Slave Girl - Sam Crescent Page 0,9
he thought it would. She was his Elenore. He smiled, just thinking of that brand of ownership. No, he didn’t own her. He hadn’t forced himself on her. She was free, or as free as she could be while trapped with him.
One day, he’d give her a choice to be with him or to run free. First, though, he had debts to pay.
After going to his car, he opened up the trunk to see his prize waiting, still unconscious and bound. He slammed the trunk down and climbed behind the wheel. He’d already given Timothy the heads-up he was coming in with a prize.
An hour later, he pressed the code into the secure gates and drove down toward the main entrance. The doors were lifted and he drove the car in.
Timothy waited in a blue surgical gown. “What do I have today?” he asked.
“Rapist and child molester,” he said.
Once he’d pulled out the file the cop had prepared for him, he handed it over to Timothy, who read through the report. There was also a medical report on the victim.
“Nasty,” Timothy said.
“I thought you might like it.”
“Clearly the girl means a lot to you. How is she healing?”
“She is doing well,” he said.
“I will stop by tomorrow to check her stitches. She has my best work, you know that.”
“I do.”
Raphael opened the trunk. The man was coming to.
Lifting him out of the confines of the car, Raphael carried him to where Timothy liked to do his work. Dropping him down on a table, he pulled the tape off the man’s mouth and the guy moaned.
“I don’t know who you are, but please let me go. You don’t have to do this.”
“Benjamin, that’s your name, right?” Timothy asked. “It says here you like to rape your victim while they’re still conscious.”
“They’re all lies.”
“Really. So you don’t anally penetrate and then force them to lick you clean or rape their vagina?” Timothy asked. “Also, these girls are underage. Your youngest victim was twelve.”
“They’re all lies. You can ask anyone.”
“I’m sure you’re an upstanding member of society. We’ll see how long you last.” Timothy secured his wrists and feet, finally his head. “I don’t like it when they wriggle too much.”
Raphael stepped out of the room as Timothy grabbed the scalpel. He heard the man’s screams as he closed the trunk.
Timothy appeared minutes later with a smile on his lips. “I do like it when they scream.”
“What do you do exactly?” Raphael asked.
“I make the first incision on their dick,” Timothy said. “It’s always their most prized area. I don’t cut it away completely, that comes later, but I like them to see they have no power now.”
“Enjoy,” he said.
“I’m aware of your father’s predilection for young girls. He doesn’t dabble often but when he does, he causes pain,” Timothy said.
“How did you find that out?” Raphael asked.
“I have my ways. I know when the time is right, you will come to me, and I will gladly make that man suffer for months before I give him the grace of death.”
Raphael nodded. “I’ll keep you in mind.”
“Do so, Raphael, also be careful. There are times people are not always what they seem.”
He took any warning from Timothy seriously. His father had a tendency to send little tests to question his loyalty. He’d passed every single one.
With the distraction of Elenore, he would need all the help he could get. His father’s tests were always at the most inappropriate times.
What did he know?
Why did he doubt him?
After climbing into the car, he drove out of Timothy’s private facility and made his way back toward the city.
Elenore would be waiting for him, and he couldn’t wait to get home.
****
Her name finally didn’t look like a scribble.
Elenore smiled as she held up the notebook Raphael had given to her. She had her name.
Elenore.
She liked it.
Now, she could also write it down and spell it as well. She knew each letter. She loved writing the e, it was so cute. She fingered the letter.
Raphael returned home just as she finished writing it again. Getting to her feet, she rushed toward him. “Look what I can do,” she said, holding the notebook up. “Don’t you think that looks good?”
“It does. You’ve been doing this all day?”
“Yes, I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. It’s a way to fill your day.” He took the notebook from her. His nose twitched. “What’s in the oven?”
“I made you a casserole. Your favorite, the one you always have when you’re