”

Katerina scoffed. “She’s American,” she said, shooting a sardonic half smile over at Elena. Jessica turned her head and shot her a nasty glare. Katerina gave a mocking smile back at her. Elena came to stand beside them, putting a kind hand on either of their shoulders and murmured.

“We stick together, yes? We’re all in same boat,” she said. Though Jessica had said nothing, she felt she’d disappointed this kind woman, and she nodded slowly to indicate she understood. Katerina did the same.

“I speak a little German,” she answered.

“I speak German,” Katerina offered. “My master is German.”

“Mine too,” Jessica said. She gave a little smile. “Well… Austrian.”

“How long?” she asked softly. Elena had moved away to let them speak. Jessica began to peel the potatoes into a nearby bucket.

“A little less than a year, I think,” Jessica answered. “You?”

“Going on three,” she answered. “I went to Moscow to meet a boy… we had been talking online…” she looked down at the carrots. She chopped with measured force. Each press of the knife left a loud popping sound. “He wasn’t real.”

“I was taken off the street. I was backpacking.” She stared down at the potato she was peeling. “He’s a good man though. I’m lucky.”

Katerina turned her head to look at Jessica. “Good man?” she whispered softly. Jessica turned to look at her to find her eyes on the white bite mark on her shoulder. She looked back at the carrots and continued her task without anymore words. Jessica felt a rush of righteous anger and was glad the conversation was over. Her master was a good man. He treated her well and kept her safe. He didn’t need to do that. He could torture her if he really wanted.

They worked in silence for some time after that. Elena came in and out and would occasionally give a new order that both girls would obey without any protest. Elena was checking on the duck when the kitchen door opened. Jessica glanced over to find Dr. Elliot walking into the room.

“Smells good, ladies,” he said and shut the door behind him.

“Doctor Montgomery, what can I do for you?” Elena asked. Dr. Elliot looked at Jessica, a small smirk on his face. He walked over slowly and stopped very close to her.

“How’re you doing, Jessica?” he asked her. “Not too cold in this?”

He brought up a finger and gently dragged his knuckle down her arm.

“No, Dr., thank you.”

He nodded and let out a slow, deep breath. Finally, he turned and looked at Elena. “I’m looking for my little Frog.”

“She is the red room,” Elena said. Doctor Elliot nodded, snapped up a cut carrot and popped it between his lips, and then left the room.

“I hate him,” Katerina said, glancing over her shoulder to look at the door he walked through.

“We don’t talk negatively about the gentlemen,” Elena cautioned. Katerina returned to her task. When Elena left again, Katerina leaned in toward Jessica and whispered.

“Elena was taken over twenty years ago. She stays with him now because she loves him,” Katerina said. The disdain in her voice sent Jessica’s stomach roiling. Her heart began to race and her hands turned sweaty. It was a weird feeling, hate flickered in her heart for him, a sudden desire to weep. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be in Maryland with her mother and father and her friends. She missed America, and the sun, and walking down the street, and wearing what she wanted, and doing what she wanted and …

She wanted to go see her master. She needed to. She stared down at the food they were preparing with tingling limbs. When Elena came back in, Jessica went up and asked softly if she could return to her master for a moment. Elena did not ask why. She just gave a small nod. She retrieved a bottle of scotch from under the sink, and sent her in to offer it to the gentlemen.

She paused just before the room holding the gentlemen. She sucked in a deep breath, reminded herself of trust, and pushed on.

He smirked into his hand as he watched her come forward, obviously frightened, the bottle in her hand.

“Do you want some?” she asked him. He raised his glass silently. Her hands were trembling. When he told her to stop, she looked toward him with wide, waiting eyes. There was something odd in her gaze. Hoping not to alert the room, he kept a close eye on her, but did not ask her what was wrong.

“Ask the room,” he urged kindly.

She turned, swallowing thickly. He gazed over her slightly hunched shoulders. It was an interesting defense mechanism humans had, to try and make themselves look small when frightened. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he refrained.

