Trust by Terry Towers Read Free Book Online

reactions: those who accept, those who fight and those who plot.
    The most common are the accepters, the women who when facing their captives cower. They spend their days crying and asking God what they did to deserve what happened to them and beg for mercy from captors, but mercy doesn’t exist here. These are the women we love and the easiest to turn into the perfect slave.
    Then there are the fighters, women who go into immediate fight mode; they battle every step of the way, even if it means they’ll be hurt in the process. Turning fighters into perfect submissive slaves is next to impossible because their will is so strong, they tend to go insane before becoming submissive. For them there are usually only two outcomes to being enslaved, they go insane or die – although the ones who have mental breaks are “put down” since they’re useless to us, so I suppose there’s only one outcome for these women … death.
    And then there is the final type, the plotters. These women are hard to come by, but when we do they’re the most challenging to deal with. They pretend to be what we expect, they play the game to perfection, all the while their minds attempt to be one step ahead of us. They’re deceptive, they’re smart and they’re nearly impossible to anticipate, aside from being predictably unpredictable – they’re dangerous both to their captors and themselves.
    It had only taken me one fifteen-minute session with her to know Gwen was a plotter. I also knew she was going to get herself killed, not intentionally mind you, but that would be the end result. She was going to play her role and make an escape the first chance she got and likely be killed in the process. I needed her to see that escape wasn’t an option, because to remove such a beautifully unique creature from the world would be a travesty. But then again, would death be worse than having such a wonderful spirit beaten down into a shell of herself?
    Neither outcome appealed to me. I wanted her just the way she was; not broken, not a shell of herself and certainly not tossed into a hole in the ground. I simply wanted her. These feelings were going to put everything I had planned in jeopardy. If I were smart I’d pass her off to someone else, and forget about her. However, the thought of one of those other monsters touching her filled me with rage. I barely knew her, but as far as I was concerned she was mine and God help anyone who hurt her.
     
    ~*~*~*~*~
     
    Gwen
     
    “Who’s your trainer?” Becca asked as she scarfed down her meal. I thought it was supposed to be chicken, but no one could say for sure. It was presumably the day after my first “training session.”
    “Lance,” I answered between bites.
    Becca stopped eating and gave me an astonished stare. “The son?”
    I nodded.
    “What did he do to you?”
    I shrugged, tearing at the piece of white meat with my teeth. After swallowing the bite I answered. “Nothing. We talked and…”
    Losing all interest in her meal, Becca’s mouth dropped open. After a moment she snapped it shut. “Talked? That’s it?”
    The memory of how he felt between my legs came to mind, but I pushed it back. “I guess. Wasn’t much of a conversation. He said I’m going up for auction in a week.”
    She frowned. “I’m so sorry, girl.”
    “What’s his deal?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. We normally don’t see him. Tanner does a lot of the training. I – ” her voice cut off at the sound of voices coming from the hallway. Dinnertime was over already? We’d just gotten our meal trays. There was no way time went by that quickly.
    We all reluctantly, but with haste placed our trays at the fronts of the cells and took our positions on our cots. The click of the lock disengaging rang through the room and the door swung open to display Tanner, followed by Jazz and then the blonde guard - Connor.
    Tanner walked into the room and to the center. “Slaves! I need your attention please.”
    I