Broken Revival

  Broken Revival

  Autumn Winchester

  Edited and formatted by

  Pinpoint Editing

  Cover designed by

  Just Write. Creations

  Copyright © 2017

  by Autumn Winchester

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  This novel has BDSM themes, mentions of abuse and rape, and contains slavery and crime.

  This is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

  Prologue

  Dawn

  Kneeling on the soft, red pillow, I awaited my Master to enter the playroom. My legs were shoulder width apart, my hands laced behind my back, my head down. I was naked, my waist length hair braided off to the side, no makeup to be seen. I took deep slow breaths, kneeling in the perfect pose—the pose he loved the most.

  I had been to hell and back—more than once—but I was changed for the better.

  I was beaten down to nothing and brought back, with no idea what had been done to me. Thanks to Master, I was made whole again. I was stronger in every way; no longer the timid girl he had saved from the darkness.

  Although this was my first time in the playroom, I knew it like the back of my hand. I’d had to, so I could be ready for this moment.

  This was new, exciting, and I was already wet with arousal, waiting for the fine combination of pleasure and pain I knew would be my undoing.

  The floor squeaked as he entered the room, igniting my nerves. I could feel his presence as he stepped over the threshold.

  I held my breath as soft fingers ran over my hair in greeting.

  He was hesitant, scared of causing me too much pain, but we both knew pain and pleasure went hand in hand when in the correct mind frame. I had picked out some toys that were familiar to me because we had used them in our bedroom. I had been preparing for this for weeks before we decided to come in here. I didn’t think I would have any issues. I was certainly more excited than nervous.

  I had chosen a blindfold, a bullet vibrator, and some silk rope. He called them beginner’s objects numerous times.

  “What is your safe word?” he asked softly, coming to a stop an inch in front of me. I could see his bare legs, knowing he wore only black silk boxers. I loved his nakedness, his tenderness, and everything else about him.

  “Red,” I said, just barely more than a whisper. “Green and yellow, also.”

  “Good girl,” he said, petting my hair. It was hard, but I managed not to lean into him. He ran his hands up my legs, and I moaned as he began to massage my ass cheeks almost roughly.

  “Are you wet for me?” he asked.

  “Always for you, Sir,” I moaned as he touched me, just between my legs, but not where I desperately wanted him.

  “Only for me,” he said, slipping the tip of his pinky into my wetness. I arched into him, wanting more.

  “Please, Sir,” I moaned, wanting more as he moved away.

  “Soon,” he said sweetly.

  Chapter 1

  Dawn

  I should have been used to it by now, even with the numbness that had taken over, but the cold still lingered. Shadows danced behind my closed eyes. I was giving up. I knew my time was close to the end, and I was as ready as I could be to die. It wouldn’t take much force to end my pathetic life. I’d lasted longer here than I thought I would.

  My green eyes were sunken into my skull and my bones were barely covered by skin that was coated by grime. The nightgown I wore was nothing but rags. I could feel the fever from the virus forming within me. My roommate had fallen ill a few short days ago, and now it was only a matter of time before I lay among the dead—like her. I hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

  Until last week, I had been completely by myself during my time here. I wasn’t even sure where ‘here’ was. I just knew it was cold and dark—so freaking cold and dark—day and night.

  I missed the sun upon my skin. I missed a loving touch. I missed life.

  This hell was no place of happy memories, nor would it ever be.

  “Let’s go,” barked an overweight guard as he noisily pulled opened the door to my jail cell. It made a grinding noise against the pebbled cement floor, making my ears ring.

  I was in what is considered an isolation room in an underground jailhouse somewhere. There were no windows except for the little dirt covered one set in the door. A green, worn out cot sat against the far side of the room, next to a filthy metal toilet and sink. The sink had a small cup for drinking water, which was also dirty from my own hands. Who knew how long that cup had been around here? A flickering fluorescent light was fitted on the ceiling, but was hardly ever turned on.

  My body was lying on its side and I could hardly move, even though I knew I had to. The air was thick. Mold and dirt clouded my senses and made breathing even more difficult. With blurry eyes, I watched the balding man stomp his way into the cell with a hard look on his face. I knew better than to disobey any command, but my body refused to work as the fever took hold. It made me weak; weaker than I had ever been during my time here.

  Roughly, he grabbed my thin arm, right above my elbow on the rope burns from the day before and pulled me up. They were just another lasting scar upon my body. I scrunched my face in pain but didn’t dare make a sound.