“Do any gentlemen want some scotch?” she asked, voice only catching once. She stepped back until her calves were touching his knees. The small, little vulnerable act of trust lit him on fire. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and make her feel as though she was in the safest place on earth. He looked at the Bosnian, who was watching with cold, dark eyes. The eyes of a man who had seen horrific suffering. He was watching her critically, all the while playing with the dark, silky locks of the woman between his feet.

“Right here, darling,” the Russian said. “Come, let me look at you.”

She turned to look at Max, eyes searching.

“He can look, but will not touch.” It was as much a comfort to her as an order to him.

She took the few steps forward and poured him the glass. She knew the appropriate serving and then stepped back, just out of arm’s length, and waited.

“She is pretty. I take off street maybe. But not so beautiful to order.”

Max’s eyes turned sharply. To avoid conflict Aleksandr laughed and held out a hand, beckoning Jessica closer. She turned her head to look at Max and he gave a curt nod, eyes still burning into the Russian.

“His English is not so good, sweet girl. You are stunning.”

“Thank you, sir,” she thanked him politely. She remained standing, but had her shoulders hunched and her head down.

“You are fond of this one,” the Bosnian observed and took one last sip of his glass, emptying it. “Otherwise you would not be here.”

His fingers tightened in the woman at his feet’s hair. Her head tilted back to look at him but it did not look like his grip was painful.

“I am,” he answered. She poured Aleksandr a glass and then went to the Bosnian’s raised glass. When everyone was satisfied, Max held out his hand to her. He had a small smile on his face as he gently tugged her into his lap. He slid a hand up a creamy calf and gave firm, pulsing squeezes. “I never thought I’d ever feel so strongly for a woman.”

He looked at her. She understood the invitation and took a small kiss. Her lips were trembling slightly. He murmured against her mouth, “are you alright?”

She nodded and kissed him again. Her hands squeezed at his shirt and she pressed herself to him. He saw tears in her eyes but she did not let them fall.

“The other girls are being nice?”

She nodded and murmured, “I like Elena.”

Max looked across at the German. His eyes were more alert, listening for the sound of his slave’s name.

“And Katerina is very nice. Her master is German too.”

“I’m not –”

“German,” she finished softly for him, a little smile on her lips. “I know.”

She traced the color of his light sweater and then scratched his neck gently. Not so long ago she would have been whipped for that insolence. Now it inspired warmth. She leaned forward to kiss him again.

“Get back to work, hmm?”

“Can I stay with you,” she whispered.

 He wished she could, but he was expected to contribute, and if they couldn’t fuck her, his contribution would be her labor.

He assured her gently, “We’ll spend some time after dinner.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“I thought we didn’t demand promises,” he asked, his tone that of a playful scolding. She shrugged shyly and ran her hand down his chest. Though the others were continuing the conversation they were having before she interrupted, he hoped they noted the affection she was showing him.

“It’s a request for one,” she responded. “I’d rather be punished by you than separated from you.”

“Is that so? A light whipping for you then?” he asked. She bit her bottom lip, clearly frightened he would take her up on that. He caressed her calf a few moments longer.

“After dinner, now go on to the kitchen. The men are talking.”

She did not seem to like that statement, but she placed a kiss to his mouth and left the room without another word.

“You made quick work of that,” the Bosnian observed.

“Max could train professionally,” Aleksandr complimented.

Max was flattered but felt a bit uncomfortable with the connotation.

“I’ve trained and resold a few girls, but their purpose was not resale. I had hoped to keep them when I purchased them.”

“It is difficult to find a good girl. We cannot understand their character before purchasing them.”

“You can,” Elias disagreed. “I gave Illya a very particular list of requirements. Katerina fits them all. I am very pleased.”

“Jessica is as perfect as I could have hoped for,” Max said, and although his tone was very measured, an admission such as that from a man such as him was something to take notice of.

“She shows you unrestrained affection,” Elias observed. Max’s chest puffed slightly. “You must tell me how you managed that.”

“We may speak later,” Max said. Elias seemed pleased. As he glanced over his shoulder toward the door that lead to the kitchen, Max believed that Elliot’s observation had been correct. He did not want to share any more than Max did, he simply did not want to make such an admission toward a slave that was clearly at best now indifferent to her situation.

