A/N: Sorry this took so long. It was a weird chapter. Though it's been 2 weeks since the last update, chapters 1 and 2 were published very close to one another, so in retrospect, it's been 3 chapters in 3 weeks. Not too bad. Anyway, thanks for reading. It'll pick pace of the story up here in the next few chapters, I promise.

As always, thanks to Jess for being an awesome beta!


Brittany's mind haunted her that night. It reminded her of where she'd been staying for the past while. The dark house she lived in, the rough hands that handled her, and the cold floors she cried herself to sleep on. Images of screaming and lashing flooded her thoughts. She could still feel her skin splitting as the man whipped her ruthlessly. The cold, wet concrete of her room became almost comforting against her cheek because that's when she knew it was over. She just couldn't escape the feel of large, calloused hands holding her down by her arms and throat as she struggled against his heavy body almost every night. Nights that he didn't drag her into his quarters she sat in a corner, waiting. Her body trembled and her bloodshot eyes stared into the abyss as she awaited his arrival. Those nights were almost the worst of them all, because the anticipation and fear kept her from sleeping.

She felt pressure again. Pressure on her arms and legs. She began thrashing, almost instinctively, to try and free herself. It had become routine. She felt something escape her throat as she struggled - she guessed it was a scream. She'd stopped hearing them long ago, so these days she was never quite sure. She heard a voice. That was odd, usually the only sounds she ever heard was laughing or grunting. And she swore it had said her name.

"Brittany."

She heard it again. He never called her by her name. Hell, he didn't even know it.

"Brittany, calm down, please."

The words were soothing and the pressure lifted. She stopped thrashing and slowly opened her eyes. It was bright, way brighter than her old room. Something blurred her vision, and by the wetness she suddenly noticed on her cheeks, she guessed it was tears. After blinking a few times, she carefully looked around for the source of the voice.

"There you are."

She looked down to see Devyn sitting by her legs. A wave of relief washed through her. She was gone from that awful place now.

Devyn reached over and handed her a glass of water. The woman guided Brittany up so she could drink it. As Brittany practically inhaled the liquid, Devyn dabbed a cloth across the girl's forehead. Brittany's pale hands shook as she dumped the water down her throat. After a moment she choked, roughly coughing on the contents of the glass.

"Slow down, dear. There's plenty more where that came from."

"Sorry," the blonde mumbled.

Brittany had yet to notice the figure leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. Santana had been standing there long enough to see her new addition practically have a seizure while screaming at the top of her lungs, then wake up and calm herself like nothing happened. It baffled the brunette. She watched as the girl inhaled water like it would be her last drink. Santana had an idea of what kind of conditions she'd probably been in prior to her arrival here, but she'd never actually come into contact with a victim of said conditions. Honestly, she found Brittany's resilience to break after coming from that kind of place rather fascinating. And for a brief moment, she silently wondered how far she could push the girl.

Santana shifted as the blonde put down her water glass. The movement obviously caught her eye because Brittany's head shot up and her eyes went wide.

Brittany's body was frozen. She knew she should stand up and bow to her new owner, but her muscles wouldn't allow it. She was like a deer in headlights.

Devyn turned her head, following the girl's line of sight. She sighed and casually bowed her head to Santana, who nodded in return. Brittany watched as the intimidating, raven haired woman shifted her gaze from her head servant back to her. They made eye contact for the first time since the incident in the alley, but even then they had been relatively far apart. It was only now that Brittany got a good look at the woman's eyes. They were dark, almost black, with a certain hardness to them. The way they were staring at her made her uneasy, like they were piercing through her. Brittany wanted so badly to look away, but she couldn't bring herself to. Though her eyes were fierce, they were also captivating.

Without breaking eye contact, Santana spoke up. "How is the girl doing?"

Brittany didn't detect even a hint of concern in her voice. The woman's tone made her feel like an object waiting to be repaired, and Santana was simply curious as to when her object will be available to use again. And if that wasn't hint enough, the fact that Santana wouldn't address her directly really showed Brittany what her place was in this house. She just hoped that her time here wouldn't be as bad as before.

