Vended To Don Damon

Iris's POV

I always knew that Mimi Teresa liked me. Not loved, no, no. Just liked me, liked having me around and passing me off like one of her shiny little trinkets. That weird but fascinating thing she owned.

Yes, that's how my godmother always saw me.

Teresa Paulman or Mimi Teresa as I called her, mostly because she didn't want me to call her Mom as she believed she was still too young to be a mom-she's 53, and I couldn't call her Aunt because, well I just never did. Well, she has been my godmother since I was six years old when my parents decided to abandon me on her doorstep.

I can't remember why as it's been 13 years since then and I've been living with her ever since then. My name is Iris, Iris Paulman, I took Mimi's last name.

Life wasn't always great or horrible either growing up with her. We lived in this fairly large but very old and somewhat empty apartment, in the slightly better part of Harlem. It had three rooms, all of them old and falling apart.

One was mine, one was Mimi's, and the other was a room she kept all her treasures. 80s stuff; old paintings, old flashy clothes, letters, perfume bottles, and a slipping memory of being once famous, that's if the stories she constantly bragged off to me were real.

Mimi wasn't very present in my life, I mean she was there because she had nowhere else to be. Spending her days smoking pot and watching reality TV but she did give me what she could, though I never knew how. Mimi never worked.

I always wondered why but she never told me. Well, today I found out.

You see, living with Mimi was like living with walking bipolar. You couldn't predict what would happen each day, just like today.

I couldn't predict that after living with her as basically my only family for all my life, something like this would happen. I couldn't predict that ever.

"You did....what?"

"Seriously Iris, If you can just understand you'd be able to know why I'm doing this."

"I can't believe this," I said. I couldn't. Was this a joke? Did she forget to take her pills again? "You can't be serious."

"I don't know why you're acting like this-"

"You're selling me off! What...what the hell, Mimi? You can't do that!"

It was a random and cold afternoon in Harlem, New York. I did not expect to come back from my below-minimum-wage job, tired and hungry only for this always half-drunk woman to tell me that I was...she was...

"Jesus.."

"Don't call him into this, he blessed this decision."

"Why would you do this?" My eyes were getting itchy at this point.

She just straight-up told me she was selling me off to pay her debt. Not just that, she was selling me off into a mafia.

What mafia? How did she get affiliated with the mafia?

"It's going to favor you if you look at it the right way," she said, walking over to me, her beads and old jewelry jingling as she came closer, "Imagine turning out to be the mafia lord's favorite girl. Think of all the good stuff you'll get."

"Mimi...what are you even saying?" My green gaze traveled to her wrinkled face. I know she wasn't joking, she made the phone call in front of me. Telling a certain 'Mickey' that I was ready for pick up.

"Irine..." Her hand traveled to my face as she looked at me. Irine. She sometimes calls me when she's drunk or a little high. Maybe, she was and this was just a misunderstanding-

"You owe me."

"What?"

"You owe me, Pretty girl."

"What.. what do you mean-"

"Oh come off it," her hands went to my hair and the grip became tighter. "I took you in and for all these years, I took care of you."

She seemed to hold it tighter.

"I gave you food, clothing, and a roof over your pretty head. I asked for nothing in return.

I mean, did you think I was Mother Theresa or something?" She chuckled, "You owe me this, okay?" She was nodding now like she wanted me to follow, to understand that she had a right to do this.

"You're not going to do this to me." I yanked myself away from her. "You don't want me to do this."

She shrugged, running her wrinkled hand through her bleached wispy hair. "You wanna run away? Go ahead." She smirked, "It's the fucking Mafia, sweetie. They know you're my payment for all my debt, they're gonna find you. You're their property now."

...What?

****

It didn't take up to an hour for me to realize that I wasn't daydreaming and Mimi wasn't high or just joking. An hour later there was a knock on our door, it was sharp, it was abrupt, and just twice.

Mimi hurriedly opened the door and in came two men, dressed in black and with stoic expressions on their handsome faces. They didn't even bother to greet Mimi who was smiling awkwardly.

"Iris Paulman?"

"There she is." Mimi immediately gestured to me and I stood there, the tears I held in already spilling down my cheeks. I trembled under the gaze of the men as they approached me, they stopped right in front of me, went to my side, and gestured for me to walk out of the house.

I did, not looking back at Mimi, not daring to.

