Unspoken

~ Chapter One ~

By the time my new master came into the back room with a group of middle aged men and women, my legs had fallen asleep. I'd been forced to kneel uncomfortably, my hands in my lap, without moving or speaking for three hours. The cold, crumbly concrete beneath me was filthy, and it had created a deep imprint on my skin.
I was shivering and cold, my stomach hollow from prolonged hunger. My wrists were raw from the ropes that bound me, chaffing so badly that blood trickled down my hands.
I was abruptly pulled to my feet as my new master approached, and I wobbled unsteadily. My wrists burned with the pull of the rope, and I was suddenly yanked forward, violently and painfully, before a hand slapped me hard across my face, bloodying my nose. I tried not to glare at the Keeper who was punishing me as the blood trickled to my lips.
"Stand straight, 58," the man hissed as my new master stopped in front of us. The young man handed over the money, all in paper bills, then he looked at the keeper with icy cold black eyes.
"In the future, I would prefer you kept your hands off of my belongings," his voice was harsh, cold. He hadn't looked at me once since he'd arrived, but I hadn't expected him to.
"Of course, sir," the man said, handing my bound wrists to my new master with a sickening grin. "I apologize, Mr. Ivanov."
"Move," my new master commanded, pulling me behind him through the crowd of people eyeing him with jealousy. Blood was still dripping from my nose, now trickling down my chin.
"She was one of the only two virgins this month," a man sighed as we passed.
"Shame. I wanted to bang that ass," another said.
"She's rather skinny, though," a woman said.
"Yes, but she's got a nice hourglass figure."
      "It's too bad you outbid me," the creepy old man from earlier stepped in front of us, grinning snidely.
      "Yes, well, I wanted her," my master said emotionlessly.
      "Indeed," the older man said, eyeing me with a knowing grin that made me feel sick. Something in my gut told me to stay away from this guy. He seemed lethal.
My master pulled me around the old man, and then through the the rest of the crowd quickly. I could feel his creepy eyes staring daggers into my back. I still felt sick and uneasy, too.
"Move faster," my master said impatiently as he pulled us through a few doors and down a long hallway. I stumbled after him, pins and needles still in my legs.
"Um," I hesitated as my foot caught on absolutely nothing. I was clumsy like that, sometimes. Another wave of dizziness rushed over me as he pulled me forward.
"Don't speak unless I speak to you first," he said roughly. "I'll only warn you once. Next time, I'll punish you."
I bit my lip, feeling angry and scared. My master was cold, and possibly cruel. I'll do my best to live with this, but if it gets bad, I'll end it all. Maybe I can even escape. I told my self again. I knew the chances of suicide and escape weren't high, but I would rather die than live as someone's slave.
Mr. Ivanov pressed an elevator button, signaling that he wanted to to go down. He pulled me inside the moment its doors opened. He then pressed another button, and the smooth silver doors slid closed.
       He turned swiftly to face me, his dark eyes hard. Shades of gold and amber were flecked in his irises. His eyes were a thousand oceans deep, and only a few shades away from black.
      I trembled anxiously as he finally let go of my bound wrists. He was intimidating, and his glare scared me.
"What is your name?" he spoke quickly, his expression defensive, but his eyes concentrated on my face.
"My name?" I asked. My throat was dry. No one had asked for my name since I'd been captured.
"Yes, your name. Are you too dumb to know what I'm asking?"
"Nevaeh," I said, blushing at the insult. I felt a little defensive, myself. "And I was educated."
Something flickered in his dark eyes, but I couldn't read the emotion before it disappeared and his expression cooled.
"Nevaeh," he paused. "Don't talk back to me. You will address me as sir, or Mr. Ivanov, not master. There are five main rules my entertainers must follow."
The elevator doors opened and he gripped my elbow, pulling me quickly through the underground garage. He wasn't as rough and careless with me as my instructors had been, but he wasn't exactly gentle either. I winced in pain as his fingers pressed against a particularly bad bruise.
My body was covered in tiny scars and bruises from daily beatings, and from being drug across the floor by my hair  when I displeased my instructors.
      On my first day at the institution, I pissed my instructor off so badly that he had gotten in my face and started screaming at me. He backhanded me across the face and I'd become hysterical, screaming and sobbing, and trying to run away. Three instructors quickly shoved me into the ground and restrained me before I could even take three steps.
      I screamed louder and fought against them, terrified. I had no clue yet why this was happening to me. I began to hyperventilate, panicking. Then, I felt another needle pierce my skin, and I passed out. They had sedated me.
