“What’s this deal?”
I reached into my coat pocket and she jumped. She pressed herself back into the car door. Her fear made my cock spring to attention, annoying me. This wasn’t about fucking her. This was about defiling her. Destroying her. Adding her to a gruesome menagerie.
“As I said before, Stella, it’s simple.” I drew the document from my pocket and handed it to her.
She looked at it as if it were a particularly venomous snake before darting her hand out and taking it.
“Luke.” At my command, my driver flipped on the interior lights.
Stella turned the documents over in her hand and stared at the large ‘V’ wax seal, covered in the classic vines that adorned the Vinemont crest and estate. “What is it?”
“A contract.”
Her gaze shot up. She had dark half-moons under her eyes, and her skin seemed almost sallow in this light. She was worn down, or at least she thought she was. This was nothing compared to the coming months.
She studied my mask. Finding nothing there to enlighten her, she broke the seal and unfolded the contract. I’d written it myself in perfect calligraphy. She read through the recitals on the first page, which stated the parties to the contract, dates, duration, and other boring particulars.
“One year?” She said it to herself more than to me as she flipped to the second page.
Her eyes grew wider with each line she read, until a look of utter horror painted her face. It was beautiful. The paper shook as a tremor settled into her hands. She finished the page and flipped once more. The last page was simply for her signature.
It seemed impossible, but she shrank even further back, melding herself against the leather and metal of the car door. “You can’t do this.” Her eyes were glassy, fearful.
“I’m not doing anything. I’ve simply presented you with terms. You can agree to them or not. It’s up to you.”
“What will happen if I don’t agree?”
“That’s the question of a child, Stella. Worse, you already know the answer to it.”
Her chin shook and her green eyes welled. “You’ll send my father to prison.”
“No, I’ll make sure your father dies in prison.”
Her breath left her so quickly it was as if I’d punched her in the gut. And I had, in a way.
She recovered, though her voice was no more than a whisper. “But if I do agree—”
“Then you are mine for one year. To do with as I please when I please. You will live with me at the Vinemont estate. You will do as you’re told. You will serve me and whoever else I want. I will own you, body and soul.”
Though she trembled, she lifted her chin the slightest bit. “No one can own my soul.”
I already do. “What’s it going to be, Stella? This offer is quite time sensitive. Your father’s sentencing is at eight a.m. sharp. And it’s,” I made a show of checking my watch, “ten fifteen p.m. right now. Tick tock.”
“How do I even know you have the power to do this? How do I know you’ll do what you say? I’m supposed to take the word of a man like you?”
A flame of anger licked around my heart. “Are you questioning my honor, Stella? I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
She laughed, the sound shaded with exhaustion. “What is the word of a man like you worth? What sort of man presents someone with a slave contract and says ‘sign it or your father dies in prison’? This isn’t even enforceable. I may not be a counsellor, but even I know that.”
She threw the pages back at me, adding more to her punishment. She was already poised to endure more pain in the next twelve months than she had for her entire sheltered life.
I neatly arranged the papers and pulled the final document from my coat pocket. This was sealed with a wax ‘M’. I held it out to her. She ripped it from my hand and tore through the seal.
When her face fell, I was disappointed. No more fight? No disbelief? No amazement at how completely I’d caught her in my trap? Instead, she just looked defeated. She was defeated, of course, but would it hurt her to lament her situation a bit more loudly?
“Judge Montagnet?” Her voice was barely audible now.
“Old family friend. You see, in this parish, old money has its own ways. This happens to be one of them. The North may have won the war, but slavery has always been in vogue around these parts. I don’t choose based on color. That’s barbaric. I choose based on certain other factors.”
“Like what? Finding someone who will do anything to save the father she loves? Desperation? Is that it, you sick fuck?” The fire in her eyes was indulgent, alive.