Ch. 2 NSLG: Plans can always change

(Continued from The Not So Lucky Girl)

They always stuck to the plan. There was never a deviation of the plan. That was one thing that was stressed to me from day one. Each brother had his position within the hierarchy of this slave house. There were other women; I had seen them in passing a few times. I knew I wasn’t the only one, but I was the only one standing before Jason in the living room.

The hand on my shoulder brought me to my knees, and my body bent, and slowly I folded down. I knew what request was being made of me, and that was to bow to his will, his whim. My lips barely there at the top of his foot, I waited for him to approve, or correct. In the few weeks I had been there, I hadn’t gotten it right, yet.

Jason’s voice broke the silence that rescued me from the terrifying voices in my head. “Try again slave 297.” I tried to forget that name. It wasn’t a name at all, but what good did my name do? Certainly didn’t bring the luck that it promised.

Both my hands were placed on either side of his foot, pressing up from the floor, and I let my eyes lift only high enough to see his chin. “Yes Master.” I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat. And I considered what it was that I had incorrectly performed.

I made sure it was slow, and a teasing torment of my body as it lowered down just inches from his foot. My lips were a whisper away from the top of his foot once more, my breath so hot I felt it brush across my blushing cheeks. Each sultry dip of my body brought me closer, hovering before my lips finally pressed to the top of his foot. Soft, sensual touches were given to my captor, my Master.

“Better. Get up 297. We have things to discuss.” His voice was like shards of glass against my skin. It was deep, and sultry, but I knew the venom behind each word. He was cruel, sadistic, and I did not wish to cross him… again.

I learned my lesson the first time. He spit on me, and I clawed at his face. I sported a black eye for a week after that, like I said I learned that lesson. Slowly I peeled my body from the floor and once again I was kneeling with my bare ass pressed to the heels of my feet. He had turned away from me and it gave me time to study him. It would be a lie to say that the man was not handsome. In fact if we met under different circumstances, like he wasn’t a complete fucked up individual, I would date the man. However that was not the case at all.

Jason was tall, handsome, and sexually appealing, if you aren’t kidnapped by him, and held against your will. His dark brown hair caught the light, and it turned shades of gold and red. My pale blue eyes met his chin, when he turned to face me. “I haven’t even told my brothers this, so you will be the first to know. I plan to keep you as my slave 297.” The deep tone of his voice mesmerized me, but only for a moment.

My head began to shake back and forth, and my programmed response as a human being came crashing forth. “Nooooo. Nooooo. Nooooo. You can’t. I am not a slave. I am Sadiyah Ghosh and I am free.” The words erupted, but so did my right cheek with pain, as the back of his hand sent me flying across the floor. I landed with a thud, and barely regained my senses, before he snatched me up by my hair. He was a fraction of an inch from me, and I shook like the leaves of a tree in a terrible spring thunderstorm.

“You are whatever I say you are 297. I would think after our last meeting on this subject you had learned your lesson. Guess not?” The husky whisper spoke of sensual promises, yet delivered vicious harsh truths that spilled like spoiled milk across my ear. My tears were hot and wet as they rolled down my cheek. I grasped at his hand that made its way around my throat.

“Please? I am sorry. I am so–” I never got to finish that sentence. The very air that we see as vital to live was no longer a freedom I was allowed. Jason’s hand squeezed until I was sure my eyes would bulge right out of their sockets. Then I was dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

I gasped and croaked for the lifeline of oxygen to fill my lungs. I collapsed onto the wooden floor. I wasn’t sure how long I laid there, but Sven always seemed to be there to pick me up the pieces of me that Jason left behind. He stared into my eyes, and shook his head. “I told you to be quiet. You messed it up big time. I’m sorry.” He barely whispered. I wasn’t even sure I caught everything he said. I messed what up big time? I wanted to ask him, but he drug me across the floor like an old discarded piece of furniture. I was in survival mode, so anything I could think to save me, I was willing to do.

“Please don’t kill me. I will do anything. Please Master…please.” Sven just shook his head as he continued what he was doing. Ignoring my pleas until he saw fit to listen. Again my hair being yanked was what brought me to my feet, and I cried out in pain.

“He won’t kill you. I already told you that. He however is going to hurt you…” His voice trailed off as I was strung up by my wrists like a puppet on a string. Each cuff was attached to a chain, that was attached to an eye-bolt in the ceiling. I was barely left flat-footed due to the shortened length of the steel links, purposefully. The same was done to my ankles, which were bolted to the floor, by a very limited chain on either side. He didn’t care that I was sobbing, nor did he care that my left eye was swollen shut. What he did care about was that he followed his brother’s orders. And I was going nowhere, and Sven gave me one more apologetic look, and then I felt him before I saw him.

Jason, the devil himself had returned.


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