This story is very similar to Soular's Seven Days, but only in the basic premise. As the story builds, you'll find them to be nothing alike...hopefully anyway! Enjoy and let me know what you think. Even if you hate it, tell me why. Thanks!
Michelle felt the softness of lips pressed to hers and pressed her even more into them. Still half asleep, she allowed her lips to part and allowed a firm yet soft tongue to ease into her mouth. Then, almost as soon as it started it was over. The lips were gone and she curled her body into itself shifting slightly in her slumber. Ricardo watched her, interested in her reaction. He had expected it to wake her, and that he would have to calm her frantic nerves with an explanation. But she hadn't even opened her eyes. He watched her for a moment longer, wondering what she was dreaming about, and turned to leave.
It was early in the afternoon when Michelle finally woke. The bed was so warm and comfortable; she didn't even want to get out of it. She lay there with her eyes closed, breathing in the lavender scent that lightly graced the linens. Lavender. Lavender? Nothing in her room smelled like lavender. Especially not her sheets. Her eyes flew open. This was not her bed. It was too big. And she would never purchase cream colored sheets. And this wasn't her room. This room was half the size of the entire upstairs of her house. She felt the fear rising in her throat, threatening to choke her as she looked around the room.
She was afraid to get out of the bed, but also afraid to stay in it. Her breath quickened and swallowed simultaneously. She had been kidnapped. She was going to die. She was going to be raped and killed. Chopped into a million pieces. Hastily, she rushed from beneath the covers and rushed to the window. She had to be on the second or third floor of the house. And the lawn was extensive. Perfectly manicured. Oh, no. Some rich sick pervert had kidnapped her. And the house was probably gated. She wrapped her arms around herself as her mind raced. At least she wasn't naked. She still had on the cotton tank top and shorts she had put on before bed. In socked feet, she walked towards a door. It was just a closet, full of clothes she didn't bother to look through. She slipped on a pair of sneakers. They fit perfectly and looked new. Fucking pervert. She shook her head and opened another door. It was a bathroom. There was only one door left. She turned the knob slowly. Praying, she pushed it open. There was a hallway. A long dark hallway. Tentatively, she headed to her right. Before she could even
make it to the stairs, she felt a hand on her arm. Jumping, she screamed and tried to pull away. But the hand was stronger than her.
"Let me go!" She screamed not bothering to look back. She continued to jerk away, kicking her leg back to strike whatever was holding on to her. As soon as she finally managed to make contact, the arms of whatever wouldn't let her go, wrapped tightly around her upper body. "Get the fuck off of me!" she hissed evilly.
"Let's go back to you room." The voice was dragging her backwards as she struggled against it. Finally, the arms released her and she heard the click of a door closing. She was right back where she started. Fuck.
She whipped her body, eyes narrowed in determination, but as soon as she saw him, all thought left her. He was gorgeous with a chiseled face, muscular body, olive colored skin and eyes almost as dark as her own. Taking a step back, she composed herself.
"Who are you?"
"They call me Diablo." He almost laughed as her brow furrowed in disbelief.
"Like, the mafia guy Diablo?"
"Something like that..." he responded, walking towards her.
"You're not old enough." She took a few more steps back.
"Well, I guess you can say I'm Diablo the second. My father is the one you are referring to."
"I don't owe your family anything." He could see her lips trembling. He didn't doubt that her mind was racing, recalling every horror story she had heard about the ways of his father.
"But your family owed my family a lot."
"Look, I don't know anything about that. Any business you have with my cousins in between them and you. My parents don't have anything, so if you're asking for ransom money, you're not going to get it." She looked so sweet and innocent as she explained herself. She thought this was about her cousins, who were probably petty drug dealers.
"I'm not sure who your cousins are but I was referring to your parents. They owed my father fifty five thousand dollars." Michelle looked as though she might faint.
"What?" It was so faint he barely heard it. She took a seat on the edge of the bed. "We never had that kind of money."
"Clearly. And that's why you're here." She looked at him confused and upset.
"You want me to work for you?"
"Something like that..."
"To pay off some debt they have? My mother wouldn't come work for you?"
"Your mother has nothing for me," he seemed to have some type of permanent smirk etched across his face. She was still confused, her brow knit together as she tried to process the information. "You're parents and I had a deal. They took out a loan fifteen years ago, and haven't paid back one penny." He sat next to her, and she visibly stiffened. "So I demanded payment." She held her breath, waiting for what she knew was coming. "And they gave you to me to do with whatever I please." She clutched her chest and the sound she made could only be described as that of her heart breaking.
"You're lying." She whispered. "My parents love me. They would never do that. They...." It was almost like she was trying to convince herself as opposed to him. "They love me..." She moved her gaze from her lap to his eyes. "Could I be left alone please?"
There were tears in her big brown eyes and he knew he couldn't deny her such a simple request. Besides, she was his for as long as he wished. It wasn't his place to comfort her, so even though hit seemed appropriate to hold her, he simply stood without speaking, and closed the door quietly behind him.
As he sat in his at home office, he couldn't help but think of all the things he wanted to do to her. His heart went out to her...to a certain extent. But her parents had put themselves in a vulnerable situation in that situation and he simply happened to be in a position to take advantage of it. It wasn't his fault her parents were heartless enough to give away their only child with few questions asked. He wondered if they knew he had been watching her. When he drove through the neighborhood, or stopped by their home to inquire about payments, he found himself admiring her thick thighs and her narrow waist. Not to mention that wild hair and smooth dark skin. There was a sensuality that showed through the innocence of her. He felt himself hardening at the thought of bringing the sex from deep within her to the surface. He knew it when he kissed her lips hours ago. They were full, but not out of proportion to her face and the way his felt against hers, God, if she ever let another man experience that, he would have to break that man's face. Adjusting his tie, he decided to head to work.
Michelle sat perfectly still absolutely shell-shocked for about fifteen minutes. She didn't know what to think or feel. She couldn't even cry. What was to become of her? There was a soft tap at the door, but she didn't answer. Whoever it was came in quietly, and sat a tray on the bed next to her. It was an older woman. She was short, even shorter than Michelle, who was only 5'5. The woman pressed the back of her hand against Michelle's cheek.
"Pobrecito." She murmured. "Eat." Michelle couldn't help herself. She wrapped her arms around the woman's waist and wept. "Pobre." The woman continued to murmur shaking her head as she stroked the girls' poufy hair. They remained in that position for five minutes before the woman pulled away and repeated firmly, "Eat." She wiped away Michelle's tears with the corner of her apron. She stood there waiting until she began to eat and walked to the bathroom. She ran her a bath and by the time Michelle was done eating the sound of the water running into the tub had stopped. The woman lifted Michelle from the bed and pushed her in the direction of the bathroom. She looked back as she headed towards the bathroom, but the woman was already half way out the door.
