The VIOLENT Series: The Complete Boxed Set Read online

  Why would she mention him? She knows that she’s not allowed to mention anyone or anything that relates to our deal. She is to act as if this was a real kidnapping. It’s supposed to feel as real as it can get.

  None of this will work if she keeps overstepping the ground rules. As beautiful and convincing as she is otherwise, I won’t forgive her ruining this for me. I will send her back without payment if she doesn’t stop asking dumb questions that have no place in this arrangement.

  “Now, let’s try this again,” I say, still holding her by the shoulders. “Your only job is to please me. You exist for me. You’ll smile for me, you’ll cry for me, you’ll beg for me, you’ll breathe for me, and most importantly of all, you’ll come for me.”

  Even in the faint light, I can see her cheeks blushing at that last sentence. Good. Despite her temporary forgetfulness, she still seems responsive to me.

  “Come for you?” she asks, her chest heaving nervously. “What do you-?”

  “I’ll show you,” I say, reaching forward so I can lift her up and get her away from that restraining wall.

  She gasps in surprise when I drag her over to the middle of the empty room, removing the heavy fur coat from her small frame. My Pet is wearing a dark ladies’ suit underneath, with matching heels and a white blouse under the tapered suit jacket. I love the view of her elegantly dressed body as it’s spread out for me on the wooden floor after I release her. She clumsily supports herself on her elbow as she tries to fix her skirt with the other hand.

  Cute.

  I slap her hand away, and she regards me with an indignant look.

  “That’s mine,” I tell her, as if further explanation is needed. “Don’t you dare hide that body from my eyes. It’s mine now, and I can look at it and touch it however and whenever I want.”

  She takes in a deep breath of air and furrows her eyebrows. Backtalk is at the tip of her tongue, but she’s smart enough not to say anything. Instead, her eyes widen in horror when I lean forward, casting a shadow over her as my hands glide along her upper thighs, pushing the skirt up further, expecting to find the hem of her stockings.

  But there are none. She’s not wearing what I asked her to wear. Instead of sexy stockings with a decorative garter belt, she’s hiding pantyhose beneath her pencil skirt.

  I growl with anger. Did she not read her instructions at all? This has never happened before.

  Or is she just especially naughty and seeking punishment? Does she get off on misbehaving?

  “I ordered a pet,” I hiss at her. “Not a brat.”

  She casts me a questioning look, as if she has no idea what I am talking about. Her entire body trembles as I move my hands further up her sides, pushing her skirt out of the way and exposing her covered-up center. Not only is she wearing pantyhose, she also didn’t obey my order to go without panties.

  “You think this will keep you safe from me?” I ask, as my hands move between her legs, stroking along the inside of her upper thighs, so close that I can feel the warmth of her pussy.

  A surprised shriek escapes her when I grab her pantyhose by the seam and rip them in one swift motion, exposing the pale flesh of her thighs and black lacey panties underneath. She whimpers and instinctively tries to cover herself, which makes me furious. Once again, I have to push her hands aside, causing her to yelp in protest, while she pushes her legs together to keep me out.

  She’s not only clumsy, but weak in her movements, so it’s easy for me to annul her pathetic attempts by pushing her legs apart with my knees. I grab her wrists and push her back on the floor, keeping her in place with the weight of my body on top of her.

  As annoying as her disobedience has been, I fucking love this struggle and her reluctance to give me what I want. I yearn for this chase. My cock is rock-hard with desire, and I can see her blushing as she feels my hardness pressing against her body. Perfect, just perfect.

  “You are playing with fire,” I warn her, reveling in her tortured grimace as I push her arms down on the wooden floor. “Disobeying orders. Withdrawing what’s mine. Is this how you want to do this?”

  She looks up at me, breathing rapidly, her eyes wide with sheer terror.

  “I don’t know what this is,” she whimpers. “Where am I? Why am I here?”

  Her confusion seems so real that I can’t help but be impressed by her acting skills.

  “You know what this is,” I hiss. “You’re mine now. My little fuck toy. And you better start behaving like one from now on. With all the defiance you’ve shown so far, I don’t even know where to begin with your punishment.”

  “Punishment?” she gasps. “What for? I’ve not do-”

  “Enough!” I interrupt her. “You stop talking now and fucking obey! Do you understand?”

  She flinches at the volume of my voice. I’m not a yeller. I’ve never raised my voice to any of these women.

  Because I never had to.

  At this point, most of them would already be spread naked in front of me, obediently following my demands for the poses I want from them, hoping to please me enough to let them out of this room. That’s the first step. I don’t just let them walk out of here so they can move into the more comfortable version of the cage. They have to earn it.

  And this one is a long way from getting there.

  Chapter 9

  Liana

  “Yes, I understand,” I whisper, defeated. “Master.”

  “Good.”

  He loosens his grip on my wrists, and I sigh with relief as he straightens himself up, removing his weight from me and coming to kneel between my legs. I remain sprawled out before him, my legs spread, my ripped pantyhose exposing my core to him. I’m trembling and don’t dare to move. His touch is fierce and intimidating. He may hurt me if I don’t go along with whatever he asks of me. And it has become obvious that he’s not in the mood to explain anything.