      When I woke up, I was in a padded room in a dirty padded bed. I wore a white hospital gown. When I tried to move, I realized that my wrists and ankles were restrained to the bed by leather cuffs. Wires were hooked into my arm by an IV needle. Several attached bags were dripping fluids into me slowly.
Again, I panicked. I'd never liked being in small spaces. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, and being unable to move only made the claustrophobia worse. I spent hours screaming my head off until the door opened and I was sedated again.
      I don't know how long I was left there, as the drugs pumping into me kept me in and out of consciousness, but I eventually woke up in a new room. The walls were made of concrete, and the floors were the same. I was laying in a bunk bed. Across from me was another bunk bed.
      I was staying with two girls and a boy in a confined cell. We were called out each day to work with the instructors, and herded back to the cell each night.
      I later learned from one of the girls that we were the lucky ones. They had been transferred to the institution a little over a year ago, though none of them seemed to know why. We were Virgin product.
     Unlike the other hundreds of entertainers being trained at the time, we would not be instructed on how to sexually preform. Our sexual training would be left for our masters to teach.
       We were placed in this group because of our high firtility rates, combined with our physical looks. We were essentially the most expensive product, and intended to be used by our masters as the ultimate breeding stock. It made me sick just thinking about it.
"Rule number one," he continued, not even glancing at me. "Don't ask questions about me, my past, or anything related."
I pressed my lips together, feeling out of place and confused as I was brought back to the present.
"Rule number two," he said, leading me down a set of stairs to the next level. "You must do exactly as I ask. Three," he pulled me through rows of glossy and extravagant parked cars. The garage smelled damp, and and of engine fumes. "You will not touch me unless I tell you otherwise. This is not up for discussion. But I may touch you, and I may dress you however I please. I expect you not to complain."
What would he want to see me in? Most entertainers were dressed in provocative or casual clothes. We were separated from the pool of citizens only by a tiny tattooed dot on the insides of our left wrists. A tracker was injected by needle at the base of our necks, noticeable by the tiny lump it created.
"Four," he continued, stopping next to a sleek black car. He unlocked the glossy doors, then opened the passenger side for me. He took my hand and helped me in, untying the ropes quickly from my wrists. His skin was warm. "You must take care of yourself. This includes hygiene as well as your physical and mental well being. If I see fit, I will put you on diets or medicines according to your needs. You are to exercise, eat balanced meals, and you will see a doctor every month for physical and mental exams, as well as STD,STI, and pregnancy tests."
He shut the door and walked around to the other side. My heart was pounding from fear and desperation. As he slid into the drivers seat, the doors locked.
        The soft purr of the engine filled the silence as he backed up. The car glided almost silently through the garage, stopping only at checkpoints on each floor.
I massaged my sore wrists, wincing at the stinging pain. He handed me a handkerchief and I pressed it to the injuries, stopping the open blood flow. I cared for my still-bleeding nose, next.
"Rule number five," he said as we pulled out of the underground garage and onto a smoothly paved road. "You must not ever fall in love with me. If you do, I will have you sold immediately to a new master."
I stared at him in shock, almost wanting to laugh. There is no way in hell I'd ever fall in love with you. I wanted to say, but I decided it was better if I kept my mouth shut this time. It was known to get me in trouble.
"If you run," he continued, "I have the authority to stop you at any cost, even your life."
In other words, if I run, I'll die. I'll probably die if I stay. I turned to look out the window. Sadness and loss filled me. My freedom had been ripped from me.
"Do you have any questions?" he asked. His voice seemed softer, lower as he spoke.
"Yes, but I thought you said not to ask them," I looked over at him curiously. He was mysterious, and he both terrified me and drew me in.
"You can have three questions," he said.
"Three," I mumbled , trying to sort through my questions. "Have you had an entertainer before?"
"Yes," he said simply. There was something hidden in his expression, but I couldn't read it. It took me a while to think of what questions I wanted him to answer the most.
      "How old are you?" This was a good, safe question to ask.
He glanced at me, seeming curious to my line of questioning. He spoke after a moment. His voice seemed far away. "I'm twenty two. I'll turn twenty three in December."
I digested the information slowly as I pondered my last question. Suddenly, I knew what I needed to know, though I was afraid to ask. I dropped my head, folding my hands in my lap.
"Will," I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I wanted the answer, but I knew I needed to hear it. "Will it hurt?"
By law, he must sleep with me tonight. He must make me his own. He was required to claim my body and take my virginity. And he must do this with the intent of creating a child.
He could keep as many children as he wanted if it was with another citizen, or give them up to the institution. But with me, he had no say in the matter. And if two of his entertainers were to procreate, he'd be given credit as the father and the child would immediately be taken away.
