Their Mate, My Saviors

---POV Ayame--- I never thought I would be able to say I have found a place where I belong. A place where my preferences won’t be shamed or mocked. A place where I wouldn't have to hide. However, the longer I stay here, the more I questioned everything. The more I realize I still haven't found it yet. “I want to hear you scream!” Growled the Richard Kingsley over the subtle chat, moaning, and shift of ice cubes in the cups of the onlookers. Over my panting while I forced myself to catch my breath under the burning pain riddling over my skin. None of this is what I expected or asked for. I don’t even know when I signed up for this. Oh right…. That stupid contract. As a Marketing major, I should have known. You always read the fine print. Especially when the one holding the ball in their court is one of the richest people in town. A crack of a whip sliced into my skin and I did what he asked as my voice let out a violent scream. “Again!” He bellowed. Crack. Richard Kingsley, a gorgeous socialite with little to no flaws, except one major one. I’m his slave and, according to my contract, it was voluntary. I was always interested in a way to spice up my love life, but I never expected this. I just wanted a little more…something, but this is crazy. He told me he knew what he was doing. He told me that he would take care of me and make sure that I was loved and cherished as his submissive, but he lied. There is no spice, there is only pain, welts, and bruises. I screamed in shock as the whip sliced across my back and the stinging resumed. “Please Richard, stop!” I shouted, beyond out of breath. He never listened to my safe words, he never listened to my pleading, he never even bothered to try, but I had to keep trying. Maybe someone else will hear me. Maybe someone else would make it stop. “Strawberries!” I shrieked when the whip made contact again. Who am I kidding? The crowd he runs with won't even bat an eye at a girl like me. A sorry excuse to exist, only able to survive off of the ‘goodness’ of my ‘master’. I sighed heavily and tried to cling to the air in the room. Trying to force the black spots from clouding my vision. This is actual torture - like real torture - but it is my life. Remember, I volunteered for it. My arms were bound above me and the only thing that was covering any of my modesty would be the small g-string I was permitted to wear. He started laughing while my whole body was shaking. I don’t know how long we have been at this, but the crowd was even wincing at this point. Even still, no one tried to stop it...just like I predicted. Over and over again, I tried to call out to somebody…anybody for help, but, nothing came out. I was starting to get delirious but the cracks continued. My arms, legs, back, everywhere. Crack, Crack, Crack! The sound was driving me further into my stupor of loneliness, fear, and hopelessness. “Please…please stop. Please someone stop this.” I begged once more, with barely an audible murmur. “Awwwh…such a good little slave.” He growled in my ear before I succumbed to darkness. ---------- I shocked myself awake in absolute terror. I was hoping it was all a nightmare, but it wasn’t. The searing pain radiating off of me with each shallow breath made that very clear. Another night of torture while the onlookers laugh and sip their cocktails. Another night of rape while I barely cling on to what was left of my sanity. Another night of this lifeless existence. I could barely move. After a while, I finally tilted my head to the side, reading the time as 2:00pm. I had slept through the day again or, at least, I think it was only a day. There wasn't a date to tell me otherwise and, because of my contract with Richard, I can no longer hold a job or go to school. I was always required to be available to him. Day or night. Also, looking like this, the minute I step foot well...anywhere, someone will call the authorities. Hell, I would call the authorities. If only I were allowed a phone. Some would ask how I ended up like this. To be honest with you, the first six months of our relationship were complete bliss and I felt like he really was the one for me. We met at an internship and he was twenty-three. I was the ‘lucky’ one. While he started out as a manager in the financial department, I was just starting out as an intern in the marketing and sales team. We saw each other regularly, and he finally asked me out for coffee. In hindsight, I guess I was just swept away. No...I was eighteen and stupid. I saw someone who was ‘successful’ through his daddy's money and jumped at the opportunity to get to know him. All the while, he let me enjoy my blissful ignorance. Even after a few months, we decided to live together. Again, Richard's idea. I thought it would be fine. So many of the girls on campus did it. I still didn't think anything of it. I enjoyed my degree in marketing and when I got home, I completely - and voluntarily - relinquished control to him. Back then, he was so sweet and kind and…perfect. He would worship my body and only give me light punishments when I deserved it. Maybe a couple of spankings here and there, but nothing like this sadistic ass I’ve come to know. Nothing like the nightmares of laughing rich people, and chilled glasses of alcohol held by the blurred bodies in the background, while R-Richard relished in putting on a show at my expense. Now, I cringe every time I see the shadow of him. Let alone the crooked smile covered by the strands of hair that would fall from his perfectly combed-back look. Or his darkened expression when he holds