Bruno/Miles
The atmosphere is like a fucking fashion show, there is a catwalk in the middle of the big hall and lots of fancy chairs perfectly lined up around it in a U-shape form.
Everything about this place has a well thought touch, actual brainstorming meetings put this event together, just to sell humans as merchandise. It makes me sick.
Why is this happening in the 21st century? Where the fuck is the United Nations? What a fucking joke they are.
Wasim escorts me to my chair. He asks if I want Anya to sit next to me or at the floor level. I have no option than to say at the floor, since all the slaves are at ground level.
It's just another test, they are watching every decision I make.
Sarah understands all my choices, I know she does, but the dagger buries itself in my chest an inch deeper every time I abuse her in public, I don’t know how much more I can take. I need this to be over.
I sit down and she sits between my legs; her knees must be hurting like a bitch. She rests her head gently on my left thigh; I pet her hair slowly.
I wonder why they granted me the privilege of having ‘The Worm’ follow me around. A part of me really wants to think it’s because I'm new and they want to impress me, but in reality I know it’s because they want to monitor me at all times. Either way, I don’t care.
The ‘show’ is about to start. The lights, music and laughter scream ‘normal’ and it makes me sick to my stomach.
I am observing everything around me like a hawk. The woman who offered herself to me before is sitting right next to me. She smiles at me exactly like you would do when you are looking to start a conversation, but I ignore her completely. Her slave is sitting at her feet, and I keep measuring the distance between this guy and Sarah.
Keep your hands to yourself, Cottontail, if you want to use them in the immediate future.
The first chairs are reserved for those who seem more important, sheiks, politicians, military, all men without souls and without balls. False macho and misogynists pricks who come here to satisfy their dark needs.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re all fucked up in the head, sexually speaking, but forcing yourself on someone? Take their freedom for your own pleasure? Fuck that.
I want to kill them one by one.
I wish I could.
I keep petting Sarah and she sighs like a helpless lover. Red Lights point at her sexy bare back, my fingertips run over her skin, feeling the scars I made.
I don’t know who I’m playing now, is it Bruno or Miles? Both.
Once all the guests are seated in their chairs, the lights dim down to signal it’s showtime. Razzag and Kala appear on stage, everyone applauds fervently and in return they smile and wave like Hollywood stars.
Wasim and Kaled are behind them. Kaled has an arrogant aura, but Wasim, looks dark and unreadable.
The only one missing in action is Amira and the fourth son I haven’t met yet. Why doesn't she work with her brothers? Where is she?
My eyes slide across the audience, analyzing all the faces in the spotlight, until I finally find the missing siblings. First row, on the opposite side I find Amira with the same troubled face as before and next to her a man with a rather similar expression, the fourth son.
Zahir.
He’s not built like his big brother. His eyes don't show uneasiness, they show confidence. Maybe that's why his name means "the luminous one." I should keep tabs over him too, to see what kind of person he really is.
A few inches behind from them is Dante, standing still, staring at Amira with intensity. He is probably her bodyguard, maybe something more. That could be a possible angle to this.
I’m lucky to have Sarah here with me, she’s able to see things I’m blind and oblivious to. I’m convinced she’ll confirm my suspicions. I lower my eyes and watch my woman, so calm and loving resting on my leg, I stroke her hair and lower my lips to the shell of her ear giving her little kisses at first and then I whisper, “He's looking at the daughter an awful lot. Don’t you think?”
That is all I have to say, she understands immediately what’s on my mind because her eyes run to the exact place where both of them are, without moving her head. I straighten my back again and I cast my gaze upon the stage, Wasim is looking coldly at Sarah.
Fuck.
This is not good.
Trying to distract him, I strongly grab her by her hair and force her to look at me instead of Dante. If Wasim wants a show, he's gonna get one.
