#branding tw
Note: I’m sorry. I know I’m late. I know I’m falling behind. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Trigger warnings: I usually don’t post trigger warning cause it’s all in the tags. I’m posting them here now because it’s NSFW and it’s non-con. I need to emphasize that. It’s nothing too graphic but it happens. So please, read the tags, all the tags before proceeding. I felt so terrible writing this. And honestly I regretted it halfway but I was already falling behind
“Next item for auction. A precious, rare item that would probably never grace our halls again. Going for 25 million dollars. Miss Amber Sweet, CEO of GeneCo.”
The bag was pulled off the creature on the stage. She squinted as the lights blinded her. He saw the fear hidden behind the arrogant contempt that bitch always wore. He grinned. He found his new plaything.
Whispers echoed through the audience. They were all wearing masquerade masks and only their assistants were allowed to speak for them; a façade for hiding their identities. But he knew who each and every one of these insects were. No one hid from him.
“Show us a sample.” A voice from the audience called out. Assisstant to Mark Black; tech genius and CEO of MobileTech.
The auctioneer approached the GeneCo head. She snarled at him. Any malice negated by the fact that she was bound and gagged. Her clothes were stripped off her; leaving her clad in black lingerie.
Someone in the audience whistled in approval. Kelvin Grant. CEO of Fashion Tech.
The girl glared at them but she just looked like a cheap prostitute from here.
“Anything more will be the privilege of the winner of the auction, of course.”
Someone boo’d. Joseph Chase. CEO of Charmaceuticals.
“Let’s start the bidding at 25 million.”
“50 million.”
The bidding war started. The price climbed quickly. He watched horror enter the girl’s face.
“500 million.” His assistant announced calmly.
“Number 27, 500 million. Going once. Going twice.”
“550 million.”
“750 million.” Mutterings filled the room. How much were they willing to pay for a one night stand really? But he…he had a new toy. She would be worth everything.
“…going twice. Sold to number 27 for 750 million. Next item on our list-”
But he’d lost interest. He had his new pet. “Extensive surgery. Change her face; remove any recognizable scars or birthmarks. Change her body shape if you have to. I don’t want anyone to recognize her.”
“Yes sir.”
***
Everything hurt. How long has she been here? Why haven’t her brothers come for her? Someone had to come for her.
She looked around her room. Well, barely a room. It had no windows and only a single arm chair and queen sized bed filled it. Nothing else. No mirrors. No dresser. Nothing. Why would she be given a dresser? The man stripped her lingerie off her the first day and she has worn nothing since. She fought the embarrassment. She won’t let this affect her.
The door opened.
She fought her urge to cower. She couldn’t look weak. She refused to look weak.
The man who bought her walked in still wearing the same masquerade mask. “Hello princess.” He stroked her cheek.
She fought the urge to shrink away. Instead she spat at him.
He grinned. And slapped her hard across the face. The force sent her sprawling on the ground. “It seems I haven’t broken you yet. I really don’t like damaging my pets.”
Amber tried to get up. A foot stomped down on her back sending her crashing to the ground. She refused to scream.
“I think my pet needs to understand who she belongs to.” He kicked her onto her front.
“Fucking bastard.”
“Shhhhh. Bad little pets need to be punished.”
Four men ran into the room and held her down. Her eyes widened as the fifth passed him a red hot poker with a seal on top. “No.” She whimpered.
“Yes pet, beg.”
She glared.
The man just grinned and pressed the poker onto her stomach.
She screamed. Searing pain filled her stomach. She struggled but the men held her down.
The poker was lifted but the pain still persisted. Tears burned in her eyes. She forced them back. She won’t let them see her cry. She won’t.
“Get on the bed.”
The men released her.
Shakily, she got onto her feet.
“Get on the bed.”
Every step sent searing pain through her. She gingerly sat on the bed.
“I don’t usually like to share. But you men have been working so hard.” He sat in the arm chair. “Go ahead. Have your turn.”
“No.” She backed away. But there was nowhere to run. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” Two men held her down. She kicked one of the men in the groin. The other two grabbed her legs and spread them open. “No.” She fought.
She heard pants unzipping.
She bucked and fought but they held her down.
A sharp pain shot through her as he forced himself into her.
She looked at the ceiling. She focused on the ceiling fan. Just as she had done every night she was here. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t here. She was at home; in GeneCo, safe. She was in her room, getting ready for bed.
The man’s grunts distracted her and forced her back to the present. She felt the bedsheet scratching her back. Her stomach was on fire. Hands. So many hands holding her down. And this terrible pain going in and out and in and-
The fan. Just look at the fan. She was not here. She was not here. She was…
Her brothers would come for her. Her brothers would find her. Someone would save her.
***
Amber studied the scarred crest on her abdomen. She traced it. She knew who was behind this. She imagined stabbing a poker in the bastard’s eye. She imagined herself slicing his skin off until there was nothing left.