Devyn stood up and faced Santana while speaking to her. "Better, Miss Lopez. She has a high fever but as you can see, she's awake, which is an improvement."

Santana studied Brittany for a moment longer before looking at Devyn. "Right. Well I want her in recovery for a week. I expect you to look after her and report her progress to me daily."

"Yes ma'am."

Brittany watched as Santana swiftly turned and exited the room without sparing another glance at her. Her new owner granted her a recovery period? While anyone else would have been relieved and thankful, Brittany felt no such appreciation. Never in her life has luck been on her side. Suspicion made its way through her mind as she thought about her new owner's intentions. Why would she need to be healthy? What exactly was in store for her? She had a pretty good idea what her purpose here was, but her physical well-being had never been a concern for her past owners. Maybe she was being prepped, like when a farmer fattens his pig so it's at its best before he slaughters it. However before her mind could wander into a vast amount of morbid possibilities, a voice addressed her.

"Are you hungry?" Devyn was looking down at her, and Brittany sensed a bit of annoyance behind her voice.

The blonde nodded. Devyn turned and left through the door to the kitchen. There was something about this head servant that made Brittany nervous. She was attentive, but not warm. Her aged face held a hard, authoritative look, while her brown eyes were filled with something different. Worry? Regret? Maybe a little bit of both. Whatever it was, it did not make Brittany feel comfortable in the slightest. An irking feeling in her stomach told her there was something so much deeper happening here.


Santana couldn't help but to feel like there was something familiar about the girl. She swore she'd seen her before, but she couldn't figure out where. Maybe she used to belong to someone she knew? Whatever, it didn't matter because she owned her now, and she was the most gorgeous slave to ever pass through the doors of the Lopez mansion. A sly smile graced her lips. She couldn't wait to play with her.

She cast away her pleasantly inappropriate thoughts when her phone rang. It was Puck. She swiftly answered it.

"Yeah?"

"We have another job. Meet me outside in 5."

"Got it." She turned on her heel and made her way to a large closet by her front door. After throwing useless items out of her way, she reached in the very back of the closet and pulled out a duffel bag. After a second of looking through it to make sure she had everything she needed, she threw it over her shoulder and headed out the door.


After a full meal and a nap, Brittany awoke in her bed to the presence of Devyn sitting by her legs once again. Her fever was still in full swing, causing Brittany to bury herself further within her covers and shiver. Her muscles were stiff as she lay freezing, though her skin was burning hot.

"You need to take a bath." Devyn tugged lightly at the covers wrapped around her.

Brittany lay still, allowing Devyn to pull the covers off of her shivering, fragile body. Bathing herself wasn't something she looked forward to at her old house. A "bath" consisted of a bucket of cold, dirty water and an old sponge. Sometimes she just chose to stay dirty, especially after a fresh round of lashes, because dirt burned her wounds.

She wasn't sure what to expect. The place was already an improvement, since she has access to plenty of food and a bed. She just hoped the water wasn't dirty.

Devyn escorted her to the servants bathroom. It was a relatively large room, complete with a bath and separate shower. Brittany stood at the door unsure of what to do as Devyn drew the bath. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in a real bathtub.

"Child, are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in? And shut the door behind you."

Brittany did as she was told, and stood in the middle of the floor as Devyn undressed her. Her muscles ached as she shifted out of her clothing. She approached the tub and stepped in, hissing as her skin came in contact with the water. She bit her tongue as she sunk in. The cuts on her arms, legs, and back reacted with the heat in the most unpleasant of ways. Droplets formed at the corners of her eyes as the stinging sensation spread through her entire body. Devyn raised an eyebrow as the water began to turn a tinge of pink. Some of Brittany's freshest wounds reopened and were bleeding out.

After a few minutes of letting Brittany adjust, Devyn decided it was time to wash the girl. She grabbed a sponge and covered it in soap, and gently ran it over her shoulders and upper back. Brittany stared at the wall ahead of her with her teeth clenched, trying her hardest not to react to the pain.

