Page 17 of Maxim

Father stands and straightens his suit jacket. “Very well, and who knows, if you please Mr. Boyko, I just might let you see your siblings again…eventually.”

I watch as he walks to the door and slips out. Only when the lock clicks into place do I begin to sob.

I cry for my siblings and that I won’t be there to protect them or watch them grow.

I cry for the loss of my innocence that’s about to come.

I cry for the loss of finding a husband and having a family.

I cry until I have no tears left.

I don’t have to look into the mirror to know my face is red and blotchy. Father would want me to get up and clean myself up before Mr. Boyko comes to get me, but I can’t find it in myself to care.

Way to go Olena, already starting out on the wrong foot, and the man isn’t even here yet.

Once again, I think of my siblings. I should take comfort in the fact that my father is offering to let me see them again if I’m good, but if this situation has taught me anything, it’s that his promise is a lie. He won’t let me see them.

God, I miss them.

The lock turns again, making me tense. I curl further into a ball on the couch as a man steps through and shuts the door behind him.

Aren’t captors supposed to be ugly? Because if so, this man never got the memo. He’s got thick black hair and eyes just asdark. Even through his short facial hair, I can tell his jaw is well defined. Unlike so many of my father’s clients, this man before me isn’t overweight in the slightest.

It’s then that I recognize him. I served him at the bar several times while working. What really caught my attention was how uncomfortable he always looked in a suit. He looked like someone who would be more comfortable in jeans and a leather jacket.

He was always nice to me and shoved a tip in the jar when he didn’t have to.

I don’t know why, but for some reason that gives me a little bit of comfort.

“Olena,” he rasps.

His voice is deep, and something about it makes me shiver, not in fear but…oh god, surely I’m not attracted to my owner, right?

“Olena,” he says again with a frown on his face.

Shit. How could I forget?

I slide off the couch and crawl closer to him. When he’s within touching distance, I stop. I keep my head bowed as I kneel before him like the teacher I was forced to meet with told me to do. I fight the urge to vomit and lick my lips. I don’t want to say it, but I know I need to. I need to please him.

“How can I please you, Master?”

He sucks in a breath, making goose bumps crawl against my skin as I wait for his demand.

I’m going to fucking hell.

This is a dream, right? It has to be.

“How can I please you, Master?”

If she were anyone else, I would tell her exactly what to do to please me. I’d play with her body until she begged for mercy. She would beg and plead so pretty underneath me.

Goddamn, does she look pretty on her knees kneeling before me. The little number they put her in before dragging her onto the stage looks even better up close. Fuck, it would look phenomenal on the floor while she’s tied to the bed and withering in pleasure.

“Please, Master, tell me what you like so I can thank you properly for buying me,” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Even with her head bow, I can tell she’s biting her lip.

I crouch down beside her and pull her lip free. “From now on, only I bite this lip. Do you understand?”