Sobbing beside me wakes me from my distressed slumber, earning a groan of frustration from my lips. The noise is echoed as others are woken as well.

My back throbs with my effort to sit upright, screaming at me to stop moving. My eyes water in the darkness of the room, which I quickly swipe away.

Being caught with tears rolling down my cheeks is one of the last things I need, especially after yesterday.

My eyes continue to water as I'm reminded of the beating I was given no more than twelve hours ago. Their daggers had sliced into my skin like it was made of sand, leaving my forearms bloodied and raw. I had fallen asleep to the steady ache of the ribs they had repeatedly kicked until my soft begging had turned to gravel filled screams.

The only thing they offered for the injuries they caused me was one small square of cloth, and a pea-sized white pill that was forced down my throat before my eyes dropped closed.

I was not the only one who received a punishment last night. Five others; two guys and three girls, were also beaten much like I was. For what reason? More than likely to please their own sick fantasies of being in control of something lesser than them.

Although it's horrible, and every time I'm beaten I feel ready for death to finally take me into its arms, it's like second nature to us now.

Eat, give blood, Eat, medical exam, workout, nap, give blood, eat, sleep, and do it all over again.

That is my life. That is all I have to live for.

I have nothing; no money, no family, no friends or lovers. My only possessions are the bra and panty set on my body, and even then those don't really belong to me.

When I was younger, I would go by the name Sophia, long before the abuse and blood taking started, and long before this life was forced on me. Sophia was just a child, but I am old enough now to understand and know better. I was once Sophia, but having a name seems so personal. Having a name means that this is real, this is something I cannot escape from. Having a name means I matter, but outside of these four walls, I don't even exist. Only my blood does, travelling in the back of a chilled transport truck in a town or city that I will never get to see.

Now I only go by the title O293f, or O positive #293 female in their technical terms. If I'm lucky, I even get a cute nickname like 'useless bitch", or my personal favourite 'whoring blood bag!

Sophia is dead and has been for years.

I've started to pray that O293f dies too.

The overhead beams splutter to life above me, flooding my sensitive eyes with the light that I both hate and love. Blinking barely helps my eyes to adjust to the change.

A startled girl to my right gasps loudly, shrinking back in the cage that confines her. She pulls at the thick chain around her neck with nails that have been deliberately chopped to the quick. She is one of the newer arrivals to the farm.

I've always wondered where she came from before this. Where was she last confined, and in what city? Or maybe she was one of the lucky ones, who managed to survive years of life hidden somewhere deep in the middle of nowhere. If that's the case, I guess her luck ran out.

Shut up shut up shut up I want to scream at her, and maybe I would have if my throat wasn't so scratched from last night and I wasn't so afraid of becoming a meal.

"Good morning, my vermin." Eran's cold temper sweeps across the room, silencing even the panicked girl, although he's already fully aware of who was causing the noise.

Heavy boot falls place his location at the top of the stairs, his harsh breathing following close behind. The painfully slow and meticulous grating of steel along concrete raises the hairs along my bare arms. He's brought his favourite dagger today.

Eran is a man of cruel words and an even crueller bite. His life is only dedicated to one thing, running the Black Goblet. From my little knowledge of the outside world, the Black Goblet is one of the city's most well known and popular feeder farms, with our abuse and continued neglect being praised, for whatever reason.

Feeder farms are quite simple really; human slaves are bred solely for the purpose of supplying blood to those who live off it. Many feeder farms, much like the Black Goblet, also offer up their slaves for purchase.

Slaves come and go like clockwork. Many don't last for long down in the basement, whether that be because they are sold, or their bodies simply just.. give up.

Once you walk up the staircase leading to the storefront above, you are as good as dead. No one I know has ever come back.

Eran's large form finally fills the doorframe, his onyx eyes flicking to the new girl's cage in a flash. Eran towers over anyone who stands next to him and more often than not uses this to his advantage.

"What did I tell you about the chain?" His deep voice is steady, but underneath I can already feel the storm about to erupt from him. His arms hang at his sides; tense but ready to swing his dagger that he dangles from his right hand if we make any movements.

That dagger has been sliced across my skin more times than I have been able to keep track of. I hate that dagger with my entire being. But not as much as I hate the man that wields it.

She doesn't answer him but her green eyes flare defiantly in a way I remember mine once did.

Before I was broken.

He crosses the room in three large strides, his ginger beard clings to his greasy skin. Dark eyes stare most of us down, lingering on my frail form for a few moments longer than they should, as he reaches the door to her prison. His potbelly touches his thighs as he squats down in front of her.

I suck in a sharp breath. My palms dampen even in the freezing temperature of the concrete room.