“We have sign up sheets for different areas of the house. For example, if you want privacy with your slave in the playroom or the hot tub, you can block off up two hours at once.”

Max nodded. “After two days in the car the hot tub sounds glorious.”

“No one’s signed up tonight. I’m sure everyone would be happy to give you the room for the evening.”

There were a number of nods. “After dinner? Just an hour or so.” Max said to more nods.

“You should sample one of my girls.” Illya said. “When you tire of this one, you buy from me. I cheaper than Belko.”

“With suspect taste,” Max replied with unconcealed disdain. Radoslav snickered off to the side. It was the first time Max ever had any sort of warm feelings toward the man.

“I only mean, special order, blond, blue eyes. Very pretty. Skinny. Not normal woman.”

“Some men like normal women,” the Bosnian said.

“You have one of mine. I give you good price. Darja,” he snapped at a girl with his fingers. “Come here.”

A girl from the side of the room rose. She went to Illya, but he turned her to face Max. “Thin, big tits, great ass. Clean. All my girls stay clean. I make sure. Who wants same girl over and over?”

Max observed her. She was young, perhaps the same age as Jessica, and very beautiful. Her body was in wonderful shape. Any man’s dream. And it was true, she looked clean, in every sense of the word. On a business trip into Moscow, she’d cost quite a bit a night. Still, he found himself not stirred by her. He thought only of how badly he wanted to be inside of Jessica. He missed her warmth, the softness of her body. Yes, a relaxing evening in the hot tub, her gentle hands massaging the tension from his muscles would be quite enjoyable.

“I’m not interested.”

“She – ”

“Don’t be pushy, Illya,” Ellias spoke lazily. “It’s tacky.”

Illya nudged her back to the side with a scowl.

“You buy her affection with fidelity,” Illya accused angrily. “You are her slave.”

Max’s face immediately flushed red. He felt the veins in his forehead pulsate and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed his hands closed in his lap. His eyes flashed and he felt an uncontrollable urge to split the man’s head open with the closest available object. He swallowed thickly, working down his temper, when Aleksandr spoke.

“That crosses a line, Illya.”

“It is true. He –”

“Illya. My house, my rules. Apologize.”

There was tension. It was thick in the air as the Russian looked across at the Austrian man. The manner in which he spoke his apology, suggested he was anything but.

“Your girl’s mother flew to Hungary to speak with police, last week,” Radoslav said as if he thought it would diffuse the tension. The Serb girl looked around quizzically. Max slammed his fist so hard into the side table he was afraid he not only broke the table, but his hand. The Serb girl jumped and her Bosnian master gently calmed her with a tender stroke of the cheek.

“Forgive me, Max. This is embarrassing for me,” their host said, flushed. “My guests have never so blatantly disregarded the rules.”

“If she heard that –” Max cut himself off, so great was his anger and the restriction of his throat. He was leaned forward in his chair, pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

“No female in this room will repeat what was just said. Understood?” Their host spoke forcefully. All nodded. The Serb girl, well, woman, hesitated slightly, glanced at her master, and then nodded.

“This is a delicate phase in her training.” Max’s voice was trembling. He was starting to feel pain radiate in his hand. “She thinks she’s been abandoned. I want it to stay that way.”

“I am sorry. I did not know.” To Radoslav’s credit, the young man looked genuinely surprised, genuinely embarrassed, and genuinely remorseful. Max just nodded and downed his drink.

Elena came in and whispered in Aleksandr’s ear. He smiled and stood. “Dinner is ready! If everyone would follow me.” He snapped his fingers at the girls on the side of the room. “One of you girls, go find Dr. Montgomery.”

Everyone began to funnel out of the room. One of the girls smiled coyly at Max as she left the room. Max’s stomach turned in disgust. No woman should be happy being used my multiple men. No good woman, anyway. Not his Jessica.

Dinner was good. He had Jessica at his feet. Without hesitation he fed her from the table. She was grateful for each bite, and her cold, slender fingers gently caressed his calf under his pant leg. Every time he looked down, he’d find her looking up at him and he’d place his fingers to her mouth. She suck in the gifted morsel, making sure to clean his fingers with each bite.

