Buttons & Lace Page 3

  “Ahh!”

  The guards heard his screams and came running. They broke in to the room and dragged me off him. They didn’t smack me around like I expected them to. In fact, they were gentle with me, trying not to hurt me.

  The guards didn’t help my attacker to his feet. They just kept him off me so he could get his pants on. He could barely walk because his dick hurt so badly. He cupped it with one hand and slowly walked out of the room.

  I smiled victoriously, feeling no remorse for the ruthless way I took him down. “Good luck peeing.”

  “Shut up.” The man who had me shook me by the arm, but it wasn’t nearly as aggressive as I was used to. “Go back to bed.”

  “Tell your men to leave me alone and I will.”

  The guard dropped my arm and walked away. They vacated my cell then locked the door behind them. Their voices trailed away, speaking Italian. When they were almost out of earshot, they laughed.

  And I knew what they were laughing at. Their comrade got his ass handed to him by a woman.

  I was damn proud of that.

  ***

  I knew something had changed when the boat stopped swaying. We weren’t in open water anymore. The waves became docile, almost nonexistent. It was a big ship, so we were somewhere away from shore but no longer in the middle of the Atlantic.

  If I could break out of there, I could’ve tried to swim to land. I wasn’t a strong swimmer, but when it came to life or death, I’d make it work. I peered out the porthole and caught a distant glimpse of land. Every time I tried to look harder, the porthole was covered by water once more.

  I just had to think of a plan.

  One guard was dead, and another was seriously injured. That meant there were two less guns to get past. If I played my cards right, I might be able to pull this off. I pulled my covers off then stripped a piece of fabric and shoved it into my pants pocket. I could use it to choke someone if necessary.

  When I pulled the blanket back, I noticed the syringe tumble down. It rolled to the floor with a quiet tap. The needle extended out, and the base still contained the clear liquid.

  The guard left it there the night before.

  And now it was mine.

  I held it in my hands and started to hyperventilate. Finally, I had a weapon to use. I could take someone down, steal a gun, and then be free. Luck was on my side, and I never thought I’d be grateful that man had tried to rape me.

  He gave me a gift.

  I carefully placed it in my back pocket, the base sticking out so I could grab it when I needed to. They would come for me soon. Breakfast time was about to be announced.

  I stared at the door and waited patiently.

  My time was here.

  I was breaking out.

  I was so close.

  The door opened, and a guard walked in. The expression he gave me was full of indifference, not lust like some of the others. He either found me boring or annoying—probably both. “Get up.”

  I rose to my feet and kept my arms by my sides. When I was close enough, I would strike.

  “Today is your special day.”

  What did that mean? “How so?”

  “You’re going to the auction. You have no idea how lucky you are.”

  Auction? Hell no, I wasn’t. I wasn’t a farm animal. “What’s the auction for?” I kept him talking so I could sneak up on him when he didn’t expect it. I need to aim right for his carotid artery, getting the drug into his system as fast as possible.

  “It’s where they sell the beauties. The others will go to the whorehouses. They’ll spend the remainder of their lives drugged.” He grinned like it was a fairy tale.

  It disgusted me. I couldn’t wait a moment longer, so I struck. I slammed the needle and pressed my thumb on the lever, releasing the drug instantly.

  He reached for his gun, but I was too fast. His eyes became hooded and heavy, confused. He slowly fell to his knees, gripping the needle sticking out of his neck. He fell back, and his eyes closed. His body went limp as he passed out.

  I actually did it.

  I took the gun from the holster and felt the weight in my hand. It was a pistol. I didn’t know a damn thing about guns other than the fact that there was a safety. I made sure that was unlocked before I went into the hall. All I had to do was pull the trigger, and their brains would be smeared across the wall.

  My hand shook from the excitement.

  I might make it out of here.

  I tiptoed down the hall and tried not to make a sound. The best way to get off the ship was to go up. If I made it to the surface, I could jump into the water. I’d rather deal with sharks than madmen like this.

  By a stroke of luck, I didn’t meet anyone in the hallway. A stairway was to my left, and I took it to the top. I reached a door with a window in the center, and I spotted two men inside the tower that held the steering wheel. They were talking to each other, not noticing my face directly in front of them. I realized my cell was located at the front of the ship, where the waves were more prominent.

  Now all I had to do was wait. When they turned around or left their post, I would make a beeline for the water. All I had to do was jump in and stay underwater for a minute or so.

  Then I was in the clear.

  I held the gun at the ready, just in case I needed to use it. Then I waited, measuring time by counting the beats of my heart. The closer we got to shore, the easier it would be for me to swim to safety. But the longer I waited, the more likely it was I would meet someone on the stairway.

  And then I realized something else.

  What about the others?

  Could I really just leave them?

  They would be sold to a brothel where they would constantly be drugged and raped, and then tossed aside when their bodies gave out. Their loved ones would never know what happened to them.

  I couldn’t just leave.

