Capítulo 17: Chapter 17

Macey

Adjusting my tank once more, I move to stand in front of the mirror of my bathroom and take in my reflection. A light blush covers my face as I fight the anxiety overwhelming me at the moment.

After coming home last night, dad explained to me that he had spoken to Michael and that the two of them discussed my plans for the day.

He needs me in workout gear.

And I didn't have any.

After having a small panic attack about seeing him again and how my father went behind my back and spoke to Michael about me, I had confessed to my mother about not having anything to wear for today. She took me shopping immediately, something I didn't think I would enjoy, but did.

Now though? Now as I sit here starring at my reflection, the one that up till about five days ago, couldn't stand, I feel more of old self than I have in a very long time. Olga's exercises are slowly working as I've made the clear conscious to face my mirror this morning.

I am my master's pet

Closing my eyes shut with force and blocking my ears with my palms, I step away from the mirror and walk out of my bathroom and bend over as if someone punch me right in my gut. Images fly through my mind on a whirlwind of pain.

"Please. please stop." I beg but the pain ignites in my side once more.

"What is your name?" He screams out.

"Macey." I answer, feeling more and more weak.

"Snova!" He shouts again to the man holding the cattle prod.

"No. please." Another wave of pain ignites all around my body as it shakes with tortuous agony.

"Enough." Master Phillipe says quietly.

My body continues trembling as I feel urine drip down my leg. It's been three days of this. Three days of no food, no water, and pain. Nonstop pain. They have kept me awake, coming in and raping me each time my eyes begin to shut. The dungeon I am in is cold and sterile and with no blankets or clothing, my body is aching just from my surroundings.

I want to die. But master will not allow it.

"My pet." Master says bending down to come eye level with me. I am lying on the cold hard concrete floor, my eyes barely open as sleep tries to come to my aid. "I need to know who you are."

His voice is soothing, calming my sore body with warmth.

"Master?" I can't breathe, can barely see. Where am I?"

"Tell me your name my pet."

"MaceyMy name is Macey."

I blink back tears that fall over my face and onto the floor. A clearer version of master comes in and I watch as a smile graces his face.

A smile.

I have never been able to give him a smile.

"Do you still want this?"

Shaking my head I ignore the pain in my head, hoping to get master to believe me. I will do anything to no longer feel the pain, the agony. I want to rest. Even if that means selling my soul.

"Then you know what you must do."

A knock at the door snaps me out of my daze and I look up, noticing I am on the floor of my bedroom, rocking back and forth.

Standing up quickly, I adjust my clothing and straighten my hair. I quickly wipe at my tears just as the door opens and dad sticks his head inside.

"Macey?" I cringe when I hear my name being called from him. Everyone calls me Macey because of my reaction, or rather my non reaction to Whitney, but after Michael refused to call me anything else, I became used to it. Hearing the name Macey confuses me, gives me a sense of being unsafe, of being unprotected. "Mike is here."

Those three words produce an aurora of stability around me. I stand a little straighter, part of me scared to go out there and face whatever he may have planned today, and part of me too anxious to care.

Nodding my head, I walk past my father and into the hallway.

After coming home five days ago, angry and bitter about what my father had done, I had spent some time going over the details of my anger the way Olga had taught me. I broke down each barrier in my mind of the betrayal I felt. I was not only angry with him for the embarrassing way he brought me home, but what the bracelet was portrayed as. It meant something to me to have my father give me a gift, to have the first man give me a gift that wasn't represented as a token. To have it turn out to be one, hurt beyond anything I had felt in a long time.

"You sure you want to do this?" Dad asks from behind me. I turn my head just as I reach the threshold separating the living area to the hallway.

"Yes." I say with a small smile. His eyes flow down to my wrist and back up to meet my gaze. His sad smile takes over, the one he now permanently wears.

"You know" Dad speaks up again. "I really am sorry about your bracelet Macey. I didn't want to hurt you; I only did the stupid tracking device because I was so worried. I hope you can understand and forgive me."

Mom had spoken to me about the bracelet during our shopping trip, asking me to understand hers and dad's side of the story. It wasn't that they didn't trust me, it was that they couldn't bare it if anything else were to happen to me.

I was kidnapped that day. Taken and hurt. Abused and raped. Tortured and beaten. Their worst nightmare had come true. And there was nothing they could do about it. I lost my life that day, they lost their only child. So on some deep level, I understood dad's dilemma.

"I do understand dad." His eyes light up at my words, but I continue before he could speak. "I know you're worried for me, but when I found out you used something that gave me so much meaning, I felt the same way I did when I was lost out there."

Dad's body language nearly shuts down, but he holds in the sob. Tears align along the edges of his eyes, but he wipes them away before they could fall.

"I'm sorry Whit." He says moving closer to me. My parents took the advice of Olga and called me by the name I was given in captivity, but there is nothing like hearing the name he gave me when I was just a child come off his lips. I move the few inches separating us and hug him. Dad's arms hesitates, then seconds later envelopes me in a strong desperate hold.

"So what are the plans for today?" I turn, leaving my father's embrace as I hear my mother ask who I presume is Michael, a question.

