FicWad

ONE

Deep in New Jersey, hidden in the depths of alleyways and bars, crack houses and whore houses, rested a ramshackle building, neon yellow caution tape laced around the entrance, the windows board up, and moss growing between the bricks. From the outside, it looked like an abandoned building, infested with mice and fungi, moldy and filled with other rotting things. But inside… inside was a different story.

The floors were swept and the walls painted a dulled grey color. Soft lights hung overhead, shedding light on the inside to increase the mood. Clean but dirty, scoured but sprinkled with lusty intentions. Everyone came not for the atmosphere of the building, but what it offered. It's offering to the buyers, all male, were Heaven tied by a leash and collar, affixed with a name liable to change. It was a small price to pay with what they would get, only a few meager dollars, and the services, forever or temporarily, were enough to send them and their parcels eagerly rushing through the door. But the offerings, all female, weren't as eager as their purchasers. Many were not there by will, but by force, and longed to be anywhere else. Scantily clad in lingerie and maybe a shirt or short skirt, propped on display on wooden crates, the women (or some cases, girls) were like dolls, tools to aid in pleasurable acts and nothing else. Many were roped up, being felt up by potential buyers, others danced, and still others were being disciplined by their future Masters.

Robert Bryar, known best as Bob, smirked as he entered the building, seeing the catchy display of girls awaiting his approval. This had been a recommendation by a good friend of his, who had often come here for "test drives" and rentals. His eyes swept over curvy redheads, slender blondes, feisty brunettes, eyeing each girl critically, shaking his head, and moving on. He paused before a lively looking blonde, dressed in the usual shreds of clothes, hardly disguising the sexy lingerie below. And as his practiced, bright blue eyes critically stared at her, a loud disturbance claimed his attention. He tore his gaze away to see a man with wild, curly dark brown hair striking a smaller girl, who was obviously snarling and arguing heatedly. He licked his lips, ready for action.

Casually, Bob strode over, watching the girl fight back, despite her tightly bound hands. Her voice was lovely and sweet, but darkened by her words. Her clothes consisted of a large men's dress shirt, slashed and mostly unbuttoned, revealing heaving breasts barely contained by a black lace bra. Her pale face was flushed a dull pink, her black hair straight and messily falling just below her shoulders in choppy, ragged, razor layers. Her bangs were swept to the side, concealing one fiercely green eye. Short and slender, with breasts smaller than expected but ideal for her small frame, Bob could feel himself stirring within his jeans. And as the man struck her again and her head flew to the side, Bob knew this was his girl.

"Excuse me," Bob interrupted, sparing the girl one blow. He glanced her way briefly, noting her locked jaw and stiff posture. The man, most likely the owner, and suddenly all business, nodded.

"Ray Toro," he introduced, "Owner of this fine establishment. What can I do for you, sir?"

"Sir," Bob said, nodding slightly. "I like that. But I'm not here for flattery. What's the story on this one?" He jerked his head in her direction, his straight blonde locks falling over his forehead. Ray's eyes fell disdainfully on the girl, who glared just as angrily back.

"She's a fighter, a world-class bitch disposed here from the streets. Hot body and temper, and the sweetest pussy around," Ray said, smiling as he licked his thick, full lips, glancing at her waistline. He lifted the over-large, ragged white shirt, revealing her womanhood, shaved and clean. "Not a virgin, sexual abuse at home. Littered on the streets. One of our best found her. Used date-rape drugs to get her here."

"Had it been fair-game I wouldn't have arrived," Emma retorted angrily, her pearly white teeth gnashing together in her fury. She would never admit it, but her buyer frightened her slightly. He was a large man, roughly twice her size, with fierce blue eyes that glittered at her aggressive attitude, just wondering what she would be like in bed when he claimed her as his own. Ray turned to Bob, noting this spectacle, amusement evident in his dark brown orbs.

"Would you?" Bob breathed, breath hot on her white neck as he pressed himself behind her, large, aching cock resting on the small of her back.

"No," Emma snarled back. Bob smiled darkly, stepping away and turning back to Ray, whose expression was hazy and lusty by the display. Bob cleared his throat, claiming Ray's attention again.

"How much for her, wrapped up and pretty?" Bob asked, reaching a large hand for his leather wallet.

"Her value's low due to her not being a virgin and being tested thoroughly, but she's still worth a bit," Ray said, voice crisp with intention of sale.

"How much?" Bob repeated.

"Only a hundred."

"One hundred for this bitch?" Bob pondered a moment; it was a bit of money, one week's pay, but it was a good deal nonetheless. He took five twenties and handed them to Ray, who smiled in satisfaction as he crammed the bills into his pocket. He then jerked Emma towards him, replacing the vinyl rope for leather cords, a bronze loop protruding between her wrists. He attached the affixed leash, passing it then to Bob, who smirked at his purchase. He tugged on the black leather leash, urging Emma forward. Emma reluctantly followed, excited by the prospect of leaving this hellhole, but terrified of her buyer. As she passed the other girls in her now former predicament, she decided it couldn't be too bad. Especially after watching one redhead being led off to the back room by a burly man of roughly thirty-years.