  “You’re lucky there’s no time for a beating,” he hissed as he dragged me out of the cell, as though I was nothing but a stuffed doll. I knew his Russian accent well. His breath smelled sour, and I tried to turn my face away as much as I could, so I didn’t spill my guts on his shoes ... again.

  The last time wasn’t an incident I desired to remember.

  I tried to keep up, but my legs could hardly hold the weight of my ninety-pound body. The hall was just as damp and dirty as my cell. The air was slightly easier to breathe, but not much. Giving up the fight, I let my eyes close once again, not caring where I would end up. I prayed that wherever I did, it would end my wasted life.

  “What’s wrong with her?” spoke Master as we got to wherever we were going. His voice was raspy from his many years of smoking.

  “I don’t know,” my handler grumbled as he let go of me. I fell awkwardly onto the filthy brown carpet. My face smashed into the floor as my arms refused to hold my weight. The rough fibers of the carpet poked against my cheek as I bre
athed in its puke-like smell.

  Master Galvin, a deadly man, walked into my personal space, demanding my attention. My unfocused eyes stared at shiny black shoes. I knew his black hair would be greasy and hanging down to the top of his eyebrows. He was just below six feet tall, and never had a wrinkle out of place in his clothes. It didn’t matter if he wore a perfect expensive suit or his workout clothes—he always carried himself as though everyone was supposed to bow down to him, and him alone.

  He was verbally kinder than the men he bossed around, and never lifted a hand to me, but that didn’t mean he was nice. Not by a long shot. He may have never physically harmed me, but that never stopped him from causing me harm. Master was always able to get his men to do it instead.

  “Poor child,” Master mumbled as he felt my forehead with the back of his chilled hand. “Morgan, go get some OxyContin so she can at least be auctioned. Tess didn’t make it, and I’m sure she has the same virus as the others. Let's try to keep her alive long enough to make some money from her.”

  “Yes Sir,” said Morgan with a slight nod of his head, before he walked heavily out of the room.

  I knew exactly where every piece of furniture was in this office—I had been here countless times. A beat-up oak desk sat in the middle of the room with two white foldable chairs facing it. A small kitchen area was to the left, while the right side of the room held boxes of files. The walls were covered in wood paneling and the lighting was bright, the lamps in the two corners filling the room with glare.

  “You have given me great service, but I’m afraid I no longer have a need for you. Your age is causing issues amongst my men. I’m sure someone will want you; I know my son does, but I can’t let him have a gift as sweet as you until he learns his place. Selling you tonight is my only option. That is, of course, if you survive this illness,” Master spoke quietly from above me as he brushed the sweaty hair off my face in a fatherly manner.

  Had he purposely caused me to get this sick? I certainly wouldn’t put it past him. I wasn’t worth much to this man—never was. I was just a means to an end like the rest of girls.

  “It saddens me greatly to have to make this choice. It was a pleasure to train you, but your mother will now have her debts forgiven.”

  “Here you are, Sir,” Morgan spoke loudly as he walked back into the room.

  My head was pounding with each heartbeat. I could feel each breath I took, pounding through my skull like a drum.

  “Perfect!” Master Galvin slapped his thigh before holding his hand out for the syringe. “This will make the pain go away long enough for you to be bought by the highest bidder. It will make you sleep for a few hours. So, unfortunately, I won’t be getting as much as I would like,” he continued as he pushed the needle into my thigh, administering the drug into my system. The small prick was nothing compared to the torture I’d already suffered. “It is a shame. So many men like having a trained slave.”

  I could feel the drug’s effect all too soon. Some of the soreness began to creep away as Morgan once again pulled me to my feet. I was at least able to hold myself erect somewhat now, even if my eyes didn’t want to stay open any longer. He none-to-gently pulled me behind him as we left the office and entered back into the stained hallway.

  We passed through a few different rooms and went down hallways I had never seen. Most of the rooms were either totally empty or filled with boxes stacked haphazardly.

  We finally came to a stop in a room where other girls were either standing in the waiting position, or being held by a rope around their necks as they kneeled beside their own handlers. The room was the size of Master’s office, but not any cleaner. The paint was peeling off the walls, and the floor had stains from previous occupants. I had never been to this part of the building before today.

  Another man, one I couldn’t recall seeing before now, slapped a piece of paper with large black numbers onto my ugly gown. I would have fallen if Morgan hadn’t kept me from doing so—although he did laugh.

