Chapter 5 Laura

A shaky breath brushed past my parted lips, breaking the silence in the tepid atmosphere. My hands were above my head, pain spreading through them. I attempted to lower them, but I winced when I realized how ineffective my efforts were; it was as if I lost control of my limbs, or they were paralyzed.

Terror and panic surged through me and my heartbeat kicked into overdrive, my breath getting ragged. Where was I? My vision was impaired by a tight fabric that exerted pressure around my head, and the fact I couldn't see a thing ensnared me in my fear.

I pulled once, pulled over and over again with all my might, but the repeated clicks resonating in the background told me I'd been handcuffed to the bed I lay on. My legs were wide apart, the shackles holding them rendered any movement impossible, and my knees hurt. A sense of vulnerability enveloped me, accompanied by whimpers and sobs, my tears seeping through the blindfold.

I sank into my body, my breathing still labored. Memories flooded me: the elation of eventually leaving the Pakhan's captivity, the thrill while I relished the view of the world sitting in my master's luxurious Mercedes-Maybach S600. Oldie. My long-sustained curiosity was then short-lived when my master took off his mask and revealed himself to be the stranger. I recalled the conflicting emotions of fear and contentment that I experienced upon knowing my bidder was the stranger. The experience when the sharp needle pricked the back of my neck came fresh in head.

My master. He put me in this vulnerable state. He'd kill me.

The sound of the wooden door creaking open drove shivers down my body, eliciting a violent shudder and a gasp from me. Overwhelmed by fear, I broke out panting. I pulled the cuffs and struggled until the impossible thought of sinking into the sheets. Helpless now, my body went lax. I was hyperventilating, whimpering.

It was him. Memories of when we were in the car came floating to me. I could hear the light thuds of his footsteps advancing towards me, and feel the density of his dark aura that heralded his arrival, leaving me completely unsettled.

He stood beside me, his daunting figure looming over me. I could feel his eyes on me, like fire burning through my flesh. With every second, my fear went up a notch, and my heart pounded violently in my chest.

"You were out for longer than I expected." His voice sounded nothing like the violence I expected. It was soft, but not promising at all with the sinister felt in it.

"What are you going to do to me?"

I felt his weight beside me on the bed and assumed he leaned over me as his breath swept over my face. "A lot. And I wonder how much you can take."

My heart raced at his response. "Are you going to kill me?" I sobbed.

Silence fell across the room, thickening on and on, before I heard him say, "Not yet," his thumb feathering my bottom lip so delicately.

I felt his weight leave the bed.

"Tell me."

I shuddered with a groan as a hot metal touched the skin of my inner arm. The intense burning echoed through my body, awakening different sensations. Terrified now, my breath roughened, having organized the feel of the object and thought it could be... blade.

"What happened on that night of your fifteenth birthday?"

He passed the edge of the knife between the strap of my white body-con dress, snapping it. It was as if my heart snapped alongside, my breath trembled in fear.

That question. He'd asked me that weird, enigmatic question in the car while he fumed in rage, nearly strangling me to death. Now again. How could I provide an answer to such a question, when I couldn't get my head around what he was saying?

"I..."

He grabbed my face, softly speaking a hairbreadth apart from my face, "No more lies... Laura." He breezed the knife towards my other hand, cutting the other strap, eliciting a displeased moan from me.

Laura. He'd also called me that name when we were in the car. Could my master just be a psychopath who basked in emotionally blackmailing and accusing people just to hurt them? He could be, in fact, he was a psychopath. I ended up in the wrong hands. The realization pulled tears from my eyes and I sniffled.

This was my fate. He was my master. I'd obey him, submit to him, and let him do whatever he wanted with me. That was every Pakhan slave's dream, that was my dream too. To be a good slave to my master.

Confused as I was, my answer remained the same, "I don't remember anything. I swear."

My breath hitched as I apprehended the consequences of my answer, and waited to feel the knife break my skin, and stab through my flesh.

"You will."

He found my nipple which hid under my dress, circled the flat of the knife softly around it, the heat of the knife awakening a sensation that made my insides burn with hunger. But knowing I was at his mercy and he'd drive that knife into me at any time snowballed my fear with every second.

Bit by bit, as if intending to make me overthink his next action, he cut the dress open from the top to the bottom until I was left in my G-string thong.

An unexpected feeling of shame came hitting me like tides, and I threw my face aside, sobbing into my arm. I'd never felt this shy, even the first time I undressed before countless men back when I was the Pakhan's captive.

"You definitely will..."

He ran the flat of the heated blade over my nipple, making me twitched. Using the tip of the knife, he circled my nipple repeatedly, eliciting a sigh from me and the juncture between my legs clenched. My brow furrowed. How was I aroused in the state of fear?

"By the time you get chained for days, starved, perched. Or by the time you feel the knife's blade buried inside you." He gently began running the spine of the knife through my inner lips with my underwear still on.

An irresistible moan escaped me. Given his latter words, I willed my body to fight the pleasure fearing his intention, but my body caved in when he pressed the knife handle over my swollen clit, stroking it with my underwear still on.

"Do you want that?"

"No." I managed to answer, the response having poured out as a quiver.

"No?"

My scream, drenched in pain, tore through the atmosphere the second I felt the tip of the knife nick my left inner thigh. The pain ignited a sudden rush of emotion and reminded me of whom I truly was and what I did wrong as his slave. "No, Master," I cried.

He began cutting my underwear from the top. I could feel the knife spine in my folds as he advanced downward, the hot sensation beckoning on the pleasure that faded earlier.

"It's just a small cut. It's extremely measly compared to what I have in store for you."

I sniffled, sobbing. What should I do to make him believe I wasn't able to access my memory? I thought of lying to save myself the punishment.

"I don't remember anything, Master. Please believe me." I spoke the truth, even though I knew it was useless.

"We'll see about that."

Having stripped me stark naked, I heard a low thud on the floor and realized he had thrown the knife. He proceeded to unshackle me and pulled me by the hand so that I was sitting on the bed.

The blindfold was suddenly removed, and I found myself staring at the gray-eyed figure towering over me, the man who had teased me with a knife. My master. I felt a blast of bliss flash across my mind. Gasping, I quickly lowered my head, gulping in fear. I'd broken a rule.

"I won't punish you for that just yet." He reached for a long chain in a bag on the floor beside the bed. "Lay on the floor."

Without a second hesitation, I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, managed my hurting knees, and limped to the front of the bedpost, laying my naked body on the cold concrete floor. He cuffed my hands, shackling me against the heavy metal bedpost with a chain.

He squatted beside me, right over my head, and though my eyes stared overhead, I knew his eyes were studying my body.

"What a pity it is that Little Cruella has to meet such an unfortunate fate after she's run for so many years." He firmly grasped my chin and turned my head towards him. "Let's see what becomes of this pretty face in three days."

Releasing his grip on my face, he sauntered out of the room.

My heart sank and my eyes closed when he shut the door, hopeless tears running along my face as I broke out sobbing.

Where was I? How long had I been here? How long would I be stuck in this room with candles, nightlights, and a high and heavy bed? How many hours was I out for?

At this helpless point in my life, I was steeped in fear, and thoughts, but never desperate for escape. Strangely, I wasn't moved to escape. And... never ready to die either. I was his slave. I must submit to him, but how much of him would I be able to handle?

'A lot'. 'Not yet'. Those words of his filled me with fear. A part of me wasn't ready to tread down this road as a slave. His slave. Surprisingly, an integral of me was willing, so willing to surrender to him from the moment I saw him at the auction.