1
Obviously uncomfortable, she started to bite her lip and self-consciously move her arms to cover herself. She glanced at the window and then back at me, her blue eyes pleading.
I sighed. "There's no one around for miles, Love. And no one can get close enough to see through this window even if they tried."
She knew that was true, although I sometimes teased her saying that it wasn't.
"Do I have to?" She murmured.
"You know, you really seem to forget that I own you."
She whispered an apology, but didn't add master at the end of it.
She was just so damn embarrassed of her own body, even though she knew it was beautiful. She had to know, I told her so often. Her shyness was cute, endearing, and honestly it turned me on, but it made it so much more frustrating when I tried to give her a simple order that would never be a problem for other slaves.
I remembered when I first got her, looking through the market. In our part of the country, selling people was legal...as long as you didn't get caught. It was common for people to have sex slaves, and for some, it was really just having something to keep you company. That was more or less myself. At only twenty three, I was one of the youngest entrepreneurs out in the field. Which means I didn't have much time for a clingy girlfriend. I didn't want one of those really slutty slaves, either, who sold themselves into slavery because they just wanted someone to take care of them for the rest of their lives. Stupid sluts ignoring the risks.
No, I didn't want one like that.
Her previous owner, Lou, was a good friend of mine, we had worked together on a few deals and did business well together. He didn't really own her, he just owned the faction of the market she belonged to. When I first laid my eyes on her, I was so surprised at the looks of her. She wasn't like the others. She wasn't tan, wearing makeup, putting herself out. Lou told me that she had never gotten plastic surgery before, which immediately heightened my attraction to her. I looked more at the card outside her enclosure.
19 years old.
Blue eyes.
Dark hair.
5'4
112 pounds
Juliet Love Clark.
"Are you interested?" Lou asked. "She's expensive."
I laughed. "Lou, I can handle expensive."
"She's hard to handle." He warned.
"Are you always this non-persuasive with clients?" I asked.
"Only with the ones I like. She's shy as fuck. She didn't talk to me for like three weeks after we got her. Innocent, too."
"Is she a virgin?"
"No, but she's not experienced, either. Rape as a punishment for misbehavior. Nothing consensual yet, I don't think. So she's basically a virgin."
I grinned. "Perfect."
"The other girls, though, they love her to death. Think of her of a daughter or something. So they taught her how to blow and everything else."
"Has she ever tried it?"
"Probably."
I smiled again.
I took another glance up at her. Beautiful. She was wearing a pink, lacy bra set that emphasized her youth, her dark hair down in waves, though it looked tangled and dirty. Maybe it was better that she wasn't wearing makeup, because if she was I knew it would be smeared across her eyes. Her breasts weren't big, but they were noticeable. They fit her small body perfectly, and her legs were long for her height. Beautiful.
She was trying to ignore us, curled up, hugging her knees in a corner and looking out the other side of her cage (which was really the size of a small bedroom, just enclosed with wire fencing) although there was nothing really to look at.
"Hey," Lou called. "Girl!"
She didn't move.
"Hey!" He called again. "What are you, deft?"
