5

Esteban King.

I dragged Camilla to the chair and slapped her pretty face. It hurt me deep inside to treat her like some cheap slut. But something inside me was driving me to do it. Maybe because I was all mixed up about how I felt toward this girl I didn't even know. Or maybe it was because I really dug her guts, or her looks—or hell, I had no clue what was going on with me ever since my eyes locked onto those stunning eyes of hers.

I just figured I'd put some distance between us. Everything I'd ever known in life had nothing to do with love. Yeah, that sure as hell wasn't love! That's just some fairy-tale crap. No woman or girl on this planet deserves my heart! That's what I kept telling myself—maybe to convince myself, or to soothe my heart, or just to lie to myself with bullshit.

All I'd ever learned in life was how to make money and have sex. Pure pleasure. That's it. Back then, I had nothing to lose. Nothing scared me like the fear I felt when she looked at me. With just one glance from me and my hungry voice, every woman on earth would drop to her knees and give in to what I wanted. But not her. Not this time!

I hated that as much as I loved it! I wanted to create space between us to prove to myself that I was fine inside and that she was nothing more than—just less than—another catch I'd dragged in to slave away in my BDSM club.

The thrill of sex, especially bondage, was like the sweet frosting on a cake, and the slave was the cherry on top. The pain in a slave's eyes—even if it was just emotional—turned me on like crazy. But her kiss was different! The taste, the chills—it was all different! Like I was the slave, not her.

I sighed and slapped her face harder to snap her out of her daze and make her face her new life as a slave in my club. She jumped and leaped off the little chair when she saw me, like she wished it was all just a bad dream, not real.

I smirked and flashed a devilish grin. "Welcome back to my world. Now it's time to get fucked, baby."

She dropped to the floor at my feet and started crying and begging. "Please, no! I'm not a slave. I'm not a slut. I can't work like that. I can't be like that."

I laughed, mocking her like I'd never even heard her. "You'll be one of them. Don't worry. You'll make thousands of dollars every night."

She shook her head, trembling, and repeated those words that hit me right in the feels, like they woke up the human in me from the dead. "Please, sir—I mean, Mr. King. Please. I'll work as a waitress, a maid—anything but not a slave. Please."

I snorted and said in a bored voice, "Discussion over. Because there was never one."

I shoved her away with my foot, rough, and muttered before opening the door for the guest to come in, "Sold!"

Then I let him in and locked the door behind me. I waited in my office, biting my nails like some nervous teen, and decided to watch it all on the security cams.

The guest helped her to her feet. He stroked her long hair all sexy-like and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. I couldn't hear it clearly, but I saw her slap his face.

That's when he decided to force her into it, like they all do in my BDSM club. They pay big money, and no slave— even if she's been kidnapped—dares call the cops. I know what I'm doing; they'd be dead if they tried.

He shoved her onto the small bed, grabbed the hooks from the shelf, and yeah, he was going for full submission. He'd hook her hands and legs up to the wall for a total view and total control over her. But first, he yanked her close to kiss her lips, and that's when a burning pain hit my heart. Like he was kissing my own wife or my mom—or something that belonged to me.

I stormed out of my office, back to the sex room, barged in, and shoved him off her. He stared at me, eyes wide, confused. "Mr. King! I paid a ton of money for her virginity!"

I pushed him out and grumbled, "Virginity taken by me!"

"What?!!!!!!!!" she screamed!