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I rested my head back against the wall, forcing myself to keep my eyes open, to maintain full awareness of my surroundings. After the morning delivery of water and meds, it marked the countdown of a twenty-minute wait until the first torture session began.
As I started counting it out in my head, I was aware of footsteps sounding outside.
Coming closer and closer to my cell door.
It was happening quicker than usual.
That riled up discussion Carson and Sam had engaged in had obviously shifted something, fucking with the normal predictable routine.
Sure enough, the door scraped open, a grating screech that had me wincing in spite of myself.
A beam of light flooded into the room, illuminating the dirtied and bloodied floor and walls.
My blood.
Sam locked it behind him, then eyed the bucket in the corner. “Nothing. You need to hydrate.”
I just stared out at him.
He wasn’t in his usual tailored suit.
He had a pair of loose black pants riding low on his hips, he was barefoot, and his torso was bare, on full display.
I took in the cattle prod clutched in his hand.
He’d forgone the shock baton this time.
This was new.
So was the hooded look in his eyes as he stared down at me.
Shit.
His hand was behind his back holding something else and as he drew closer to me, the prod being wielded in warning, I forced myself not to react, controlling the adrenaline now sweeping through my system and willing me to respond to defend myself.
He stopped a few feet from me and revealed what he’d been holding out of sight, and placed it down. As he kicked it right to my side, I took in a plate full of a slimy substance.
Was it—
“It’s what you think,” he told me, reading my expression too well.
“You see, our guys here have very little to occupy their time keeping this facility—and you—secure, except to come by and watch you being tormented. They’re specifically chosen for their ability not just to stomach what prisoners like you are being subjected to, but to relish it. They get off on it. And we allow them that pleasure.” He pointed to a high corner in the ceiling. “They’re watching right now.” He frowned. “Hmm, you’re not surprised. It’s virtually undetectable, yet you picked up on it. Impressive.” He kicked the plate even closer. “You’re a masturbatory fantasy come true. Here’s the proof of their appreciation.”
“You’ve tried many a method to try to break me, several involving degradation. Do you really think this is going to make a difference?”
He smiled and snatched up the piss water bottle, making me tense involuntarily as he screwed off the top. “You’re clearly a master at enduring pain. That’s all we’ve delivered since you’ve been here.” He pressed the open bottle to my lips, smirking as I turned my head away. “Being made to feel pleasure while experiencing utter degradation is another thing entirely. It’s an epic mind-fuck, little prince.”
He brought it to my mouth once more and I jerked to the side, my chains and cuffs rattling and echoing harshly around the room.
He fisted his hand in my hair, then tipped the bottle into my mouth, making me choke down a few drops, before he then jerked it away and poured the rest of the liquid down my back, emptying the entire bottle.
It had me hissing as it poured over my wounds, like acid seeping into my skin.
I bucked, only to be held in place as Sam fisted my hair to the roots.
He slapped my face rapid-fire until my cheeks were burning.
And then he shoved two fingers into my mouth.
