Owned

OWNED

By Alexx Andria

Copyright 2011 by Alexx Andria

Smashwords edition

*This naughty bit of a story is intended for
mature readers only. It features acts of sexual gratification of
the dominant and submissive kind. If you’re not 18 years or older,
find something else to read.

The following short story is a work of
fiction.

How do you run from fate?

The simple answer: You don’t.

I didn’t know it then, but the moment I laid
eyes on him, my life was forever changed.

There was something about him that held me in
thrall, rooted my feet to the floor and demanded my attention.

I’d never been one who commanded a room
— preferring the quiet solitude of a library to the limelight
— so when it seemed his gaze had zeroed in on me in spite of
the countless more attractive people who frequented the club
downstairs, I was shocked by the stark hunger I saw in his
eyes.

And he wasn’t sly about it either; in fact,
he was downright brazen, as if he had a right to allow his gaze to
drift down my body in open assessment.

I shivered and tried to look away.

Most times, I went unnoticed. Why was tonight
any different? Why would
he
give me a second glance, much
less a look that fairly sizzled and smoked with carnal promise?

My employer, a man with a paunchy belly and
flat, sullen eyes, motioned for me to make myself scarce and I
moved to do so, but
his
voice, smooth as fine brandy
interceded.

“Stay.”

That one word caused my breath to hitch and
my heart to thunder. What did he want with me?

Just as surprised, Leonard stopped and sent a
look to his most influential patron, saying, “She’s just the
bookkeeper. If you want a girl who can suck the chrome from a ball
hitch, I can arrange it, but her? She’s just a number
cruncher.”

His mouth curved in a subtle manner but
otherwise remained silent. I looked nervously between the two men,
not quite sure what was happening but I felt distinctly at a
disadvantage. I tried to make my way to the door. Whatever was
happening didn’t involve me. I cursed the day I took this job but
I’d been desperate and times were hard in a down economy. At the
time, taking a job at the local gentleman’s club had seemed an
acceptable risk when Leonard had assured me that I’d never work the
floor like his exotic beauties.

What Leonard didn’t say was that I didn’t
have what it took to work the floor. I was neither exceedingly
beautiful in face or form but rather average from my shoulder
length brown hair to my dark brown eyes. I was, as my father had
often disparaged, depressingly ordinary.

“Sit.”

I opened my mouth at the command, silently
chafing at the way his assured authority had me slowly sinking into
my chair in spite of my belief that whatever was about to unfold, I
wanted no part of.

His gaze left mine to rest on Leonard. “Did
you acquire what I seek?” he asked, his casual pose reminding me of
a dangerous animal coiled behind a façade of seemingly safe
brush.

“Of course, Mr. Villanti,” Leonard said,
flicking his gaze to me with uncertainty. I couldn’t blame him.
Leonard seemed out of his depth for his sharp cunning and most
uncomfortable with the fact that I was witnessing this exchange. He
knocked against the wall behind him and the door opened. Four women
— none of whom I recognized from the floor — filed in,
all naked except for the spindly heels on their feet. I looked
away, my cheeks burning. “All four of these women fit your
criteria. Beautiful, perfect bodies, and young. But they’re also
experienced, which is something I assumed you would prefer given
your appetites.” He snapped his fingers and all four turned
dutifully to present their backsides for Mr. Villanti’s open
perusal but his attention had returned to me, his fathomless gaze
causing fear — and something I couldn’t name — to ripple down
my spine and pool in my belly. I swallowed and returned my stare to
my feet, hoping and praying that this strange, uncomfortable
encounter ended soon and when it did, I hoped I still had a job. I
was barely making my bills at the end of each month. As crappy as
this job was, at least it was a paycheck and I didn’t want to lose
it. Otherwise I would’ve split the moment Mr. Villanti had entered
the room and focused that laser stare on me.

“What’s your name?” he asked me.

My lips seamed shut and I refused to answer.
Maybe I thought if I remained silent he would lose interest and
quickly move on. I was wrong.

“Mr. Villanti asked you a question, girl,”
Leonard said abruptly, startling me when he kicked the leg of my
chair. “Answer him.”

“H-hannah,” I answered, shooting a quick
scowl Leonard’s way before remembering myself. That quick show of
fire only served to increase Mr. Villanti’s interest.

“Hannah,” he repeated, slowly savoring my
name on his tongue. I suppressed a shudder at the odd thrill it
gave me. “I wonder, Hannah…what are you have hiding beneath that
shapeless, ugly outfit? Are your tits small and perfectly round or
large enough to overflow a man’s hand and mouth?”

The urge to cover myself warred with my
desire to tell him to piss off but I did neither. I couldn’t. I was
strangely drawn to this man and I didn’t understand the why or how
of it but it was undeniable. The knowledge only served to increase
my misery at the situation. Mr. Villanti didn’t want someone like
me. Why would he? Not when he was given a virtual smorgasbord of
gorgeous women to choose from.

“I—I’m the bookkeeper, Mr. Villanti,” I said
faltering as I shot a pleading glance at Leonard to help me but I
received nothing but silence from my boss. If anything, he seemed
curious as to how this would all end. “If you’ll just let me leave
you to your b-business,” I could barely say the word without
stumbling with embarrassment. It was clear he was looking for a
whore, something I was the
furthest
thing from. “I won’t say
anything…I promise.”

Mr. Villanti didn’t seem to hear my pleas. He
skewered me with his stare, as if seeking my secrets and turning
out my hidden desires without my assistance needed. It was
unnerving to feel as if you’d been peeled like an onion with so
little effort. I should’ve stayed in bed this morning. I should’ve
pulled the covers over my head and played hooky.