Outside the house was a jet-black SUV already waiting. I gestured inside and they did this without touching me again.

As I settled into the plush seats, the thought of escaping crossed my mind again. I kept thinking about how I could just jump out of the car or trick them or something. Those thoughts however stopped when I looked down in front of me.

Guns. Guns of different sizes Arranged in the back of the driver seats and passenger seats, in front of me.

"Oh..my God.." were they going to kill me?

My heart jumped as the car started moving, the windows closing and the two just sat at my side, not saying anything.

"Where...where are you taking me?"

They didn't answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

That's when one of them turned. "You're now the property of Don Damon Vyon. If we so much as touch you, we'll be dead."

I tried to process the words they said, but they sounded distant and muffled. "Property of Don Damon Vyon?" What did that even mean?

Whatever it meant, I didn't like it one bit.

The guns, the silence, the ominous tone, all screamed danger.

As the SUV navigated through the darkening streets, my mind began racing.

I thought of escape plans, but each of them formed in my head dissolved as I noticed each of the windows was tinted, and the doors seemed to be locked from the outside.

One of the men, his face expressionless, turned to me. "We will be arriving soon. I suggest you make peace with whatever demons haunt you. Because your life will never be the same." He announced.

Iris's POV

They brought me to a massive mansion that looked like a girl's dormitory hidden deep in the forest, far from the city and any chance of escape. The men were silent throughout the journey and I wasn't in the mood to start a conversation with any of them. All I wanted to do was just survive this. Mimi's betrayal still stung me deeply and whenever I closed my eyes. All I could see was her cold face smiling back at me.

I wanted to cry so badly, let the tears flow freely from my eyes while I cursed my parents for bringing me into this cold world.

Revenge filled my mind and I swore to myself that I would make it through this. The men led me into the house and I soon discovered that I wasn't the only girl in the house. There were dozens of us from all over the world. Brought here for whatever reason you could think of.

Some of them were refugees, fleeing their country, others had been lured here on the pretense of a better life. Whatever the reason was, it didn't matter. We were just potential slaves who were here to be trained on how to pleasure our owners.

Our teacher was the most loathsome man I had ever encountered.

Adam Culver.

"Strip."

Adam's command echoed through the dimly lit room. I wrapped my arms around myself, taking a step back. "No."

A cruel smile twisted his lips as he advanced toward me. "You don't have a choice anymore, pretty thing. You're here to learn obedience." His fingers traced my jawline and I jerked away, my stomach churning.

"Don't touch me."

The slap came fast, stinging across my cheek. I stumbled but kept my footing, tasting blood where my teeth had cut into my lip.

"You'll come to learn your place in the following months," he said, circling me like a vulture. "That's how long it usually takes to break the stubborn ones. To teach them their new place in the world." His breath was hot against my neck. "Strip. Now."

I spat in his face.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged down a dark hallway, my shoulders aching from Adam's brutal grip. He threw me into a windowless room, the metal door clanging shut behind me.

"Two weeks!" His voice carried through the door. "Two weeks without food should teach you some manners."

I curled up in the corner of the empty room, pressing my forehead to my knees. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Days blurred together in the darkness. My stomach stopped growling after a while, settling into a hollow ache. I lost track of time, marking the days only by the tiny meals of stale bread and water they slid under the door every few days.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened. Adam stood there, looking annoyed.

"Fuck, why so soon? He usually gives me months to properly train these ungrateful wenches," he muttered, yanking me to my feet. "I would have enjoyed breaking you properly. But time's up. They want you at the auction tonight."

My legs could barely hold me as he dragged me through fluorescent-lit corridors. Other girls were being herded in the same direction, all of us stumbling along like sheep to slaughter.

They loaded us into a black van with no windows. I found myself squeezed between two other girls – Sarah, a redhead who couldn't stop crying, and Maria, whose blank stare worried me more than Sarah's tears.

"My father's a lawyer," Sarah whispered, her voice breaking. "He'll find me. He has to find me."

Maria just shook her head, her dark hair falling forward to hide her face. "No one's coming for any of us."

The auction house turned out to be an old theater, its former grandeur now tainted by its current purpose. They herded us backstage, where a sharp-faced woman in a red dress began ordering us around.

"Strip. Everything off. Now." Her voice carried none of Adam's cruelty, just cold efficiency. When some girls hesitated, two burly men stepped forward menacingly.