By law, each citizen must procure five children for the institution. They could do this through intercourse with other citizens, or breed their entertainers. Communal entertainers were also an option, and DNA tests would provide the father or mother's identity. It was a sick and fucked up way of life.
He was also entitled to as many entertainers as he pleased, as there was a never ending supply. At the age of eighteen, citizens were required to either buy or use communal entertainers to begin the sacrifice to the New Society. Everyone lost this way.
"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled. I shook my head, trying to focus again on the present moment. I want to die. I thought desperately. I want to die before he takes away the only choice I have left.
"Tonight...when we..." I trailed off, scared and embarrassed. I will not cry. I will not show you my weakness. I wasn't ready for that oncoming future. I wasn't ready to carry a child, or to give my body to anyone. You will not break me.
"Oh," his brow furrowed. He hadn't expected this question. "That's right. You're a virgin."
"Isn't that why you chose me?" I asked.
"No," he said, suddenly jerking his head forward. "And you're only supposed to get three questions."
He pulled off the main road, leading us towards the city's outskirts. He stayed silent for a long while before finally answering me. All the while, I was silently panicking. Soon enough, I assumed he wasn't going to answer, but I was wrong.
"It will probably hurt a little, but then it will feel good," he said, his voice suddenly soft. "Don't worry about it. I'll lead you, and I'll be gentle."
I turned away, not wanting him to see the fear in my eyes. We rode in silence for about an hour, until he pulled into a long driveway that seemed to wind over the hills for miles. I stared out the window, watching the empty fields go by as I fidgeted in my seat.
"What are you thinking about?" he wondered. I glanced over at him. He was rigid, his jaw tightened as he glared at the road ahead of us.
"I'm wondering where you live," I answered honestly. "And why you chose me."
He didn't respond, and I wondered if he'd even cared about my response. No, stupid. They don't care about us.
"Can I ask you a question?" I asked, despite my better judgement.
"You just did," he pointed out. He almost smiled. Almost. He sighed, and said, "Last question."
"What is your first name?" I asked boldly. I wasn't supposed to ever say his first name, and I wasn't allowed to ask this. He looked slightly shocked. He should be.
"Noah," he said a beat later. "Noah Cyril Ivanov is my full name."
"Noah," I said, filing the information away for later.
"Was that your real question?" he wondered almost vaguely.
"One of them," I answered.
"What's another one?" he asked.
"I thought you said not to ask," I almost smiled.
"Forget the rule for a minute. Ask me another question," he said, but it sounded less like a demand than a request. I watched him blankly, trying to read him. It was impossible. He was too guarded.
"Okay," I bit my lip. Apparently some of the rules were subjective. "What's your favorite color?"
I suddenly felt curious about him. He was mysterious and a little enchanting. It made me want to know everything about him. It also made me want to run somewhere he could never find me.
"I don't really have one," he said questioningly. "Maybe red? Or black. What's your favorite?"
      "Purple," I said.
      "Why?" He blanched.
      "Not overbearing and bright. Soft, like the petals of lilacs," I explained slowly. "It's pretty."
      "I wasn't aware you'd seen lilacs," he said thoughtfully.
      "My mother was a huge gardner. Our house was surrounded by all sorts of flowers," I said without thinking. I wasn't supposed to mention my stripped citizenship, or the life I once had.
      "How do you-never mind. Ask another question," he said, looking confused and concerned.
"Why do you keep telling me to ask questions?" I asked, avoiding the more complicated ones.
"I don't know," he said after a moment. Silence filled the car as a manor with stone walls built around it in a perfect square came into view. It was lovely and white, accented with black. We pulled up to the the front gate as two armed guards gestured for Mr. Ivanov to stop the car.
"Good morning, sir. Welcome home," one of the guards said when Mr. Ivanov rolled his window down, pressing a button on his communicator. In school, we learned that this electronic device was based off of something called the walkie-talkie, and allowed Keepers and personal guards to talk over long distances and maintain security. It was like a watch, but bulkier.
After a long moment,the electric gates slid open smoothly, allowing us to pass through. A second gate followed, and again we were let through just as quickly. Security cameras were everywhere, surveying the area. Guards patrolled around, and I assumed one must be surveying the cameras in a room somewhere.
"How many guards do you have?" I asked curiously.
"Around 40, all heavily armed. 20 during the day, and the same at night. They perimeter the walls and man the cameras and gates. They keep intruders out," he said. And me in. I swallowed hard, my stomach sinking.
I stayed silent. My chances of escape had just dropped drastically. Not that they had been great to start with. Just keep your head down. Do whatever it takes to get out of here. I took a deep breath, trying to hide my anxiety.
