Sold to Master Jay

Jay reached into a cabinet above the large blue-tinted glass sink and pressed his fingertip down on something. A light flashed green and he took a knife from the shelf. I cowered away from him and his hand tightened on the leash. He pulled me closer and I couldn't help but let out a whimper. I hated knives. Out of all of the things the men had used on me, I had hated the knives the most.

He smiled coldly. "Not as vicious as they advertised you to be, huh?"

He braced the knife against my side and cut upward. I yelped, but then my hands went directly to my breasts as I realized all he had done was cut the cloth away from me. The dirty sweat-ridden piece fluttered to the floor. He put the knife down on the counter and slapped my hands. "Down." I spat in his face. He took a deep breath, grabbed a washcloth from a rack. and wiped his face off.

"Fine," he said. "We'll do this the hard way."

He yanked on the leash viciously and grabbed the back of my neck. I screamed and cursed at him. He pushed my head into the empty tub, bending me over the side of it. I screamed again, the sound echoing in the bathroom. I thrashed, but to no avail as I heard him turn the water to the tub on and plug it with the other hand. Breathing hard, he pressed my hips down with his other hand, and pinned my legs to the side of the tub with his own.

I screamed harder and I earned a vicious slap on my ass for that. Too bad for him that I had been beaten far worse than this before. But I had never been drowned before. The facility hadn't been that creative in their torture techniques, what they called 'training.'

"What are you going to do?" I growl. "Drown me?"

"No," he spanked me again. "I'm going to teach you some small amount of respect." I had thought the water would fill the large tub a lot more slowly than it did, but in only a minute or two, it was nearly touching my nose. Panic spread through me and I kicked and screamed even more violently, but to no avail. If anything, his hand on the back of my neck tightened even more.

The water touched my nose and I arched my neck up, my breath coming quicker and quicker as the water overcame my mouth.

"Take a deep breath Malacia," he whispered. I obeyed, sucking in a huge breath as the water covered my mouth.

It was terrifying. I was pinned underwater, the water continuously creeping past my ears, with no air, a huge unknown man pressing down on me, drowning me. As my heart started pounding in my ears and I kicked and fought for my life, as I struggled not to take that breath in— he pulled me up, grabbing the front of my throat with his hand, pressing my wet hair against his chest. "Had enough?"

I took huge heaving breaths of air, trembling, crying. He growled and thrust me back in the water, barely giving me enough time to breathe and it started all over again. The terror, the struggle, trying not to breathe in, not trusting he would bring me back up in time, not knowing if I was about to feel water enter my lungs— and he pulled me back up again, right as I was about to take a gulp of water. I was crying now, sniveling, but not quite at the point where I would beg—

Back in the water. My tears mixed with the water, my snot mixed, I could barley notice the water was chilly, I could barely notice anything except for the fact that my life was in danger, I was in danger, I was going to die if this kept up. He pulled me up and I drew in air.

"Please, Sir!" I shouted out as his hands started forcing me back in the water. He paused. I gulped in air. "Please, Master Jay, please, I'll be good, I'll be good, I promise, I promise." He plunged me back in the water, but shorter this time, much shorter. He pulled me out and threw me onto the floor, sopping wet and crying. He turned off the water and looked down at me coldly. His grey t-shirt was sopping wet, the bottom of his chin flecked with water from my hair. I whimpered another 'please' as he came close and knelt in front of me, grabbing my chin.

"Your life," he said slowly, deliberately. "Belongs. To me. To do whatever I want with." He gave me a small slap that stung the side of my face and went back to the counter to grab the knife. I squeezed my eyes shut as he cut off the cloth around my waist. He nudged my knees apart and I cringed, spreading them just slightly so he could see what he wanted to. I hated this. Hated this.

I felt his fingers there, suddenly, tracing me with nothing more than fingertips. He probed both my holes with fingertips, making me grit my teeth in pain and discomfort. I heard him stand and he grasped my chain in his hands and gave a slight tug. I opened my eyes and stood, staring at the floor in my embarrassment. His fingers went across my belly and squeezed my breasts a little. They were firm and when I was well-fed, impressive.