The door opened.
Amber flinched back. What new torture did he have for her today?
“Oh my pet is so good today.”
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
He stroked her cheek. “You must be in so much pain. Let me help you.” He pulled out a Z gun.
Amber’s eyes widened and back away. “No.” She was clean. She was fucking clean.
“Shhhhh. I’m being kind. Don’t you like it when I’m kind?”
“No.”
He grabbed her hair and pulled. “Don’t you remember what happens when you don’t listen?”
“Please.”
“Yes. Beg me for it. Beg me to give you Z.”
No. She was clean. It took her so long to give up Z.
“Beg. Me. For. Z.”
“Please. Please give it to me, sir.” Disgust filled Amber.
“As you wish, pet.” He placed the Z gun against her thigh.
She closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her fac. No. Not Z. Not-
The gun went off.
A thick haze filled her. She felt calm and relaxed. And why was she so upset?
She was pushed forward onto the bed.
It was so comfortable.
She felt a pressure from behind.
She felt…nothing.
***
Pavi watched their guests dance around the hall. He wasn’t in the mood for a party. But GeneCo still had to keep up appearances. It’s been a year since their sister ran away. Pavi sighed. It was so unlike his sister. He wished she would have talked to him about it first. She didn’t show up for work one day and they found a letter in her room saying that she couldn’t stand the stress of running GeneCo anymore; that she was leaving Luigi in charge of GeneCo and she was leaving for good.
It just wasn’t like his sister. She was the one who wanted to run GeneCo. If she really hated doing it; Luigi would have been happy to take over. And she could still stay here doing whatever she wanted. Why the hell did she have to leave?
Pavi spotted the President come in. He sighed. Time for work.
“Mr President, we are-a delighted to have-a you here tonight.”
“I am delighted to attend.” The man smiled charmingly. “And please for the last time call me Francis.”
“The Pavi wouldn’t-a dare Mr President.” Pavi turned to the girl standing at the President’s side; a small wallflower who wouldn’t meet his eye. “Has-a the Mrs President gotten a new face?”
“Unfortunately no. The Mrs is in Europe for business. So I thought I’d show off my latest prize.” He turned to the girl. “Show Mr Largo your face.”
The girl slowly lifted her face but did not meet his eyes.
“Your-a face is-a beautiful, bella.”
The girl didn’t say anything.
“Isn’t it? It cost me a fortune to redo the bone structure but I think the result is exquisite.”
Pavi held the girl’s chin. “Yes, truly exquisite.”
“You know what, Mr Largo. I’m getting rather bored of the girl’s face. I think it’s time she had a new one. If you really like it, you can have it.”
Pavi grinned. “That’s-a very generous, Mr President.”
“Just please don’t kill the girl. She won’t fight.” He said with a wink.
“Follow me, little one.”
The girl looked at the President and he nodded. She approached him quietly.
“Oh and Mr Largo, I don’t mind sharing. You can take her for a test run.”
“Maybe The Pavi shall.” He held out her arm for the girl to take. She just stared at the ground. He gripped her wrist and brought her upstairs to his room. The face truly would be perfect for his collection. The way the skin gently fell on the cheeks; the perfect nose structure. It truly was perfect.
“Go on, Bella. Lie on the bed.”
The girl obediently laid on the bed and spread her legs.
Pavi traced the features on her face. It was lovely. Pavi hiked up the girl’s dress.
She didn’t protest or fight; she just lay there.
“Bella, it’s-a much more fun if you fight or at least act like you’re enjoying it.”
“I’m sorry.” Came the small voice.
Pavi placed his hand on the inside of her thigh.
There was no reaction. She just laid there; staring at the ceiling.
Pavi sighed. “You’re really not-a making this fun, Bella.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t-a you like this, bella?” He stroked her thigh.
“Yes sir. Please give it to me sir.” She sounded like an emotionless robot; pre-programmed to say the lines.
Pavi sighed. He’d lost interest. He pulled down her skirt. “Come on, bella. I’ll just take your face and you can go back to your date. You’ve spoiled my mood.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl sat up. She didn’t react when he put the blade to her face.
“Questa bella sa davvero come uccidere l'umore (She really knows how to kill the mood).”
“Scusate. Cosa desidera che faccia, signore? (Sorry. What do you wish me to do, sir?)”
Pavi froze. “You understand Italian, Bella?”
“No.”
“You just-a spoke fluent Italian.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve never learned Italian in my life.”
“Dove hai imparato a parlare italiano? (Where did you learn to speak italian?)”
“Non ho mai imparato a parlare italiano, signore. (I’ve never learned to speak Italian, sir.)”
