Jennie
..
..
I wobble down Breightmet Street on my last pair of heels and hope my hair looks decent. Not even a half hour ago, I woke up with my underwear around my thighs, face down on the scummy floor of a pub over on Shifnall twitching for my next fix. But some stupid bastard not only stole the last of my stash, but he took my cash too. I'm too fucked up to even worry about what he did while I was unconscious. Not that it matters anyway. I'm not hurting so his small dick must not have done too much damage.
"My corner you dirty bitch," a prossie snaps when I near her. "Take your ugly arse elsewhere."
I snarl my lip in disgust. As if the tart has any room to talk. Her red hair is nothing but a mop of Medusa dreads. I bet her cunt is crawling with fucking crabs.
"Fuck you, whore. You don't own the whole goddamn town of Bolton," I spit out and stop about twenty feet from her.
She continues her bitching while I dig around in my bag for my cigs. I'm shaking with the need for a hit of skag. All my needles and shit were gone when I woke up. Instead of washing up in the sink like a normal human would have, I wiped the slobber from my cheek, pulled my underwear back up, and went on a search for a punter. Punters mean money. Money means heroin.
A piece of shit car slows down when it gets near and I hope it'll stop for me. Medusa may think she owns this corner but I can nail just about any customer I want. Unlike her and her shitty standards, I have none. If a client wants to wheel and deal for a blow job, I'll take his dumb offer and suck him off. Six quid is six quid—six quid closer to more shit I need.
The skag takes away the pain. The festering wound in my chest that seeps and throbs with sorrow and self-hatred is ever present. Without my damn heroin, I can hardly cope. And right now, memories mix with reality. Past and present become confusing. I need my fucking escape.
"How much for that sweet pussy?"
I jerk out of my daze and flash the fat fucker a smile. "What are you offering?"
He scratches the scruff on his cheek and regards me with a toothless grin. "I'm skint, baby. All I have is a tenner 'til next pay day."
I shudder. His ugly ass should have to pay fifty. But ten'll get me a hit. Brewster, one of the dealers I go to around these parts, won't take any less than ten.
"I'll blow you for ten," I tell him, hoping he'll give in.
His brows furrow into an agitated glare and he leans back inside his vehicle to talk to another man who's in the driver's seat. When he pops his head back out the window, he waves a baggie of crystals at me.
"Ten for your arse," he negotiates, as if doing anal instead is a better deal for me than regular fucking. "And some brown sugar."
My heart flops in my chest and it takes everything in me not to kick off my only pair of shoes to my name and dive into his fucking piece of shit car after what he's offering.
"How much skag you got?" I ask, trying not to seem so eager.
He smirks, knowing he's won. "Enough to keep you high all night, baby. Get in the car."
The joy of knowing I'm about to get high again surges through me. They can both fuck my ass if they want—as long as they uphold their end of the deal to party with me all night. I squeal and kick off my heels toward the Medusa bitch before running toward them, ignoring the bite of the frozen concrete beneath my feet. I'm almost to the car when a sleek, black vehicle screeches to a halt behind them.
"Fucking pigs," the punter snarls in disgust before they peel out away from me, leaving me to deal with the authorities on my own. I nearly burst into tears at having lost the promise of my skag.
A car door slams and I snap my head to face the cop head-on. I may not be getting any drugs tonight but the promise of a warm, dry place to sleep for the night is almost just as alluring. Almost.
"What's your name?" A tall, slender black man in a fitted suit regards me with question. His accent indicates he's not from these parts. Most likely American. That notion causes little red flags to wave at me.
"You a pig or what?"
He shakes his head. "Or what. Tell me your name."
"Jennie Rabbit," I lie with a harsh laugh. "How much you offering?"
His lips press into a displeased firm line. "Five hundred."
My eyes bug out of my head. Holy shit. I'd do just about anything for that sum of money. "What? You want my arse? You into some kinky 'call me daddy' shit, baby?" I purr and reach for the lapel on his suit. "For five hundred quid, I'll do whatever you want."
He swats my hand away in disgust. "Not five hundred pounds, woman."
I pout at his words. Did I misunderstand him? I'm starting to fucking tweak and I can't stand it. I get confused as hell. "A fiver?" I question with a huff. "Fine, whatever. Put it in my arse if you want—just give me the fucking money up front and we're good. We doing this in your car?
