Chapter Three

Naomi's P. O. V

I stood before him in my usual attire that they dressed me up in, anytime he requested for my presence; a light pink colored, strapless body tight dress, and some high heels. My hair was held up into a high ponytail, and there was light make-up applied on my face.

I looked like what he wanted me to look like; a doll. A Barbie doll to be precise. That's how he liked his "toys".

My eyes were cast down as usual, and a plastic fake smile was plastered on my face. He liked it when we smiled. In a case where we didn't, he would make sure to punish us in the most severe of ways.

My whole body was already hurting, and the rod bruises we're just the icing on the cake. I didn't think that I could have handled more, so I'd rather be something that I hated with passion.

The bright side of it though, was the fact that I had taken a shower, gotten all cleaned up, and my bruises were tended to. We all waited for the days that he would pick us, only for the anticipation of feeling clean again. Though it came at a high price, the feeling of hygiene was greatly treasured among us.

I felt a hand move over my body, from my neck to my boobs, making me snap out of my thoughtful daze.

Alex stood behind me, feeling me up with his cranky old hands, that slightly shook with evidence of too many drugs, and alcohol. The man reeked of the scent of cocaine, and yes I knew the scent very well thanks to being a stripper in an underground club.

It took everything in me not to shrug his hands off of me, and tell him to stop touching me. However, I knew better than to do that, and say those words. I didn't wish to be decapitated, or have a few of my organs taken off or out of me.

My heart beat rapidly in my chest. Irritation in it's highest form flooded my veins and made me feel like the whore he wanted me to be. A creeping sensation followed up in everywhere that he touched me. I didn't understand what I had done to deserve my life turning into something like this.

I was twenty one; just and only twenty one. Most girls out there who were my age were graduating from college. They were living life to it's fullest, and probably had tons of friends. They had a boyfriend who loved them dearly, and were probably going to end up getting married to them.

I wanted my biggest challenge to be what I was going to wear the next day, and not whether or not I would survive the next day or whether I would be sold off like a goddamn piece of property.

Tears stung at my eyes again, but once more, I refused to shed them. I kept on reminding myself that big girls don't cry. Crying was a sign of weakness, and I'd like to believe that I wasn't weak.

He licked my ear, and a wave equal to a tsunami of disgust washed over me. I had to hold myself not to shiver from the impact. I closed my eyes, trying my best on holding in a scream. I wanted to cry and scream. I wanted to tell him to get off of me. But unfortunately I couldn't.

I loved my body too much to do that.

"Did you miss me?..." He mumbled in my ear, his voice scratchy.

His breath reeked of alcohol, and the scent of something else that was rather irritating. A bill rose at my throat; I wanted to throw up the little they had given us to eat, all over the floor. The smell of his breath was beyond terrible.

Suddenly, he pulled me by my hair that was in a ponytail, hurting the roots of it and making me nearly wince. Biting my lip in order not to let out even a single sound expressing pain, I remembered that he had asked me his usual question, and instead of answering, I love into the sea of my thoughts.

What the hell was wrong with me today?

"Yes Master." I said, barely keeping in a wince.

This only made him pull my hair harder. Now what?

Finally not being able to keep it in again, a cry of pain left my lips.

He smrked in a satisfied manner, showing off his diamond grilled teeth at the side.

The feeling of great hatred surged through me, nearly as if my heart pumped pure venomous spite instead of blood. I so wished that I could just give him a punch, and another, then another, until he lay on the floor in the pool of his own blood, bleeding his life away beneath my feet.

Tears sprung to my eyes, mocking the way I kept on pressing them down Everytime they came back. I blinked them away, trying my best not to let the fake smile slip off my lips, and show what I truly felt on the inside.

I felt like it looked more like a grimace to me. If I could see my face right now, I would probably read the silent words written in my eyes. But then again, not everyone was me. And actually, I thanked the heavens on a daily for it.

"Say my name!" He yelled in my ear, his rotten breath fanning my face.

"Master Alex..."

He put more power into tugging at my hair. The pain was unbelievable at this point. Another cry escaped my lips, as my hands went up to where he held, a silent plea for release.

"Say it again! Say it louder!" He cried, a crazed lustful look in his eyes.

"Master Alex!"

By now, I could no longer hold back the tears. They poured down my cheeks like waterfalls, as he savagely ripped off my dress from my body, and threw me to his bed.