Soon the stinging subsided. Brittany couldn't tell if it was because her physical pain was diminishing, or if she felt better because her old life was being washed away. She looked at Devyn, who was staring at her body with a look of confusion and disgust as she ran the sponge over the cuts and bruises on Brittany's arms and legs.

"How did you survive..." Devyn mumbled to herself. Brittany chose not to respond because honestly, even she didn't know the answer.

After the bath, Devyn dressed Brittany in fresh servants clothes. "Alright, sit here," she ordered, pointing to a chair she placed in the middle of the bathroom. Devyn brushed through blonde hair that hadn't been tended to in ages. She cut the ridiculously long hair to a manageable length. She handed Brittany a toothbrush before trimming her finger and toe nails. After finishing some final touches, the older woman stepped back to admire her work. "Good, now you don't look like a savage," and nodded in approval.

Brittany smiled a little. She felt good for the first time in a long time.


The next few days were slow. Though her fever had broken and she felt much better, Brittany's exploration was limited to the kitchen, servants quarters, and servants bathroom. She ate, slept, and cleaned her old wounds. She hadn't seen her new master since the first time she came to check on her several days before, but she wasn't complaining. Having time to herself was therapeutic.

The only people she saw were Devyn, Mike, and a few other servants that resided in the quarters. They were gone throughout the day, but Brittany managed to talk with them briefly in the morning and night. There was Emma, the head cleaning maid, Tina, the servant in charge of landscaping and exterior maintenance, and Kurt, Santana's personal and interior designer. Emma was nice but a bit odd, Tina was quiet but generally happy, but it was Kurt who'd taken most interest in her. She felt comfortable around him for the most part, but she was still careful about what she shared with him because frankly he seemed like a gossip.

Brittany sat in the kitchen eating a chicken sandwich while she talked with Kurt and Mike. Kurt was going on about a guy named Blaine, the Lopez family driver, while Brittany and Mike just smiled and nodded at his obvious love struck rambling. Brittany's mind was elsewhere, however, so she had trouble concentrating on the boy in front of her. As much as she'd talked with the other workers here, nobody said a word about Santana to her. She found it odd, since she was sure she had walked in on a few of them talking about the woman, but silenced as soon as Brittany had entered.

"Are you guys even listening?" Kurt accused, looking back and forth at the both of them.

Mike nodded unconvincingly but Brittany continued to think. "What is Miss Santana like?" she thought aloud.

Kurt and Mike looked at each other knowingly, then back at her. Neither really knew what to say. Kurt spoke up first. "Why do you want to know, Britt?"

"It's just...nobody will talk about her. Around me, at least. It's weird," she shrugged.

Kurt sighed. "Well what do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Is she nice?"

"She has her moments. She's good to most of us, as long as she's had a good day and we haven't gotten in her way."

Brittany nodded. That sounded alright. But curiosity got the best of her. "Who is she not nice to?"

Kurt threw on an obviously fake confused face. "Huh?"

"You said she is good to most of you. Who is she not nice to?" Brittany was getting a little frustrated. They were both clearly trying to avoid answering her. Mike just stayed silent and Kurt played stupid. It was getting old.

She stared at Kurt, who suddenly found the cuff of his blazer very interesting. Finally, she threw down her sandwich. "Why won't anyone answer me?" It was the first time she'd raised her voice, making both of them jump.

"I...I uh...well," Mike began. "Santana has...some issues."

Kurt cut in. "There was an issue with her last personal servant."

Brittany's brow furrowed. She had a feeling she was going to regret asking, but she needed to know. "What kind of issues?"

Mike looked down while Kurt continued. "There was an incident a few years ago. Santana got her first personal servant and it didn't go too well. The poor girl ended up in the hospital not long after." Kurt looked up to try to read Brittany's face, but it was expressionless.

Brittany swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "Go on."

"Kurt, I don't think we should-" Mike warned, but Kurt cut him off.