  He’s angry. His face, the way he’s breathing, and the way he charged at me, all of that is proof enough that he’s furious, despite being so calm and collected when I woke up.

  I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why he’s so angry at me, why he keeps saying I would be disobeying his orders. What orders? He only told me to call him Master, and I’ve done that, even though it took a warning to remind me. Why did he get so mad when he pulled my skirt up? How did I disappoint him? Is it me? My body? Was he hoping for something different when he grabbed me off the street?

  His eyes are on me, observing, as I tremble before him.

  “Undress,” he says. “Now.”

  I frown at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Now!” he repeats, his voice so loud that I flinch with fear.

  I am so fucking scared that I can’t fight my flight instinct and move away from him. I struggle up, supporting myself on my hands as I hurry to crawl away from him, moving like a drunken crab and losing one of my heels in the process. I move until I can go no further and feel another wall pressed against my back.

  He doesn’t move, but his dark gaze follows me.

  “No,” I protest, my voice not carrying the conviction I’d rather have him hear. “Let me out. Please, let me go.”

  He furrows his eyebrows, seemingly confused by my objection. He looks like he just asked for the most normal thing, and I’m refusing to give it to him.

  “I will count down from three,” he announces. “If you’re not getting rid of your clothes by the time I’m done, then that was it.”

  What was what? What happens when he’s done counting down?

  “Three,” he says, before I find myself able to react.

  “What happens if I don’t?” I ask. “Will you let me go if I don’t?”

  “Two,” he says, ignoring my question.

  I inhale audibly, trying to figure out what I should do. I can’t just go along with this without knowing why I am here, how all of this happened, who he is and how he found me. If he wanted to kill me, he’d probably have done it by now, wouldn’t he?

&nb
sp; Or is that what he’s implying? Will he kill me if I don’t undress for him?

  “Will you kill me?” I ask in a frantic tone. “Is that what’s going to happen once you’re done counting?”

  He looks at me, showing no sign of acknowledging my question or any eagerness to give me a reply.

  “One,” he says.

  I gasp in surprise when he suddenly rises up to his feet, his eyes leaving me for the first time since I’ve regained consciousness. He turns his back to me and heads for the door. I curse myself when he turns the doorknob and it becomes apparent that the door has not been locked. I could have run outside the entire time! I’m so freaking dumb!

  He opens the door and walks out, quickly closing it behind himself, and even though a loud and clear click sound announces that he’s locking it this time, I jump up and run for the door, trying to turn the doorknob right after he has left.

  Of course, it doesn’t move. I’m locked in.

  “Hey!” I yell, hammering against the door with one hand while I continue to work the doorknob with the other. “Let me out!”

  I pause for a moment, stepping back from the door to listen, and to see whether he was just trying to scare me and is coming back.

  But he isn’t.

  I can’t hear anything but my own erratic breathing, as I stand a step away from the door, wearing only one shoe, the other still lying on the floor where I lost it, right next to the ridiculous fur coat I stole. I take off my other shoe, as well. My feet are still hurting, and this is not a situation that calls for heels.

  I turn around, inspecting the small room calmly now that he’s gone. However, there’s not much to inspect. The room has two windows under the roof slope, and both of them are sealed with shutters from the outside. I have no idea where I am. I could still be in the middle of the city or somewhere far, far away. I no longer have my purse, and I have no idea if I lost it when he grabbed me, or if he took it from me before bringing me up here.

  Like most people, I use my phone to check the time and no longer wear a watch. There’s no way for me to know how long I’ve been knocked out. Just a few minutes? Hours? Days?

  It probably hasn’t been days. I’m sure my body would feel differently if it had been that long. But I can’t even tell if it’s still night out, or already morning.

  I turn around in a circle, searching for clues, or for anything that could help me get out of here. But there’s nothing. There’s absolutely nothing in this room, except for me and the clothes I was wearing when he took me. I’m cold, so I decide to put on the red fur coat. As hideous as it may be, at least it’s warm.

  What now? There is absolutely nothing I can do, except for yelling and hammering against the door, until he gets bothered enough to let me out.

  So that’s what I do.

  Chapter 10

  Joseph

  I’m confused. Why is she making things so hard for herself? No girl has ever refused to get naked in front of me, in hopes that they will please me enough to receive a reward. They know that this is how it works. They obey, they get a treat. And putting them in a place where they have nothing is usually a guarantee for their obedience.

  Not with this one. Stubborn little Ruby plays the role of the frightened and confused kidnapping victim so well that she seems to not only forget a lot of her orders, but also exaggerates her defiance.

  Getting naked for a man should come easy to her. It’s her job. She does it all the time. Why does she refuse to do it for me? What’s the point of that?

  She is different, that’s for sure. Ruby will be the first girl to spend the night in the attic. All others have been allowed to leave the room within minutes. It’s always been easy to make them obey and come to terms with their situation while they were still in that room and so eager to get out of there. It’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s uncomfortable. As soon as they were out of there and placed in their bedroom, that’s when the real challenge begins. When they are surrounded by cozy sheets and all the luxury they can imagine, that’s when they turn into brats, and I have to remind them that none of that is to be taken for granted.