"Thought we could work out together, maybe go for a hike."

"That sounds perfect. Whitney used to love doing things outdoors. She was about the only teenager we never had to worry about telling her to get off her phone."

A silence falls upon the house. My mother often brings up past memories of me before I was taken, something Olga told her was a positive thing, but all it does is make me recall everything I never got a chance to do, things I never got a chance to experience.

Like fall in love.

My eyes open wide in shock of where my thoughts went. After everything I've been through, finding love, even being held by a man, seems like the scariest thing to experience.

Then why do I want it so badly with Michael?

"You ready?" I don't bother turning at my father's words, simply nod my head and turn the corner stopping in my tracks as I take in Michael Taylor's large form in my kitchen.

He's wearing workout clothes, same as me, but his grey sweatpants are tight around his waist and his black tank shows off his strong wide shoulders.

"Hey sweetheart, are you ready?" I nod my head at my mother, allowing my feet to take over and drag me towards Michael. His eyes rake up and down my body in a hungry stare, triggering me to nearly fall onto the ground with desire.

What is going on with me?

"Hey." He says with a small smile.

"H-hi."

"Ready to get going?" Another nod of my head, and we walk simultaneously to the front door. I turn waving goodbye to my parents, watching as my mom giggles and dad playfully nudges her with his finger into her hips.

Closing the door behind me, I turn and watch as Michael walks over to his car and opens the passenger door for me. I pause, starring at the door with reluctance.

Ever since coming home, I have been up front with Olga about cars. I become sick very easily within the confines of a small car but because her office is on the other side of town, I had to give my father's car a try. After a while of getting used to the drive and needing every window down, I was able to not feel nauseous. But now, as I watch Michael narrow his eyes on me with confusion, I have never felt sicker in my life.

Why did I agree to this?

Of course he brought his car, how else could we go out today?

He's going to think that I'm a freak.

"Whit?" Closing my eyes and counting to three, I reopen them and walk right down the driveway towards his car.

I have to try.

He's here to help me. To protect me. To keep me safe.

Mike gives me a proud smile as I hop in the car, watching as he closes the door softly then walks around the car to get in on his side. The moment the car turns on and he backs out of the driveway, a wave of nausea consumes all around me. I feel dizzy and sweaty. My throat feels dry and I close my eyes with force praying that I do not let the confines of my breakfast from this morning come back up.

"Whitney, everything okay?" He asks but I just shake my head, angry at myself for even thinking I could do something normal.

"Whit?"

I'm not normal, I could never be normal. He will never want to be around me once he learns why I get sick.

Images flow around the blank sections of my mind. I try and push them away but like always, they are hell bent on making me suffer.

"Stay inside with Macey Ranger. I'll be just a few hours." Master says, closing the door and walking away from the SUV.

We had been driving for some time and up until now I couldn't understand why master brought me along with him today. I peer past Ranger's smug face and read the name on the building once again.

Sokolov's Electrics

I've seen the name before, but I couldn't pinpoint it. Not until Master adjusted my collar just before climbing out of the car.

My collar. There are electrical pieces hardwired to each of our collars. Master makes us wear them often, mainly when punishing us. They are painful, causing a riff of electricity to flow through your body. It's not enough to kill, that much I have seen when he left Cassie writhing in pain for hours after she snuck in a piece of bread for herself during dinner.

He brought me along to test out our new collars.

"Penny for your thoughts love?"

I turn in disgust as Ranger smirks then reaches down to unbutton his slacks. Fear breaks out around my face but before I can blink his arm snakes around my neck, bring my head down onto his crotch. I try and remove my head, gasping for air as much as I can, but my strength is no match for his.

"Open your mouth you stupid bitch." He growls but I ignore him, pushing with my arms against his legs.

A fist connects with my face and I slouch, taking in the pain as he pummels my head and face over and over again. After a few minutes, he lifts my head up, taking my hair in grips with his fists.

"Listen you fucking slut. You're going to take my cock and suck it as long as I fucking say so. Phillipe won't be out for some time and I plan on telling him that you tried to escape and that I had no choice but to hurt you, so if I were you, I would do a I fucking say."

I didn't. I couldn't. I hated Ranger. Hated him even more for abusing us beyond anything Master had planned. He got off on our pain, loved making us suffer and I was sick and tired of it.

So for the two hours and seventeen minutes that it took Master to come back to the SUV, Ranger had beaten my face and body to a pulp and chocked me for biting down on his cock. It wasn't until I had no more strength did I finally relent and give him what he wanted.

I nearly collapsed at my inability to breath around him as he shoved himself so far down my throat. The entire drive home, I had to give Master my pussy, letting him stick different objects in it that he had purchased at the electrics company that he invested in.

After we got back to the mansion, I puked everywhere for hours, never feeling like the portion of myself until days later.

"Whitney, hey look at me."

I blink a few times, clearing the daze from my eyes. A strong hand touches my face gently, wiping away the tears I was unaware I had. Michael's face comes into view and I take a look around noticing he has stopped the car, pulling over on a small street not far from his home.