He walked to the shower and opened the door. He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, then jerked his head toward it. I walked past him, shoulders hunched. The water was the slightest bit chilly. I stood in the spray for a few seconds, watching him. He met my eyes and slowly took off his watch and placed it on the counter, then removed his shoes and socks. I could only stare in horror as, his eyes still locked on mine, he removed his shirt with a smooth arcing motion, then unbuckled and took off his belt with an ominous whoosh. His fingers undid the button on his jeans, then slid down to his zipper, unzipping it very slowly. He knew how to play me, how to make my stomach churn. He slid down his jeans, then his boxers.

I stepped out of the spray and to the wall when I saw the size of him, hard no doubt from torturing me, his impressive physique revealed in its entirety. I whimpered and pressed myself against the wall further. The men in the facility had been smaller, easier to train girls on, and we rarely had to take such big cocks as the one Jay had. He walked into the shower and closed the glass door behind him. The water hit his black hair, smoothing it down to a length around his chin. He looked more ominous like that, his hair dripping in front of his face.

He grasped the chain and pressed it under my chin, forcing me to look up into those brilliant blue eyes. He pulled me into the stream of water and pressed me against his clean wet body, forcing me to feel his hardness between us, in both his muscles and his cock.

He reached behind me for something on the high shelves going around the entire shower, and touched it against my back. I jumped, my mind searching through my years of history for an object that felt like this. His lips pressed tenderly to my forehead and I froze in shock as the object moved against my back. It was a cloth.

Slowly, he started to move it up and down my back. His eyes shifted to look over my shoulder, watching his own progress. He was tender and gentle about it, rubbing in tantalizing circles up my body. I lean into him and moan a little, resting my forehead on his chest. Without response, he continues to wash me and his hand on my leash vanishes, joining the other in moving across my back. It felt good and I hated it, hated how gentle he was, how manipulative.

He knew the men in the facility never touched us like this, never got us to want something through reward and not punishment. His hands circled my neck, washing under the light new metal collar he had placed on me. He took a step back and I nearly collapsed when he dropped the cloth and trailed fingertips over my shoulders and arms, sometimes pressing down with his palms, still under the pretense of washing me. His fingers sweep over my collarbone and over my breasts, gently flicking my nipples already stiff from the cold water. I let out a real moan this time, a sound I had never made before. Pleasure was a foreign game to me, something I had never received, even before I had gotten taken away.

Jay smiled and leaned in close to me as his fingers explored my stomach, then my sides, my hips, the sides of my thighs. "I can make it feel good, too," he whispered and his fingers trail up the insides of my thighs, toward the heat throbbing between them, a sort of heat I had never felt before. I had never wanted a man, had hated them from the instant I had been loaded into that truck. But this man... he knew what he was doing. He knew how to pleasure, how to tease.

"I don't want you to make it feel good," I whimpered through my teeth, a stupid lie, a crazy obvious lie. He just chuckled and his fingers finally teased my clit, making me moan and grip his shoulders. I instantly feared I had overstepped a boundary but he only chuckled again and shifted closer to me. His feet nudge mine apart and I willingly spread my legs for him.

"I think you're lying to me Malacia," he whispered. I couldn't even mind that he had used the wrong name as he slipped a finger inside of me and started pumping lazily. My grip on his shoulders becomes tighter. I don't want to cum, I tell myself. Not from this man, not from what he's— ah, my mind moans as he slips a second finger in me and increases his speed just a little. He rubs my clit in small circles with his thumb and I fight the climax, biting down on my lip, my legs trembling. His hand eases off of me and I groan. He gently turns me around until his hard cock is pressing against my ass. He snakes his hand back down my front and continues pleasuring me, his other hand moving across my hips, gently scratching fingernails up my thighs.

"Do you know what happens to girls that lie?" he breathed into my ear. I was too far gone to fear a punishment, arching my back into his chest, my eyes closed, breath coming quickly as I fought the climax, as I tried to deny the noises he was coaxing out of me, tried to deny that I was loving every single thing he was doing at that moment. He nuzzled my neck and bent his legs. His hand on my thighs vanished and my eyes split open as I realized what he was doing.

"Girls who lie get fucked," he said and thrust up. I cried out in pain and pleasure as his cock thrust up into me, splitting me in half, and sending me over the edge. I screamed as I came, twitching around his cock. He moaned and shoved me against the wall, pulling my hips out, still pleasuring me, making me moan and twitch as he starting fucking me, rough, relentlessly. Pain and pleasure mixed in my mind as he hurt me over and over again with that huge cock of his, but every circle of his fingers on my clit sent my mind into a raging fire of pleasure.

