Alpha's Cruel Addiction

What did it take to break a woman?

Ophelia didn't know this kind of question existed. When Nathan was done with her, she lost track of time. She lost count of how many times she cried.

There were never physical wounds on her body. He made sure of that. She was starved under her stomach caved in, then he gave her moldy bread. She was drained until her skin clung to her bone, then he finally sold her.

When Ophelia had nothing to offer Nathan, he grabbed her by the throat and yanked her close.

"Why did your blood stop being useful?" he snarled, for he had just tested the newest sample. Nothing. Not even a flicker of healing. The scratch remained as it was.

Ophelia noticed with each passing day he kept her, his clothes became more lavish. She didn't know how many bottles he filled with her blood. She didn't even recognize her surroundings. Her mind was blank.

"This is not the end of us, Ophelia. Your betrayal to House Nileton will be well remembered," Nathan sneered, his fingers digging into her skin.

But Ophelia did remember one thing—the last words she said to Nathan.

"If House Nileton still stands when he is done with you."

And with these words, Ophelia sealed her fate. From one cruel man to another, Ophelia was subjected to all sorts of lessons, but they never assaulted her. For the sake of keeping her "clean" for the auction masters, they only taught her the trades of a prostitute.

Ophelia was forced to learn what it meant to be a pleasurable slave, the tactic that men liked, and everything else in between. Anyone not in this situation would ask, why didn't you fight back? Why didn't you run? Why didn't you scream?

You'll learn—eventually.

Fighting gets you a harsher beating. Running gets your leg broken. And if you dare to crawl, your arms will be iced until the limbs could never be felt for days.

"Are you stupid or dumb?"

"It's, are you dumb or dumber?" A sardonic voice responded.

Ophelia's heart stirred with fear. Despite their humorous conversation, every woman in the room stiffened.

Another even whimpered and someone else sobbed. They were here. Her captors. They were brothers who always nitpicked at each other, but together, they were the best at punishing girls.

"It is your lucky day, girls!" Dumb shouted, strolling into the room with an exaggerated spin. He revealed his large and charming grin, the very one that once lured these women into their fate.

Some were sold to the slave owners and others were trapped. In the end, they were all brutally subjected to all sorts of cruelty.

Ophelia learned. She was a slow one, but she was quick to adapt. On her first day after witnessing a woman stripped and beaten, she knew how this world worked. If there was anything Matriarch Eves taught Ophelia, it was how to obey.

"As lucky as a pig for slaughter." Dumber chided in with an irritated glance at his brothers.

That was what Ophelia liked to call the two of them. They said they were her new family. The slave owners fed, clothed, and taught women how to use their bodies for pleasure.

Bile rose in Ophelia's throat. She was disgusted, but didn't dare to say anything. Ophelia had been trained all her life how to be obedient. Nathan must've thought he had the last laugh, for he had turned a well-bred woman into a pig for slaughter. But little did he know, since day one, that Ophelia was always treated as livestock by the Matriarch.

"Come and line up now, hurry up!" Dumb shouted, waving his baton towards the direction of the door.

Everyone flinched at the sight of the throat stick.

How do you train an animal to obey? You beat them with the item until they learn to fear it like the devil.

After a woman was broken in, they stopped hurting them. These women had learned their lesson and they would do anything. When they advanced to that stage, the best treatment was given in order to not depreciate their value. Flawless skin was valuable and marred women were deemed worthless.

So, how did one punish them after that stage? With a thick, cylinder stick shoved down the throat.

Ophelia had tasted the wood so many times, she could recount the groves of it with her tongue. They shoved the item down her mouth, enough for her to gag and feel like she'd suffocate to death. Then, when she was at death's doors, they'd pull it out. And by then, most women would never repeat their offenses. Seeing their life flash before their eyes just once was enough to traumatize a feeble heart.

"Ah, there is Ophelia! The star of today's show!"

Ophelia bowed her head. She kept her eyes trained on the floor. There was no hope. No escape. She could only bow to her fate and ruin this auction house from the ground up. She had a trick so dark up her sleeves, that no one would see it coming.

Ophelia was going to declare she had a disease on the night her new masters dragged her to bed. She was going to wait for him to enter and then she'd tell him he'd never be cured of the sexually transmitted illness.

"Come here, Ophelia, you should see how many people came to the rumors of your name!" Dumb exclaimed whilst gesturing for her to lead the train of women.

Ophelia silently walked out of the doors with her eyes trained to the ground. She flinched when the stick brushed against her leg. Her throat tightened and she bit on her tongue.

Ophelia never knew humans could be so cruel. She grew up believing the vampires and werewolves were the monsters. All along, humans were the worst creatures.

"We dressed you, women, up for the sole reason to be sold today. Now, stand here." Dumber gestured to the walls and immediately, every woman followed.

Ophelia knew they no longer had to verbally or physically threaten them. The bidders hated to see their properties mistreated. The women at this stage were all perfectly trained at this point—except Ophelia.

Their abuse was nothing new to a woman who grew up as an illegitimate child.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our esteemed auction! Starting the show, we have our star. I am sure you're well aware of her amongst your high society… please welcome a name as helpless as her beauty, Slave Number 1!"

Ophelia could hear the crowd go wild with hums. They were eager and excited to see if it was true—if a rumored high-society lady was being sold like an animal.

"Our star of the show is young with smooth, unblemished skin and above all, the most exotic beauty! Hair the color of snow, eyes like violets, but most above all, schooled in the arts of love and seduction."

Silence filled the air. That was Ophelia's cue. The curtains were pulled back. She stepped into the limelight, her ankles jingling with the jewelry. When she pulled back the veil, letting it fall off her face, sharp gaps filled the air.

"Isn't that… oh my—"

"House Eves' youngest daughter, Ophelia—"

"We have to buy her!"

Curiosity and excitement stimulated the air. Ophelia's lips trembled, her eyes filled with tears. Everyone wore a mask to hide their identity, but she recognized the familiar faces of the parents whose children were friends with Ophelia's siblings. Her nose burned with shame, but also at the smell of… charcoal? It was as if something was being burnt.

Half of high society knew Ophelia Eves was now a slave. By tomorrow morning, the rest would know a noble lady was disgraced—that is, IF they made it out of here alive.

Nathan Nileton kept his promise.