He pulled around a huge circular fountain, stopping the car in front of the elegant front steps. The manor was large and modern, covered in windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling on all of four floors. White bricks made up the walls, and the wooden window wells were painted a shade of black that matched the double-wide front doors.
The grounds all around the manor were covered in cobbled paths and luscious gardens. Fountains and cherry trees were evenly spaced throughout the massive space within the walls, though not many of the plants were currently flowering.
The fresh air smelled sweet and lovely. Chilly breezes wound through the garden, and I shivered with the late-autumn cold.
The road looped around the large center fountain, and then around the manor to somewhere behind it. The scenery was lovely, despite the chilly season.
A valet rushed down the stairs as Mr. Ivanov stepped out of the car. I hesitantly climbed out after him, as two women came rushing down the stairs towards me.
"Come, dear. We'll prepare you for tonight," the older looking woman looped her arm through mine and patted my hand as she pulled me with her. I was sweating and nervous, unsure of how I should be acting.
"I called them earlier to warn them. Have a nice bath, and I'll see you this evening at dinner, Nevaeh," Mr. Ivanov called behind me. I couldn't help but look back at him. He was watching me as he gave the valet his car keys. His dark eyes seemed curious, the sunlight reflecting amber and gold in them.
His almost black hair ruffled in the breeze. It was cut shorter at the sides of his head, and a few inches longer on top. It was then swooped slightly to his right, looking messy in a sexy sort of way.
He wasn't clean shaven, but the hair was trimmed short, neat and clean on his squared jaw. He had a straight nose, and his features were all defined. High cheek-bones, long black lashes, smooth tanned skin, and medium arched brows.
He had a scar through his right brow, where he must have split it open and somehow avoided medical attention. Peo-ple didn't normally have scars anymore. It was very unusual. I wondered vaguely  what had caused it as I was swept through the open front door.
"Okay dear, let's get you inside and measured up," the maid next to me said. I suddenly felt lightheaded from the weight of tonight creeping up on me.
"It's alright," the younger maid assured me. "I know you're scared right now, but the master isn't so bad."
I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. My nerves were acting up. Tonight, he would take the only part of me untouched by the New Society's system. The only free part of me left to cling to.
"It's going to hurt," I gasped, my knees giving way beneath me. They caught me and helped me into the kitchen. They then ushered me into a rickety wooden chair and fanned my face.
"She looks like she might faint," the younger maid said, peering at me. She had brown eyes and hair, and tanned skin. She was slightly taller than me, and her body was thin. Her features were pointed, and she looked both stern and kind. She must have been around the same age as my new master.
"My dear," the older woman took my hand. She was very short and a little chubby. "Try not to think about tonight," my eyes focused on her grey ones. She had wrinkles in her papery ivory skin, and crows feet at the corner of her eyes. She looked kind, her features bold. "What is your name?"
"Nevaeh Williams," I answered as though in a panicked daze. Which in fact, I was in one.
"I'm Aggitha Robins, but you can call me Aggie. And this is Pauline Jacobson," the woman gestured to the younger. "We are some of Master Ivanov's house maids. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said as they handed me a glass of water. I drank it slowly, trying to calm my nerves down. My hands were shaking violently, splashing ice water all over me.
"Hello, everyone," another girl came into the kitchen with a fabric measuring band in hand. "Let's get her measured."
"What's your name?" I asked. She was close to my age, with milk-chocolate colored hair and toned olive skin.
"My name's Arianna Altoz Greene, but you can just call me Ari," she smiled warmly at me. She was my height, petite and had a cute face. "I'm another house maid."
"Nevaeh," I said, standing slowly. My legs felt as though they would give way at any moment.
"It's nice to meet you. I'll show you around the place tomorrow and tell you about your daily duties. For now, let's get you measured and cleaned up while we resize your dress. The rest of your clothes will begin to arrive tomorrow."
"Alright," I said, clutching my head as a wave of anxious dizziness hit me.
"Hey, are you okay?" Ari asked, reaching out to steady me. Her touch was gentle, but held me in place.
"Y-yeah. I'm just nervous," I sighed as she began to measure me.
"The master knows what he's doing. It'll be easy. There's no need to be worried," she said, though her expression didn't match her words. She looked almost angry.
"H-how many of us..." I hesitated as she stood up straight. "I mean...how many entertainers has he had?"
"He's only had three before you. The first had a lot of issues. Tried to slit his throat while he slept. The second one was okay, but she tried to run and was shot. And the third one, I knew well. She and Master Ivanov's family disappeared a year ago, and no one knows what happened to them," Ari said, her chocolate eyes sad.