Emma reflected on the last year of her life, escaping her perverted father who seemed to believe she was his lover, not his daughter. She remembered his rough, cold touches and late-night visits, long after her mother and brother had fallen asleep. She felt anger bubble in the pit of her stomach at the memory of his last visit, when he'd stolen her virginity (visits before hand had been up the ass; not pleasant in the least) and then spat on her, saying she was "the shittiest fuck he'd ever had". She'd broken down crying, feeling the blood pool between her thighs, shuddering and sobbing late into the night before coming to the realization she couldn't stay there any longer. Emma had packed a few essentials and jumped from her window (a six foot drop, nothing serious) and scampering away, spending the night at the bus stop a mile off. The next morning, she'd taken the bus to the city, where she spent a few months living in a back alley, stealing food and evading the public eye as much as possible. One night, eight months as a homeless teenage girl, a man had approached. He was rather well dressed in khakis and a dress shirt, and offered his condolences. He seemed sweet enough and offered her a meal, something she hadn't had in a few days. She accepted, eighteen years worth of warnings against strangers long forgotten at the prospect of food. He gone to a small café, where he ordered food and brought it out, after hearing her pleas of not going out in public. Emma had sipped the coffee, the taste strong and a little funny, but she thought nothing of it as she continued to drink the hot beverage, never starting on her food because her world had shifted to black. She had awoken wearing his shirt, a bra, and nothing else, chained to the floor, arms bound tightly behind her. Her days in the abandoned warehouse included men groping and fingering her, feeling her up, and Ray "testing" her out. It had not been a pleasurable experience, and Emma grimly thought whatever her new Master had planned for her could not be worse.

Back in her present, Emma miserably followed Bob out of the warehouse and into the darkened streets, towards his van, parked in the shadows of a different building. He opened the back doors, roughly shoving her into the back, where he looped the leash around a small circlet embedded in the roof of the car, pulling until her arms were taut and her knees barely touching the van's floor. He closed the door, heading for the driver's seat and hopping in, jamming the key's in the ignition and speeding off, sending Emma painfully lurching every which way, held only by her bonds. She whimpered softly as he slammed on the brakes at a stoplight, but he ignored her soft, pained cries. His heart was thudding in his chest almost painfully, his eyes glancing in the review mirror, watching her finally settle, her breasts heaving beneath her shirt. He licked his lips and once the light turned green, pushed down on the accelerator, speeding towards his home, a small house on the outskirts of a little town, secluded and isolated from the small population, a mile off from the next paved road.

He pulled into the drive, slamming his door in his haste to get to her. Bob's face was pale and anxious as he fumbled with her leash, not paying any mind at all to her aching knees as he yanked her out of the car, almost dragging her inside. As soon as his door was closed, he shoved her against it, kissing her hungrily and lustily. His breathing was hot and labored, his erection poking her stomach. His need was aching, but suddenly his mind replayed the scene of his drunken father screaming obscenities, the belt swishing through the air and he pushed away, gasping for breath.

Emma stared at him, confused. The kiss had been forced, yes, but Emma had felt something beyond his lust, something quivering deep in her belly. He noted her staring and seemed to regain himself, glaring at her almost angrily.

"Listen to me," he said, words cold and cruel, leaving her with an unpleasant chill. "You are not here for love. You are here only for my pleasure. It can be easy for you, or difficult, and don't expect any lenience. You will get hurt and you will be fucked until I am satisfied. Your personal needs are not important; you are less than a human in this house. You are an object and will be treated as so. You will refer to me as Master, not by name, and you will please not only me, but my friends as well. Do you understand, bitch?"

"Loud and clear, asshole," Emma sneered, insulted and infuriated by his statements. Yes, he'd bought her, but only because he couldn't get laid on his own. But no sooner were the words out of her mouth was she backhanded harshly across the face. The loud slapping sound reverberated, and Emma went sprawling to the ground, clutching her cheek and denying the tears that so desperately wanted to fall. Bob's eyes sparkled maliciously as he grasped her by her raven-colored tresses and yanked her upright, striking her again. She grated her teeth together, not allowing a sound to escape her lips, rejecting his want for her cries.

"You will not disrespect me," Bob snarled. He dropped her, letting her land harshly on the floor. Bob watched her sit upright, gingerly feeling her face and felt pity stabbing his heart. He could justify his actions, but he still felt it wasn't right. He watched her stand and really noticed how small she was, especially compared to him. She barely reach past his elbows, standing at five-feet, at most. She was so little, especially compared to him. Hesitantly, he reached for her and felt even more guilt-ridden seeing the small amount of fear in her brilliant but empty green eyes. He gently pulled her close, feeling her stiffen, as though still riddled with fear, but slowly lean into it, resting on him.

Emma could feel her heart thumping. This man, Bob, was unpredictable, his moods changing from anxiety, to something she couldn't identify, to cold and angry, to gentle and sweet. She shivered slightly, afraid of what a rollercoaster lifestyle this would be.

Bob felt her trembling and could feel his excitement starting. He felt oddly hot and aroused by her fear, his mood shifting from pitying to needful as he roughly lifted her head and kissed her, pulling her closer and reaching for the buttons on her torn shirt. His impatience grew thin and he wretched the shirt off, hearing the thin fabric tear and he threw it to the floor, kicking it aside and feeling his cock rise at her half-nakedness. He cupped her between her thighs, ignoring all protests as he found her opening. Bob's breathing hitched at her tightness and he smirked almost evilly. His thick fingers reached behind her and unclasped her bra, watching as the pale mounds of flesh were revealed, moaning at the tender look of them, at the dark pink color of her nipples. Bob smiled darkly at Emma, seeing her trembles which sent shivers of anticipation down his spine. This, he thought, would be a night worth remembering. It would be the night he claimed her as his own, permanently. Tonight, he would mark her and Emma would become his own personal property… a slave bent only towards his will…


Well, this is my first story here. I don't have anything pre-written, so it may take longer to post than most other authors. Please bear with me and if you like it, rate and review. Again, it's my first real story, so it's a little rough and unfiled, but hey, we have to start somewhere. I hope ya like it, and, as we speak, I am writing more. Welcome to this dark world of mine. xo Violet
Disclaimer: I do not own the members of My Chemical Romance. The personelle of them in this story do not reflect the real life members's. Those are pure fiction, made by my imagination. I do, however, own Emma and this plot.