He seizes my wrist and hauls me forward. His scent is masculine yet exotic. Expensive. "We're not doing anything. However, my boss would like to hire you for your services."
I swallow down the fear that is always present but nod. "Cool. Where is he?" If things get weird, I'll run. Even way out here in England, I still don't feel completely safe from him.
He looks over his shoulder at the car and then back at me. "She. Back there. Do you want the job?"
My eyes widen as if he's lost his mind. "She? Interesting. You're fucking proper as hell, Bruno. Fine, yes. I want the job. Can we tell her I didn't offer up my arse though? I give a mean blow-job."
He sighs and stares into my eyes with his that nearly match his dark skin. "My name is Dubois, not Bruno. And Ms. Manoban wants to hire you for five hundred thousand. Are you interested?"
I let out a breath of relieved air upon hearing a name I don't recognize. But I think my mind is playing tricks again and I bark out a nervous laugh. "Oh, wow, I thought you said five hundred thousand for a second there."
His glare never waivers and understanding washes over me. Holy shit. I'm having a Julia Roberts moment. I may be living in the UK but I grew up in America and watched Pretty Woman enough times to know it word for word. This opportunity could get me enough heroin that I wouldn't have to fuck for it. The idea is quite tempting actually.
"Come. Ms. Manoban has been waiting for you."
Dubois, remaining stoic, drags me behind him toward the waiting car. He opens the back car door and I laugh. This Manoban rich motherfucker has a driver. I can't believe this is happening. Twisting my head, I find the Medusa bitch glaring at me. I wave my middle finger at her and call her a cunt before a warm hand grips my elbow, yanking me into the car.
I land on my knees on the leather of the seat and my handbag hits the pavement outside the car, bullshit clattering out as it spills the contents. The firm, large hand on my elbow never releases and I follow the arm to the owner. Even through my tweaking haze, I can tell she's beautiful and thank God she's not him.
"Jesus, you stink like you bathed in the dumpster. Fucking disgusting." Her insults roll off me and I inhale her. I may stink but she smells decadent—all spices and manly. From the looks of it, she's not just a girl like others. I've met a few girls like her—who have that part between her legs —and looks like I will get a new experience. I bet her dick tastes delicious.
"Want me to suck that big cock of yours?" I purr, wanting to get the party started.
She rolls her eyes and yanks me the rest of the way in. Once she settles me into the seat, she moves to sit across from me. Dubois shuts the door and I bask in the warmth of the car. Tonight it's cold and my flesh is numb. My dingy puffy jacket does nothing to keep the bite of the chilly air off my skin. And my bare legs under my skirt are cold as ice.
"I want you to be my toy," she says in a bored tone, withdrawing a folded piece of paper from her breast pocket.
"Fine, toy with me," I snap. "When do I get paid? What do you want from me?"
Her eyes narrow at me. In the dim light of the car, coupled with my confusion, I have no fucking clue what color they are.
"I want you to be my toy for six months."
I raise a brow in question. "For five hundred grand?"
She nods and smirks, waiting for me to answer.
"Can you get me heroin?" I ask bluntly.
Her nostrils flare in an angry manner and she bares her teeth at me. "I promise to take care of that little addiction of yours."
Rich people always have the hook-up to the best drugs. "Deal. Want me to suck your cock now? I'm in desperate need of a hit. Let's get this shit started, Barbie Doll."
I'm entertained by the way her vein on her forehead protrudes. She's pissed and it's funny.
"Sign this agreement and we can start," she says in a detached tone. "And don't ever fucking call me Barbie Doll again or I'll backhand that skanky little mouth of yours."
Most normal chicks would run from the prick in the seat in front of me. I've dealt with a lot worse in my lifetime. People like Ms. Grumpy Barbie Doll are nothing. Fucking nothing in comparison.
With a roll of my eyes, I yank the pen and paper from her. The typewritten words dance all around the page and confound me. "Six months? Your fuck toy? You pay me five hundred grand? Did I miss anything?"
She smirks and shrugs her shoulders. "Sounds close enough. Are you sure you don't want to take your time reading it?"
My skin itches as the warm air thaws my cold flesh—I scrape the pen along my thigh to relieve myself from it. As I well know, the moment I truly start coming down from my last hit, I'll be clawing at my skin. This is only the beginning. I need a hit and soon.