"Michael?" I call out, still dizzy from my panic attack.

"I'm here." He whispers, still holding my face.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, these things are going to happen, but they will only ever get worse if you don't open yourself up."

Anger courses through me at his words. "What do you mean? You don't think I'm handling myself the best I can?" Who they hell does he think he is saying something like that to me? Doesn't he know how hard every day is? Does he not get how empty I feel or how scared I am? I'm here in his goddamn car right now, going against everything I was trained to do and I'm not opening myself up?

"That's not what I said babe." His endearment does almost nothing to calm my anger and irritation. I just turn, pulling my face from his grasp and cross my arms, starring at the wall of a nearby convenience store. I hear Michael blow out a breath and then start the car, pulling out and driving us towards his home once again.

It remains quiet for the remainder of the ride, giving me only a few minutes to try and rid myself of my rage. Unfortunately by the time he pulls into his driveway, I am very much still annoyed.

Michael gets out of the car, running around the other side to open my door but I beat him to it, ignoring the pang of hurt I see in his brown eyes.

"Before we work out, I wanted to show you something." He states walking beside me up the few steps to his home.

I've only ever been here once and only paid attention to the living area and gym. This time he leads me straight to the state of the at kitchen that my mother would die for.

The walls are made of blue subway tiles, glowing from the lights hanging between each set of see through glass white cabinets. There is a large white marble island in the middle with three navy blue bar stools beside it. Each appliance is a shiny clean stainless steel and located right above the farmhouse sink is a large window looking out onto the back deck.

"We can work out in the gym again downstairs if you'd like, but before we do that, I thought I would show you a good way to give yourself the energy you need to last a few hours down there."

I turn and watch Michael walk over to a long but narrow side table that has a bench attached to it that flows along the wall. Walking over myself, I spot what looks like a farmers market located on top of the table.

Apples, bananas, kiwi, oranges, Greek yogurt and much more. Every fruit and vegetable sits atop his table in immaculate order with a large blender right in the middle.

"Making sure your body is respected is a big part of working out. Eating right and eating often, giving your body the energy it needs to sustain the intense work outs is important. I thought we could maybe have a shake, then head downstairs for some sparring." Narrowing my eyes on him I look around feeling a little out of place.

The last time we were here, Mike pushed me. He showed me that I am not a victim, but a survivor. This time, he seems to be stepping around my feelings, around my weaknesses like everyone else. He's not the same person he was the last time I was here, the one that held me while I cried. He's more like Olga and my parents now, treating me with kid gloves.

I push down my disappointment and blow out a breath, hoping now to just get this all over with. I help him make my smoothie, nodding and shaking my head of what ingredients to put in. Afterwards, we sit at his island, making small talk, mainly him as I listen as he speaks of the miscellaneous repairs he has made to the home.

When it's time to go downstairs, I drag my feet, just wanting to finish this day up so that I can go home and go back to my private room where the nightmares follow me.

"Punching bag is still in its same spot, I got some gloves that would fit you much better. Do you remember what we talked about last time as far as how to hit the bag?" Another nod from me and Michael leaves me to it while he walks over and steps behind it. "Alright, let's do this."

A few punches, playful grunts and fake sweat, I go through the motions of working out with Michael but after a few moments he stops me, staring at me like I just told him I was pregnant with his baby.

"Something wrong Whit?"

Shaking my head this time, Michael stands up from his crouch and takes his gloves off in exasperation. Throwing them on the floor and moving in front of the bag so that I have no choice but to stop.

"Then why the hell are you punching the bag this way? You said you remembered how to do it. It's like you're doing it on purpose."

"Well I'm not." I cross my arms, irritated that he could so easily see through me.

"Oh, so you can speak?" Narrowing my eyes, I listen as he continues. "Why have you been acting like I'm some big fat jerk with you? I want to help you here."

"You and everyone else." I say wishing immediately I could reign in my anger. Why can't I do it around him?

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He says moving close to me.

"It means I thought you were different. I thought you were someone that wanted to get to know me, not help me get past this hurdle you see as my life."

"Is that what you think this is? That I have some kind of pity for you?"

"What else would it be? You want me to eat better, eat more, after Olga just mention that to my parents two days ago? You want me to be able to open myself up to you? After my father said the exact same thing yesterday. I never took you as someone that would want to take advantage of the poor girl you rescued from the evil monster in Russia just to make yourself feel better."

"You honestly think I'm like that? That I would do this just to say that I did? You think my job would even allow me to be around you like this? I risked everything because I thought we were friends."

"How can we be friends Michael? You haven't even tried to get to know me. You have no idea who I am outside of your goddamn files."

"And whose fault is that? You won't let anyone close to you." His face is coming closer as our screaming match continues. My hurtful comments are matching his and before I know it, his face is as close to mine as my next breath.

"I can't let anyone in. No one knows what I went through. Everyone wants me to just be alright again, to be a different person, to be the girl they lost four years ago. No one is there for me, no one cares about me."

"I fucking care about you Whitney." He yells then takes a deep breath starring at my lips with hunger and lust. "I fucking care." He says latching his lips onto mine.

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