And as I started to feel his cock harden in me, as I was nearing my second orgasm, he came with a loud moan. And that moan sent me right to where he wanted me again, my vision going splotchy. I didn't realize I was screaming until I stopped, his fingers coming off of me. He pressed his forehead against the back of my head, panting, his fingernails digging into my hip as his cock twitched inside of me, filling me with his cum.

I hated myself, suddenly. Hated myself for cumming under his fingers, hated myself for not fighting it longer or harder. Hated that I liked that I had made him cum too, and that he had enjoyed it. Hated it. He raised his head, his nose nuzzling my neck. I realized that I was exhausted. I slipped toward oblivion, my knees weakening as he pulled out, thirst and hunger and sleep most of all overtaking my body.

"I like it when you don't want it," he whispered in my ear as my eyes fluttered closed. "It makes you cumming even better..."

~~~

I woke with my hands tied in the dark. I moved and I heard a gentle clanging of chains. I sat upright and felt soft fabric under me, a little squishy and unsupported. Slowly, I tried to put the pieces together and smashed my hands into my face. Jay. The shower... I had passed out... after cumming under nothing but his fingers and his cock. Embarrassment seeped through me, self-loathing a snapping dog behind it. My body was sore. My throat was destroyed and my lungs ached from even pulling in breath. I twist my hands.

They were tied, not uncomfortably tight, but tight enough that I wasn't going anywhere. My light metal collar had a chain attached to it, I realized, when I went to sit up. It rustled a little and, after I got to a half-kneeling position, it went taut. I slowly sank back down onto my back and realized I was on the dog bed in the closet, on the ground. I wondered vaguely what time it was.

I wondered how long I had been out, whether it was minutes or hours. The unknowingness of the dark and the lack of perception I had scared me a little. I wondered whether Jay had already gotten dressed for the day and left the house to do... whatever Jay did during the day. My cheeks flushed red as the realization hit me again that I cum for him, a man I barely knew anything about.

I grew hot at the very memory of his breath in my ear, his fingers rubbing me so tantalizingly. I hated myself, I tried to convince myself. I hated that he could come within seconds of drowning me, had tortured me with nothing but a tub of water, and then made me cum on his cock less than five minutes later. Slut, whore, slave... the words circled through my mind.

Malacia, the name he had chosen for me. Calm. Docile. A bitter taste welled in my mouth. Suddenly, I go very still as I hear footsteps from outside the closet. Quiet, like a cat's. He was like a cat, a lethal predator of the dark. His ice-like blue eyes burned through the darkness of my memory, holding me as he made me beg for him. I closed my eyes, trying to go back to sleep.

I had called him Master Jay, had begged for him to treat me well, had promised I would be good. God, I was such an idiot. I heard the shower turn on and thanked every god I knew of that he hadn't dragged me in there with him again, and then thanked them again that I hadn't woken up next to him. He took an absurdly long shower, probably steaming hot unlike the frigidness that he had shoved my head into, then made me take with him.

When the water finally turned off, it was another five minutes before I heard his footsteps advancing toward the closet. I rolled toward the wall and closed my eyes as the door opened, a thin beam of daylight coming into it. Mechanical lights turned on above me and I heard him pass behind me. He slid open a drawer and rustled around for something. I didn't want to see him naked, I convinced myself, but the image of his naked body stuck in my mind.

I heard him get dressed and then what sounded like a brush going through his hair. "I know you're awake."

His voice surprised me, making me twitch a little. Blushing, I knew I had revealed myself, even if he hadn't known I was awake. I glanced over my shoulder to see him staring at a retractable mirror, his hands going through his hair, styling it without even looking at me. He had again chosen nothing more than jeans and a nice shirt, a button-up flannel that looked a little small for him around his shoulders.

He slid the mirror into the wall and placed the brush into a drawer. Most things in his house were built into the walls and everything seemed to have its place, like he didn't want anything to take up too much space. He turned around and our eyes met for a second, before I turned back toward the wall. He chuckled and my cheeks burned as I heard that ominous sound.