I forced myself to comply, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. They gave us each a thin silk sash that barely covered anything. Mine was white, marking me as 'untouched' merchandise.

Through the curtain, I could hear the auctioneer's booming voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's exclusive event."

One by one, they called us out. I watched as Sarah was led onto the stage, her sash pulled away. "Lot 844, eighteen years old, natural redhead. Starting bid at thirty thousand."

The bidding was quick. Sarah went for seventy-five thousand to someone called The Lobo. She struggled as they dragged her away, screaming for her father.

Maria was next. "Lot 845, twenty-two years old, experienced dancer. Starting bid at forty thousand." She went for ninety thousand to a man who kept touching his gold rings as he bid.

Then came Luna, a willowy blonde who'd been in the van with us. "Lot 846, twenty years old, classical pianist. Starting bid at sixty thousand." The bidding war for her was fierce, ending at one hundred and twenty thousand.

With each sale, my heart pounded harder. I watched as Jasmine, Kate, and then Rebecca were sold off like cattle. Some fought, some wept, some just stood there like Maria had, already broken.

Then it was my turn. They pushed me onto the stage, the bright lights blinding me. The silk robe was yanked away, leaving me exposed to hundreds of hungry eyes.

The auctioneer's voice boomed out. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, lot 847. Nineteen years old, untouched. A rare find indeed. Starting bid at fifty thousand."

Silence.

"Forty thousand?"

More silence. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.

"Thirty thousand? Come now, gentlemen. She's a beauty, even if she's proved... difficult to train."

A few chuckles from the crowd, but no bids. Maybe no one would want me. Maybe I'd-

"Five hundred thousand."

The voice cut through the theater like a blade. Deep, commanding, brooking no argument. The crowd said nothing. It's like they knew.

Wait. Have I forgotten so quickly? Ha. How stupid of me.

The whole ordeal just... I was already promised that man, that Don...Don something.

The auctioneer nearly dropped his gavel. "F-five hundred thousand from Don Vyon! Do I hear-"

"You won't." The same voice, closer now. A figure emerged from the shadows of a private box. He looked at the other bidders, as though daring them to make a counterbid. Nobody who loved their lives did. "She's mine."

And that's why they never said anything. I was sold from the moment I left Mimi's house.

The crowd parted as he approached the stage. Even in the harsh lights, his eyes gleamed silver-gray, fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. He looked exactly like what he was – dangerous, powerful, completely in control.

Don Damon Vyon. The Devil himself.

And he'd just bought me.

Someone hurriedly brought me a robe, their hands shaking as they helped me into it. I watched as Vyon spoke quietly with the auctioneer, money changing hands with practiced efficiency.

As they led me off stage, I caught a glimpse of the next girl being brought out. Our eyes met briefly – hers filled with terror, mine with an apology I couldn't speak.

Vyon's hand landed on my lower back, guiding me toward the exit. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it carried an unmistakable possessiveness that made me shiver.

"Mine," he murmured, so quietly that I didn't notice it at first.

That one word terrified me more than anything else that had happened tonight. Because in it, I heard not just ownership, but intention. Not just possession, but obsession.

I'd just been bought by the Devil himself. And somehow, that terrified me less than the way he'd said that single word.

Mine.

Damon Pov

I hadn't planned on visiting the black market so soon. These auctions usually bored me – fragile toys that broke too easily, like my last pet. Poor thing couldn't handle a single night with me. But Julian, my right hand had suggested we make an appearance, something about finding the right toy for me.

Preposterous. I was never that sentimental. That gets you killed in my line of work.

"Sir," Julian's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "The auction's about to end. Should we head out?"

I was about to agree when the auctioneer's voice caught my attention. "Lot 847, nineteen years old, untouched."

Untouched.

I turned back, my interest piqued. The girl on stage stood straight despite her nakedness, defiance burning in those ocean-blue eyes. Most were hunched, broken. But not this one.

She seemed familiar too.

"She's the one?"

"Yes, Sir," Julian responded. Ah, as I thought. "Do you think she's too early, Sir? Maybe a few more weeks?"

This girl, Mimi's payment to me was brought here for a reason. She wasn't supposed to meet me just yet, till she was ready.

But looking at her now.

"I want her now. She's ready."

Julian turned around and gave a signal.