"Whatever. Looks good to me. Just make sure I get my drugs," I tell her firmly.
She waits until I scribble my fake name, Jennie Rabbit, and hand her back the paper. I want to keep the pen because it is a good scratching tool but she holds her hand out for it. I relinquish it with an exasperated huff. Her eyes scan the paper and she signs below it.
"Ready to go home and play, Bunny?"
I bristle at her stupid nickname. "Sure Barbie Doll. Let's go play."
Barbie Doll rolled out before I had a chance to stop it. Her hand twitches as if she's going to make good on her promise to hit me but everything goes blissfully black before I even have an opportunity to see if she will.
..
..
Lisa
..
..
The woman is pure filth. Disgusting, shitty, and gross. Her body reeks of body odor, stale cigarette smoke, and urine. I've never had such a dirty toy and it makes me wonder what sort of dirty things I can get her to do. The thought has my dick fully erect and ready to play. Of course, now's not the time. There's so much to do in order to get her ready to play with.
"Are you sure you don't want to dump this one and find a better one?" Dubois questions from the front seat as he drives us to our London hotel. The annoyed tone in his voice causes my lips to turn up in a satisfied smile. I've never had a toy like this one before. She's mouthy and brash and fucking revolting. I'm completely intrigued with her.
"This one's perfect."
My assurance must settle him because he doesn't say another word on the matter and quiets down for the four-hour drive to the city.
..
"Mmmm," she groans from her slumped over position on the leather seat in front of me.
I raise a brow to see if she'll wake. Before she passed out, I was prepared to hit her, against my better judgment. Sure, I like punishing them but I don't like losing my cool so easily. But with her, my hand itched to exact punishment on the mouthy woman. To make her realize she was simply a transaction.
My blood still boils. Barbie Doll my ass. I'm as far from good and decent as a woman could get. I'm also not plastic and blond.
Everything about me screams monster.
The wild, barely tamed black hair on my head matches the unruly thoughts in my mind. My piercing dark blue eyes turn nearly grey when I'm enraged, which is most of the time. I scare the hell out of most women with my fierce, calculating glares. I've even had a few of my new toys piss themselves on more than one occasion in my presence.
And that is all before I even touch a hair on their little heads.
Once they get to know me, they know I am every bit the monster I outwardly portray. But inside, I'm pure evil. I have sick, twisted fantasies which I have the means to turn into my reality. These toys are part of the games I enjoy playing.
"Get ahold of yourself, whore," I sneer.
"And here I thought you had manners being all proper and shit." Her croaky voice pulls me away from my inward thoughts and my eyes zero in on her slumped frame.
Gingerly, she sits up and pushes the matted strawberry-blonde hair—as I wanted — out of her eyes. The bitch is still fucked up on whatever it is she took before I found her. Once bright green eyes have been dulled and her long, mascara crusted eyelashes droop over them. Her makeup looks like shit—layer over layer smeared onto her face and I wonder when the last time she bathed was.
"Where are we going?" she questions and claws at her thigh.
I don't owe her an answer, but I indulge her anyway. "London. For now."
She seems pleased by my answer and stares out the window, her fingernails continuing their assault on her flesh. "So you got a thing for hookers, Bar—er—what do I call you?"
Thank fuck she didn't call me Barbie Doll again. I didn't want to ruin her face before I even had the chance to look at it properly. Last time was a close fucking call.
"My name is Lalisa Manoban. You are to call me ma'am or master."
Her dark brow raises in a petulant fashion. Most of the whores just nod their heads and obey accordingly. This one has to force herself to be compliant. As the drugs leave her system, I can see that she'll be more difficult to train.
And this gets my dick really fucking hard.
"What if I call you Lisa?"
"Then I'll hurt you."
Her green eyes flare to life when they meet my own bored gaze and I fight a smile. I like getting a rise from this woman already. She'll be a fun one to torment.
"I'm going to accidentally call you that so you may as well tell me how you're going to hurt me. Just so I'll be ready," she admits with a huff and adds the last part with dripping sarcasm. "Ma'am."
She starts to claw her thigh again and I wonder if she'll break the skin. Her blood will be all over the fucking place and she hasn't even been tested yet. It'd be a shame to pick up some disease from the whore and not even fucked her to do it.
"Stop scratching." I order with a low growl. "It's pissing me off."