I didn't want to ever look at him again. The few times the men in the facility had caused me this much embarrassment I usually never, or rarely, saw them again. But this man lived with me. I hated it. Hated this. He messed with more things in the background, then slid all his drawers closed. He prodded me in the back with a toe and I ignored him, expecting the next prod to be a full on, spine-shattering kick.

"So I suppose you don't want clothes," he said casually. I instantly turned around and looked at him, sitting up so fast it made my head spin a little. His smirk was knowing. My throat clogged up.

"Clothes?" I squeaked out.

He shrugged. "I prefer my slave not walk around my house naked. It distracts me." He turned away and opened a very small drawer. He tossed me something and I slowly picked it up, examining it. It was a shirt, obviously tight, made from some sort of athletic jersey or fleece. It was a tank top more than a shirt. It was a little padded on top and I felt almost touched that he had included this detail, though I reprimanded myself, reminding that everything he did probably had some sort of awful end game. I put it on, though, and when he tossed me a pair of short black athletic shorts, I became heavily suspicious. When I had gotten dressed, he turned back around and reached behind me, his chest within biting distance, and unclipped my chain.

"Come," he said, as though I had any choice. A small clip at the end of the chain attached to his belt loop so he could once again place his hands in his pockets as he walked. I wasn't even worth him holding my chain. My hair fell around my face, around my thin shoulders, as we left his room and went downstairs. He almost pulled me down the stairs he moved so fast. We entered the kitchen and he unattached my chain and commanded me to sit with a flick of his hand toward a chair. I did.

He reached into the same drawer, took out the same weight-gaining bar I had eaten yesterday, checked something on it, then tossed it to me. I crinkled my nose at it.

"Get used to it," he snapped. "You're eating two of those everyday." When he wasn't looking I stuck my tongue out of him and viciously tore into it, cursing his name in my head with every swear word I knew. Suddenly, the front door opened. Jay, busy with fixing me a huge glass of water with about fifty different powders in it, didn't even blink an eye.

I fixed my eyes on my lap as I heard another large man enter the kitchen. From the sounds of him, he was wearing boots and walked like a man who was a little too aggressive for what the world demanded.

"Master Jay," the man said and I glanced up as he leaned against the opposite side of the counter from where I was sitting. He was an ugly man; taller than Jay, stronger maybe, but burly, hairy, and rough everywhere. His hands were massive, his nose was huge and crooked, and he was armed to the teeth with every weapon I could imagine. He was tan, almost to the point that it was hard to tell what race he was, and seemed to have a runny nose. I quickly looked away.

"Hello Paul," Jay said easily. I would never want this man standing behind me and the fact that Jay didn't even look... it meant Paul knew what I was, or at least thought I was some mentally-ill kid of Jay's. Not that I knew if Jay had ever been married, how old he was, and whether he had kids. I didn't even know what he did for a living, or whether he did work.

"Inspection people are here," he grunted.

Jay turned around and slid the glass of water to me, but fixed his eyes on Paul. And I realized who this man probably was: the gatehouse man, who would gun me down without question should I try to escape. I realized I was reluctant to even try, to even let this man get within touching distance of me. And I breathed a small sigh of relief that it was Jay and not Paul who was my owner.

"Tell them to come back at noon," Jay said.

"They said they can't," Paul grunted.

"Yes they can," Jay countered. "And if they can't..." He shrugged in the same way he had shrugged when Grandmaster had countered with sixty-five percent for me. It was the kind of shrug that said, 'your loss.' Paul chuckled.

"You're lucky you're the kind of man you are, boss," he said in a gruff voice. "Otherwise you wouldn't get away with half the shit you do." He punched Jay's shoulder good-naturedly and Jay smiled thinly. Paul nodded. "I'll go tell them." As he turned and walked away, his eyes slid over me once, just enough to make me know I never wanted him to look at me again. The door closed.

I pretended to be immensely interested in the powdered water and the nutrition bar. Jay opened the fridge and took out a few ingredients, placing them on the counter. I ate slowly and drank water to wash the taste of the nutrition bar away as he took out a blender. In a few minutes, he had a light brown smoothie prepared, which he poured in a cup and drank, staring out into the living room as he did. He munched on an apple in-between his smoothie drinking.