Prologue

I hate my life. I have never hated it more than I do now. It's hot, and the goddamn desert sun doesn't make it any better. I long for the snow and ice of home, the chill in the air that only exists in my home town. The heat here is unbearable, and it thickly coats my skin and suffocates my every breath. As I take another shaky breath I look around at the others around me. Many are emaciated and burned to a dirt brown color from working in this godforsaken place. The men wear worn out pants and thin long sleeve shirts, while the women are forced to wear hand-me-down clothes that are traditional in this region, burkas. It covers almost every inch of skin except their eyes. The children either run around naked or with only a pair of raged shorts and a tank top.

In all, there are a little over 50 of us. We live a life of mediocrity so that our master can live the life of luxury. That's right, we are slaves. Our group is made up mostly of males who work in our master's palace and in his underground drug ring. He gives people a place to stay for an hour and an injectable hallucinogenic drug for a monumental fee. I've never been inside and I really hope I never will. If I'm lucky, I'll never have to go in the palace either. The women who are unlucky enough to go inside the drug ring become entertainment strippers for the master's guests, and those who go inside that palace… I shudder at the thought, it's not pleasant.

Today is my 18th birthday, but I won't tell anyone here. I refuse to make friends. If anyone ever got close to me then ended up being… discarded… I wouldn't want to deal with the emotional turmoil. My number one priority is to survive. I've thought up multiple escape plans, but I have not had the opportune moment to implement a single one.

It's around noon and the sun is beating down upon what little skin on my face that is exposed. Everyone around me eats the small meal of stale bread and warm water that we receive twice a day. I myself am nibbling on a crust of bread that has no taste, no smell. For all I know it could be a mirage of this godforsaken place.

WHY? Why me? How do I deserve this! I want to scream, but that would get me noticed by the slaves who have lowered themselves to a higher position as watchdogs. Those scum… Some of the strongest of the master's slaves, he hand picks new possibilities every so often and has them undergo a test. Those who survive receive a position with a better quality of life in exchange for watching over the rest of us lowly slaves. I spit on the ground in contempt of those bastards…

All of a sudden I feel a hand grasp my shoulder, causing me to turn around. One of those mother fucking…

"Number 49, come with me." He says with a genuine look of regret. It's number 30. He is the only watchdog I know of with a genuine conscience. I also know that he only took the position for his wife and daughter, numbers 31 and 32. I stand up grudgingly, afraid for what is about to ensue.

Number 30 walks ahead of me with his shoulders slumped as if in defeat. I reach a cautious hand out and lightly touch his forearm. He flinches as he stops and turns to look at me with an expression that puts an icy pang in my stomach. "30, Please… Tell me what has you in such a mood? What awaits me?" For a moment I think he is going to ignore my question but then he sighs.

"The master is going to promote you to a… to a palace position…" He says grudgingly.

"No….!" I whisper as I feel my throat close up. Not that… ANYTHING but that! Number 30 turns and begins to walk again. I follow much more slowly, my feet are heavier now and it is even harder to breath than before. I try to take in breaths faster to make up for the lack of oxygen but it doesn't help, I only become even more anxious. My heart rate and respiration rate quicken even more and I realize that I am hyperventilating. I fall to the sand on my knees and clutch at the granules as tears fall from my eyes. I can't breathe… I can't breathe!

"Number 49? 49! Are you ok?" Number 30 runs back to where I am and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Number 49!"

I can't… I can't take it anymore… I can feel it in my throat… I…

I vomit from the stress and not only does my lunch come back up, but so does a crimson pool of blood. Black spots cover my vision and I lose all sense of consciousness.

When I open my eyes, a beautiful woman is standing over me anxiously. "Child.. can you hear me?"

I nod my head, but it feels light, like that time I got hit over the head with a snow shovel back home. "Yea, I…" I feel like I'm gonna vomit again, but the feeling slowly dissipates.

"Don't worry, I took care of you. Here, drink this." The woman has long blonde hair and skin the color of caramel. She passes me a cup filled with a creamy looking liquid, and as I take a sip it tastes like nothing I have ever tasted before in my life. "That will help calm your stomach, child."

I pass her back the cup and immediately realize that something is wrong. Where is my burka? My arms are bare and I am wearing a bikini like outfit with a long blue cloth that hangs down on either to cover the back and front. It would probably skim the ground if I was standing. The thong and bikini feel like they are made of solid gold. I look up at the woman with wide eyes. "What the hell is this?" I whisper hysterically.

She turns away and walks across the room to draw open the curtains covering the room. I notice she is wearing a purple version of the outfit I have awoken to. "I'm sure you already know, 30 told me what happened outside. Master was only told that you had caught sun-poisoning. He expects to see you as soon as you are able." She replies in her own whisper. She returns to my side and clasps my hands in her own. "I know that this is going to be hard to endure, young one, but do not let it break you. I am sorry that I cannot do more for you… Now please, come with me." A single tear escaped her eye as I stood, still not ready to face my fate. My legs didn't want to cooperate, but I slowly regained control and walked with a gait as sturdy as possible to my master's quarters.