  Why was he so amused by my reactions? I couldn’t help being weak. Maybe if they’d given me more food to survive in this hell, I’d be a bit stronger.

  I vaguely watched through blurry eyes with my head down as the slaves were moved from the room in groups through another door. Most of the girls struggled as they were dragged out, some crying and fighting against their restraints.

  I had once been like them. I once thought that struggling and fighting would be the key to getting out of this place, but all it did was cause more pain. All it did was cause more lasting bruises from the inside out.

  I didn’t think I’d ever heal from such abuse. I’d likely die in pain.

  “I was trying to talk Galvin into letting me have you, or even taking you until you got over your illness, but he wouldn’t allow me,” Morgan whispered in my ear, kneeling at my level so no one would be able to hear him. His breath was too warm against my heated skin. “You are wonderful in every way, my Pet. I will find you and bring you home when the time comes. I promise I will be the best Daddy to you.” He roughly kissed my cheek and grabbed my breast before he backed away. I took a deep breath, trying not to let his touch get to me. I was unable to hold in the shiver that wracked my body, unsure if it was from the spoken words or from his touch—most likely from both.

  Morgan dragged me through the door when my number was called, along with several others. I stumbled up the few steps that led to a wooden stage. I couldn’t see much through the smoke and bright lights that were pointed towards the platform. Some of the girls were crying, while one or two had gags in their mouths.

  Once on the stage, I was forced to stay still after Morgan tapped against the back of my knees with his foot. I didn’t pay attention to what was said as each girl was auctioned. I kept my position, kneeling on the floor, hands behind my back and chest jutting out. I knew most of the girls were either tied with their hands behind them so they had less of a chance of trying to run. Most of these girls had not been held captive for as long as I had. They had no idea how deadly these men were. I still didn’t know everything they were capable of doing.

  When my turn came, I was forced forward to a podium where a man stood wearing a black suit. I kept my head down, arms behind my back, knowing I would easily be punished if I was out of line in any way. I was sure my body wouldn't be able to take any more pain—not right now.

  Although, on second thought, maybe that would finally end my pathetic life.

  “Number 73. Age nineteen. About five foot two. She’s ill, so she is unable to perform any service tonight after purchase. She is fully trained, and can do every command you wish her to do. Let’s start the bidding at ten grand,” spoke the man with a foreign accent.

  I was unable to follow the fast pace the bidding took. The man spoke too fast and I kept swaying, trying not to allow the dizziness at the edge of my vision to take over.

  “Sold to paddle number 109,” the man said, as I was shoved sideways towards the other end of the stage, where I practically fell down the steps. Once down, I was guided towards a wall as my eyes began to stay closed on their own accord.

  “Remember, she’s drugged just a tad and already falling asleep. She won’t be of any service until the drugs are out of her system,” my handler spoke. “She is completely trained and ready to be at your service within twelve hours.”

  A different hand that I didn't recognize, much gentler than the hands to which I had grown accustomed, touched my upper arm as I nearly fell, almost falling into the man that now owned me. Morgan once again laughed as the new man gently, but sternly, led me out of the building after making sure I was stable enough to walk on my own.

  It was dark outside, and I gave up the fight as the drugs took over my body. Letting my legs carry me wherever I was led, I hardly felt the rough ground against my bare feet as we made our way outside into the night. I could have been walking over hot, sharp glass for all I knew. I didn't really care.

  Chapter 2

  Elija
h

  Sometimes, I hated my job. I loved the money, don’t get me wrong, but I hated the things I had to do—who I had to pretend to be. After faking my identity so many times, sometimes I couldn’t remember who the real me was.

  Some mornings, I’d ask myself “Who am I today?”, just to make sure I remembered who I needed to pretend to be. Thankfully, I was able to see my family, claiming them as my employees when required.

  My current identity was one I had been working under for well over a year. I had yet to find the evidence I needed. I wasn’t sure I ever would. It was nearly impossible when I didn’t even really know what was needed. I knew the goal was to bring down one of the most popular group of men that supported sex trafficking, but it was a lot easier said than done.

  Once this job was finished, I would be taking one heck of a break.

  I wanted to be anywhere else, but I didn’t have a choice. When I got that phone call this morning, inviting me to the auction, I had to accept. It could lead me to some much needed information, I had been waiting a very long time to get. I needed more proof and more information to bring down this organization. This could very well be my chance—my chance to finally bring this case to a close.

  I had to do this one step at a time, no matter how long it.