Her full lips draw together in a firm line and she crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm hungry," she pouts.
My chest aches with a sudden, sharp pain, memories from my past assaulting me against my will, and I have to swallow the bile rising in my throat. "I will feed you. Come here, Bunny."
Her nostrils flare at the name but she doesn't hesitate to crawl in front of my spread legs, kneeling in front of me. I bet she'd suck me off if I asked. But I'm not asking.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth."
She places her palms on my knees and for a moment I almost shove her away from me. They touch me when I tell them to touch me, not when they fucking feel like it. But her grumbling belly calms my inner rage and I ignore her gesture for now. I'll explain to her the rules later. Reaching over into the side compartment, I retrieve a bottle of water and a banana.
The second I break the banana open and the fruity scent somehow cuts through her stench, she moans. She says she'd do fucking anything for drugs but the pitiful creature is practically starving. It eats away at my insides and I quickly peel the banana before I do anything stupid like hold her in my arms.
"Want this?" I question, dragging the tip of the banana over her lips.
She nods and her thumbs dig into my inner thighs as she spreads me open, allowing her further access to me and what I'm offering. Again, the gesture should piss me off, but my cock strains through my boxers to get to her.
"Eat it like a good girl and there's plenty more where that came from."
My assurance comforts her and she chomps through the banana, uncaring if she seems like a starving dog. When she finishes, I give the water bottle a shake. White clouds from the pills I dropped into it earlier swirl around the water.
"Drink this. All of it."
Her mouth parts open and I hold it to her lips. She sips it eagerly and doesn't stop until it's empty.
"What'd you lace it with? I could taste it. Am I going to get fucked up?" The eagerness in her eyes angers me and I want to slap the look right off her face.
I don't reward her with an answer and instead stare at her questioning eyes which are beginning to dull again. Dubois hits the brakes and she falls against my chest, her belly pressing into my thick, hard cock. I groan because I want to fuck her now.
I'm about to shove her to the floor so she'll get the fuck away from me before I do something stupid and impulsive. But when her arms slip around my waist while she drifts to sleep, I take pause. A small, comforted sigh escapes her and I soon find myself stroking her long, dirt-ridden hair.
"Mmm," she murmurs as the pills steal her from me. "Thank you for saving me."
Her words knife through me and I want to scream at her. To tell her that I'm a fucking monster—that I'm going to make her life a living hell. I want to spit in her face and explain to her that I'm about to hurt her unbroken spirit—that I'll thrive on tearing it apart piece by motherfucking piece.
"Don't thank me yet, Bunny," I tell her softly, despite knowing she's already passed out. "I'm the hunter in this story and I'm hunting rabbit."
..
"Ma'am," Dubois says in a soft voice from the front. "We're here."
I snap awake and chide myself for having fallen asleep on the ride. It isn't my style. I've always had to keep my guard up and for some reason I let it slip. This bitch could have stabbed me in my sleep. She groans and I shake my head in irritation to see that she's somehow wormed herself into my lap. My arms are around her, holding her, just like I told myself I wouldn't.
But she was starving.
I let the guilt wash over me and soothe the anger at myself. It was just this once. I've had a long journey—I'm not a young girl like I used to be. Not that twenty-eight is old, but this shit catches up to you after a while.
Dubois climbs out and opens the back door. His furrowed brows tell me he wants to ask if I'm okay. There's a stinky-ass girl in my arms and this isn't normal. But, knowing his place, he refrains. I take care of my toys and today this one needs extra care. If I asked Dubois to carry her into the hotel, he would but he knows this is my thing.
I climb out with the slight girl in my arms, and once he shuts the door behind me, together we stride in through a side door.
With a swipe of a discreet card, Dubois gets us inside and we enter a small elevator. He pushes the "P" and we make our ascent to the top floor.
"I'm so glad its bath time," he mutters under his breath.
I shoot him a glare. "Someone is forgetting their place tonight. I pay a lot of fucking money for you to remember."
His eyes widen briefly before he schools away the shocked and hurt expression. He nods with a curt, clip of his head and I draw my gaze back down to her. In the better light, I can see dark roots growing out near her scalp and I growl. The rage blossoms inside and I want to drop her to the floor, spitting accusations out at her.
"She's a brunette," I snarl.
Dubois steps forward and inspects her hair. "That she is, ma'am. Are we returning her?"