Inside is as grand as could be, and it has some modern day conveniences that I hadn't seen in months. The carpets and walls are as red as blood and decorated with ornate gold moldings. A flat screen tv is mounted on one wall and a modern bathroom is connected to the east wall. The king sized bed matchs the rest of the decor, and our master is sitting upon it in a red kimono from the east. His legs are splayed out wide and I am careful to look at his neck the whole time (so as to avoid looking into his eyes or… well, his assets…).

"Number 3, is number 49 back to a healthy state?" He asks her with a lewd look. I am so afraid that I am going to be sick… I want to run from this room and never look back, anything but stay where I am now…

"Yes, my master." She replies as any dutiful slave would.

"Good… You may leave." Number 3 bows then leaves the room, and the doors click shut with an ominous echo that turns my blood to ice in my veins. The man I despise more than anything stands up from the bed and walks slowly over with a lusty smile and gaze as his eyes swept over my body. I resist the urge to shudder and stand perfectly still. The bastard stops behind me and laid his hands on my sides. "You are indeed beautiful, my girl. Tonight you shall pleasure me as I am in need of new entertainment…" He pulls me closer to his body and I can feel his hardening member against my back. I am terrified. What can I do? His hands move from my sides upwards until they cup my breasts, and this is when I lose control and stiffen.

"Oh, you've never been pleasured in such a way, have you? We'll have to change that…" My master's long raven hair falls forward as he rests his head on my shoulder and begins to grind behind me. It's agonizingly slow, and I can only try my hardest not to whimper. His tongue flicks out at my neck as he begins to lick up and down in time with the grinding. I can feel my tips begin to harden and I let out a small moan of pleasure as my damn hormones betray my mind and soul. He stops grinding and turns me to face him, his obsidian eyes boring into mine with smugness. "You like this? Well, now you must pay me back. Kneel."

I do as he asks only because I have lost the ability to think. I am afraid, never have I felt a fear as intense as this. I don't know what is happening until he shoves his manhood inside my mouth. I gag and bite down, causing the bastard to howl in pain and withdraw, just before he backhands me across the face. The blow knocks me over and across the floor, I see spots of red in my vision and any noise sounds like I am in a tunnel. I feel him grab a fistful of my hair and lift me up to look into my eyes. Are there two of him? I think groggily before he rips me up to my feet. It feels like he ripped some of the hair from my head.

"I see now that I am going to have to break you, you ungrateful bitch." He growls menacingly in my ear. He drags me to the bed and shoves me on top of it, face down. One strong hand grasps my wrists and holds them far above my head while the other begins to unclasp my skimpy coverings. He leans his legs on top of mine so I cannot get away. My face is pressed into the bed, but I can see the nightstand next to the bed. Something glistens on top… a knife? Cold air greets my skin as the gold bra falls from my body. In the span of a second I am flipped on my back and the bastard is holding me down with his weight while still holding my arms above my head. His warms lips sloppily kiss my navel then work their way up to my left breast.

"Master, please… no…. No!" I rasp as his mouth envelops my hardened nipple. His tongue flicks back and forth as I begin to scream, unable to hold myself back anymore. This is torture… I wish… for death. Anything besides living in this hell. He moves back down my body towards my navel and I can feel the tears in my eyes as a cruel smile spreads across his lips. "No master, please don't… No… No. NO!" He slips his hand between my legs and opens them up as his kisses continue further south. I become hysterical with my screams as his tongue sweeps around me and inside me.

Death. I want… I want to die…. I welcome it. Death. Please… PLEASE… PLEASE!

As I am making my private pleas and continuing with my screams the door bursts open and the mother fucking bastard finally removes his tongue from me. "What the hell is it? This had better be important!" He shouts. Number 30 hangs on the door and blood pours out of him from fatal wounds in his side.

"Master… intruders…" Is all he has time to say before he slumps to the floor, dead. My master releases my arms and in a moment of bloodlust I grab the knife from the nightstand. The noise I make as I grasp the metal blade alerts him and he whips his head back to me.

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Die, you fucking Bastard, rot in Hell!" I cry as I plunge the knife in his neck and wrench it down. I tear a long and jagged cut from his neck to his elbow and blood spurts out like a spray paint can. He is dead before he hits the sheets, his blood spraying across my body and pooling on the sheets. Behind me I hear enthusiastic clapping from the door. I peak over my shoulder and see a man with ginger spiked up hair, lustful eyes (the right has a star below it and the left has a teardrop), and a weird outfit. It mainly consists off a navy blue shirt with crimson card symbols, pale blue pants with black knee pads, and white sweat bands around his elbows and upper arms. All in all, he is an extremely attractive man, and I am a bruised and naked slave girl. I blush and jump off the bed on the other side, hiding my body behind it. It's now that I see the other male next to the first. He looks feminine, but still has a masculine sculpted body. His long raven hair is more beautiful than any I have seen before… His red jacket has pins jutting out of it.

Who the hell are these freaks?