After dinner, he had her follow her up the stairs and put her in a bathing suit. Her excitement could hardly be contained. She practically scampered down the hall in front of him, despite not knowing where she was going. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he took her hand and lead her to the back of the house, where he was told the hot tub was.

“Master?” she asked as he opened the door. The smell of chlorine hit his nose and they stepped into the steamy room.

“Yes, pet?” he asked.

“I don’t think you should leave me alone with Dr. Elliot,” she said. He turned his head, brow lifted.


She shook her head. “He’s kind of... I don’t know…”

“He wants you,” Max admitted, “but he knows better,” he assured her. He removed his shirt. He enjoyed the way her eyes raked over his body. “He isn’t used to not getting what he wants. He sees a girl he likes, he gets her, whether she wants it or not. But trust me,” he cautioned her, “he wouldn’t touch a woman that belongs to another man without his permission.”

“I trust you,” she answered. She ran her fingers over his abdomen. He was not nearly as defined as he enjoyed being. He’d been so busy, so distracted, he hadn’t worked out in some time. Still, her nails ran down his biceps appreciative and he reminded himself his body was better than the vast majority of the population.

“Get in the water,” he ordered. “I’m sore.”

“From driving?” she asked. He nodded and stepped into the hot water. It stung a moment, but then felt absolutely heavenly. He sunk into the hot water and leaned back, closing his eyes and putting his head back.

She settled in on the other side of the hot water. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling and moving her arms back and forth in the hot water. He smiled sleepily back at her.

“Out of curiosity, what did Elliot do?” he asked. “Did he touch you?”

“No,” she answered. “He just… I don’t like the way he looks at me. He makes me feel like…”

“Like an object?” he asked, a small curve to his lips. She smiled back sadly and nodded.

“I’ve always been a possessive man, what belongs to me is mine. The most I’ve ever shared is a few blowjobs. I think I let him fuck Meg a few times, once I realized her worth. But you deserve better than that,” he said.

“Do you know what it would do to me? To be touched by another man?”

“What would it do?” he murmured, slightly amused.

“It would destroy me. I don’t think I could handle it,” she whispered. Her eyes were earnest. He could see the terror in her gaze.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he calmed her. “No one else will ever touch. Ever.”

He was growing angry just thinking about another man’s hands on her. He kept seeing her on Elliot’s lap, grinding into his clothed erection, gazing back at him longingly.

“I’d kill any man that tried,” he added. “Anyone that tried to put their hands on you...”

She swam across the little opening in the middle of the hot tub. She sat beside him and her hands on his damp shoulders. Immediately, he felt his tension begin to dissipate. He reached up and touched her face. Almost afraid, he admitted, “I believe in monogamy. I’ve never met a woman worthy of it before. I think you might be.”

She reached up and gently dripped hot water along his neck and shoulders.

“I worship you,” she told him softly. “I serve you and obey you, I please you, I trust you…” she slid into his lap. His hands slid up her slender waist. Her felt so good beneath his hand. So soft and mailable. She kissed his jaw, her lips soft and tender. He fought to keep his eyes open. When she whispered softly, “I love you,” his eyes did flutter closed. She placed soft kisses along his jaw and throat. Her hands massaged his skin.

“You said you were sore?” she asked in a soft murmur. He nodded, eyes still closed. Her hands slid down his chest and then back up to his shoulders.

“Very sore,” he answered. Her hands prodded at his shoulders gently. He waited impatiently with slightly bated breath before she finally breathed appreciatively, “You’re so strong.”

Her hands gently prodded at the back of his neck, working out the tensions in his muscles. “Your body’s just perfect.”

“Perfect huh?” he asked. He opened his eyes to see her nod.

“Turn around,” she said, turning him slightly.

“Giving me orders, slave?” he asked her lightly. He let her turn him in the water. He half leaned, half floated. Her hands kneaded more firmly at his muscles.


“You’re getting bold,” he mused. He pressed himself back on her. Her arms wrapped around his middle, her legs around his, and she nestled her chin on his shoulder.

