Blyss (The Blyss Trilogy 1)

“You won’t get away with this!” I scream, using the last of my energy. “You sick, chauvinistic bastards, just wait ’til the police, the FBI, the government, the whoever finds out what you’re doing here. Then I’ll make damn sure your entire crime syndicate is blown to smithereens!”

Travis’ loud, mocking laugh takes me by surprise. He’s been mostly quiet the entire time, until now. “You’re pissing in the wind thinking that will ever happen, sweetheart. The government is a laughable entity, “ he says acidly. “They’re too busy being self-absorbed and living in a fantasy land of their own to give a damn about you. Sex trade is a mere problem that doesn’t exist to them; they would rather turn a blind eye. It would interfere with things that really matter...you know...like spending your hard-earned tax dollars on billion-dollar vacations and passing bills trying to slowly take away your constitutional rights.”

He scoffs at me again. “Those who “buy” women are rarely arrested. There are simply not enough resources to protect the victims. So you see the quandary you’re in now, darlin’? Most Americans assume this trade only happens in third-world countries, when in fact, we keep them right here, hidden in plain sight. From upscale strip clubs to dingy cantinas. It’s everywhere; not to mention, federal prosecution of trafficking literally takes years.”

“My father will find me, and he will take justice into his own hands,” I sneer.

“Yes, well, even if he knew the general vicinity in which you are being held, there is no way he’d be able to get in. This facility doesn’t exist; it can’t even be found on the blueprints. There are only two ways to get in and out of here, and the high-tech building security and manpower are over the top.” Travis shakes his head. “There’s no way in hell he can find you, let alone rescue you. I don’t care if he has a battalion of men behind him; there is simply no way.”

His declaration sucks the wind from my sails, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and despair. I refuse to believe my father can’t find a way in, and I also refuse to let Travis see my building panic.

“Why even bother trying to manipulate? Why not just take what you psychos want?” I start to feel my body tremble under Travis’ hold, and my lower lip begins to quiver. “It’s…it’s all just so backwards and sick. It’s all so wrong; you have no right to take the freedom of others.” I feel bile rising up from my stomach again, and I desperately try to tamp it back down.

“Don’t you know you can draw more bees with honey, sweets?” Jared chides. “These men who buy from us, they don’t get off on “broken” girls. Women who are unhealthy, unresponsive, and devoid of emotion do nothing for them.” He turns around and opens a cabinet above the counter, shifting things around. He speaks over his shoulder, “What these men want, they’re willing to pay an exorbitant fee for. They’re either looking for a loyal and submissive slave, or they want a steadfast and committed relationship. They want their women responsive, full of vigor, affectionate, and caring. Their masters hunger for an intense and animated passion that is reciprocal.”

“What the hell ever happened to consensual relationships? It’s pretty pathetic if a man needs to drug a woman to keep her,” I declare as my arms struggle against Travis’ hold. Without moving my head, my eyes shift to him, and I give him an evil glare. I’m sick of being pinned down.

“Yes, well, you’re probably too young to realize this simple fact, but women are difficult creatures to live with.” He chuckles as he finds what he’s looking for in the cabinet, laying items out on the counter. “They’re demanding, insatiable beings whose moods shift like the wind.”

I let out a fake laugh. “Dealing with beasts such as yourself, I can’t imagine why.”

“Men get tired of that shit, and if they’re married, the next likely phase winds up being divorce, the rate being well over fifty percent now,” Jared rambles, ignoring my comment. “These men are tired of the drama and tired of getting taken to the cleaners.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” I murmur and shake my head.

Jared turns around to fully face me and tilts his head. “I’m not talking about taking away your personality, Julianna. I’m talking about you achieving stable subservience, becoming a dutifully-subdued, unassertively-passive, and delightfully-submissive female. Think back to centuries ago, when a woman knew her place. She was made to serve man, but then the women’s rights movement came along and helped make a mess of things.”

“You arrogant asshole!” I shout as caustic anger oozes from my narrowed eyes. “Not everyone wants to live under men’s skewed, rigid rules or their distorted established order, especially if they have to be drugged in order for it to be enforced!”