Her eyes widen in response to him moving so close, even though she should have been expecting nothing less after causing such a scene. Her fingers shake as she grips the chain tighter as if she has the strength to rip the metal from her neck.

Stupid girl, I want to scream. My own chain weighs down my neck, reminding me of my place, or lack thereof.

With a quick flick of his fingers, a small golden key unlocks her cage. She sucks in a deep breath, almost as if the girl believes she can finally taste fresh air in her lungs.

Eran's smirk grows, his lips parting to reveal yellow-stained front teeth. "I thought I warned you about what would happen If. You. Touched. The. Chain."

I shrink back away from my own cage door; already knowing what is about to happen. She, however, doesn't seem to realise what is happening before it's too late.

Claws sprout from Eran's dirty fingers and tighten around her too thin throat, and squeeze. His nails cut into her skin, causing blood to run down her neck. His eyes harden with frenzy as the smell of blood wafts around him.

She uses whatever little strength she has left to claw at his face, her fingers tightening in his beard, but it isn't enough to stop him from threading one hand of filthy fingers through her hair and yanking her head to the left.

Her eyes roll back into her head as soon as his fangs sink into the skin just below her ear. Eran groans lowly as he gulps. Twin lines of red drip from either side of his lips.

She starts shaking.

Eran grips her weakening body to his as he drinks, matting his fingers through the locks of her dark hair.

I sit there in shock. We all do.

Nobody moves to help her, not that we can, but I wish that I could. My legs scream at me to stand and fight my way towards the girl, but my brain shuts down, all thoughts leaving me as my fingers begin to violently shake against my stomach.

Eran seems to drink deeply forever, that is until a blessing in disguise appears at the top of the stairs.

"Um... Sir? There is a man upstairs." The young vampire boy trembles as he interrupts Eran. His blood-red eyes lock onto his master who is taking the one thing his body is craving. The boy makes no movement towards Eran, although I can hear the strain hidden between his words.

He is newly turned but somehow controls his bloodlust well enough to keep himself from flying across the room and joining Eran on the floor.

"Get. Rid. Of. Him. I am busy." Eran growls out each word lowly before he begins to latch himself back onto her neck. Her skin is so grey at this point that it looks like she's been turned to stone. Eran doesn't seem to notice, nor care. Not when the only thing he can think of is the blood coating his throat, and the pleasure that rolls off his trembling muscles as his energy grows stronger.

"He's a customer, Sir." He wrings out his fingers in front of him. I know that he knows he will regret interrupting his master later on, but even I don't want to know what his punishment will be.

Eran rips himself away from the girl so quickly that I'm surprised he doesn't give himself whiplash. Forcing her limp body back inside the cage, he quickly locks the door and is storming up the stairs before I can even blink.

"Take me to him." is the last thing I hear Eran say before the basement door is slammed shut, and locked. The lights remain on.

Soft tapping from beside me wakes me from my trance-like state. My eyes take a few seconds to focus before I can make out the worried expression of the girl next to me.

"Are you okay?" Her chocolate brown eyes gleam in the overhead light. I've never known why her eyes remind me of such a thing, especially when I've never been allowed to try it.

"I don't know how I am," I admit to her softly, dragging my cool fingertips along my bare knees. She nods in response before speaking.

"You don't have to pretend to be okay. I know that must have been triggering to watch." Her fingers curl through the wire separating us, giving me permission to feel the comfort of another if I need it.

I grip onto her tightly, finally dragging my eyes away from the girl who will be given no help. She will either wake, or she won't.

For her sake, I hope that she doesn't.

If she doesn't, her body will be dragged up the stairs and shipped off somewhere far away. I've never known the truth as to what happens after that point. Some say we would get chopped up, and used in soups to help strengthen the power of witches, others say werewolves have quite the taste for human flesh, cooked much like beef would be. I've even heard that, if female, a slaves body would be quickly taken to a breeding facility, where her eggs would be harvested for future use, and then her body disposed of.

No outcome is good. Even if death is given to us, our bodies will never be free.

We will always be used.

We will always be owned.

"It was triggering," I admit once again. "For a moment I couldn't remember where I was."

My mind takes me back to the memory of the day not so long ago when it was my throat he had his fingers wrapped around, my skin he pierced with his fangs, and my body he left in the cold.

She squeezes my fingers to bring me away from that place, and my small smile is the only gratitude I can give her.

Although my mind is now far away from that place of pain and hurt, I can still feel the traces of his body over mine, and I still have the ever so slowly healing, pale pink set of puncture wounds right under my right ear as a reminder.