I spent two fucking weeks after I got rid of Swan researching my next toy. A cute strawberry-blonde is what I decided I wanted. We've been all over London and there wasn't one single bitch who met the simple criteria. Dubois and I ended up in Bolton, four hours from the city, to find this one.
"I wanted strawberry-blonde," I complain with a grumble.
His dark eyes meet mine. "There were plenty of those in America. Perhaps we should have gone to Texas, not the UK."
If I weren't holding this good-for-nothing toy, I'd have already been choking his defiant ass. "You know I shop for my toys in the United Kingdom, not America. End of fucking story. She'll have to do."
He shrugs his shoulders and I wonder what the fuck has gotten into him today. "They make hair dye. We can keep her the way you want her."
I curl my lip up in disgust. "Then I wouldn't be restoring her, would I? I would be customizing her. I don't customize. We'll match her roots and turn her back."
He nods as the doors open. I follow him down the long hallway to the set of huge double doors at the end. Without any further discussion on the matter, he unlocks the penthouse door and holds it open for me. Once I'm inside, he pulls it closed and leaves me alone with the newest present to myself.
I glance down at her and am surprised to see her watching me. Agitation bristles through me and I stride into the gigantic bathroom without speaking to her. I should have known she'd need more than what I gave her. She's not like some of the others who dabble in the drugs. This one's life revolves around the drugs. I set her on the edge of the tub and hold onto her while I turn on the bath. She shivers so I make sure to get the temperature to a nice, comfortable degree of hot. When steam begins to build around us, I turn to her. "Can you sit here for a moment while I fetch some things?"
She nods and watches me with interest as I leave to gather towels and bubbles. Once I pour in some bubbles and the water is filled to my liking, I turn it off and help her stand.
"Do you need help or can you undress yourself?" I ask.
Her eyes clear some, mistaking my kindness for something warmer, and the corners of her lips quirk up. "I can do it."
I release her from my grasp and step back. She sheds her shitty coat and I frown to discover she wears only a worn, ratty bra beneath it.
"Where's your shirt?" I demand, a harsh bite to my voice.
She doesn't seem startled by my tone. "I guess I lost it somewhere. When do I get more skag?"
I'm furious that she's worried about fucking drugs when she's been walking around town hardly dressed.
"We'll talk about the heroin later. Get undressed."
She pouts again and I decide I like my strange, pouting toy. With the others, they're fearful of me once they understand I have odd intentions. This toy, Bunny, seems game for anything. The thought thrills me.
Her tits are nice, much to my surprise, and I enjoy her small pink nipples. Swan had large, pepperoni-sized nipples. Bunny has little bite-sized ones. My gaze travels to her ribs, which protrude, and a growl rumbles in my chest. Skimming quickly down her flat stomach to her skirt, I raise a brow for her to continue.
She unzips the back of the black skirt and pushes it down her hips. Her panties are dirty and stained with what is most likely men's cum. If we were back home, I'd have Dubois burn her panties. Once the abomination falls from her body, I sigh at the patch of dark hair between her legs. I still can't believe I nabbed a brunette.
"You can't afford to eat, don't have a home, and wear this filth," I grit through my teeth. "Yet you have the money and means for a dye job?"
Her smile becomes predatory as she wobbles toward me. "I fucked a salon owner. She paid me with this." She waves at her shitty hair as if she's proud.
"How'd you fuck her?" I'm disgusted.
Bunny shrugs her shoulders. "I was creative. She was pleased."
My nostrils flare. "You finger fucked some bitch and settled for a dye job as payment. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Her dark brows furrow together and her green orbs glisten for a moment before she snaps her glare to meet my matching one. "The prospect of getting my hair washed was pretty fucking amazing, Lisa," she drawls out, knowing it will piss me off. "Not that your spoiled arse would know a thing about that."
I seize her neck with my strong hand and it excites me when her eyes widen in shock. "I warned you not to call me Lisa."
She yelps when I twist her in my arms and shove her over the countertop. I unbuckle my belt and yank it from the loops with a swish. Darkness swarms around me as I punish her. I hit her three, four, five times, I think, before I'm pulled away from her. Black rage clouds my vision and I attempt to blink it away.
"Ma'am, allow me to clean your toy. Go rest and I'll bring her to you when she's ready," Dubois says softly, parting the storm of fury in my mind.