It was strange. She spoke Italian fluently; the sentences were full, the grammar perfect. Definitely not someone who’s only just learned Italian. But her pronunciation was off. But pronunciation like that with that kind of fluency didn’t make sense. Almost like a child who was forced to learn another language but was never interested; so they learned half-heartedly but used it often enough, they could speak it.
“Farfallina bella e Bianca,”
“Vola vola mai si stanca.”
“Trotta trotta cavallino,”
“Porta a spasso il mio bambino.”
Children’s nursery rhymes. No teacher would teach an adult Italian with nursery rhymes. This meant that she must have learned it since she was a child.
“Why are you lying to me, Bella?”
“I’m not lying. I don’t speak Italian.”
“What’s your name?”
“Mara.”
“Come ti chiami?”
“Mara.”
Something felt wrong. Nothing she said made sense. She was a fluent speaker and yet… He knew only one person who spoke like she did. Someone who had perfect grammar and vocabulary but refused to pronounced things correctly out of spite. “Sorella?”
“Figlio unico. (Only child).”
Was she playing a prank of him? Was he overthinking things? Was he missing his sister so much, he’d fooled himself into believing this girl was his sister? Wait, Amber had a birthmark over her right upper back. “Turn around.” He unzipped the back of her dress partway. It wasn’t there. He was wrong. He was just fooling himself. He was wrong. He sighed and zipped her dress back up. “I’ve lost the mood. I’ll bring you back to the President, bella.”
The girl just nodded quietly.
He led her out of his room and they headed back towards the ballroom. He paused at the lift. “Aissèra, Nanninè, me ne sagliette. Tu saie addò?”
“Tu saie addò?”
“Addò ‘stu core 'ngrato cchiù dispietto. Farme nun pò!
“Farme nun pò.”
He paused.
“Addò lo fuoco coce, ma si fuie. Te lassa sta! Te lassa sta!” She continued singing quietly.
The lift doors opened. Pavi stared at the buttons. He pressed the floor where the medical wards were. That song. He knew that the song was popular. He knew he was basing it on false hope but… How many times had he and Amber sang that song to annoy Luigi? He hated the song with a passion thanks to them. And so they refused to stop singing it. It…it may be false hope. But Pavi had to be sure.
The doors opened at the medical wards. He stepped out of the lift, guiding Amber -no it couldn’t be Amber- out. They walked a couple of steps when the lift dinged once more.
“Mr Largo.”
Fuck.
“You were taking awhile so I came to find you. Where are you going?”
Pavi froze. He couldn’t make an enemy out of the President. That would be foolish. Not over this small hunch that this girl could be his sister. He had to be sure first. “Mr President. The face was-a so perfect, the Pavi couldn’t-a bear risk damaging it. The Pavi will get the Surgeons to remove the face.”
“That wasn’t the deal, Mr Largo. I would appreciate if you return my property to me now.”
He was trying to stop him. He was worried. The hunch became more and more likely by the minute. “Mr President,” He pouted. “You promised you would give The Pavi her face.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Pet, come here.”
Pavi gripped the girl’s wrist. “No bella, stay with me.”
“Please, let me go. He’ll get angry.”
“Nothing gets in The Pavi’s way of getting a beautiful face.”
“I’m warning you Mr Largo, give me the girl.”
The lift dinged once more. Luigi walked out. “Where the hell have you been hiding?” Luigi growled. He froze when he saw the President. “Mr President.”
“Brotherrrrrrr….” Pavi whined. He hoped Luigi would pick up that something was wrong. “He won’t-a let The Paviche have the girl’s-a faceeeeeee.”
Luigi stared at him. He sent a begging look to his brother that he hoped he would pick up on.
“Come now, Mr President. Let’s leave the freak to his games. The others want to start a high stakes poker game and would be delighted if you would join.”
The President hesitated but couldn’t do anything without drawing suspicion. He relented. “Give her back once you’re done.”
“Of-a course, Mr President.” Pavi held the girl close to him. “The Pavi tried her out. The Pavi understands-a why you’re so attached.”
The President smirked and followed his brother into the lift.
Pavi’s smiled dropped. He grabbed the girl’s wrist once more and dragged her forward.
She didn’t fight him.
He entered Dr Smith’s office. “I need someone who won’t say anything and I can trust. Someone who won’t report back to the President. I need you to call the nurses outside to prepare for a face removal surgery. Then I need you to run a DNA test.”
“What’s going on, Mr Largo?”
“I don’t know. I hope I’m wrong. But…”
He glanced at the young girl and did what he was told.
Pavi paced. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. This couldn’t be… He looked at the girl sitting there staring at the ground. That couldn’t be his sister. How did the President get his hands on her? A sick feeling filled him. What if she hadn’t ran away? What if she was taken and a false note was planted? But they searched everywhere. They couldn’t find traces or hints of anything. Unless… He looked at the girl. They did the modification as soon as they took her. No one would recognize her.
Dr Smith approached the girl with a needle.
