The Cursed Alpha's Slave

“How much for the girl?” Alpha Gunner asked, pointing at me.

I glanced up and stared at him, surprised he would pick me.

The slave merchant robbed his hands, a greedy gleam in his eyes. “For you, Alpha Gunner, $5,000. What do you say? A fair price.”

Alpha Gunner wrinkled his nose in disgust. “She's so dirt cheap. What makes her underpriced?”

The slave merchant chuckled softly. “As you can see, Alpha Gunner, she's weak and sick. Healthier, stronger slaves are highly priced and valuable. This slave is the opposite, hence her low price.”

“I see,” Alpha Gunner approached my cell, his eyes locked in mine. He took in my skinny build. “Where the hell did you find her?”

“She got shipped in a month ago. Apparently, her family sold her to pay off a massive debt,” the slave merchant said. “She won't interest you, Alpha Gunner. Allow me to show you my best slaves.”

“Shut up!” Alpha Gunner snapped at the slave merchant. “Unlock her cell.”

The merchant sealed his lips and did exactly as he was told without questions.

Alpha Gunner glared at me for the longest moment as he entered my stinky cell.

“It's rude to stare directly at my eyes," he snarled. "Know your place, omega!”

I instinctively tore my eyes from him, shivering in fear. I didn't mean to offend him. I was new in this city and oblivious to how things work around here.

Alpha Gunner grabbed the shackle clamped around my neck and pulled me forward.

I lurched forward, feeling pains stabbing my entire body. I put up as much effort as I could not to meet his gaze.

It was an unnerving task as I could feel his eyes burning a hole in me.

“I'm sure you already know why I came to you,” Alpha Gunner said.

I nodded, still looking away. “Yes, Alpha Gunner.”

It happened in a matter of seconds. Alpha Gunner had stepped into the underground slave market to shop for a new slave.

The very moment he saw me while taking his pick, we both felt it. He is my mate. He had a strong intimidating presence.

A moment of silence ensued between us. Then he broke it with one question. “What's your name?”

“Kylie,” I answered. “My name is Kylie, Alpha Gunner.”

There was no life in my voice. I sounded like a dying frog. That was because I haven't eaten for three days now.

Alpha Gunner bared his teeth into a terrible grin.

“Well, Kylie, you're in luck. I'm going to buy you and make you my slave. But don't rejoice yet because this is the very beginning of hell for you. I will break you into tiny pieces. You'll beg for death, but death would be far from your reach.”

His words sent chills down my spine. I've experienced hell, but not the hell he was preparing my mind for.

He leaned forward, whispering to my ears, “I never expected my mate to be a slave, and a weak one at that. Why do you have to be a slave? I'll make you suffer.”

It was at that moment, I realized I was in for a life of torture.

* * * *

It's been six months since I first met Alpha Gunner, and in that small amount of time, a lot happened to me.

I served as Alpha Gunner's personal slave—the most gruesome job in the world.

On my first day, I accidentally served him a cold dinner. What happened next traumatized me.

“You bloody, fool,” Alpha Gunner slapped me across the cheeks. “Why is my dinner cold, huh?”

“I'm sorry, Alpha Gunner,” I said as I backed myself against the wall, my face white with horror. “I thought you'd arrive home late. I'll microwave your dinner, please.”

Alpha Gunner pulled out his belt. He raised it above his head and brought it down on me with every fiber of strength in him.

The belt was made of strong leather that tore open holes on my maid uniform, bruising my body mercilessly.

“Please, Alpha Gunner, have mercy,” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “I promise never to serve your meals cold.”

“Shut up, you dirty bitch,” Alpha Gunner cursed, while lashing me with his belt. “You only speak when spoken to!”

After that incident, I never served his dinner cold again. But it didn't stop there.

Over those six months, Alpha Gunner always found one way or the other to inflict pains on me.

He would beat me to a pulp at the drop of a hat, his belt lashing all over my body without sympathy.

I got beaten so much, the scars were visible for everyone to see.

But it gets even worse.

At night, my only chore was to please his sexual desires. Every night, he uses me however he wants until morning.

It doesn't matter if I'm tired or not. If he wasn't satisfied, I'll get the belt.

He wasn't an easy person to satisfy. He was rough and ruthless in bed. He doesn't care if he's hurting me.

Sex with him feels like torture. All I've ever known was pain. But I dare not complain.

To Alpha Gunner, I was nothing more than a sex toy to be played with and discarded after use.

He despises me so much he wouldn't even kiss me while ramming his cock painfully through the two holes in my body.

Alpha Gunner was the future Alpha of the South Pack.

Soon, he would succeed his father, but there was one problem. It was tradition for the next Alpha to find a mate before he is qualified to lead the pack.

This was a problem because two mating seasons have passed, and Alpha Gunner was yet to find a mate.

Except, of course, he already found his mate but he refused to announce to his father that it was me.

No one suspected me to be his mate. To everyone, I was his personal slave—nothing else.

For six dreadful months, I endured long nights of torture from my mate while he hides the truth about our mate bond from the South Pack.

But everything changed one day, when shocking news reached the South Pack.

The Alpha King had died.