I want to clean her. She's fucking mine. But my head throbs and my chest aches. I'm physically unable to after whipping her. My eyes drag over to her slumped form on the countertop and I blink in shock. Red welts cover her ass. I must have hit her over twenty times, not merely a few. I stumble from the bathroom to let Dubois finish up, sickened by my loss of control.
I've barely stripped down to my boxers before I fall onto the bed, face first. This toy is fucking with my head and I've barely had her for six hours. Will she last the whole six months?
..
..
Jennie
..
..
"Stay still," Dubois complains as he delicately washes my hair.
Under normal circumstances, I'd be moaning with delight. But, stupid me, decided to take the offer of a psychopath who just whipped the hell out of me with her belt. Now, as the hot bath burns my raw bottom, I'm fucking miserable.
But you're warm. And soon you'll be clean. And she promised to feed you.
I set to clawing at the never-ending itch on my thighs and ignore any thoughts where I'm thankful for her rather than hate her. "Where's my skag?"
He ignores me as he rinses my hair. I frown at the sight of the water which has turned brown with my filth. I'm a dirty street animal. There was a day in my life when I would have been horrified to have seen such a thing. Now, all morals are thrown out the window. I don't care about anything or anyone. Life is shitty, plain and simple.
"I need my drugs, Doob-wa," I mock with a southern accent.
He wets a cloth and wipes at my face. His eyes won't meet mine and stupid tears blur my vision. It's demeaning as hell to have some beautiful black man wash you as if you're a dirty animal picked up from the street. He doesn't want to connect with me—in his eyes, I'm disposable. The thought upsets me more than I want to admit.
I want to mean something to someone. Anyone.
"Can you shave your underarms and legs or do I need to?" His voice is all business, deep and rumbly. It picks at the wounds inside of me and I want to scream at him.
"Why won't you look at me?" I ask with a sob hanging in my throat. "I'm a human too, you know."
His brows furrow and his nearly black eyes meet mine. The corners of his eyes crinkle with sadness. It warms me that he feels something—even for me—some filthy piece of trash.
"Relax, miss," he says with a sigh as he finishes cleaning my face. "Ms. Manoban will take care of you. Her methods are..."
I raise a brow in question. "Mean? Abusive? Bastardly?"
His eyes twinkle and I see him fighting a smile. "I was going to say unconventional. Although it's cute hearing those insults in a British accent, I'd advise you to keep them to yourself. My boss takes care of her things, you and I being those things, but don't mistake her for kind. She can be brutal and harsh. So, if you want to enjoy your time with her, I suggest you put a smile on your pretty face and adhere to her rules—no matter how unusual they may be."
Dubois' words are sweet and I can't help but grin at him. "I'm not really British, but I'll keep up the façade since you think it's cute," I flirt.
His eyes grow stormy. He startles me when he grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. "What do you mean you're not really British?" he demands with a hiss, his strong fingers bruising me in his grasp.
I frown at him. "I'm from Georgia. I've lived here for the past six years. I have learned to adopt the British dialect because of necessity. Bastards around here will take advantage of you if they know you're American. Believe me, I know."
He jerks his head over his shoulder to search for Lalisa and when he doesn't find her behind him, he turns back to me. If a black man's face could blanch, I believe his would be doing it now.
"Promise me you'll never speak of Georgia again. You're a born and bred British woman. Do you understand?"
"Actually, I don't understand—"
"I'll throw in fifty more thousand if you'll please just never speak of it again. Trust me. Ms. Manoban doesn't play with Americans. If she knew, there'd be hell to pay. Promise me, Jennie."
Hearing my name on his lips brings unwanted tears to my eyes. Despite Rabbit being a made-up last name, I kept my real first name. I'd lost every part of who I was, but I'll always be Jennie.
"Fine. I promise," I tell him finally and jerk the razor from the ledge near me.
He seems relieved and stands to allow me to finish alone. I didn't do it for the extra money though. I did it because the overwhelming fear in his eyes picked at a wound deep inside of me. I'd seen a familiar look once before with my brother—a look I never want to see again. If me being compliant for Dubois' sake is what I need to do for the next six months, then compliant is what I'll be.
I close my eyes and my older brother stares back at me, his green eyes matching the exact shade of mine.
Don't think about him.
Think about skag.
Think about anyfuckingthing.