Obediently, she turned her neck for him to inject her.
“Your hand will do, dear.”
“That isn’t Z?” Pavi’s chest clenched.
“No.”
“But…I’ve been good. He said I could have Z if I was good.”
“I just need a bit of blood.” Dr Smith took the sample. “What do you want me to run it against?”
“Amber’s blood.”
Dr Smith froze. He looked down at the girl then back at him. “Mr Largo, I don’t think-”
“I know. I know it doesn’t make sense. I just have this feeling. Please. Just run the test. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong. I need to know.”
Dr Smith nodded.
“No one else finds out about the test.”
“I’ll run it myself.”
“Thank you.”
Pavi watched Dr Smith leave then sat opposite Amber – the girl. “How-a long have you been with the President for?”
“2 years.”
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Amber just did run away.
“You were-a scared when you said he’d get angry. Does he hurt you?”
“The master is giving me what I deserve.”
“And what exactly does he give you?”
The girl unzipped her dress. It dropped to the floor.
Pavi thought it was odd she would wear a floor-length, long sleeved ball gown. Now he understood. Bruises and burns decorated her body. Bones had been broken and healed back wrongly. On her stomach was a seared crest; the President’s crest.
“Do you remember your-a life, before meeting the President?”
“No.”
Dr Smith returned. He gave him a dark look. He passed him the file. Blood test 1 and 2: 100% match.
He would fucking kill him.
Pavi grabbed took out his knife. “Keep her here.” He headed to the lift. He saw red.
“Mr Largo!”
“Just stay with her.”
“You said President earlier. Are you insane? Are you going to kill the President?”
“He’s-a going to pay.”
“You go in there and stab him and his men will shoot you dead. I know you Largo’s think you’re invincible but he actually has more power than you.”
“I don’t care. I want him dead. He will pay for what he did to her. For what he tried to make me do.” Disgust and nausea filled Pavi.
“I didn’t say let him go.” Dr Smith held out a vial. “It’s untraceable and will mimic a heart attack.”
“He won’t suffer!”
“And you won’t get caught.”
Pavi paused for a moment. He took the vial and entered the lift. He wanted the bastard dead. He saw her broken face before him. He wanted him dead. He saw the way she just laid on the bed spreading her legs. He would kill him. He saw the bruises and broken bones on her body. He would make him die screaming.
The door opened and Pavi headed to where the others were playing poker. “Is-a there space for the Pavi?”
“Where is my pet?”
Rage filled Pavi. “She resting post-surgery. The Pavi promised he’ll give her back.”
“Get her here. I’ve been losing every hand.” He threw the cards on the table.
Pavi spotted The President’s drink on his left. It was too close to the other player. “Fratello, he’s-a hiding aces up his sleeve.” Pavi said pointing to the man to the right of Luigi.
“I’m not.”
Pavi watched Luigi shout at him. The others were distracted as well. Pavi slipped in the vial of poison.
Pavi headed to Luigi’s left, right between him and the President. He watched the President drink the whisky.
“Mr Largo, you really should try this blend of whisky. Valerio Adami. You’ll never find a blend like this again.”
Pavi’s eyes widened as The President held up the glass to his brother.
“The smell is certainly exquisite.”
“Now, Mr President. Are-a you really so-a cheap you won’t pour fratello his-a own glass?”
“Not cheap. Unfortunately, this is the last glass. You will never find this blend anywhere in the world again. It is the last of its kind.”
Luigi’s back was towards him. There was no way he could silently warn him. If he knocked the glass out of Luigi’s hands, he would lose the chance to kill the President. Not to mention cause suspicion.
Pavi sighed exaggeratedly. “But it’s almost like kissing each other. Maybe fratello has-a secret crush.”
“Pavi, shut the fuck up!”
The President rolled his eyes. “You’ve been unbelievably crude.”
“the Pavi is just-a satisfied with-a a good lay, no?”
“Ignore him. It’s how he’s like at home. He must have drank too much, he forgot that we have company.”
“But brotherrrrrrr….” Pavi whined. Why wasn’t his brother getting the hint? His brother must know something’s wrong right?
“Unfortunately Mr President, Pavi’s crude jokes aside, I have a thing with saliva and I would rather not share a glass.”
The President shrugged. “Your loss.”
“I’m sure it is.”
The others continued their game. Pavi just stood there; watching the game, eyes darting to the President. When?
The game ended and everyone excused themselves. Did Dr Smith lie? Did he trick him so he wouldn’t risk killing the President? He won’t let him go.
“Now, Mr Largo. Where is my…” His brow furrowed. He grabbed his chest as he gasped for air. “Help.” He fell to the ground, convulsing in pain. As his gasps became more drawn out and desperate; Pavi grinned at him. “Yo-” He gave a gasp and fell still. It was done. He was dead. It was finished.