"She was a sweet girl," Aggie said with a reminiscent smile. "Young Natalia was always willing to help everyone out. The master truly cared for her."
"Hush, Nana," Pauline pulled the old woman into the chair I'd vacated. A jolt of recognition burst through me at the third entertainer's name. "Master wouldn't be happy with us for speaking of her."
Of course, Natalia was a very common name, and the chances that this girl was the one I had once known were low, but still, I wanted to know more.
"Let's get you washed up," Pauline said, changing the subject before I could ask the questions burning in my mind. She stood straight before pulling me with her into an adjacent hallway. She was probably in her early twenties. She kept her hair pulled up in a tight, dark brown bun.
      We didn't go far before she pulled me into a bathroom and stripped me. Ari and Aggie followed us in a moment later. I glanced around while Ari started the water and Aggie sat on a stool by the large tub.
A guilt framed, full length mirror hung on the wall, and my reflection caught my attention. I hadn't been allowed to see it for two years, and it made me gasp.
My skin was translucent and pale from lack of sunlight. It stretched tightly over my bones, and I wasn't as soft looking as I once had been. My once golden hair hung past my waist, mangled and dirty. My entire body was covered in bruises and scrapes, and I looked malnourished.
My grey-blue eyes were the most different. The light of innocence that had once existed had been snuffed out long ago, leaving them hollow and cold. Beside them, my pale skin seemed hollow, and even blueish. I looked sickly, covered in grime from the past two years of being denied basic needs, like showers and nourishment.
The three women helped me into the porcelain claw foot tub that was installed in against the wall. I gasped at the heat of the water as they helped me sit. The temperature dial said it was only luke warm, but it felt scalding hot.
The others lathered me with various oils and soaps, gently scrubbing my abused skin until the water turned black from the dried and wet blood all over me, and the layer of disgusting grime that had been accumulating for two years.
          They drained the water after a few minutes and rinsed me off with a detachable shower head before filling the tub and repeating the process. They did this seven times before even starting on my hair.
First, they rubbed some sort of creamy oil that smelled of pine and citrus on every part of my body aside from my eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on my head. I had to stand still for ten minutes, shivering until they told me it was time to rinse off. All of the dirt, dead and dry skin, and hair on my body came off except for the parts left untouched by the cream.
        They spent ten minutes removing the hair from the tub, and I suddenly felt embarrassed. It looked like they'd just bathed some sort of furry animal.
Once the hair had disappeared down the drain and was disposed of by a special mechanism inside the pipes, they put me in the tub again and filled the water with various herbs and salts that I was unable to identify. They had slowly been raising the heat of the water as they worked on me, bringing some color back into my skin, though it was making me feel like I was both burning and melting.
It took them an hour and a half to untangle and wash my hair. They trimmed and layered it evenly on either side of my face before soaking it in another creamy solution that made me afraid I'd be completely bald by the end of the day. I really don't want to be a sphinx cat. I thought bitterly.
While the solution soaked on my hair, they filed and cut my nails, painting them with a clear, shiny coat before plucking my eyebrows into a uniform arched shape. They rinsed me off and helped me from the water, drying my body with a soft towel.
         When they pulled a silk black dress onto me at the end, I looked a lot like my older sister-only much skinnier and much less soft. I was now unrecognizable compared to the girl I'd seen in the mirror on my arrival.
My eyes now seemed less dead, and my lips looked fuller and pinker. My rehydrated skin was returning to its original, creamy color, and I definitely was not bald.
Luckily, genetic creams removed and instantly healed any acne I had upon contact, leaving my skin smooth and unblemished. These creams were created in the medical field, and enhanced to target and heal skin cells. They could also be used on cuts and injuries to stop them from scarring. If put on a scar, over time it would soften it until it completely faded.
Whatever cream they had put on my hair had done the same. It had rejuvenated it, making it look soft and silky.
       My hair was parted in the center and softly curled. It looked golden and lovely. They had removed every split end, and cut it to my lower back. My hair was thick, but now it was beautiful too.
        I had been forced into an uncomfortably itchy black bra and matching underwear made of lace. They were hidden beneath the satin black wrap dress the others had put me in. They then helped me into black ballet flats that were slightly too small, pinching my toes.
"It's time," Pauline said after plucking a few last hairs from my brow.
"Oh, you're beautiful," Ari said, grasping my hand. "Good luck tonight."
Just then, a knock sounded at the bathroom door. "Follow me, miss," a butler in a lovely black suit said, gesturing to me. I took a deep breath and followed him through the halls until he opened a set of doors that led into the manor's spacious dining room. My hands were shaking from my nerves.