When no one bid, I almost laughed. They didn't dare.

Total Idiots too. They couldn't see the potential – the thrill of corrupting something so pure, so untainted. "Five hundred thousand."

The drive home was becoming increasingly irritating. The girl – Iris, according to her papers – wouldn't shut up.

"Why me? What are you going to do to me? Where are we going?"

I kept my eyes fixed on my phone, scrolling through emails. Usually, I enjoyed it when they begged, but her voice was grating on my nerves.

"Answer me! You can't just-"

"Marcus." I didn't need to say more. My man reached back, producing a cloth gag.

She fought him, of course. It was almost amusing watching her try to bite Marcus's fingers. Almost. But then I noticed how both Marcus and Anthony's eyes lingered on her body, still barely covered by the thin auction robe.

Marcus's knuckles were white on the gag as he pulled it tight, his fingers deliberately brushing against her neck. Lingering. Too fucking long.

I watched through narrowed eyes as Anthony shifted in his seat, adjusting his pants while pretending to look out the window. But every few seconds, his gaze would drift back to where the robe had slipped off Iris's shoulder, revealing creamy skin.

"Beautiful piece you got there, boss," Marcus mumbled, his eyes fixed on her chest rising and falling with each breath. "Real beautiful."

The rage built slowly in my chest as Anthony licked his lips, both men exchanging knowing looks. They thought I didn't notice how they angled their bodies toward her, how their breathing had gotten heavier, how their hands twitched with the barely contained desire to touch what was mine.

Mine. Not theirs to look at. Not theirs to want. Not theirs to even think about.

The car would need new upholstery after I was done with them. But first, we needed to cover her up. I couldn't very well kill my best men. At least, not yet.

"Pull over," I ordered, my voice deadly calm. "We're making a stop."

The car screeched to a halt outside Valentina's Boutique. A front business for the family. Perfect.

"Out," I ordered, grabbing Iris's arm. Her skin was soft under my grip. "Both of you stay here." The warning in my voice was clear – they'd already looked at my property enough.

The bell chimed as we entered. Valentina herself hurried forward, all fake smiles and nervous energy. Of course, she was scared of me. Why shouldn't she be? Her business existed only at my whim. "Don Vyon! What a pleasure-"

"I need clothes. For her." I pushed Iris forward. "What's your size, doll?"

She lifted her chin, eyes blazing above the gag. Refusing to answer.

Something dark stirred in my chest. I enjoyed defiance, enjoyed breaking it, but not in public. Never in public.

"Tape measure," I barked at Valentina, who scrambled to comply.

Iris tried to twist away as I reached for her, but I caught her easily, spinning her around and pinning her back against my chest. "Stand still," I growled in her ear, feeling her shiver. "Or this gets much worse."

She stilled, but I could feel her rapid heartbeat as I ran the tape measure across her shoulders, down her sides, and around her hips. Each measurement I called out to Valentina, enjoying how Iris flinched at my touch.

"Dresses, skirts, blouses. Nothing too conservative." I released Iris, watching her stumble forward. "And lingerie. Lots of it."

Valentina returned quickly with arms full of clothing. I selected a deep blue dress that would match those defiant eyes. "Put it on."

Iris's gaze darted to the changing rooms.

"Here." I settled into a plush armchair. "Where I can see you."

She shook her head. "No. I can't do that." She hugged the dress to herself. "Why can't I go to the changing room?"

"Because you can't ever leave my sight," I replied. "You're my property now, doll." I leaned forward, enjoying how she backed away. "Nothing you have is private anymore. Not your body, not your thoughts, not your fears. The sooner you accept that the easier this will be."

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she reached for the ties of her robe. Good girl.

The robe fell away and I allowed myself to look at her. Pale skin unmarked by bruises or scars – that would change soon enough. Curves in all the right places, begging to be marked, claimed.

She fumbled with the dress, cheeks burning red as my gaze traveled over her body. The material finally slid down, covering what was mine to look at whenever I pleased.

"Better." I stood, gathering the rest of the clothes. "Now we can go home." I gripped her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. "And see just how long that defiance of yours lasts."

A whimper escaped around her gag. Music to my ears.

This one wouldn't break easily like the others. No, this one would be fun to corrupt, to twist, to mold into exactly what I wanted. And judging by the fear and fury warring in those blue eyes, she knew it too.

I couldn't wait to get started.