Sunlight hits my eyes like a physical attack after the warehouse's dim interior. I squint, momentarily blinded as Irina guides me across the gravel lot toward a sleek black SUV.
The cool metal touches my neck before I even realize what's happening. There's a soft click, and suddenly I feel two sharp prongs pressing against my skin.
"What's this?" I ask, my hand instinctively reaching up to touch the unfamiliar object now fastened around my neck.
"Shock collar," Irina says simply, her Russian accent making the words sound even more chilling.
My eyes go wide as the implication sinks in. This woman who just bought has put an actual shock collar on me. Like I'm a dog. Or worse.
"If you don't want to be shocked," she continues while checking that the collar is secure, "don't give me a reason to use it."
I swallow hard, feeling the prongs shift slightly against my throat. "Is this really necessary? I mean, where am I going to run to? We're in the middle of nowhere."
Irina's gray eyes meet mine, cold and calculating. "It's not about where you might run, Matthew. It's about establishing boundaries early." She taps a small remote control in her hand. "This relationship will be much smoother if you understand your position from the beginning."
Relationship? That's a pretty sanitized word for "woman who purchased a human being."
"Get in," she says, opening the SUV's rear door. "We have a long drive ahead."
I reluctantly climb into the SUV, my fingers fumbling with the seatbelt as I try to process this new horror. The collar feels foreign and heavy against my skin. Once I'm buckled in, Irina slides into the driver's seat, adjusting her mirrors with practiced precision.
"I keep this remote on me at all times," she says, patting her jacket pocket. "So don't even think about trying anything stupid."
As her hand makes contact with her pocket, there's a sudden electrical buzz and pain explodes across my body. It's like being hit by lightning, every nerve ending screaming at once, my muscles contracting involuntarily. I cry out, my back arching against the seat as white-hot agony courses through me.
"Fuck!" Irina curses, immediately turning around. "I didn't mean to do that!"
The pain stops as suddenly as it began, leaving me gasping and trembling. Sweat breaks out across my forehead as I try to catch my breath.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice softer than I've heard it before. Her hands are on me now, tilting my chin up, examining my face. Her fingers brush against my neck, checking where the collar meets skin. "No burns. That's good."
There's something unsettling about the way she's touching me, not with concern for my well-being, but with the anxious attention of someone who's just accidentally dented their new car. Her eyes dart over me, assessing for damage rather than comfort.
"I'm fine," I manage to croak out, though I'm anything but. My muscles still twitch with aftershocks, and I can taste metal in my mouth. "Just... please don't do that again."
Irina's expression shifts back to its usual cool detachment. "It was an accident. The button is more sensitive than I realized." She adjusts something on the remote, then tucks it away more carefully. "But now you know what happens if you misbehave."
I close my eyes, willing the residual pain to subside.
Irina starts the engine, and we pull away from the warehouse. The gravel crunches under the tires, and I watch through the window as my prison for the last two weeks disappears behind us. I should feel relieved to be leaving that hellhole, but trading one captor for another isn't exactly the freedom I was hoping for.
"Where are we going?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the lingering tremors from the shock.
"It doesn't matter," she replies, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The dismissive tone makes me feel even smaller, like I'm cargo rather than a person.
After a few minutes of silence, she glances at me in the rearview mirror. "Where are you from originally, Matthew?"
"Boston," I answer, watching carefully for her reaction.
Her eyes widen dramatically, and she actually turns around to look at me, momentarily ignoring the road. "Boston? How the fuck did you end up down here?"
The intensity of her reaction throws me off. I shift uncomfortably, the collar feeling suddenly tighter around my neck. "I have no idea. One minute I was walking to a convenience store, the next I was waking up in a parking lot with a bag over my head."
She turns back to the road, shaking her head. "And no one's looking for you? We checked all the databases, missing persons reports. Nothing."
"I don't know why," I sigh, looking out at the unfamiliar landscape passing by. The vegetation looks tropical, nothing like Massachusetts. It finally hits me just how far from home I really am.
A thought that's been forming in my mind since I arrived in this strange world surfaces again. Maybe I didn't exist here before I showed up. Maybe here I have no history, no records, no one missing me.
"Well, don't worry," Irina says, her voice softening slightly. "As long as you perform well, I'll take good care of you."
The way she says "perform" sends a chill down my spine. "What exactly is it we'll be doing?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"We'll be fucking on camera," she says bluntly, eyes fixed on the road.
My face ignites like someone struck a match under my skin. "What?" The word comes out as a squeak.
"I'll be fucking you on camera," she clarifies, as if explaining a mundane business arrangement. "That's how I make my money. Camming."
My eyes dart around the car interior. Despite my panic, I feel blood rushing south at an alarming rate. "I get to... with you?" I stammer, gesturing vaguely between us.
She glances at me in the rearview mirror and bursts into laughter, a genuine sound that transforms her face. "That's a new reaction. Most men I buy are terrified when I tell them."
"I'm a virgin," I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Her eyes widen in the mirror, growing almost comically large. "No one took a bite out of you in there? I thought Selena was just blowing smoke to drive up the price."
She pulls onto a side road, then reaches back to rub my thigh. Her touch sends electricity through me that has nothing to do with the collar. "Won't this be fun?" she purrs. "Stealing your virginity."
Her hand moves higher, and I grip the seat to keep from embarrassing myself. Then her tone shifts, all business again. "Listen carefully. You better learn how to take it real slow. If you cum on camera and then can't get it back up, I'll sell you to someone much worse than Selena. I've done it before."
"Relax, relax," I say with false confidence. "I used to jerk off like seven times a day in high school."
Her hand freezes on my thigh. "What the fuck?" She sounds genuinely shocked. "I've never seen a man cum more than twice in a day, and he was drugged out of his mind."
"Well, I..." I trail off, suddenly unsure if I've just made things better or worse. "I mean, I was a teenager with nothing better to do."
Irina stares at me through the rearview mirror like I've just grown a second head. She repeats herself, "Seven times?" Her voice rises with each repetition. "Seven times? Seven times in one day? Seven times?"
The intensity of her reaction makes me shrink back against the seat.
"No fucking way," she says, shaking her head. "Don't lie to me. Men can't do that."
"I swear to God," I protest, raising my hands defensively. "I had a ton of time on my hands."
She narrows her eyes, studying me like I'm some kind of scientific anomaly. The way she's looking at me makes me wonder if I've just increased my value.
"It won't take long to find out if you're lying, kid," she says finally, her lips curling into something between a smile and a threat.