"Nonsense. She has a right to know." He waved his hand dismissively, then leaned in a bit and hushed his voice. "When Santana was 17, her dad thought it'd be a good idea to get her a personal slave. The girl was about Santana's age, and quite good looking, and that's coming from me." He chuckled a little, then continued. "As you've seen, Santana isn't too good with controlling herself. A few of us would hear screams from Santana's quarters every so often. We just had to ignore them." Kurt looked down at his hands. "One night, Santana got into a fight with... well, she just got really angry, and took it out on her girl. We heard a struggle upstairs, and when Devyn finally went to investigate, she found the girl laying on the floor, beaten and unconscious, while Santana was in her bedroom corner, crying." Kurt whispered the last part.

Brittany's throat was dry. Her stomach hurt like she had just been gutted. The more she let the words sink in, the more nauseous she felt. She prayed she wouldn't share the same fate. What could the girl have done to make Santana so angry? She couldn't risk making the same mistakes. So she asked. "W-What happened?"

Kurt sat up again and shrugged. "Not sure. Rumor says Santana had been taking advantage of the poor girl and she finally stood up for herself. It's a shame, really."

"What's a shame?"

It was her. That voice. Brittany had only heard it a few times so far, but she'd know it from anywhere. She jumped up from her stool to face the source of the voice. Kurt seemed to be just as startled, since he jumped up as well.

"I-It's a shame, that uh, that Blaine's work shifts are different from mine. Because, you know, I'd like to spend more time with him," Kurt stuttered a bit, but Santana didn't seem to notice. In fact, she seemed to take this into consideration. Brittany was impressed how quick on his feet Kurt was. He must do this a lot.

"Noted," Santana hummed as she walked further inside the kitchen.

"Is there something I can make you, Miss?" Mike asked cautiously, though it seemed Santana was in a fairly acceptable mood.

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm actually here for Brittany," she said as she looked straight at the blonde.

Brittany went numb. After just hearing the horror story of the girl who worked in her position before her, the last place she wanted to be was with Santana. A million thoughts rushed through her brain so quickly that she started to get a headache. She couldn't tear her eyes away from her master, whose face was slowly creasing into an unpleasant expression. Had she messed up already? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mike and Kurt staring at her as well. Then she felt it. Her back came in contact with the wall. She had been backing up. Even her feet knew she shouldn't go with Santana.

Santana stared at the girl who'd cowered against the kitchen wall at her calling, then she looked at Kurt, who was fidgeting nervously with his tailored silver blazer. She sighed audibly and clenched her fists. "What did you tell her, Kurt?" Her voice was a low, shaky warning. Her anger was growing fast, and the whole room knew it.

Kurt looked terrified. "N-Nothing, Miss, I-"

Santana slammed her fist down on the counter-top. "Don't lie to me," she growled, but she didn't let him answer. "You told her about the girl, didn't you?" Kurt didn't move a muscle. He was frozen. "Didn't you!" she yelled at his lack of response.

Everyone jumped at her tone. There was so much tension in the air, no one knowing what Santana's next move would be. She was a ticking time bomb.

Santana closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to calm herself a bit. "Kurt, I told you what would happen if I caught you with your nose where it doesn't belong again," she began.

Kurt took a step back. "No, no. Please, Miss, I didn't mean to. She just- I just-"

Brittany finally found her footing. She stepped forward a little. "Don't, please." Her voice was small and pleading. Santana's eyes shot open at the sound. "I made him tell me. It's not his fault. Please, Miss, don't punish him. It was me."

Brittany wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe it was because she's never had anyone to look out for her, and maybe by doing this, she could gain Kurt's trust. She had a feeling she'd need all the help she could get down the road. The servants at her old place didn't even spare a glance at her. Brittany remembered how that felt: pleading for help, any help, and not one person acknowledging her existence. It could be different here, if she played her cards right. Even if that meant accepting punishment on behalf of someone else.