  I snuck back down the stairs and entered the hallway. There was no one around, so I crept to a door that looked similar to my own. When I peered inside, I saw a blonde woman sitting on her bed. She looked lost, like there was no hope.

  I tried the knob and was relieved when it opened. I cracked it then waved at her.

  She turned to me, her eyes narrowing in shock.

  I nodded for her to come to me.

  She jumped to her feet, hungry for freedom. When she came close to me, she saw the gun in my hand. Instead of being afraid, she was invigorated.

  “Let’s get the others,” I whispered. “Do you know where they are?”

  She nodded and beckoned me to follow her. She reached a door in the hallway where another cell was located. When we peered through the window, we saw not one woman, but eighteen. They were all housed together on small cots.

  Why were they all together but I was alone? Why was the other woman alone?

  The woman walked inside then pressed a forefinger to her lips, telling everyone to be quiet. Then she beckoned them to follow us. There was no way we would escape without being noticed. But some of us would get away. It was better than none.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” A man grabbed me by the shoulder and jerked me around.

  He clearly didn’t know I had a gun because I shot him right in the stomach. I didn’t even hesitate. I’d always thought I was the type of person who could never kill someone, even if it was my life or theirs. But that quickly changed once I was in a life-or-death situation. I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t have time to react. I just did what I had to do to survive.

  And I wouldn’t apologize for it.

  He clutched his stomach and fell to the floor, bleeding out of his mouth.

  “Drop the gun!” Another guard peered around a corner with his gun trained on me. “Now.”

  A man emerged from behind us, a rifle in his arms.

  We were surrounded.

  I should have left when I had the chance. I shouldn’t have gone back.

  The man behind me confiscated my gun while the other
moved forward. He raised his gun to smash me in the head, his intention to kill me or at least make me black out.

  “Stop.” The guard grabbed his arm and steadied him. Then he spoke quickly in Italian.

  The man lowered his gun and stepped away. Whatever the other man said was enough to make him stop.

  What did he say?

  Why didn’t they hurt me?

  What was going on?

  They rounded up the girls and locked them in the room before they snatched me, dragging me down the hallway. I was being escorted to my room where I would wait for the auction—whatever the hell that was.

  Why didn’t I just shoot myself in the head when I had the chance?

  They marched me past my door and kept going.

  “Where are you taking me?” I tried to fight their hold, but they gripped me tighter.

  “Answer me.” I tried to kick the one on the left but ended up hurting myself in the process. I stubbed my toe under his heavy boot and took a sharp intake of breath.

  They escorted me into a white room with a leather chair. It had footrests that opened my thighs. It was the same type of chair I sat in when I visited my gynecologist.

  And that wasn’t a good sign.

  They moved me into the chair and held me down until all the straps were secure. Even my head was locked in place. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Exam,” the guard answered. “Then you’ll be gone.”

  “What kind of exam?” I struggled against the leather straps even though it was pointless.

  “You’ll see.” The guards walked out and shut the door behind them, leaving me to wait for the unknown.

  A doctor came in a moment later, wearing a white coat despite the fact we weren’t in a doctor’s office. He was substantially older than the others. He wore a face of indifference, his thick glasses hanging off his nose. He grabbed a chart and browsed through it.

  “Who are you?”

  “Dr. Wayne.” He had an American accent.

  Had he been on the ship the entire time? I’d never seen him. “Where did you come from?”

  “Shore. The ship docked ten minutes ago. You’re my first patient.”

  “Docked where?” This guy wasn’t part of the crew. I could glean that much. Maybe he had information that could help me.

  “To shore, like I said.”

  “What shore?” I demanded. “Where are we?”

  “Does it really matter?” He pulled on a pair of white gloves.

  He thought this was boring? Uneventful? “What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve been kidnapped. I’m a slave. And you don’t care?”

  He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut my pants off. Then he moved for my underwear.

  I fought so hard the straps almost cut my skin.

  “No,” he finally answered. “I don’t care. Now let’s get this over with.”

  “Get what over with?”

  “I’m going to check your sexual health. It’s important information for the auction.”

  “My sexual health?”

  “Yes. Are you a virgin?”

  I gave him a defiant look. Like I would ever tell him.

  “Let me put it this way. The more you tell me, the less invasive I have to be.” He held up two fingers.

  I knew what that meant. “No.”

  “How many partners?”

  “Two.” I hated myself for answering.

  “Anal?”

  “Anal what?”

  “Have you ever had anal intercourse?”

  Who the hell had? “No.”

  He wrote down some notes. “Any STDs?”

  “No.”

  “Are you on the pill?”

  “I was until I was kidnapped.” My voice was more poisonous than snake venom.

  He set the chart down then positioned himself at my entrance. “This will only take two minutes.”

  “Don’t fucking touch—”

  He stuck two fingers inside me and felt around, checking my channel as well as my ovaries. He swabbed a Q-tip inside me and deposited it into a plastic bag. Then he removed his gloves. “Done.”