"Dubois," I huff and jerk my eyes open. "I need my drugs."
This time, his gaze is no longer fearful. Instead, I find a look of pity. I hate the look in his eyes. "She'll take care of you soon enough, miss."
..
Once I'm clean, he then makes me shower. The pattering on my wounded butt hurts but it helps cut through the haze of the drugs Lisa gave me earlier. I hate the clarity I'm feeling. My mind can focus on all the wrong, fucked up shit in my life. And I hate when it does that. Turning toward the spray, I allow the water to assault me where she'd whipped me. It drags all thoughts about me away and focuses on the pain.
Focus on the pain, Jennie.
I'm sobbing by the time the water shuts off and someone wraps me in a soft, plush towel. I don't have to lift my gaze to know it's her.
The abuser.
The weird one.
Lalisa Manoban.
I want to tell her she's a sonofabitch. That I don't need her drugs or her money. But that'd be a lie. This is the best opportunity that's come my way in six godforsaken years. I can't give up just yet—especially when my mind-numbing heroin is within reach.
The banana I consumed earlier roils in my belly and I break from her grasp to run for the toilet. As the bile rises, I'm thankful to feel warm hands gathering my clean, wet hair away from my face. The only food I've had in days expels from my body and I'm horrified at the sounds coming from me. Lisa doesn't offer any words of comfort or gentle caresses. All she offers is to keep my hair pulled back and me from falling in.
When I have nothing else to purge, I slink against the cold porcelain. Maybe if I take a tiny nap I'll start to feel better..
The world spins around me, threating to make me sick again, as she carries me out of the bathroom. A chill settles on my spine and I shiver in her arms. "S-s-o c-c-old."
She grunts her understanding and sets me onto the bed where the covers have been pulled away. I know she probably wants sex, and quite frankly that's my job, but I'm about to pass out.
"Heroin, Lisa," I mutter as she settles behind me. Her warm body soothes my shuddering one and I allow her to pull me close to her, ignoring the stings on my butt.
Her lips rest against my shoulder and her hot breaths tickle me. "Shh, sleep now, Bunny."
..
I wake with a start and squint at the morning sun shining right in my eyes. Every muscle in my body screams in pain. Hell, even my bones feel brittle and achy.
"My God," I moan, "I need something for this pain."
The massive arm around my middle only serves to heat my already fiery flesh. I'm going to self-combust at any moment. Her heavy breaths indicate she's still sleeping, so on shaky legs, I slip out of the bed and then head for the bathroom.
I scramble around until I find what must be her toothbrush in a masculine bag. Not caring that I'm about to use one of her personal items without her permission, I yank it out and swipe some toothpaste on it. Brushing my teeth is yet another luxury that I've missed. I had a toothbrush in my bag but I don't even know where that thing is at this point. Everything is hazy and confusing. While cleaning my teeth, I rifle through the bag to see if she's hiding any Oxy or Xanax, but much to my disappointment, all I find is ibuprofen. With a frustrated sigh, I rinse and spit, and then turn the shower on.
Cold.
I'm drenched in sweat and I need to quell the simmering heat on my skin.
As soon as I step into the icy spray, I whimper in delight. The cold water chases away the flames and I relish in the way it numbs me to the fabric of my soul. I'm lost in the blackness of nothing when she curses with a loud bark.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
I drag my eyes open and regard her. My teeth chatter and I realize I can't feel my toes. The aches assault me again and I nearly collapse. She catches me in her strong arms. The knob makes a squeaking protest as she turns it warmer. When the heat chases away the chill, she pushes down her boxers and walks me back under the spray.
I'm not sure who the hell this woman is but I want her to hold me and promise that everything will be okay. I can barely stand anymore and I'm thankful when she hugs me to her. My arms snake around her frame and I gasp at the sheer thickness of her flaccid cock between us. Awareness prickles through me at the feel of her firm body pressed against mine. I've been fucking fat-ass lards and stinky losers for years now. The last time I remotely had anything this nice was when some nice-looking university kid paid me to suck him off. Turns out, he wanted a fiver for the price of one. They took turns gang-banging me, all five of them, not that it really mattered anyway. Each guy was beautiful in his own way despite the ugly words they spewed at me. And when one tossed me the skag I craved, I didn't give a fuck that I'd been taken advantage of by five motherfuckers.
