As if being auctioned off wasn't enough. I was given strict instructions by those gangsters to do as said, and if I dared disobey, I would be killed, not only me but my mother and pathetic father!

And now what? I'm being commanded by an autistic guy who just switched mode.

Although I was left aghast at how he said those words clearly without stuttering or talking like one who's suffering from ASD, I stood still, not attempting to follow him.

I'm done being an obedient pup!

He turned back, raising those familiar blue eyes which resembled those of Adam, but I was still in my stern gaze.

"Well..." He called.

"Mr Sull---" I opt for him to remind me of his name, and suddenly he drifted back to his autistic state, and my eyelashes could come off from my eye at how I raised them surprisingly at him.

"Dear, are you beginning to converse with Micah?" Mrs Stone walked forward, and I took a quick glimpse at her, then back to her son, who was having me crack my head at the sudden change of disorder.

"She... won't check my room out." The autistic guy stammered, and his mother gave me a friendly look.

"Is that so, Micah?" She smiled at me while I tried to get used to what was happening.

"Huh---" I couldn't even process my words well.

"Please be good to him, he's trying his best to be sociable." Mrs Stone muttered to me, and I smiled in return, glancing at the blue-eyed guy whose name I can't even remember.

"Let's go." I offered standing up, and the guy smiled at his mother, his brows not giving it a rest at flickering.

He led the way, climbing on the well-furnished stairs, making some noisy footsteps that had me disliking him at that moment.

I glanced back, and his mother ushered me to hold him as he climbed the stairs, and I smirked internally, glancing back at her son.

What am I? From sex-slut-for-hire to babysitter? Or an autistic nanny? Jesus Christ!

He opened the door for me, and I bit my lips, finding it weird to enter his bedroom because every man's bedroom that I enter is because I'm hired to come sleep with them.

"Get in." His voice was thick, and I glanced at him, seeing that he was no longer acting autistic.

Probably he's a come-and-go autistic patient.

"To do what?" I fired at him. "Am I to serve you in the bedroom as well?" I asked sarcastically, checking him out.

Well, he's hot.

Yes, I had to admit it with his oceanic blue eyes and comb-over black hairstyle.

He was wearing a white shirt that stopped at his knees, and the rest of his legs were naked, showing off his spectacular biceps.

I must say, he's my type. But am I going to be fucking an autistic dude who might rant me out to his parents?

"We will see about that." He finally answered my question, and I scoffed at him, wondering what kind of autistic patient he was.

I entered his room, looking around while he shut the door behind me, giving me some time to explore the room with my eyes.

There was a medium-sized bed with a closet at one side and a door, which I assumed to be the bathroom.

On the other side, there was this weird, huge bookshelf with well-arranged books. A chair and table were beside the bookshelf, making it seem as though it was a study room.

"Are you done with staring?" He threw the question at me, and I rolled my eyeballs facing him.

"I still don't get why you want me in your bedroom," I said, unable to get rid of my negative thoughts.

"What do you think?" He mentioned, and I gave a self-satisfied smile, walking closer to him, but I was wise enough not to get too close.

Who knows if he might get back to his autistic self and scream, attracting the attention of his mother and his rude sister, whom I already dislike. "You don't only want me as an assistant, right?" I say, raising a finger, and I dare put it on his chest. "What a nice chest that you have there," I commented, amused at how muscular his chest was.

"You're playing with me." He pronounced, his face written with seriousness, and I liked it.

In short, I wish to run my hand on that pretty face of his and his lips... Damn! This psycho is crazily sexy.

"What? Aren't I here to serve you? Better we get something done before your maniac..." I paused. "Autistic episode." I reworded with a seductive smile.

"I see you're more forward than I thought." He said, grabbing my hand in a tight grip, before I could groan, he dragged me closer to the bookshelf, and God knows what he did that had the bookshelf making a sound, opening.

I raised my surprised eyes at this dude whose name I still can't remember, his name, but he wasn't even looking at me.

