Author's Notes
Disclaimer - All the Twilight stuff belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just cavorting on her checkerboard.
Summary - I'm tired of the dating scene. I'm tired of trying to be the nice boyfriend. I am letting go of the last scruple I have. I'm going to buy a slave.
****PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!****
This story is going to contain some harsh material. It has reference to human trafficking and sexual slavery, physical and emotional abuse. It does not romanticize sexual slavery or validate it in any way, shape or form. However, it is told entirely from the point of view of the person doing the buying, so you're going to be hearing some of his thoughts on the whole thing. Sometimes his naiveté on what he's doing is going to be a bit comical, but this is not a comedy. His twisted views are not the same as me, the writer, condoning any illegal real-life acts along the same lines, which are obviously heinous.
Surviving Bella is not a story about survival at sea. It is about an alcoholic dealing with his horrific past and trying to find a reason to go on, and the woman who helps him rediscover his soul.
This story is not about sexual slavery. It's about a man who thinks he's entitled to whatever he wants, and how he is going to deal with the consequences of his actions.
If you have read any of my other stories, you may see a bit of a theme when it comes to my Edwards. They ain't all right in the head. They have kidnapped Bella, been abusive, been alcoholics, been nutcases, been murderers, been douche-bags, been self-centered assholes, etc. Actually, the one with physical brain damage is the only one who wasn't an ass. Deeply flawed characters are far more interesting to me as subject material for writing. In the end, they tend to have grown up a bit, and those readers who stuck it out ended up at least having an understanding of why they were they way they were.
That said, if you don't think you are going to like the material, please don't read it. It's not going to hurt my feelings. If you start reading it and don't like it, please feel free to politely let me know why in a review (if you would like to do so), and stop reading. All others, just trust me. Chapters are short, and I'm going to update frequently (thank you QuantumFizzx). Don't dwell too much on the harshness of the beginning and start making assumptions on where this is going to go – everything happens for a reason, there is method to my madness, and at the time I write this (12 chapters in), I seriously doubt anyone will correctly guess where this is going.
Brave, trusting souls – continue on.
I was not a BDSM guy, really.
Could Be Worse, Right?
Could Be Worse, Right?
Prologue
I want a sex slave.
Fucking sue me.
I watched Kate’s delectable backside as it sauntered out of my office and out of my life. I should have known it wasn’t going to work from the very beginning, when she wouldn’t even let me open the car door or choose the fucking wine. If she refused all that on the first date, I probably should have ended it after the second. She lasted longer than the last few, at least nearly a month. Apparently she had decided I was way to Neanderthal for her tastes. Neanderthal. Nice.
Maybe it was my fucked up childhood, or maybe it was just because there was something fundamentally wrong with me. I didn’t really care. I just wanted a beautiful woman at the beck and call of my cock. It’s not like I didn’t return the orgasms. I’d fucked my name out of the mouth of every woman I’d been with, and usually had them begging for more. The problem was they just weren’t always on my time schedule. They had careers, or families or friends or whatever that got in the way of focusing on me and what I wanted. Did that make me a selfish prick?
Fine, it did. I didn’t fucking care.
I was not a BSDM guy, really. I didn’t have a play room full of canes and shit like that, though I didn’t see anything wrong with some silk scarves and maybe a pair of handcuffs. Having a woman listen to what I say and do it when I said it, yeah – I liked that idea. The thought of having a naked woman on her knees when I got home at night, ready to make me dinner or just bend over one of the dining room chairs – I liked that idea, too. I especially liked it when it came to me wanting to have a little stress relief in the form of a blow job in my office. I just wanted a hot chick to suck me off when and where I wanted it, and maybe be willing to take my cock up her ass. That would be a nice bonus.
Damn Kate. She didn’t even really consider that it might be fun for her, too.
I sighed and thought about calling Aro. The last three failed relationships had resulted in the same thought, but I had been way to chicken to consider it. I mean – he didn’t exactly run a dating business. The guy sold fucking slaves. Even if I managed to transfer the funds without one of my numerous accountants being all up my ass about it, it was still – in every sense of the word – slavery. The illegality of it aside, it was just fucking wrong, wasn’t it? Did I have any scruples left?
Aro had been at a New Year’s Eve party at the Country Club when I had just been dumped by yet another “I’m not here to be your slave” girlfriend. I had indulged just a bit too much Markers Mark 46 and must have spilled my drunken guts to some degree. Aro ended up having a little private conversation with me, and had certainly gotten my attention. I didn’t know where he got them, and I wasn’t about to inquire. I did value my life to some degree, and I knew when not to ask any questions.
I shook my head, silently telling myself not to entertain such ridiculous ideas. I wasn’t going to sink as low as to support that sort of illegal trade. I had plenty of other shady businesses to keep me a little paranoid – I didn’t need to bring my sex life into it as well.
For some reason I thought of Tanya, my high school sweetheart, if you could call her that. She was a strict vegetarian – refusing to eat anything that ever had a face or a mother. It didn’t stop her from sucking my cock, but she wouldn’t swallow, sighting the same beliefs. I always figured it was pointless – I mean, just because she isn’t going to eat the burger doesn’t mean it wasn’t going to get eaten. She could walk away with her moral nose in the air, but some fucker was going to sit down and bite into that big, juicy chuck of meat. The cow was dead, and her refusal to eat it wasn’t going to change that fact.
The girls are already slaves. They could end up with anyone who could use them for anything. It could be some fat bastard who would beat the shit out of them for fun, or some nutcase who makes snuff films. Shit, it really could be something like that. If I didn’t take a bite, someone else was going to in my place. If one of his girls didn’t end up on the end on my cock, she’d just be servicing another.
My hand was shaking as I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and started dialing the number. I didn’t know who she might be, or how she might have gotten herself into such a predicament, but in some ways I would kind of be saving her, wouldn’t I? I mean, I wasn’t interested in hurting anyone – I just wanted to stop with the dating game and still get my rocks off whenever and wherever I saw fit.
“Volturi here.”
“Hey Aro,” I found myself saying into the phone. “Edward Cullen here. I would like to talk to you about a purchase.”
She had to be better off with me, right?
Chapter End Notes:
I know exactly where this is going now. Do not fear! Well...fear a little bit.