With skin a few shades darker than my own. I've always admired her beauty in a place as horrible as this. In a way, She reminds me of a deer, so elegant and peaceful in a world full of cruel hunters.

I wish that I was strong enough to ask for her name. But much like my own, I suspect that she likes to remain nameless.

The door upstairs softly clicks open, and a petite female vampire steps through the dim light, two large baskets under her arms. One holds small water bottles, the other filled to the brim with small bags of different foods.

Obviously nothing substantial, but my mouth quickly fills with saliva anyway.

She passes the two dark doorways next to the staircase. One is home to the 'blood room' as it's called. The room is large enough for ten people at most, and houses four tables. Nothing fancy, and definitely nothing used to sit down and eat a meal at; the metal tables are bolted to the floor, to avoid movement, and leather straps hang front four corners, ready to be put to use. The straps have dug into my skin so often that I've begun to appreciate their tightness, even if they only stop me from slitting my wrists. The blood room is used most days. We have all bled in there, giving over our lifeblood to the bloodsuckers who greedily want it. A line of chillers sits against the back wall, where bags upon bags are stored, ready to be picked up once a week and taken god knows where.

The second door is home to the medical bay if it can even be called that. Nothing in that room is helpful, and even then it's barely used for its intended purpose.

The woman begins moving throughout the room, handing out bags and bottles to every cage. Silent and barely moving except for the small nods given to every human she passes.

She finally makes it to the entrance to my cage, nodding at me once before passing my bag and bottle through the square slot in the door.

"Thank you," I whisper to her before she leaves. Her pale eyes line with silver before nodding once again.

I almost ask her what makes her want to work here. What makes someone like her, one of the only vampires that have shown any sort of sympathy towards us, stay in a place like this? Is the pay good? Is she offered protection? Is she, like me, without a choice in her being her.

I've never heard the black-haired girl speak, and have often wondered if she simply can't. I wouldn't put it past Eran to do something as cruel as ripping out someone's tongue.

Looking down at my breakfast, a small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Eran never has cared what we eat, and I'm not sure who exactly is responsible for making up our meals, but I always know that it's going to be a good day when we are given a chocolate muffin.

Alongside the muffin and the water, today we are also given a ham and cheese sandwich, three small wholegrain crackers and half an apple cut into slices.

I dig in eagerly, always starting with the muffin just in case something or someone forces us to stop eating.

My muffin gets finished quickly, and I drag down a gulp of water.

The girl finishes handing out breakfast and moves away from the last cage. She always makes her trip around the basement seem quick, moving before the 30 cages quicker than any of the other vampires who hand food. Her eyes suddenly snap towards the stairs, locking on the dark space that many of us cannot see. But she can see them. She can hear them. Her red eyes widen in fear.

We hear them before we see them.

"I would hope that there is one here who is satisfactory to your needs." Eran's voice floats down the staircase, halting the movement of my jaw. The crackers turning to ash in my mouth. Tension falls over the room, everyone pausing and moving away from the food that has only just been given to us, even though we want nothing more than to feed our stomachs that won't quit growling.

"I would hope so too, considering the Black Goblet is supposed to be one of the highest-rated farms in Arkseanne. Is it not?" A gravelly calm male voice replies to Eran. I nearly choke on my own throat. Nobody speaks to Eran in a tone meant to overpower him. But this man does.

I can only imagine Eran's pinched face as he scrambles for a response. "Of course the Black Goblet is the best in Arkseanne. You will find what you need here." He quickly corrects his statement.

Arkseanne? Is that where we are? In all the years I have been locked away here, I have never known the name of the city just beyond the concrete walls that cage me. My blood has seen Arkseanne, so why can't I?

The man hums in response to Eran's claims as they both finally step onto the concrete of the basement floor. Moving away from the shadows, Eran and the man move through the room; my master pointing out the good, and bad qualities of different feeders. The man only hums in response to his words.

The man strolls at an unconcerned pace, with Eran trailing behind a few steps, clearly frustrated with more than just being disturbed during feeding. I try to keep my eyes off him, but find myself failing at the task. Not wanting to be caught staring, I duck my head, but not before I catch a quick glimpse of the dark swirls peeking under the collar of the man's jet black suit.

"Well? What exactly is it you are looking for here?" Eran huffs in annoyance. Stopping himself at the last second before he throws his hands up in the air.

The man looks at the line of cages. His pale grey eyes cut through the wire with a cool calm stare as he studies us, running those eyes over skin, and certain body parts. I can't avoid the shiver that runs along my bare legs.

"That one." My eyes never leave the floor. My breathing stops.