up his weapon of choice. From all the research I did, it never said anything about submission and pain. But now…. Now that is all I experience. I stared at the clock on the nightstand, willing it to say that I could get through this. Begging it to tell me he’s just going through a phase and the man I love will come back to me. But, I cannot find the words through the black and white display of digital numbers slowly ticking by mercilessly. However, I did find a note. I strained to grab the small piece of paper from the night stand and opened it to read its contents as I groaned at the movement. Something was definitely broken this time. I wish I could say that waking up to broken limbs was something new, but that...would be a lie. “I’ll….” I coughed and cleared my throat, permanently raspy from the continuous beatings. Yeah. I wouldn’t ever call it pleasure. It’s just straight beatings. He doesn’t even have s*x with me afterwards. It’s just aggressive one-sided m**********n, for all I know. At this point, I don't even care. I mistakenly asked him about that about six months ago and I regret ever opening my mouth. When I mean he beat me within an inch of my life and laughed about it later, I’m not exaggerating. Now after two years in this ‘relationship’, I find myself begging…pleading for freedom, but he will never give it to me. I even tried being silent, praying he would get bored of me and give up, but it only got worse. I…I’m never left alone and…I….I…. I felt my breath hitch and I knew I was starting to have a panic attack, but I had to stay calm. I cannot draw attention to myself. Richard doesn't like that. I cleared my throat and choked back the tears while I focused on the message again. Focusing on my current situation was too morbid. Realizing how I got here...too painful. “Regrettably, I’ll be gone for three weeks. Stay home and stay within the grounds. I will find you if you try anything stupid, princess. You can even enjoy my room until then. Much…Much love, Rich.” I wheezed. I shook as the tears poured out of my eyes. Three weeks. I will have three weeks of peace. Three weeks to heal. I don’t know what I will do with that time, or how much of it I have left, but I must use it wisely. It’s never happened before. Maybe he would leave for a couple of hours or one night, but never a week or longer. Something must have forced his hand. I forced myself to my feet and I knew what I had to do. I winced as the pain riddled through my body, but my mind was clear. I have to get out of here. Whether this was a trap or not, I’m not going to sit around and find out. R-right? After an hour of blanking in and out of consciousness, I finally made it to the closet, across the room while I sweated profusely. Richard doesn’t allow me out of the house without him, so I don’t even know what kind of clothes I have to wear. I am hoping it isn't to the extent of my current outdoor clothing selection of a trench coat and whatever lingerie he would allow underneath it. I hobbled around the closet and found a small corner of the room that had some women's clothing hanging there. I'm guessing it's reserved for my clothes since they were my size. I sighed in relief and grabbed a sweater, undershirt, and some jeans. Something easy and baggy to get in and out of. Also, it will hurt a lot less when I move. I forced myself back to my feet and slowly dragged my heavy foreign body to the giant bathroom I had spun around excitedly in when I first moved here. I was so happy to see all the fancy items. It was crazy. The giant jaccuzi bathtub recessed into the far wall, the all-glass shower with a waterfall showerhead, and a gorgeous sink and vanity set with a golden framed mirror that moved across the wall from one end to the other. Now, all I see is a dark shell of a room. I see the blood stains on the floor when he would ‘punish’ me in here or when I would scream in pain as the water attempted to clean away my wounds and scars. I wasn't allowed in his suite too often, so he thought it would be...nice to make it count. I shivered at the thought and forced myself to suppress it in my mind. I can't collapse in fear now. I shook my head. I need to focus. I have to get out of here. Focus on that and not the…. My stomach dropped as I stared at myself in the mirror. Something I have learned not to do over the last year. I was naked and I guess he didn't care to find me anything to sleep in. I'm sure I destroyed the sheets with the dried blood all over me. He's going to punish me for that...I'm sure. Maybe that's why he let me sleep in here. My whole body was black and blue. What was I supposed to do when I left, huh? Where would I go looking like this?! The Orphan Ayame Pierce. Nothing more than a toy for the rich socialite. I have nothing to go back to except the dorm I gave up a year ago. I know my place. Why am I trying to run from it? I fell to my knees and rubbed my head. Why am I thinking like this?! What am I going to do? Does it matter?! I need to run from here not worry about what I look like when I do. Like I said, he will punish me when he gets home. Why in the world would I wait around to find out to what extent?! My face…my body.... Both should be a reminder that he is nothing like he was when he protected and saved me from my own demons. He has become them. He isn't the man that held me when I couldn't sleep after my mother passed away from MS.... When I was eighteen and I had nothing left, Richard was there for me, but now it's not comforting like it was before. Now it's torture. I'm only here for his pleasure. Now, he’s my warden.