"Wait here. The master will arrive shortly," the butler said, excusing himself and shutting the door behind him. I looked around slowly, taking in the grandeur of the room.
There were two sets of doors in the corners of one wall. In between them, an eloquent marble fire place was lit, with a gold vase of white roses sitting on the mantle.
A painted landscape of a red and barren desert hung over the fireplace. The sky was cloudy, and in the distance, a cliff wall rose up high, various crevices cut through it.
       A small village was painted in the bottom left corner, though it looked almost abandoned. The crops in the field were rotted and dead, and there was no one in sight. It made me shiver, so I looked away.
A glorious crystal chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling over the long table. It's light illuminated the room in a soft, golden glow. The air smelled of roses and baby's breath.
         There were eight seats in total around the elegant table. The chairs were made of beautifully carved and painted black wood with soft white cushions.
An elegant white cloth covered the table, and another vase of roses was placed in the center. Bookshelves lined the wall opposite the fireplace between the two windows. Cushioned white window-seats were built at the base of each window, covered in gold and blue decorative pillows.
I turned as the door opened, and Mr. Ivanov walked in. He sat at the far end of the table, settling in before finally looking over at me. He was dressed in black suit pants and a tucked-in white button up shirt. A black tie hung beneath the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
"Sit," he said quietly.
"Where would you like me to sit?" I asked. His presence both put me on edge and drew me in.
"Normally, I would have you sit across from me, but for tonight, sit beside me," he looked at me expectantly. I moved forward, sliding nervously into the chair as I avoided his eyes.
"You look better," he said as the kitchen staff entered the room. They placed covered plates before us, and poured expensive-looking wine into our glasses.
The liquid was dark, crimson. I froze, reminded of my mother's blood soaking me as she fell to the floor. Suddenly, I could feel the chunks of membrane clinging to me as I stared in horror. Mom. I squoze my eyes shut and shook my head. You're not there anymore, Nevaeh.
"Tonight, we serve you," the chef said as the covers of our food were pulled away. I shook my head again, snapping myself back into the present. "Large, medium rare beef steaks, butter and garlic baked potatoes, seasoned with herbs and spices, and with a teaspoon of sour cream. Fresh steamed broccoli smothered with cheese, and for desert, strawberry cheesecake drizzled in natural raspberry syrup."
My mouth watered as I stared at the plates in front of me. I hadn't seen this much food in far too long. At the institution, we were given a bowl of bland broth with chunks of unseasoned pork and various vegetables and beans, a slice of buttered wheat bread, and a large glass of water for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My stomach growled in anticipation as the savory smell of the steak filled me.
"Excuse us," the chef said, ushering everyone else from the room and leaving the two of us alone with only two others. They stood quietly by the doors, and I assumed they would be the ones to refill our glasses, or take away empty plates.
"Aren't you hungry?" Mr. Ivanov inquired after several moments of silence. I picked up my fork nervously and tried the seasoned baked potato. It was delicious-savory and moist. It was like fireworks of flavor had burst in my mouth. The beans, lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream, cheese, and bacon stuffed into it were delicious, and  the garlicky texture of the potato was soft.
Mr. Ivanov reached over to me, gently blotting the corner of my mouth with a silk handkerchief. "Try to stay clean, please."
      "Sorry," I said after swallowing. I took a bite of the cut up steak next, closing my eyes as the flavor covered my tongue. It was soft and easily chewable, seasoned and seared perfectly. I must be in heaven. I thought.
     "Is the food to your liking?" Mr. Ivanov asked.
      "It's wonderful, sir," I responded in the way I'd been trained to in similar situations.
      "Good," he said, chewing his steak and sipping his wine.
The rest of dinner was quiet, and I couldn't get through half of my food before feeling sick. It was rich, and the first real meal I'd eaten since the day my entire world had been ripped away from me.
"Are you ready?" Mr. Ivanov asked, gently taking my hand.
"Yes," I said anxiously, though I felt the exact opposite. But I was required to do whatever he asked of me. So, to avoid punishment, I stood with him, and he pulled me behind him. I followed him to the third floor, and then all the way to the end of the wide hallway. He pushed open a door to reveal a beautiful bedroom.
Three large windows sat opposite the door, gilded in heavy curtains made of white silk and lace. A beautiful bed was pushed up against the center of the right wall.
It had a silver headboard that was shaped like intricately entertwined vines. The bedsheets were white, but the silk comforter was a pale, shiny blue, and embroidered with a silver fleur de lis pattern. The various fluffy silk pillowcases were the same shiny blue, white, and gold, but they had no pattern.