But I never did that. I was a good girl. I
was a good employee.

I was…
terrified
.

“If I may…” Leonard tried interjecting but
Mr. Villanti ignored his attempt with a flick of his wrist,
dismissing the naked beauties without a further glance. All his
attention was on me. He rose from his chair and moved toward me. I
gripped the armrest, almost trying to sink into the chair and
disappear but there was no escaping. Soon he was in my space,
crowding me with his solid body and keen gaze. The drift of his
expensive cologne teased at my nose and made me think of things I
really had no experience with and I couldn’t help the burn in my
cheeks. Damn my penchant for blushing. Never in my life had I ever
lamented that simple biological process as much as I did right that
moment.

“I want to see what’s beneath this sack,” he
murmured dangerously, coming in support his weight on either side
of me. His breath smelled of cinnamon and whiskey, a combination
that I would come to associate with him and I shuddered at the
implication in his eyes.

“You don’t want me,” I said, surprised my
voice sounded strong and sure when inside I was a shaking mess.
“I’m not your type.”

“You, my sweet Hannah, don’t know my type,”
he corrected me softly, the rebuke for all of its gentleness felt
like a slap in warning.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, sliding my
tongue along my dry lips. “I don’t understand. I’m just the
bookkeeper. Do you get off on being unnecessarily cruel by taunting
me like this? I’m no one’s plaything and I don’t appreciate being
treated as one.”

My show of bravery impressed him. “You have
fire. I like that. To a point.” To Leonard, he said, “I want her.”
Then straightened and walked briskly away as if he hadn’t just made
an audacious statement, one that filled my heart with fear and just
a hint of dark excitement. What did he mean?

“Excuse me?” I managed to sputter when I’d
found my voice.

But my opinion in the matter didn’t seem to
register because Leonard simply sighed and shook his head as if
more baffled than I in the choice and nodded, saying, “I’ll make
the arrangements.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I protested,
shooting to my feet, moving for the door. I was getting off this
crazy train before it completely derailed. But I was deterred by
the giant, hulking mass of Leonard’s personal bodyguard, Os, as he
moved into place in front of the door. I stared up at the massive
Norwegian and swallowed, knowing there was no way I was going to
move that man any more than I could push a bear out of my way.
“What the hell is going on? This is America. You can’t just
purchase people like you would a head of lettuce. I have rights!”
My voice had taken on a hysterical pitch and suddenly Leonard’s
hand cracked against my mouth and I stumbled back, my hand going to
my bleeding lip as tears sprung to my eyes. Mr. Villanti stopped
and glared at Leonard, his gaze narrowing to the point of icicle
shards and Leonard paled.

“Do not touch what belongs to me if you value
your life,” Mr. Villanti said in a cool, clear voice that left
little to the imagination. To me, he said, “Come. Or take your
chances with this man.” His stare flicked to Leonard who now
regarded me with something akin to repulsion and I knew I was well
and truly fucked. My choices had just dwindled to one. I shakily
gathered my purse and with one final glance at the life I was
leaving behind, I followed Mr. Villanti out of the dim back office
and into the awaiting Towncar with the man that alternately scared
and thrilled me.

It was several minutes before he spoke,
handing me his monogrammed handkerchief from his interior jacket
pocket. “I detest dealing with men such as Leonard but he has a
certain usefulness when it comes to filling certain needs.”

I pressed the handkerchief to my lip and
winced at the sudden spike of pain. I would have a fat lip by the
time the bleeding stopped. “Listen, I’m really not the kind of
person you’re looking for. I promise you that I am not. I’m
probably the last person who anyone would think—“

“I know more about you than you think,” he
answered, shocking me. He cast a short look my way before
continuing. “I know that you live alone. Your mother died when you
were young and your father died only recently. You started college
but dropped out when your father died to get a job to pay for the
bills he kindly left behind thanks to a raging gambling addiction.
You’re behind on your car payment and you have exactly $28 in your
bank account, which is barely enough to pay for your outstanding
library fees. You spend most evenings curled up with a book —
likely one of the many you can’t seem to return but can’t afford to
buy — and you haven’t been on a date in a very long time. Does that
about cover it?”

I gaped. “Who the hell are you?” How’d he
know all this? Worse than feeling terribly exposed, I felt trapped
in a movie plot but it was all frighteningly real and surreal at
the same time. “I want out of this car right now.”

He smiled. “I want you out of those
clothes.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I vowed.

At that he laughed. “I can be terribly
persuasive.”

“I’m not for sale,” I said, lifting my chin,
doing my best to seem unafraid or bullied when in fact I felt
both.

He graced me with an indulgent expression.
“Everyone has a price, sweet Hannah. Even you.”

I shuddered, knowing deep in my heart that it
was likely true but it pained me to realize that a person’s
integrity could be so easily bought and sold if the price was
right. I wanted to believe that I was different. Hadn’t I preserved
my virginity in the hopes that the right man would come along who
would deserve such a gift? I swallowed, shooting an uncertain
glance at Mr. Villanti, hating that the sight of him caused a
ripple of awareness through my entire body. No, I told myself
sharply. I hadn’t saved myself only to sell my soul for a few
pieces of silver.

Unbidden, the reminder that I was teetering
on the edge of financial ruin thanks to my father came to poke at
my rigid defenses and I found myself wondering if I could entertain
a certain type of offer.

“Let’s say, for sake of argument, I was
curious
,” I said, wincing at the words falling from my
mouth. If my mother could see me…Oh, don’t go there, I warned
myself. I refused to meet his gaze, my humiliation was too
complete. “What would you want from me?”