Before I knew it, I was walking down some iron staircase, with him still dragging me. I bet my wrist is already red from how tight he was holding it.

He finally let go of my wrist, but I wasn't concerned about that as I ran my eyes around the dark room he brought me to, my heart beating and multiple thoughts running through me.

Is he a hired killer? Or a patient who derives joy in killing females like me? Or--- I was stepping backward in fear, thinking that this surveillance or Sullivan of a guy is a true psycho when the light finally came on, brightening the underground room.

I immediately glanced at him, seeing that he was pulling off his shirt, and I didn't even spare him a stare as I looked back at the room standing in front of me.

There was a king-sized bed which had a canopy in the middle, unlike the upper bedroom, and a wooden wardrobe that had iron doors with a drawer at one side of the room.

There were handcuffs, rope, tape, and cable ties on the drawer and I didn't even bother to check the remaining equipment on the cupboard as my eyes ran to the left side of the bed where there was a huge cage that could fit three adult people and there was two cushion placed side by side with an iron cuff that was hanging from the roof of the cage.

There was also a door beside the cage that looked like the unpainted wall of the bedroom, and overall, the room gave off a dark aura that would have made me scream if I hadn't been a sex slut.

I met with the eyes of Sullivan, and he was looking emotionless at me; he was topless with different tattoos designed on his body, and it felt as if I was with the real demon himself. His shorts were hanging from his waist to his knees, and I could see his abs and all, but that wasn't the case. I'm still confused about why I'm standing in this godforsaken place and staring at him like a dumbass.

I couldn't find the right word to converse with him, and all I could do was stare directly into his blue orb, still trying to process what to say because right now, I'm going insane at what I just saw.

She stood there, still staring at me.

If I were to count the minutes that she had been standing and staring at me, we would have probably gotten done with some introduction.

"Huh... Sullivan." She found her voice, and I smirked at how innocent she was acting.

Just a few moments ago, she was acting as a confident and strong lady, but now her act of naivety was having me want to spank her.

"You got any questions?" I threw at her, aware that she got hundreds of them. Her face says it all.

"Well..." She breathed, pursing her red, voluptuous lips, blinking rapidly. "What the hell is this? And why the fuck am I here?" Micah queried.

"Don't you know why you're here?" I asked back.

"Yes!" She answered sharply. "I don't fuckin know what I'm doing in Sicily, or why I was auctioned off and why I have to serve your autistic majesty." She replied, rolling her fascinating green orbs at me. "And this...?" She pointed at the room, her face written with disapproval. "What's this? Do your parents even know about this?" She questioned, and I moved forward to her, but she didn't step back; her face was still on me, but she had no idea how much I was imagining her kneeling on the cushion in that cage while I did my special treatment on her.

She has no idea how she's making me feel right now.

"Don't get them involved," I say, more of a warning. "You were auctioned off by your father, and some gangsters won the bid---"

"And?" She cut in with a searching gaze. "And you bought me from them? Or was it your mannerless parents who bought me so I can come to serve their sadistic, autistic goddamn--" Before she could complete her word, I moved closer, placing my fingers around her neck, and I was choking her already?

"Will you stop the questioning?" I gritted my teeth, my intense gaze on her, and she was looking daringly at me.

"Or what?" She dared, her face becoming red at the effect of how much I was choking her.

As I released her from the grip, I stepped away from her, and she coughed, trying to catch her breath.

"You will be my submissive, and no one will know about it," I ordered, looking away.

"This is not why I came here to serve you." She objected.

"You were a sex worker in New York City," I pronounced, facing her. "Why can't you be my sex slave? You're here to serve me. Submit or face the consequences." My voice rang out threateningly, and I walked to the staircase, climbing on it.

I pushed the button, which made the bookshelf squeak open, and I entered my bedroom, leaving Micah, who was still in ROP.

I never expected her to act so innocent when she is a known sex slut in New York. And who the hell is she to dare act that way as if she had never encountered someone like me?

