Shattered Sapphire

Chapter 1 – I Want Him To Want Me

I can't believe these girls. Not one of them can appreciate how good we have it here. Why would anyone want to leave this place? The Chamber is perfect. Sex is just sex. I mean, I have told them all this fact at least a million times. They need to seize this moment because we will not have these bodies forever. Not one of them thinks like me, but one day they will.

I am the only one who treated each day at The Chamber like an answered prayer, like I hit the lottery. And because I am too much of a chickenshit to tell Mason that I want to stay, I am being shipped home this morning with the rest of my weak sisters. Don't get me wrong—after a year of being in their presence, they have all grown on me. I can really call them sisters now. Still, to say we have much in common would be telling a lie. I am an island. The only person I ever met who I have anything in common with is Mason. Oh, and Ivory.

It's my own fault. There is no one else to blame but me. It's not like I have any excuses. During the past year I had nothing but time and opportunity to tell Mason that I wanted to stay, especially when he sent for me so many times during my year of welcomed captivity. In my defense, I thought we were getting serious enough that he would want to keep me. I believed that what we shared was the start of something. My pride got in the way, because I obviously got it in my head that what was developing between us also meant something to him. I wanted Mason to want me to stay—I wanted him to want me. My desire was for him to show me that he felt the time we shared together was special.

Guess what? I'm heading home.

The other reason I think I held back is the fact that he's married to Ivory. I mean, he's married to her. How can I mean anything to him when he already has a wife? My first night here he commented that I could be his next wife. But what does that mean really? Men talk, right? Especially since his cock was down my throat when he said it. Thing is, if I was only special enough to him to be an addition to his harem, then what we shared wasn't as important to him as I thought. Damn. Out of all of the men on the planet to fall in love with, I pick the most damaged—someone incapable of love.

A man like Mason lives by one code: life is about fucking.

Sure, that is my code too, but only to an extent. No one can live like that forever. Even I expect to settle down at some point.

I will never forget the night I was taken and brought here. I was visiting my relatives in Sao Paulo, Brazil. My sister Gabriella and I went as often as we could in order to reconnect with our roots. The summer in Sao Paulo is amazing. Some of the world's sexiest people gather there and it is a nonstop party.

Gabriella and I were at the world's tiniest nightclub, right on the beach. It was so small that if I counted, I'm sure no more than fifty people were squeezed inside, and that was including staff. This sexy guy asked me to dance. Of course I said yes—he was fucking fine as hell. Tall, muscular, and sweaty, with the kind of humid sheen that coats your body on a steamy beach, in a cramped club. We dirty-danced for an hour straight. He could move too. That slow grind that turns me on. When a man moves like that, you know the sex is going to be mind-blowing. I knew we were going to fuck, and I couldn't wait. When he asked me to step outside with him and take a walk on the beach, I didn't hesitate. I was going to get what I wanted.

I'm not a fan of beach sex. The idea of it is hot. The moonlight, the sand, the waves, and the beach air. But the reality is no amount of illusion is worth a week of sand in all the crevices of your body. And I mean all of them. I was hoping that he had something less romantic in mind, like the back of a pickup truck. Hell, I'd even take the backseat of a car. I'm not picky.

It was on my way with the sexy guy that everything changed. It started out innocent enough. He was holding my hand, and I was fake giggling to a joke that I only half understood, because my Portuguese is rusty. All I was thinking about was him burying his cock deep inside me. I knew he was endowed, because I could feel him against me when we were dancing, and I couldn't wait. Little did I know the seconds that followed would change a lot for me.

Some would call it the moment that life as they knew it ended, and at the time I thought the exact same thing. Suddenly, the beauty of the moonlit ocean and the multicolored lights strung along the entrance of the club no longer held the same effect of hope and promise, but were now the last images of my life. Or so I thought.

A van pulled in front of us, and just like a scene from a movie where the stupid girl follows a stranger out of the crowded club into the dark night, I was shoved inside it. The only difference is that I did this shit all the time. What can I say? I'm a slut. I guess my number was finally up. I attempted to protest, but there were three large guys inside, and I knew that I was never going to see my sister again. The sexy guy pulled out a white cloth, something straight out of a horror movie, and when I woke up I was at The Chamber.

I was bound and a heavy hood covered my head. I wanted to do nothing but fight. Fight for my life. Fight for my freedom. Until the hood was removed. Another emotion took over—fear.

Six other girls, in the same position as me. All scared to shit, just like me.

Then Mason appeared out of the floor.

He rose up in a flood of godly light and he truly answered all of my prayers.

All of my life I have never fit in. Born into a strong Brazilian Catholic family, I have always felt like a sinner. My sexual appetite started years before the average girl. I can't explain why. I went to church. I went through all of the steps needed to become the good little Catholic girl. First Communion and Confirmation. By Confirmation, I knew that if the church was right, god didn't approve of me. But then, he made me the way I am too.

No amount of preaching and learning helped to conform me. None of it mattered, because something magical happens to me whenever I have a dick stuffed deep inside me. Perhaps I suffer from an addiction. There is such a thing. It's called nymphomania. Well, if I do have it, I wear it like a badge.

So that first night, when Mason rose from the floor and welcomed us to The Chamber, telling us that we would spend the next year as sex slaves, all the fear inside me vanished. I welcomed it. I knew I would be at home in this place.

My birth name is Emmanuella Maria Alves. Mason renamed me Sapphire that first night. Truth be told, I have never felt more at home than with my new name. Now I am bound for East Brunswick, New Jersey. I will be stripped of my name. How am I expected to be Emmanuella again, when being Sapphire has felt so right? I was born to be Sapphire. I was born to live within these walls. Mason introduced me to a life befitting me, and I can't imagine going back.

My sisters Gabriella and Marianna are different. They are my mother's ideal. One older than me, one younger, and me smack dab in the middle. Both of them virgins. And me, the family slut. I wear my scarlet letter "S" with honor and shame. Shame that I could never play the part of the good little Catholic girl. And honor because I love the feeling of power and euphoria that fucking gives me.

Moving from our native Brazil when I was in primary school helped, because not everyone in New Jersey is Catholic, and we were far away from our immediate family, who would only have added to the "let's judge Emmanuella" crew.

Growing up, I had friends who were sexually mature too. So hanging out with them made me feel less alone. I had someone who I could share my sexual interests with, who understood me. But that was at school. Nastasia and Beth were my sidekicks, proud to be school sluts. And sure, kids tried to label and even tease us. But I loved who I was, and so did they, so we didn't give a fuck what people thought.

Home was a different story. Family was supposed to love and accept you. All of you—the good, the bad, and the ugly. I guess my parents never got that memo, because my mother always gazed upon me with disdain, and my father rarely looked at me at all.

They knew early on that I was different, and they did very little to mask how that knowledge made them feel about me. I am surprised I didn't grow up really screwed up. But I did have the love of my sisters and somehow that was enough. Don't get me wrong—I don't think my parents didn't love me. They just had a really fucked-up, judgmental way of showing it.

I remember my first night at The Chamber. The other girls, once they found out what was intended for us, fell apart. I guess if I was more like my sisters I would have shriveled up and wanted to die too. But I'm not. As Mason went down the line renaming us, and having us perform small sexual acts, I was excited for my turn. Like, really excited. I wanted to jump up and down. I could not wait.

When it was finally my turn, Mason must have seen the devil in my eyes, because my act was significantly more sexual than the rest. I took his cock into my mouth with honor. I worshipped it with my tongue. I made my desire for him and this lifestyle that he was bringing me into known.

So now I am thoroughly confused. Why is he sending me home?