Come Find Me

1

Head down. Keep your head down!!! Stay still, don't move a fucking muscle. He will come get you when he wants you. Breathe slowly and quietly, don't be rude. Don't cry! Tears make him angry! You don't want to get whipped again, do you?! Stay numb, head down, breathe slow. Stay strong. It'll all be over soon.

I stay crouched on my mat, sitting on my knees with my hands on my thighs, my head down. Head must be down! If I breathe slowly, the tears won't come. He may not even want you tonight! Master seemed tired, he spent all day with his people, practice shooting in the fields. I saw them out the window, they are lousy shooters. Pretty shit if you ask me. Not that I'd ever say it out loud. Compared to the Gemini Souls, they'd be dead in a heartbeat. Speaking of...it's been a couple days since I had my fix. If I'm good, maybe Master will be asleep and I can do it again? Maybe.

The ache in my neck intensifies as I'm looking down at my knees, god I just want to stretch a bit. I'll never make that mistake again. My back is still fucking scarred. Then again, it was only last week when it happened. I was bad. I know better now.

The last four weeks have been terrible, emotionally inside I'm all over and splattered. I was humiliated. I was brought out on to a stage, completely nude, with the stinging sensation on my hip. They cut me so deep... They claimed me. I'm forever marked on my fucking hip. Fucking disgusting, disfigured. I don't want to belong to a gang. I had to watch as so many men bid on me. I was ordered to spin around, get on my hands and knees... present myself...while the crowd fucking cheered. I couldn't stop sobbing so why did this asshole pick me? I've always been sensitive, I cry so easily. And the crowd knew it. So why was I sold for sixty thousand dollars to someone who hates crying? Why is my life worth a dollar amount?

I was roughed up quite a bit the first two weeks, I didn't want to leave my bed. I didn't want to put out. I wanted to sob and mourn but no one would let me. I was beaten for not being up, for not helping with the bedroom chores, for not servicing at night. How can I suck you off when I'm dying inside?! My whole life was ripped from me! Why does this seem normal to them?! It's inhumane! I remember when Andy told me some gangs would keep people prisoner for things like this, but I never knew it would be this bad. Every night when he comes to bed, I'm scared. I don't know what will become of me. But others say I'm special because he chose me. He chose me! Out of everyone here, even those who are better looking, he chose me as his private servant. Others are jealous...I don't understand why. It fucking hurts, why would you want this? Why would you want to be locked in a room day and night?! All I can do is stare out the huge window, remembering that there is an outside, I'm just not allowed out there anymore. Until he's sick of me and replaces me with someone else. Poor soul.

I jump up when I feel his heavy palm on my shoulder, standing behind me. Please don't strike me for that!! He startled me on purpose, I know he did. Keep your head down, head down, head down...

"Get on the bed on your hands and knees and present yourself," he growls. Oh thank god. Usually when he wants me like that, it's a quick fuck. I can handle that. It still hurts like hell in the morning and the ache travels up my lower back but it's more doable then the other things he has me do. He loves pain, hates crying. He's sadistic.

I slowly stand up and continue to keep my head down, I'm not allowed to look him in the eyes at all. Bedroom whores don't have the value of such human rights. I make my way across the room, crawling up on the California King size bed and spread my legs with my cheek to the mattress. Master will be pleased, I'm a good boy tonight. No fighting, I'm drained.

The bed dips and I know it's about to happen, I have to amp myself up for it. Pretend it feels good, remember when it's...someone else... I usually get bonus points for moaning and such. Bedroom whores are filthy, we are allowed to make such obscene noises. I feel liquid being squirted down my crack and his rough callous hands rubbing it inside of me. Ow..ow... He never preps, he likes the feeling of me at my tightest. That's why it hurts so bad every morning. I'm too tight and he's not huge, but it's too big for that.

I take in a deep breath once he plunges himself in me and I let out a long deep moan, just how he likes it. Soon, skin on skin slapping is echoing, the room smells like sex. He is moaning loudly and so am I. My ass is turned red again by the time he pulls out and it was the slowest twenty minutes of my day. He flops over and covers himself in blankets, cuddling into the mattress. I sit there and wait for his breathing to slow, I'm technically not allowed to leave the bed until he does. He's not even a huge cuddler but he demands that I sleep in the same bed. It's weird, I don't understand it. But once he is up for the morning I'm allowed to go shower and shave so I can prepare for the next night.

I stare at the ceiling until his breaths are quiet, even, and slow. I glance over and yep, he's definitely asleep. I try to move as slowly and quietly as I can...I need my fix. It's the only thing keeping me alive anymore. Not only that but it's been a few days since I have last, I'm itching to do it again.

Once I'm out of bed I quietly tip toe across the room, he leaves it all on his talk dresser. I pick up his cell phone and dial the number I now know by heart...the love of my life. I listen to it ring until it reaches voicemail and it makes my heart flutter. Andy's voice. Andy's deep, sultry voice. The voice of a man who loved me, did what he could, kept me safe until the day he died. I wish I had never left his room, surrounded by his minty rose petal scent. It comforts me to sleep every time. I don't even know how he died, except for it had to do with 9 Vipers. What would I do to feel him wrap his arms around me one last time and tell me he loves me...god I've been considering offing myself so maybe I can get to see him again someday. Maybe he's waiting on the other side, been watching over me and he will protect me up there. Except I'm too chicken shit to hurt myself. But the thought comforts me a lot. For now, on nights like these, I keep calling him to hear his voicemail, to remember his voice. It brings me so much peace.

The large man starts to shift around on the bed and I freeze. Fuck, fuck, fuck!!! I hurriedly put his phone back and tip toe back across the room and he settles, thank fucking God. I don't know what he would do if he were to catch me. He's very territorial. Probably kill me to be honest. I slip back into the sheets and for now stare at the ceiling and pretend Andy's arms are around me, I'm in his comfortable soft bed, his deep voice and beautiful scent lulling me to sleep. It's the only way.