Well, I don't give a fuck if she hasn't because all I want is for her to submit to me. I had my reason for purchasing her, and one of them was because her records say she's an obedient pup to her father, which got my attention.

I can remember how much of her half-nude Mr Taylor always uploads on a certain site where she usually gets some client who wanted her on their bed, and I already had eyes on her since I discovered that site two years ago, thanks to Adam, who introduced me to it.

I entered the bathroom, running a hot bath, and the water ran down my body.

I had thought I was gonna have some pleasure night with that redhead, but it seems like it's gonna take some days before she gives in. At least, my threat is enough to prevent her from raving at me.

I walked out of the bathroom with a short glance at the bookshelf, which was still closed, and I wondered if she was still in the underground room.

I wore an armless shirt and walked to the bookshelf, pressing the usual button that always opens it.

I walked in and climbed down the stairs, about to say some scolding words to her because I feared my mother might begin wondering why she was still in my room, but she wasn't inside the room any longer, and I sighed relieved noticing she must have left while I was in the bathroom.

I turned off the lights in the room and walked back to my bedroom, where I lay down, took a book from the bedside table, and began reading until I fell asleep.

.

It was barely evening when I woke up and walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

I opened the fridge and brought out a bottle of water, which I uncapped and gulped some of its contents before dropping it on the table.

I turned to go but stopped on my tracks, seeing Micah standing in front of me blocking my path.

"I---I wanna pass." I stammered, back to my autistic self, and she scoffed, folding her hands under her breast, which I wished to touch.

"What's up with the act?" She questioned, furrowing her brows, confused at me.

"Let me pass," I repeated, taking a step forward, but Micah didn't budge, her steely gaze was still on me, and I tried to stay calm, my eyes darting around, unable to focus on any one thing for very long. My eyebrows were scrunched together, creating deep furrows in my forehead. My mouth was turned down at the corners, my lips pressed together. I knew I must look confused autistically, but Micah seemed not to be buying my act.

"Didn't you want me as your submissive, or what the heck did you call it?" Micah asked rhetorically.

"I wanna pass." I cried softly, fighting fingers against fingers and grazing my teeth on my lips.

"You wanna pass." She scorned dramatically. "You, this two-faced psycho." She cursed, and I smirked at the thought that if we were to have anything in common, it was us being two-faced.

"You don't want me forcing myself on you," I muttered, still lowering my head and keeping my autistic attitude because my family could show up at any time.

"Whoa!" Micah laughed. "Is that coming from someone who has a psychological disorder?" I could hear the scorn in her voice, and I knew what game she was playing, but I refused to rise to her bait.

"I wonder how tough it is to make a sex slut like you be mine." I returned, and there was silence coming from her side.

Did she hate someone calling her that? I wondered. Well, that's who she is. And because of that, I bought her.

I raised my head to look at her, and she took a step closer to me with a seductive, angry face that I would love to see if I disappoint in making her cum quickly.

As I took a few steps back, acting as if I was scared of her, "Micah!" Ginevra called Micah's name in the distance. The look on my sister's face had me smiling, and I was certain she was going to give Micah an earful.

As Gin walked forward, I ran to meet her, acting childishly scared. "Are you okay?" Ginevra asked, glancing at me, and I nodded, fluttering my eyelashes. I forced out a smile, taking a glimpse at Micah, who was still holding her glare at me. I rolled my eyeballs at her before walking away to my room, aware that my sister would give her an earful.

My sister, Gin, has always been like that, taking my side and always being protective. Although she's the biological daughter of Mr and Mrs Stone, she never acts like I'm adopted or ashamed of my autism whenever I'm in the midst of her sexy friends. And if anyone ever tried to hurt her, I was the one who made sure they regretted it, including her ex-boyfriends and professors.

I looked back at Micah before continuing my way to my room.

I hope the redhead girl would not provoke me further, or else I might end up tying her in ROP and get my pleasure with her while others would think she ran away.