Chapter Four

FREYA

I was woken by a buzz, and the rays of the light of the sun on my face.

It was a different room. I could tell that because the bed had no poles like the one, I was tied to the previous night, and the walls bore no whips and BDSM stuffs in the red room I was tossed into and roughly fucked.

I sat up on the bed, and with a little blur, I searched the corners of the room to know if I would see the devil, Jaxon, nestled on one of the sofas in the room, but just then, I only realized that was massive, and it had a massive connection to another room, and a massive door that leads to a massive balcony.

He wasn’t here in the big room with me, but I could see traces of smoke escaping the room next to the room on whose bed I was sitting.

I looked at myself and my eyebrows went up on their own. I knew we had something last night, and I was supposed to be stack naked, as he did the good of taking off my clothes and now  I was clad in a see-through linen.

First, the room is not the same room I slept off in, and second, someone clothed me with the see-through linen gown, and whoever it was that did that, must have been the one who took me out of the red room, and laid me on the massive bed of this massive room.

I looked at my right and saw a phone resting next to the pillow which was set next to my pillow.

Maybe Jaxon slept next to me last night. I could remember not knowing his name at first, until he thrusted my pussy with his dick and asked me to call him by the name, Jaxon.

I stretched my hand towards the phone and took it up. It wasn’t mine, and I should lay a finger on it, but it was its buzzing, coupled with the sun light on my face, that woke me up, so, I thought I was duty bound to check out on it.

I clicked the side buttons, and thus came the phone to wake, displaying a text on the screen. The name on the screen was Dad’s, but the words seemed so strange.

“Good day, Lord Jax. Now you have Freya, I expect you remit more money. She is worthy enough to be your sex slave, and if only I am not able to pay up my debt, then, you must have her pussy as the bait, and she would serve you pretty well in bed, as she had been groomed on that.”

My face reddened with rage. Dad had played a smart game on me by getting me handed over to the monster, Jaxon, as a collateral for a debt.

Good lord, he even described me as ‘groomed for sex’.

It was now I knew why he always got me drunk, and send in men to take tolls on me, why I lay unconscious at night, under the influence of alcohol.

He had been grooming me into a whore, with whom he would pay for his debt. 

Goddamn!

I dropped the phone with care, because I knew I can’t afford ruining the devil’s property, unless I was willing to burn in hell.

Dad is such an asshole if all he thinks of me is that I am just good for the young devil’s bed. 

I took off the bedsheet, revealing my lily-white body, which the gown could not hide from my sight, and gradually, I rolled out of the bed.

It wasn’t an easy task, rolling out of it because it was really massive, and my body was tiny in its space, but I found my feet on the floor of the room, whose coolness seared into my feel, giving me a sort of pleasure that made me wait a minute before standing to my feet.

What I needed most at the moment was how best to flee from the monster, Jaxon, whom I had been bundled to, as a collateral for a debt.

I ambled towards the next room, from where the thin smoke was making its way into the room where I was.

Jaxon is a great smoker, I guessed. He did it last night before having me treated like a slave that had just been sold off to him, with a tag for sexual exploitation.

The room was as massive as the one I came from, but it wasn’t a bed room. It was a living room with a full set of sofas, a home bar, and a book shelf. 

It was a beautiful space, though it wasn’t heavily laden with furniture. I walked into it and there he was, tall, handsome, and rich.

His hair was black and long, though not half as long as mine, but I would call it long because most of the men in my immediate neighborhood do shave their hair, or leave it short.

I didn’t like his kind of person, but I love his hair, because it was black, long, and well-treated. Well, he is rich, and his hair should of course be treated with the best hair owls and shampoos known to mankind.

Seeing him gave me goosebumps. His facial and physique reminded me of the rich romans I had read of in book, who oil their skin and dwell in rich palaces.

I paused, there was no need going any further, because he was there in the room, feeding his lungs with tobacco, and filling the air with smoke from the cigar he had sent to the gates of eternal judgement.

I took count, there were about five sticks burnt from head to tail and dumped in a mini-glass bowl.

He had smoked five, and he was dragging the sixth one when I stepped into the room, clad in the see through gown that gave away my body.

He looked at me, and thus came that hungry gesture that I had not seen in all my life, except in movies. It was the gesture of a lion on his meal.

I shrank into myself and stepped back, but his eyes narrowed like that of a mad dog aiming at its victim with disgust and precision.

His gesture asked me to stop, I could read it, but I wished to flee from him.