His Favorite Slave

Chapter 3 -Italy

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I'll make sure the next one is longer

My eyes slowly flutter open, head pounding severely. Never again will I drink alcohol. It feels as if I ran head first into a brick wall.

I slowly look around and realize that I'm lying on a cold damp floor. The room is dark and gloomy looking. "Where am I?" I whisper to myself. Looking in front of me, I can make out the shape of a door, the light illuminating from the other side. I manage to rise up and walk towards it, only to fall face first on the floor. Something

has a hold on my ankle and as I touch it, I realize that it's a shackle.

I yank and pull it, the heavy metal making an ear splitting clank against the hard floor. What am I doing here? Where am I? Why am I chained up like some slave? I know for sure that I'm not in jail. The last thing I remember is walking home and a van pulling up beside me. I've been kidnapped!

Screaming and yelling gets me nowhere. I eventually tire out and lay sprawled out on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, I wonder to myself what I've done to deserve this. I'm a good girl. I get good grades, I have high honors, I've never been in trouble, and I respect my parents. Why me?

I'm not sure how long I was asleep when a loud creek awakens me. I look up at the door, eyes feeling heavy, and see two tall silhouettes occupying the door frame. "Unlock her shackle," A deep and demanding voice says.

One of the men steps towards me and unlocks the chain from my ankle. "Get up slave," he says.

My eyebrows furrow up at his command. "Excuse me?" I say.

Without hesitation, the man grabs me by my arm and yanks me off my feet, making me stumble in the process. "Let go of me," I cry out as he drags me out of the room and down the creepy looking corridor.

I look down at the cobblestone floor and up at mold covered walls. Torches are aligned in perfect rows above each door as we pass by. I can hear moans and groans from the other side. Is this some sort of dungeon? It looks so medieval

I'm dragged up a flight of stairs, clumsily tripping over almost every step. "Pick up your feet!" One of the men hisses at me.

"Where am I?" I demand. "Where are you taking me?"

I'm ignored and pulled down another long and dark corridor. I scream to the top of my lungs, demanding to know where I am and where are they taking me. I'm rewarded with a hard slap to the face. The same place that Joshua had hit me.

I whimper and hold my cheek as the searing pain spreads. "Can you please just tell me where I am sir?" I ask in a low whisper.

He sighs. "You're at the auctioning house in Rome."