It didn't hurt.
And I almost came.
One guy even kissed me.
When they left, I didn't complain. Just shot up my bliss and zoned out of reality with my tits hanging out and used condoms littering the floor around me. It was fine. I survived.
"Bunny?"
I'm dragged from my past and into my present. Dark blue eyes gaze down at me with concern painting her features. She really is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen with her angular jaw and proud nose. I want to properly inspect her cock.
"I hate that nickname," I grumble. "Can't you just call me Jennie?"
Her hands splay around my butt cheeks and she squeezes, almost brutally. "Your name is Bunny. Don't argue with me."
I sigh and shrug my shoulders. Five-hundred thousand. Well, technically, five-hundred-fifty thousand now. All I have to do is act more British for the last part. No big deal, I'll bitch about the Queen and whine for crumpets.
"Fine, call me Bunny. Now where's my skag, Li.." I trail off, remembering my smarting lashes. "Ma'am?"
Her eyes darken to grey and for a split second I worry she'll whip me again. "You got away with it last night. There will be no more chances," she warns. "And as far as the heroin.."
I hold my breath while I wait for her to tell me where I can get it.
"There won't be any, Bunny."
My brows furrow as I inspect her face for humor. Her features are dead serious—bored, in fact. It boils my blood and I want to claw her stupid eyeballs out.
"Excuse me?" I seethe.
She smirks—fucking smirks—at me and it takes everything in me not to explode. "No drugs, doll. You're done with that shit. My toys are clean inside and out."
This time, I can't control the rage and shove her from me. Her back hits the tiled wall and she gapes at me in momentary shock. Not giving her a second to respond, I slap her. Again and again until she wrestles me to my knees. My tits are then smashed up against the wall and her fingers tangle in my wet hair.
"You have some serious fucking balls, woman," she snarls, twisting my hair tighter into her fist. "And if you'll recall, you signed the agreement."
Agreement?
Last night dances in my memory, elusive and vague. What did I agree to? Six months and five-hundred grand I thought..
"You said you'd get me drugs," I whine.
She chuckles. It's dark and humorless. "You'll learn, Bunny. I'm a liar. A bad fucking man. The monster you feared as a child. You're my new toy now—to do with whatever the fuck I please."
My blood turns cold and worry floods my system. I've finally gone and done something so damn stupid that I'll end up dead. Just like my brother Sehun predicted would happen one day when he'd tried to save me from my past long before ever stepping a foot into the UK. Joke's on me I suppose.
"No, I want to go home." That much is truth.. too bad I don't have one.
Her thumb caresses my cheek and I almost cry from the intimate touch. "We both know you don't have a home," she says, a hint of sadness in her voice. "That's why you're coming home with me."
She releases me and I curl into a ball at her feet. The tears roll out and I have a good cry, feeling sorry for myself. But by the time the water shuts off, I'm mentally numb.
While she dresses me in a warm robe, I stare into nothing.
As she feeds me morsels of eggs and fruit at breakfast, I think of nothing.
When she and Dubois make whispered plans of what they're doing next, I hear nothing.
My life is nothing.
I want to escape from this world. To go and go and go until I run off the page of the infinite universe. To crawl around in the never-ending, quiet blank nothingness. My own personal heaven. My escape from hell.
The day turns into night. Night into day. And so on and so on. I cry and scream and beg but nothing takes away the pain that scratches to be released. The only pain reliever I had has been stolen from me. I signed it away with a messy flourish of a fake name. My shitty life was given—for six months—to some monster of a woman who doesn't want her name spoken.
Her cruel hand never returned though. Instead, she retreated further and further away from me, leaving Dubois to the messy work.
Withdrawals from a drug as powerful as heroin is ugly. Horrific. Disgusting.
Lalisa fucking Manoban apparently doesn't have the balls for the shittiness that comes along with the withdrawals. I've vowed to make her pay for what she's taken from me. Because when she stole my sanctity, she shoved insanity back into my face.
My hate and horrors of my past collided with the present and I'm angry.
I itch to claw at her pretty face.
I crave to yank out her tongue.
I want to hurt her like she hurt me.
She can whip my ass all she wants but forcing me to face the broken parts of my soul is cruel and evil.
I might now be considered her toy, but when my mind fully returns to its twisted capacity, I'm going to toy with her whole goddamned life.
..
..
..