Slave

November 15, 2025 is when Isabelle White is taken and sold to the wealthiest bachelor in the world named Michael Clifford.
In 2025, we have gotten a new government. They changed the rules. The rules to where only the rich can own slaves, and if you were in the middle class you were free and okay, but if you were in the lower class; you were a slave.
That's not how Isabelle's life goes though. She was middle class.

Read the story to find out ! (:

AU:Alternative Universe: facts of setting or characterization in the universe being explored or written about are deliberately changed.

2Likes
1Comments
523Views
AA

2. Chapter 1: Taken

"Get the girl," I heard a deep accent shout. Where was I? I felt two hands grab a hold of my arms behind my back that are tied with rope, pulling me out of the back of the van. "Where did you find her?" The deep accent spoke loudly again. What did he look like? My eyes covered with a handkerchief, and my mouth tasting slightly of laundry soap from the clean folded socks that is used to gag me. "Walking the streets," the other man says. The bastard that snatched me. If I wouldn't have been gagged, I probably would have went off in French towards them, but I was gagged.

"Bring her to Clifford," the slightly more aggressive guy growled. I swallowed the lump in my throat that raised from all of the pressure. My trembling figure barely moving. Where was I going? I couldn't see anything, and all I felt was hands holding my tied up ones behind me.

No matter how many times I tried to spit these socks out of my mouth and get that awful taste off my tongue; I couldn't. "Keep on moving," the voice in my ear sounding not that deep, but with a slight Scottish mixed with Australian in the tone. He stopped hastily. His hands, taking my wrists and untying the ropes. The stinging from the rope burn stinging even more after the rope was off. I brought my hands up and held my wrists. I winced from the touch of my burn, biting my bottom lip; feeling his hand go to my mouth, his thumb running along my cheek. He pulled the balled up socks out of my mouth and stuffed it in his back pocket. "So fair," he whispered. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to control my shaky breathe. I was scared. My lips slightly parting once his thumb ran across them; outlining my dried pink lips. "P-please," I mumbled, turning my head. I didn't want his hands on me. I didn't want to be here.

"Calum! What are you doing?" Someone shouted towards the guy. His hands fell from my face and down to his side. "Just telling her what to do," he laughed. His laugh coming out nervous, but his lie was smooth as silk.

"Menteur,"(Liar) I spoke, my French coming out fluent. I wanted to go home. I didn't need this, or to be sold. I lifted my hands, bringing them up to the back of my head and found the knot of the blind fold. I took the handkerchief off my face and blinked from the brightness of the lights. The man in front of me had olive tone skin, and his brown hair had a blonde streak in the front of his hair. He looked towards me; his eyes reminding me of puppy dog eyes. "Shut up," he hissed. He looked so sweet, until he spoke. I took the handkerchief and dropped it in his hand that he held out in front of me. "Where am I?" I say with my voice trembling. I turned my head to see a guy standing there. His tall body clothed with a leather jacket, black skinny jeans, and black combat boots. My eyes wandered to his face, he has bluish green eyes and his smile was innocent, but he didn't look innocent. He had that bad boy look. "Calum, don't tell the new servant to shut up," his voice coming out thick, but demanding. His eyes met mine and his hair; blue hair falling into his face.

"Don't be scared," He said, walking over towards me and stopped. His hand going down to grab mine as he brought it up to his lips. His lips pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles; they were soft and gentle. He had an Australian accent that was quite deep. His voice sounding gentle, but still with a little bit of a demanding tone in it. "I am Michael, Michael Clifford, but you must call me Monsieur(Mr) Clifford,"

I watched his hand. His fingers lacing with mine, pulling me closer by our hands. "Yes, Monsieur Clifford," I say. My voice coming out quietly and weak. I couldn't stop thinking about my parents, or my little sister Abby. Abby is seven years old. I don't even know what she would say, or what my parents would say once they find out I'm missing. They would freak out when they hear that I got snatch off the streets and sold; sold to this guy. A random guy. I wasn't even suppose to be sold!

"Follow me," Michael said, and pulled away. I stood there, watching his tall lanky body turn around. "Yes sir," I nodded. I didn't want to speak. I wanted to be quiet and just follow him. He had stopped in front of a door, placing his hand on the door knob. "This room will be yours," he said. I nodded, biting my lip. My chest was heaving up and down as I moved my hand up to push some hair back. I walked into the empty room, looking around. "Why am I here?" I spoke, turning around to face Michael. I watched his eyes get darker, and his smile turn into a frown.

"Your here, because you don't have a home," He said. I shook my head. That wasn't true. I was on the way to my home from work. "I-I have a home," I mumbled quietly, looking down; feeling his stare burn. His stare was an icy cold stare. "what do you mean?" He spoke with a threatening, but angry tone. I jumped at his fiery tone as he walked over to stand in front of me; towering over me.

"When your friend grabbed me, I-I was walking home from work,"

Authors note:

How did you like my first chapter?

Was it what you expected?

Did you like Monsieur Clifford?

Comment and vote please ! :)

I'll publish every Saturday for you ! :)

It will be called Slave Saturday's. Haha, if you have a better name then comment what you think ! :)

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...