  I’d been touched against my will, and I hated it. I hated the fact I had no rights. I was tired of people trying to rape me all the time. I hated the fact I was so close to freedom, and I made the mistake of turning back. I saw red—deep, crimson red. I wanted to kill every single man on the ship.

  If I had a gun, I would do it.

  ***

  I was drugged before being transported onto land. I had no idea where they took me or how I got there. I assumed we went by car, but I didn’t remember feeling the vibration of an engine or listening to the sounds of a radio. A dark sack was over my head, so I couldn’t see anything even if I wanted to.

  When I woke up, I was in a bedroom. The bed actually had a frame and contained quality sheets. There was a window with closed curtains made of ivory fabric. A dresser sat in the corner, designed with the same color.

  Where was I?

  I jumped out of bed and immediately headed to the window. I threw the curtains open and prepared to jump out. If it was a twenty-foot drop, I was still going for it. I could crawl down the side, using a drainpipe if I had to.

  But when the curtains parted, I saw nothing but metal bars.

  I was trapped—again.

  The door opened and a woman entered—a beautiful one. She had luscious dark hair, perfect makeup, and a figure that would make all women envious. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”

  I stared at her in surprise. Sarcastic words wouldn’t help me. Idle threats wouldn’t do much either. I had no idea what I was dealing with. During my journey across the world, I hadn’t come across a free woman—until now. “Who are you?”

  “Your stylist. And I’m going to turn this...” She pointed at my hair and my clothes. “Around.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The auction is tonight, and we have a lot to do. So let’s get to it.”

  “The auction?” The one the men told me about?

  “Yes. You’ll be bought...along with a few others.”

  “Uh, I don’t think so.” I was getting the hell out of there.

  She sighed, like she’d been anticipating this. “Look, I’m just doing my job. Don’t make this more difficult for me, and I won’t make this more difficult for you.”

  How could she say that to me? This was a worse betrayal than being kidnapped in the first place. “I’ve been kidnapped, and I’m going to be sold so I can be raped. And you’re cool with that? As a woman?”

  Sympathy never entered her eyes. “Sometimes we’re the bug. Sometimes we’re the windshield.”

  “Then why don’t you be the damn bug?” I snapped.

  She held up a remote and hovered her thumb over it. “Don’t make me use this.”

  “What is it?”

  She pressed the button, and the second she did, electricity shot up and down my leg. It was so hot it burned against my skin. My heart palpitated, and I thought I would have a heart attack and die. I crumpled to the floor, my knees growing weak.

  She released the button. “Don’t make me do it again. I’m not like those beasts. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She was a freak just like the rest of them.

  “Just do what I say, and let me work on you.” She stood over me, looking down at me in her designer dress. “We won’t have any problems if you listen to me. And the more beautiful you are, the more likely you are to attract a good master.”

  “A good master?”

  “Yes. The kind that lavishes you with gifts, takes you on expensive trips, lets you have whatever you want—”

  “In exchange for opening my legs.”

  She shrugged. “There are worse things, if you ask me.”

  “Then you’ve never been a slave,” I snapped.

  “Actually, I have.” She looked me in the eye, the shame and pain absent. “I’m a slave now. He’s a wonderful man. And I can honestly tell y
ou I love him.”

  Just when I thought I met a normal person, she turned out to be a psycho. No one in their right mind would love their master. No one would ever forgive them for turning them into a slave. No one in their right mind would feel thankful. She had a serious case of Stockholm syndrome.

  “Now let’s get to work.”

  Chapter Four

  Pearl

  Ten girls were auctioned that evening.

  The room was filled with a sea of tables lit by candles. Men sat in their designer suits, their faces covered with masquerade masks that hid their features from view of their competitors. It was so dark in there that the disguise was unnecessary.

  Waitresses walked around and retrieved their drinks, wearing nothing but black thongs. The men tucked cash into their G-strings and gave them a gentle pat on the ass as they walked away.

  How the hell did I get here?

  The other women were beautiful beyond understanding. They looked like models, the kind of people you would only see on TV. A lot of them were scared, their fingers twitching and their knees shaking. But one woman actually seemed excited, like this was the moment she spent her whole life preparing for.

  There were so many degrees of sickness.

  I was dressed in a short, champagne-pink dress. It had a sweetheart top and was tight around my waist. A necklace of pearls was around my neck, and my hair was done in fancy curls. The last time I got a makeover like this was for prom.

  One by one, the girls were auctioned off. Each one went for a million dollars or more.

  A million.

  That was insane.

  Slaves were worth that much?

  Would someone actually pay that kind of money for me? Someone was going to pocket a million dollars off my life?

  How sick was that?

  When it was my turn, I walked up to the stage and awaited my fate. The emcee listed my qualities like he did with the others. I was interested to know what he would say since I didn’t have any.

  I wouldn’t be submissive. I would fight every single day until I was free or dead. I would never conform to sick sexual favors. Every single day would be more work than the last. I would be the worst slave one could possibly have. Sleeping with one eye open would be the only way to survive with me in the house.