My Mate and Her Monsters

My name is Winny. Hilarious, I know. A loser with a name like Winny. A 24 year old loser with serious daddy issues and enough emotional trauma to make the most experienced psychiatrist have nightmares. I don’t think I’ve ever won at anything in my life. My mother had a sense of humor before she died. She gave birth to me, named me, filled out a birth certificate, and died a few hours later from blood loss I assume. I don’t know for sure because my father has never said anything about her, other than to periodically say I am to blame for her death. I suppose he believes I am so awful she chose death to get away from me. I like to believe if she knew the man my father, Michael would become, she might have fought harder to stay with me. I try not to blame her, after all, I’m sure my father wasn’t always the horrid asshole that I know him to be. But I have never known her, other than she left me. Even if it wasn’t by choice, so I’m a little bitter at the life she left me to. I have been abused most of my life. First, by my father and now by my husband. I was a trade off for my father’s debt to the kingpin of an underground gambling operation. The deal was I married him, and he wiped my father’s debt clean. To my father, it was a no brainer. He never cared about me anyway. I’ve only ever been a burden he didn’t mean to have or a punching bag to take out his frustrations. So at 18,  I had hope. I could finally leave my father’s house and never look back. I could start a new life with my husband, Evan Eastings. Even if he was a criminal, he could never be as bad as my father. The one man who is supposed to love and protect his little girl could never stand to look me in the eyes. Him giving me away to another man gave me hope for a better life. A life where I might know love. I quickly learned how wrong I was, how hope was dangerous, and how cruel life could truly be. Being hit, isn't always the most painful kind of abuse. I have since learned to keep my hopes and dreams in check so that my world doesn’t shatter every time something awful happens, which is basically daily in my life. A loveless marriage, hell a loveless life, there's very little to be hopeful about anymore anyway. Today, for instance, my husband is having a business meeting with the highest of his men and the other horrible men they do business with. I am not the only woman here, but we might as well be all the same. Not one of us speaks or makes eye contact. I am only here to wear a dress and look good on his arm. And I will, because the alternative is even more unpleasant. See my father would hit me around and yell nasty things at me. My husbands method of abuse is s*x. I was a virgin when I met Evan. He stole that from me within the first hour of taking me from my house, effectively shattering my idea of love. There was no romance to my first time. There hasn't been romance any of my times. He took me from my house, threw me into the back of his town car, crawled in behind me. His driver drove while he touched me in my most intimate places. No amount of begging, pleading, or screaming made him stop or his driver even slow down. He ripped my leggings off my legs, smacked me so hard me ears rang for crying, and stole my virginity before we even made it to his house. I threw up when he was done, and he smacked my again. That was the first time he r***d me. It wasn’t the last. He gets off on my fear and resistance. I am helpless. Evan is a large man. Six feet to my 5 feet 3 inch frame, he has at least 100 pounds on me. The worst part is, I’m not the only woman he r***s. I haven’’t confirm with my eyes but I know there are women he keeps purposely only to r**e. He blames me for that also. His doctor that comes to see me every month tells him I cannot have children. I can’t imagine Evan as a father, but apparently that is something that he wants, because he hits me after s*x for not being pregnant. His doctor will not talk to me, simply comes in and examines me, draws blood, and gives me a shot in the arm of what I assume is a fertility drug. I am unsure what I will do if pregnancy ever happens. I suppose this is one of the only blessings I have been given. A child should never have to hear about places like this, little alone live in it. He r***s me, ignores me, unless he needs to “show me off” for events like tonight, and locks me in my room when I’m not needed. I get very little interaction, except for the maid that Evan sends to my room with meals. She has become my best friend, my only friend. Gabby has her own story to tell. I hate that she ended up here, but I am so thankful for her. We keep our friendship a secret for obvious reasons. Evan would punish me and do worse to Gabby if he thought we were close or talking.  Gabby is having to serve tonight. The way she is being looked at by most of the men tonight makes me nervous for her. So much about tonight feels strange. And as we sit down for dinner, that feeling of dread and nervousness gets worse. I am sitting between Evan and a new man he is doing business with named Kane. I have been in rooms with “colleagues” of Evans before. None have given me the feeling that Kane does. Unlike most of the men in the room, Kane came alone and he has not stopped looking at me like I’m his last meal and he’s been starved for weeks. He is wearing a dark suit, that matches with his dark hair, dark skin, and dark eyes. He's even larger than Evan and that makes him very intimidating. I am trying to keep my mouth shut and go unnoticed. “Sit still, look pretty”, Evan said, and just like the song, I don’t want to because I know something is wrong. It isn’t until I feel Evan’s hand sliding along my leg that I stop thinking about the man on the other side of me. I plead with Evan with my eyes not to do this here, but I already know it is useless. If he gets bored, he will pull me out of here and f**k me where ever and how ever he sees fit, no matter who is within watching or hearing distance. You’d think I’d be used to it after 6 years. It still makes me sick every time. As Evan’s hand gets higher, I feel the man next to me tense up. His reaction confuses me. Most men in Evan’s band of creepy men cheer him on, ask to join, or some other f****d up response that used to surprise me. But now, this man’s reaction is what is surprising and confusing. Is he shocked?  Just when I know that Evan is about to pull me from my chair, Kane begins to breathe again and asks him a question about his business. Evan forgets about me again, and I also can breathe again. I relax a bit and try to listen to the conversation. “I am interested in investing in your new endeavors, Mr. Eastings, but I do have questions”, says Kane. “Of course, Mr. Williams. I would be suspicious if you didn’t. I have never understood men who would give their money without sampling the merchandise”, Evan responds. I assume they are talking about the usual drugs, gambling, and money that Evan is involved in, until I hear the mention of blood tests and the merchandise being clean. My stomach drops. Only living beings have blood tests. Is Evan trafficking human!? Is that why he keeps women? Not to r**e them to punish me, but to sell them. He's just "sampling the merchandise" before he sells it. The information makes me want to throw up. Everything about my husband is sickening. He is a monster and becomes worse everyday, and I have no way out.  I had zoned out into my thoughts again until I hear them mention me. “No, Gwendolyn is my wife. But for the right price, Mr. Williams, everything is for sale, including her. She is worthless though. Sold to me to right some debts for her dipshit of an old man. She was a virgin when I got her and has a tight cunt that she loves to try to keep from me. It’s a fun game, I’ll gladly let you play with her if you want. There are much better p*****s to sample though,” Evan answers. His answer infuriates me. Not only because he calls me Gwendolyn, which is not and has never been my name. He just thinks it sounds classier and "more expensive" than Winny. It also pisses me off because he thinks his r**e is a game and he is willing to let other people play with me. Isn’t it bad enough he feels like he can do this to me? What gives him the right to “give” me to other men?  I can only hope for a miracle. If Evan is willing to share me with other men and he is trafficking humans, it is only a matter of time before he sells me to the highest, most horrible bidder, and I refuse to think that anyone he sells me to would be any better than Evan. I left the frying pan to be thrown into the fire. What if the next think I get shoved into burns as hot as the Sun?