She watched as Santana's eyes studied her, a look of confusion and curiosity momentarily gracing her defined features. But hardness took over again only seconds later. The silence was growing too much to bear as three people stood, anxiously awaiting any sort of reaction from their respective master.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "Kurt, get out of my sight," she spat, only sparing a brief, yet unforgiving glare at him.

He merely nodded and began to back away, until he heard her speak again.

"And you can forget about seeing your little boy toy any time soon. You'll be lucky if I even keep him around."

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany watched as his face fell in defeat. She felt bad, but she'd done all she could do for him at this point.

"And you." Santana's threatening tone rang in her ears, snapping her attention back. "You come with me. Now."

Brittany felt like crying. She had no idea what was going to happen. She wanted Santana to give her a warning, considering this was her first week here, but her logic didn't allow her to get her hopes up. Luck has never been on her side. She dropped her head and obediently followed the other woman out of the kitchen.


They made their way through the corridors and up the stairs, to an open door at the end of the upstairs wing. Santana entered first, with Brittany close behind. The walls of the room were black. Brittany took a guess that they were in Santana's room, and decided she was right when she laid eyes on a large bed with black and red sheets, surrounded by tied up bed curtains. She stopped when she was a few feet inside, and Santana turned to shut the door.

Brittany winced as the door closed behind her. Though she's never seen this room before, she was too scared to look around. Her hands trembled, so she kept them latched to each other tightly behind her back. On instinct, she found a spot on the floor and focused on it. Hugo never let her make eye contact with him. It had taken her a while to get used to concentrating on one spot without wavering, but after several strikes from him, she mastered it. It was like second nature to her now.

"On your knees," Santana ordered as she walked past the girl.

Brittany dropped to the floor immediately, her knees slightly burning from the sudden rough contact with the carpet. She kept her eyes in her selected spot.

Silence infected the room. She wanted to see what was going on, what Santana was doing. But she couldn't. She was too afraid. Brittany knew she'd already overstepped moments ago in the kitchen, so she didn't dare push Santana any further.

"Look at me."

She wanted to obey, she really did. Because she knew Santana would be angry if she didn't. But she couldn't lift her head. It felt too heavy. She was weighed down by fear and her conditioning to keep her eyes elsewhere.

She heard movement. Santana was getting closer. Her hands squeezed tighter together behind her, causing her knuckles to turn white.

"I said, look at me." Santana's voice grew louder and more agitated.

But she still couldn't. Her eyes stung with tears and she braced herself for a blow. Santana's feet came into view, and Brittany clamped her eyes shut. She knew it would come. All she had to do was sit through it, and hopefully it would be over soon. Hopefully.

But it never came. Instead of the hand she was sure to feel across her face, she felt a knuckle dig into the bottom of her chin, forcefully pulling her head upwards. Maybe Santana just needed a better angle. Brittany kept her eyes shut.

The knuckle disappeared once her head was up, and the strong presence seemed to have backed away. Slowly, she peeked through one eye, and then the other, to see Santana leaning against a large, wooden desk with her arms crossed. The scowl from her face wasn't gone, but she didn't seem to be as fired up. She just might be in luck this time.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Santana suddenly challenged.

Was she supposed to answer that? It did sound like a question. "N-No one, I-"

"How dare you step in and defend him, especially when he clearly has no respect for you." Her words were like venom. It was no wonder everyone feared her.

Brittany cocked her head slightly at this. No respect? He told her that story because she deserved to hear it...right?

"He told you that to scare you," Santana stated lowly, as if reading Brittany's mind. "Did it work?"

Yes. Brittany couldn't bring herself to answer that out loud. She locked with Santana's eyes. Her eyes were such a dark brown, they were almost black. It fit so well with her; fierce and intimidating. The blackness seemed to want to swallow her whole. They started to grow bigger. It took a few seconds for Brittany to realize it was because Santana was approaching her again.

"Are you scared?" she asked again as she continued to take a few steps towards Brittany.