Across from the bed, a white wooden dresser stood. An intricate wooden clock sat on its surface, a decently sized T. V. hanging above it.
On the left side of the dresser, there was another doorway, and on its right, a full length wooden mirror leaned against the wall.
"Do you like it?" Mr. Ivanov asked.
"It's beautiful," I said nervously, staring at the bed. I hesitated before asking my next question. My hands were shaking. "Are we going to make love now?"
"Come," was all he said after a long moment. He led me towards the other door. Behind it was an glorious marbled bath-room.
       A triangle bathtub large enough and deep enough for a few people to relax was built in the far left corner. On its right, there was a toilet and a two-headed shower with marble seats inside. On the left, a marble counter spanned out with two sinks. It was stocked neatly with hair products, make up, perfume, and bath products.
Mr. Ivanov shut the door behind us before turning to me. He loosened his tie and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. I glanced away shyly. My heart was pounding in my throat. I'm scared. I kept thinking.
"Set the bath to a temperature you like," he said as his shirt dropped to the floor. That's simple. I can do that. I did as he asked, setting it a few degrees warmer than my skin could handle, as I knew I would quickly adjust to it.
As the water started running, his hands gently gripped my waist, pulling me to face him. He smelled good. Whatever cologne he used mixed well with his natural scent, making his skin smell almost intoxicating.
His lips touched my ear, sending chills though me as his nose skimmed my jaw and he began kissing my neck. I gripped his forearms in surprise, feeling lean, defined muscle. He really was attractive in every way.
He slid the left sleeve of my dress from my shoulder, kissing along my collar bone and the hollow at the base of my neck. I closed my eyes for a moment as his warmth spread through me. This feels nice. I thought as my heart continued to thud against my rib cage.
His hands slid behind my back as his lips moved upwards, tracing my jawline. I trembled nervously as he unzipped my dress, his fingers brushing the skin along my spine. Goosebumps rose on my skin wherever he touched, yet I craved more.
His lips moved down again as he slid my dress off slowly. His nose brushed my collar bone as he moved further down. He was kissing between my breasts now, trailing more goose bumps with the warmth of his breath as he moved.
The dress fell loosely to the ground as his lips traced my waistline. I shivered in anxious anticipation. He stood back up slowly, examining every inch of my body.
"Turn around," he said gently. I did, and I felt the brush of his fingers against my skin as he swept my hair over my shoulder. His fingers then moved to the Back of my bra, unhooking it with ease. I tried desperately to resist the urge to hold the lacy thing to me as he turned me back around to face him, sliding the straps slowly down my arms.
"You're beautiful," he murmured in my ear. "Don't ever be afraid to let me see you."
      He began kissing my breasts then, his lips skimming back and forth over my body. I gripped his shoulder as he pulled me closer, my eyelids fluttering as my body began to feel warm.
His hands slid down my hips, slipping my underwear off gently. His lips moved down, between my legs. I gasped in surprise as his tongue began to tease me. My surprise quickly turned to pleasure, and my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
      I trembled as he sat me on the edge of the bathtub, his tongue moving faster, making my body shake. My thighs tightened  against his head as his finger slid inside me and began to move with his tongue. My body soon began to shake uncontrollably and he abruptly pulled back with a small smirk.
    He stood and leaned towards me, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. I went rigid feeling dizzy and still trembling.
He stepped back slowly, pulling his belt off and unbuttoning his suit pants before letting them fall to the floor along with his underwear.
I leaned backwards feeling startled and scared as I looked at him. He stood at about 6' 3", and his entire body was covered in hard and defined lean muscle. But that wasn't why I was silently panicking.
"What is it?" he asked, stepping closer.
"That's not gonna fit," I said, frightened. It must have been as thick as my wrist. "It's gonna rip me open."
"It's not as scary as it looks," he chuckled lightly, placing my hands on his bare chest. "Touch me," he said. "However you like. Get used to the feel of my body."
I stood, sliding my hands upwards. I could feel the hard yet soft muscles of his shoulders and neck. I slid my hands down his arms as he stood perfectly still. I examined his skin closely noticing faint scars all over him.
I moved my hands over his chest again, and he closed his eyes. My fingers traced the hard muscle of his abdomen, and then the hollows of his pelvis, making him shudder.
I moved cautiously to stand behind him again, feeling the muscles of his strong and straight back. A thick scar rested at the hollow between his back and his pelvis. The injury must have been deep to leave such a horrible mark. What have you been through? I wondered.