  Ruby, however, turned things into a challenge from the start. She’s not dressed the way I told her to be dressed, she had a drink, she fails to address me correctly, and she doesn’t follow verbal commands. Training her will be more difficult than I expected.

  I am standing outside her door, watching it quake as she hammers against it from the other side, yelling for me to let her out. Pathetic.

  Even she must know that this will get her nowhere. I’m standing in the hallway, my arms crossed in front of my chest as I watch the door from a few feet away. Her hammering stops for a while, and I listen for her to say anything, but I am greeted with nothing but silence. When I step closer to the door, I can hear her moving around inside the attic. She must have kicked off her second shoe, as well, because I cannot hear heels clicking along the floor, just the faint sound of her bare feet padding across the wood.

  She’ll get bored soon. There’s nothing to see, nothing to do. Even if she erupts into a violent rampage, she wouldn’t be able to get out of that room. No one will hear her scream because there’s no one around for miles. Except for me. She’s too weak to break through the door with its safety lock, and there’s no way that she could break either one of the windows. Even if she did shatter the glass, the shutters would prevent her from getting any further.

  It only takes her a few moments to figure all of this out on her own, and as soon as she realizes how hopeless her situation is, she’s back at the door, banging at it with her small fists and screaming for me to let her out.

  I step away from the door, listening to the spectacle for a while, before I decide that I am getting bored of it. It’s late and I am getting tired. I’m sure she will wear herself out soon, as well. There are still traces of the narcotic in her system, even though it’s minimal at this point. Her anxiety, the confusion, all that adrenaline rushing through her body now that the most terrifying job she ever signed up for has effectively started—all of it combined with her erratic behavior will take its toll soon enough.

  She’s flinging unintelligible curses at me, worsening her punishment even more. I have no intention of listening to this any longer, so turn around to head downstairs.

  “There’s no bathroom in here!” I hear her shriek, just as I am about to reach the steps.

  I pause, a mischievous smirk gracing my face when I turn around and walk back to her.

  “You should have thought of that before!” I yell back at her.

  And with that, she turns quiet.

  Chapter 11

  Liana

  I awake curled up in a corner, the giant coat wrapped around me, stiff and cold after what has been the longest night of my life. My entire body hurts from falling asleep in an awkward position, and my right arm fell asleep under the weight of my body. Now it’s aching with trickling pins-and-needles pain as my limbs start coming back to life.

  I squint around the dimly lit room, still trying to figure out where the hell I am. My disorientation is soon replaced by the horror of realization. A pained groan flees my mouth when I edge up into a sitting position, stretching my sore legs and arms, trying to get the blood flowing again. Why did this have to happen to me while I was wearing the most uncomfortable outfit in my closet? This ordeal would be more bearable if I was wearing sweatpants instead of my tight-fitting suit. The ripped pantyhose leave me exposed to the cold of the room, and I’ll be surprised if I don’t end up with a bladder infection.

  It was the coldest night I’ve ever had to suffer through. God knows what I would have done without this coat. It was the only comfort under otherwise terrible circumstances. I pull up the collar and close the coat around my tired body. There is no way of knowing what time it is. Did I sleep through the night? How many hours have passed since I finally fell asleep? How many hours passed since that man left the room?

  The man I am supposed to call Master.<
br />
  A pain in my core reminds me of why I woke up. I have to pee, badly. With no access to any kind of bathroom, this is an actual problem.

  You should have thought of that before, he said. That asshole.

  Before what? Before I decided to be kidnapped and locked up? Before I insisted on asking him questions instead of following his orders like a dumb sheep? He acts as if I’m here of my own free will. How psychotic is this man?

  Yet, he is my only way out. For all I know, he may just leave me in here, let me pee myself or starve to death, but I should at least try to get his attention.

  “Hey!” I try to yell, but my voice produces nothing but a pathetic croak. My throat is sore from the cold and not having anything to drink… and from when he tightened his hand around it last night before he left.

  I clear my throat, trying to strengthen my voice.

  “Hey!” I yell again, and this time it’s stronger and louder. “I need to pee!”

  I wait for any kind of response, but there is none. Nothing but silence.

  “Please!” I add. “Please! I won’t try anything! I just need to pee!”

  Again, nothing. He may not even hear me. There is no way for me to know whether he left me here all by myself, sitting in the locked attic of an empty house that’s God knows where.

  “Hello?” I ask into the nothingness. “Are you still there? Please let me at least know if you’re still there!”

  Silence.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hiss and get up on my feet. They are cold and stiff, just like the rest of my body, but I didn’t put my shoes back on. They may have provided a minimum of warmth, but more than anything, they hurt like hell. I placed them next to the door, neatly positioned next to one another, as if I was just a visitor, ready and able to leave at any time.

  “Hey!” I repeat, now banging against the door. “Say something! I know you’re there!”

  Of course, I don’t know if he’s here or not, but I feel like it cannot hurt to act confident, even if I am anything but that.