"That one? O293f?" Eran asks in disbelief. His fingers clench and curl into twin fists at his sides and he moves backwards a few steps, as if shock.

"Yes." My heart begins to race, a cool layer of chills sweeps across my skin.

"But, Sir, there are many other whores here who are better suited to your needs. She isn't one of our better ones. We only really use her for blood bags, and even then her blood tastes disgusting! Here, I'll take you back to A163f or B+21- "

"If you knew what was best for you Mr Villani I would suggest you stop speaking about my slave in such a way."

My fingers begin shaking again, and after taking one deep uncertain breath, my traitorous eyes unpeel themselves from the floor to roam up the tall length of the man, before meeting his hooded gaze. His thick lashes cover most of his stare, but I don't miss the narrowing glare he sends my way before looking back to my owner.

The man screams wealth. He screams knowledge and power, and a type of elegance that doesn't belong in a place like this. His aura is enough to silence Eran, a man who I have never known to let anyone belittle him, or disrespect him in his own store.

For the first time ever, Eran has to look up at this man.

Eran is a big guy, don't get me wrong, but he's big in all the ways that don't count. He's tall, but fat covers most of his body. His tick legs, arms and neck may come across as pure muscle for a distance, but up close it's just clear that this man doesn't care much about taking care of himself.

But standing next to him is a man who has spent years working on his body. Either that or he's just genetically blessed. His sculpted body fits nicely in his suit. His shoulders are broad but not unnaturally so. A light dusting of stubble covered his jaw, and just above his top lip. He's beautiful, ill give him that much.

Worried about my faces' ability to betray me with a red tinge, I quickly look back to the floor. Fiddling with my fingers in my lap to stop me from full-on panicking.

"Fine, but as of today there are no returns if you are not satisfied with your purchase." To anyone else, the lie would have floated over their heads, but the man turns his stare towards Eran and smirks.

"I have no plans to return my property. I am already satisfied."

"Right." Eran tries to hide his emotions behind a mask, but he either doesn't do a good job or I've just known him for too long and can see through his shit.

"I'll get it ready for you then if you'd like to wait upstairs." He turns towards the red eyed boy from earlier who must have followed them down. "Take Mr Luther up towards the front desk and begin the paperwork. Maybe even take him to the collars and other supplies."

With a quick 'of course master' from the boy, he begins leading the man back up the stairs. The man, Mr Luther, gives one last glance towards me and glares at the man sliding the key into the lock on my gate before he turns sharply on his heel and follows the boy upstairs.

Once the two disappear, Eran is yanking me from the only place I've ever known.

"Come on you stupid bitch." He's quick to switch the thick chain that I've been used to for years to something much lighter, barely giving me any time to suck in an uninterrupted breath before he's tightening the smaller chain as tightly as it will go.

The skin on my neck pinches in protest, and I want to scream at him. I want to punch, kick and bite him to get him away from me. I want him to feel the pain and torment that he's given me for the last 21 years.

He leans in close, pulling on the chain leash holding me in front of him, and grazes his fangs against my neck. My skin prickles in response, and a shiver flies down my spine.

I think he's going to bite me. I think he's going sink his teeth into my soft flesh and suck me dry. It wouldn't have been the first time.

But instead, he takes his rough lips and awful breath away from me and a smirk crosses them. "You've always been my favourite... my little girl." I don't see his hand fly, but my neck snaps to the side as his palm connects with the left half of my face.

I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. My eyes fill with tears.

"Do try to be good for Mr Luther. I don't think anyone would want you if he has to send you back, and I've only got so much room in my bed for personal slaves."

He latches onto my leash and drags me up the stairs, pulling me through the door. My eyes strain against the bright light flooding into the store.

Light. Real light.

Even with my closed eyes, I am forced forward by Eran's constant tugging at the end of the leash. My eyes burn behind my eyelids.

"Ah, Mr Luther, those are all good choices. I'm glad you are also taking them with you today. Here is your slave." He hands over my leash and I finally find the confidence to open my eyes.

I lock gazes with my new owner, and it's as if he sucks out the soul of me. His grey eyes roam over my face, chest and legs; taking longer on the cuts and bruises covering my skin.

"Can I get anything else for you today, sir?" Eran hands over the paying machine, and Mr Luther quickly swipes his jet black card and enters his details.

"No. I must be on my way. I am a very busy man, as you know Mr Villani." He shoots me a quick smirk before grabbing a black shopping bag and securing his fingers on my leash.

"Thank you for choosing the Black Goblet." Eran calls as I am pulled towards the door. Towards the city, Arkseanne. Towards a new life.

"Come, little one. We have much to do today."

Thanks for reading!

~not fully edited~