I moved around again to stand in front of him. His dark eyes fluttered open, locking on mine as I touched his cheek. They were wide, and the flecks of amber and gold were glorious and bright in his irises. I now realized they were less black, than a very dark, golden brown.
        I traced the lines of his tanned face with my fingers. His skin was warm and soft. He was clean shaven now, and I could see that his cheeks were softly shadowed and well-defined. He truly was handsome, though he still scared me.
I memorized the edge of his brow and scar, the shape of his now closed eyes, and the curve of his narrow nose. I traced his jaw line, and his cheekbones.
Finally, I dared to touch his lips. His breath came out warm and calm against my fingers as he parted them. They were very slightly tinted, full and plump. I followed the shape of them with my fingers carefully. They were completely unblemished and soft.
He gripped my wrist suddenly and pulled back. "Does my body still scare you?" he asked, his expression suddenly controlled.
"Not as much," I said in a low voice. He led me to the tub, shutting off the water. His hand slid up my arm, and he helped me in. I sat down, still shaking with fear and nervousness. He climbed in behind me, pulling me gently against his chest.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his breath tickling my neck.
"I think so," I said, though it was a lie. I was definitely not ready for this. My heart pounded and jerked inside me, making me feel panicky.
"We'll take this slow," he murmured, caressing my cheek.
His lips met mine suddenly, as he eased us further into the warm water. He hadn't actually kissed me until now, taking me fully by surprise. His full lips were soft against mine, and his kiss made me instantly dizzy. My heart sped in my chest and my stomach felt kind of funny as fire ripped through my veins. It was my first kiss, but for the moment, that was okay.
        He pulled me tighter against him, and guided me as our bodies moved together. We would up on the bed half way through, and that's where we finished.
     I moved to kiss him again, but he pulled away from me suddenly. I stared at him in confusion. "Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, getting off the bed and moving towards the bathroom without a glance at me. I stared after him, feeling confused and curious. "There's some pajamas in your dresser if you want them."
      I slid from the bed and moved towards the dresser, looking through the mostly empty drawers. A simple black camisole and a pair of silky black underwear were all I could find. I pulled them on slowly, my stomach cramping as I moved.
      Mr. Ivanov came out of the bathroom with his pants back on a moment later. His shirt and tie were draped over his arm, and he held his shoes in his hand. Black socks were rolled up neatly inside one of them.
      His skin was covered in a light layer of sweat, and I could faintly smell his scent from where I stood. He handed me a pill and a glass of water.
      "Take this if you have cramps. Make sure to drink this water before bed. The TV remote is in the nightstand drawer. You're welcome to watch anything you like, but be in bed by midnight every night unless I tell you otherwise.
      "You are to wake each morning at nine and shower. Each month, you will take a bath similar to the one you took today. Be presentable, always. You are free to choose from any of the outfits I have chosen for you, and of course you may mix and match whatever items you wish.
      "You will not be required to wear any jewelry or make up, except for on specific occasions," he looked over at me then, and said in a distant tone, "We'll go over the rest later. Goodnight," and he left, shutting the door tightly behind him.
      I tossed the pill into my mouth and drank the water slowly, processing the evening. My body felt stretched out and ached a bit, but the medicine kicked in quickly. Why did he leave so suddenly? I wondered. Is that normal?
      I turned off all of the lights and climbed into bed. It was too hot in the room to climb under the covers, so I simply adjusted the various pillows on the bed around me until I was comfortable.
       A tear slid unexpectedly down my cheek, and I touched it. And then a myriad of emotion came crashing down on me and I grimaced into the pillow. Now that it was safe to cry, I let the tears flow through me.
          That should have been my choice. That was mine to give. I feel so alone. So scared and so alone. I curled up into a ball. It was heart to breath and my chest felt weighted and hurt. Is there anyone out there for me? Am I going to be alright?
          I missed my mom. She'd sung me to sleep whenever I'd been upset. I missed the comfort of her embrace, and my sisters healing words. I missed my dads jokes, and how all of them took the weight from me. I miss being happy with you. Now you're gone, and I'm all alone. Take me with you. Let me die and be with you.
I sobbed harder, muffling myself with a pillow as I rolled onto my back. I hadn't cried at the institution. No. This was the first time in years that I'd let any sort of emotion out. They will never see me weak. But I am broken. There is nothing left of me.
I eventually cried myself out, and lay quiet in the darkness. I held a pillow to my chest and stared blankly out of the window until I began to drift. Finally, I fell into a deep sleep.
       I dreamed of a memory from when I was a child. A happy memory of my family sitting at the dinner table, laughing and giggling. A sense of wholeness surrounded me, and the previous day slowly faded away.