Jessa James - Control

I sit up a little straighter. A petite blonde is guided out onto the platform, her delicate features enhanced by her white dress. She leans her head back to look around, her head wobbling.

It’s her.

She’s pretty, in a delicate sort of way. Large expressive eyes, a full mouth, high cheekbones. What is so striking to me is that she looks like Anna, my favorite whore in New Orleans. There is a similarity around the eyes, and a sort of wisdom that is out of place on someone her age.

It makes me wonder what Katherine has seen. It makes me wonder too what Anna saw, in her brief years on this planet. That thought makes me tense up and makes me grit my teeth. I feel the impressions of my nails biting into the palms of my hands as I clench my fists. Denis nods to her with a questioning look, and I nod back.

That’s the girl we came here for. That’s the girl we’re going to be leaving with, no matter what.

She’s very young. I study her. Her frail arms, her small tits. Her face, sort of elven in quality, with big blue eyes, an upturned nose, full wide lips.

Oh, the things I plan to have those lips do. She surveys the room with those blue eyes of hers, but her face gives nothing away.

I realize with a start that she’s not terrible looking, not even standing front and center in that hand-me-down dress. That doesn’t really matter to me, but it doesn’t hurt, either.

Fuck, I am a man, after all.

The man holding her up is doing a shitty job, letting her fall halfway over. Clearly, she’s on the same drug as the rest of the girls. She’d better not fucking pass out, not before I buy her.

I want her to remember the feeling of being treated like a piece of property.

“Young Katherine is still a virgin,” the auctioneer calls. His words hit me like a ton of bricks. A virgin? That will likely double her price. “She belonged to Sal Carolla. Now she can belong to you.”

Several men cheer, ready to claim their prize. But those men don’t realize that I am in the audience, or that I am who I am, or that I’m here for her .

I start to move forward, cupping my hands around my mouth. “One million. One million, and we’re done.”

Everyone turns and looks at me, some seeming surprised.

“One million, from this gentleman,” says the auctioneer. “Do I hear—”

“One and a quarter,” calls a man across the way. He smirks at me.

“One and a half,” I say.

“Two million!” says the man. “Two million dollars.”

“Three,” I growl.

The man hesitates, looking at the two men who are with him. One of them nods to him, and he grins. “Three point five.”

“Four million,” I call out, even though it is a stunning amount of money.

Money is no object, not today.

The other man pulls out his gun, though what he plans to do with it I’m not certain. He makes the deadly mistake of looking as though he might be aiming at me, and the next thing I know, I have my gun drawn.

Instinct takes over, slowing things down for me. Everyone ducks for cover. Soon there is a bullet hole neatly between his eyes. My gun smokes just a little.

Everyone else begins to move. The sound of dozens of guns being cocked rings loudly in the still air. Denis and Roget are at my side, though obviously, I don’t need them.

“Call it,” I command the auctioneer. “Call it now, and we can leave.”

The auctioneer puts his hands up, though I’m not pointing my gun at him. “Sold?” he squeaks uncertainly.

The masked man that holds Katherine upright pulls her down off the platform, heading toward a back room with her trailing limply. I gesture for Denis to go get her, excitement welling up in my chest.

Everyone is on tenterhooks, watching my every movement, guns at the ready. But I’m not concerned with any of them.

No, I’m concerned with my new purchase, who Denis rips away from her guard. As he leads her over to me, I realize just how small she is beside my enforcer. She can’t be much more than five feet tall.

They reach the spot where I’m standing, and I look at her wide, desperate eyes, her blonde hair, her hands knotted in her white dress. It’s all much more than I dreamt of. More real, more vivid.

I cock my head and give her a considering glance. “You belong to me. I am your master now.”

There is a faraway echo of terror in those big blue eyes, but whatever drug she’s been given prevents her fear from rising to the surface.

Not for long, though. When I get her back to my compound, there will be no substances, nothing between us. Nothing to stop her from feeling the kind of terror that Anna felt in her last hours.

I feel like I should warn her, let her know what sort of master I will be. I dig in my pocket for my switchblade, popping its shining blade open.

Her eyes fill with a distinct note of fear as I brandish it, stepping closer to her. I grab her by the shoulder, enjoying her pathetic attempts to struggle. Denis steps forward and grabs both of her hands, pulling them behind her back.

I look her right in the eyes as I slowly slice the letter A into her collarbone, about an inch by a half an inch. I get hard when she lets out a plaintive wail. My fingers shake with pent-up excitement as her blood trickles out over my knife.

Nothing has ever felt so good, I swear.

“This is to remind you that you belong to me,” I tell her, wiping the blood off of my blade on her perfect white dress, right on her right breast. The blood spreads and seeps immediately, which is very satisfying.

I turn on my heel, ready to go. I look at Denis. “All right. Put the bag over her head, and we can go. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Then I make my way out of the airplane hangar, ripping my face mask off and tossing it to the ground.

4

I have a vague memory of being injected with tranquilizer a few times. I remember being awake enough to recognize a plane and a car. I know that the man that taunted me after he bought me was nearby that whole time.

I see him in my mind. His strange grey eyes and his dark brow, his large frame and black clothing, the dark stubble on his cheeks. His skin isn’t the same tone as mine… it was more olive in complexion. When he spoke, his English was accented…

But I was too far gone from the drugs to determine any more than that.

I wake again, coming fully into consciousness, and I look up at a royal blue ceiling. I groan to myself, leaning up to look down at my body. Gone is the dress that I wore at the auction. In its place is a deep, blood red sleeveless shift dress.

My fingertips accidentally brush a spot on my collarbone and even that slight touch stings. Carefully, I pull my dress away from my skin, peering down at a smoothly bandaged spot about an inch by an inch. It’s then that I remember his expression when he dug his knife into my flesh, the glee I saw in his eyes when he marked me forever.

Even though I am careful not to disturb the spot further, I have to struggle against the tears that prick my eyes. What kind of monster just outright mutilates another human being?

To my utter humiliation, my panties and bra are gone too. I feel naked, knowing that someone looked at my completely nude body while I was unconscious.

My shoulder throbs, reminding me of that moment back at the auction, when he showed me who he was by carving something into my flesh. I lift my hand to touch the spot that he marred with his knife. A gentle clanking draws my attention to my wrist, where I find a finely wrought handcuff attached to a delicate-looking gold chain.

I tug on the chain and find that I’m tethered to some place behind the bed. I have enough chain to move around the room, but not enough to go anywhere outside the room.