"Yes," Brittany quietly admitted. She didn't think Santana expected it, because she looked a bit surprised at the blonde's blatant admission. Brittany watched a few emotions cross the woman's face. Cockiness, lust, pride, and another one she couldn't identify. She hadn't seen that particular look before. Was it...disappointment?

Before Brittany could think much more into it, Santana's movements caught her attention again. Brittany's eyes widened as she watched Santana's hands move to the button on her pants, and snapped them open. "Good," Santana said as she slowly lowered the zipper, "You should be."

Brittany didn't know what to do. She could try running, but she was pretty sure Santana would catch her before she even got to her feet. No, she couldn't run. That wouldn't make her time here any easier. Besides, how bad could it be? Santana was a girl, so at least she wouldn't have to endure the same kind of violation a man would bring, right?

"Give me your hand," Santana demanded, and stuck out her own hand expectantly. Brittany slowly pulled her trembling right hand from behind her back. Santana grabbed her wrist firmly, bringing the blonde's hand palm-first to her slightly exposed crotch.

Wrong. Brittany tried to snatch her hand away in shock as it made impact with the bulge under Santana's thin boxer-briefs. Now that wasn't something Brittany was expecting. Santana smirked as she tightened her grip on the girl's wrist, using her hand to rub her member. At first Brittany thought it could be a strap-on. Strange, but not totally unlikely. It wasn't until she felt it become harder that she fully understood what she was dealing with.

As fast as realization hit, panic struck just as quick. Tears started pouring out of Brittany's eyes. She couldn't control them, they just came. She felt like she was going to vomit. She'd spent the last six months of her life living in fear of a man dominating her, penetrating her against her will. She'd talked herself into being a little more comfortable these past few days, convincing herself that she was with a woman now, and she hoped it meant less pain for her. But oh, how she was wrong. She's right back in the same situation she'd just come from: the sex slave of an overly aggressive pervert. Except this one had a bigger dick.

"How's that for a surprise?" Santana chuckled throatily, suppressing a moan at the feeling of the beautiful girl's hand touching her.

"Please..." it was all Brittany could get out. She didn't want to live this life again. Her sobs started to shake her whole body. It obviously wasn't the reaction Santana was expecting, because she released the pale hand and stepped back. Brittany almost didn't notice, as she was lost in her own desperate thoughts.

"Stop it." It was meant as a demand, but Santana's voice cracked.

Brittany heard the sound of a quick zipper and eventually managed to look up at her master. To say she was a bit surprised at what she saw was an understatement. Santana was standing a few feet away from her, arms crossed and looking upset. But it wasn't angry-upset. It was more nervous and embarrassed. But why?

Santana's eyes drifted to Brittany's. Tears were still streaming down Brittany's face, but the wracking sobs had subsided. "Just stop crying," Santana tried again, this time quieter.

Brittany wanted to question Santana's sudden change of demeanor, but frankly, she didn't care. She just wanted out. If she could just escape today without being harmed, that would be okay with her. A wave of guilt tried to push it's way through her, but she pushed it right back. Brittany remembered a time where she used to care more about other people than she did herself, but that sort of thinking was drained out of her when she was forced to switch into survival mode. Sure, it had peeked back through with Kurt, but she still had selfish motives for what she did. And with Santana throwing her right back into the fire, why should she care about what Santana was feeling?

Santana cleared her throat and straighted up again. Her authoritative look was back as she took a few steps back towards Brittany, who's tears were slowly ceasing. She didn't get as close as she was before, and Brittany noticed her hesitance. But she thanked it more than she questioned it.

"Gossip isn't something I take lightly around here. I don't want to find out you ran your mouth to anyone."

Brittany nodded quickly.

Santana sighed and broke eye contact. "Good. You start work tomorrow. I want you here when I rise in the morning," she said as she walked past Brittany towards the bathroom connected to her bedroom, "Now get out."

Brittany wasted no time getting to her feet, bowing to a retreating Santana, and making her way out of the room, leaving Santana alone once again.


I'm sure you're wondering what's going through Santana's mind. Don't worry, the next chapter will be very Santana-heavy. Stay tuned!