“I’d never really disobey you,” she said, lips close to his ear. She kissed his earlobe. Her hands flattened over his abdomen and she caressed him gently. “I'm teasing you.”

“I like being teased,” he answered.

“Sometimes,” she replied. “When you’re not grumpy.”

“Do I get grumpy?”

Her fingers trailed over his jaw and temples.

“You sure do,” she answered. He opened his eyes and turned around. Her hands settled on his shoulders.

“You’re feeling fresh tonight.” His hands went to her waist. His body was beginning to hum. She skirted away from him, outside of his grasp, and pressed her back up against the far side of the hot tub. With her arms draped over the edges. Flashing her a playful glare he came closer again. She pressed her feet out, catching him on the chest. She tried to push him away but he easily swatted them to the side. She turned, squealing in delight as she tried to get out of the hot tub. He grabbed her by the waist and lowered them back down into the water.

She relented immediately and wrapped her arms around his neck. He spun them around very slowly in the center of the hot tub.

“Take that top off now, maedchen,” he ordered. “Let me see.”

She reached around herself and conveyed, gently drawing at the strings of her top. She removed it and draped it over the edge. His eyes raked over her. What a beautiful woman he owned. So young, tight, and supple. And she loved him. She loved him.

“That’s better,” he mused. He sat back down and extended a hand. She put hers in his and he guided her back into his lap. With his arms around her middle, he bent his head and wrapped his lips around a nipple. She moaned softly, running her hands through his hair. He looked up at her, placing a kiss to her mouth. He asked, voice husky, “Are you horny?”

She nodded and breathed, “yes.”

“You feel that?” he asked. He grabbed her by the hips, grinding her into his erection, straining painfully beneath his swim shorts. She nodded, hands on his broad shoulders. She pressed herself into him more firmly. “Ride it. Put in some work.”

He leaned back, arms stretched out on either side of the hot tub. He watched with hot eyes as she reached into his swim shorts to free his aching erection.

“I can just put it in in the water?” she asked. It was such a striking contradiction, the sultry little sex kitten she was just seconds before, and the inexperienced good girl he had first raped all those months ago. His blood boiled with hardly constrained passion. He struggled to contain himself. He hated what she did to him sometimes. She did away with his ability to control himself. Ilya’s words rang in his head. He pushed it away. What fool wouldn’t realize that she was his slave. She belonged to him.

“Right in the water, Kaetzchen,” he comforted. Her fingers wrapped around his cock and she lifted herself up. He nipped at her breasts as she lowered herself back down on him.

“How fast do you think you can make me cum?” he asked her.

“Fast,” she said. He lifted his brow.

“Oh?” he asked. She moved her hips in a tantalizing manner. “I want you to come as many times as you can before I do. Understand?”

She nodded and bit her bottom lip.

“You like that idea, don’t know,” he smirked. “Be greedy baby. I want to see you cum.” She ground her hips into him. She rotated her hips, working hard to bring herself pleasure. He got to watch two orgasms rip through her before he climaxed inside of her, open mouth panting hot breaths hard against her heaving chest. He leaned back and she collapsed against him.

“Do you love me, Jessica?” he asked her, running his hands up her back beneath the hot water.

“Yes, master. I love you,” she murmured.

“Is there any place in the world you’d rather be right now?” he asked. He wanted to wrap his arms so tightly around her the air would be gone from her lungs. He couldn’t get close enough to her. Even still buried deeply inside of her, he couldn’t get close enough. She turned her head to look up at him, face still pressed against his shoulder. He had to lean his head back to meet her gaze. She looked over his face with an intent gaze.

She was thinking about it. The realization astounding him. She was considering that answer. No automatic, calculated response designed to make him happy. She reached up, finger tips gently pressed to his mouth. A tiny smile came to her lips and she shook her head against his shoulder.

“No, Master,” she answered. “There’s no place I’d rather be. In the whole world.”

He looked down at her even after she let her eyes fluttered closed. He watched her long after she had fallen asleep. He felt the same as she. There was no place he’d rather be. No person he would rather be with. And for the first time in a long time, not a single, painful memory came to mind.