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But at what cost?
No food came for hours. No water. Nothing.
By the time people began filtering in, I was parched, hungry and needing to use the facilities. Women watched me with interest as I sat dejected, having been left with nothing but my cruel thoughts to plague me. The reality of what I did to Harriet ate away at me. I may have been out of my mind at the time and unaware of the wounds my actions had caused, but with the passing hours and scouring my fragmented memories, I knew she spoke the truth. Perhaps I deserved to be locked up like an animal.
A group of women came close to the cage, whispering to one another while watching me. A brunette held a plate of hors d’oeuvres that made my mouth water. The tiny crackers loaded with a myriad of toppings made my stomach growl loudly as I struggled to tear my eyes from the morsels.
‘Did you hear that?’ she said, her laughter making my cheeks burn.
‘I don’t know what he did, but he must have really pissed Harriet off for her to be keeping him like a dog. Usually, she just kills them.’ The woman in the middle of the trio spoke like I wasn’t perfectly able to understand what she said. Exhaustion and discomfort attacked me while I listened to their chatter. The younger woman on the end watched me intently, her eyes flicking from the scabbed-over cut on my chest to my pierced dick. I’d given up hiding it. I’d never been particularly modest, but it was far from the least of my worries. The room beyond my bars was filling up quickly, busier than I’d seen it in my time there. At least, I thought it was days. Without any daylight, it was hard to keep track.
‘Why’s it so busy,’ I asked the younger woman, my throat cracking.
She ignored me completely. So much for a potential soft touch. The doors opened, and Harriet appeared, looking devastating in a tight red dress and black biker boots. All eyes turned to her as a hush fell over the gathering. The young woman took the plate of food from her friend while they went off to find somewhere to sit. She faced away from me, and I closed my eyes at the nearness of the food and my complete inability to seize it with my confined arms. The savoury, salty smell of the cheese and meats filled my nostrils. It was torturous.
‘Quick,’ a heated whisper said.
Opening my eyes revealed her fingertips held behind her back, the loaded cracker only centimetres from my lips. I didn’t hesitate to lean forward and catch it between my teeth. Flavour exploded against my tongue, and I could have sobbed with relief had I not had another cracker briskly shoved against my lips.
‘Thank you,’ I mumbled.
Harriet was busy instructing another man to lower a chain from the ceiling in the centre of the room. Sweat pricked at the back of my neck and she fitted two shackles to the bottom, testing them with a sharp tug.
Fuck, what was she going to do to me?
Another cracker appeared, and while I ate it, the taste had turned to ash in my mouth as fear gripped me.
An excited babble rumbled throughout the crowd. Clearly, they knew what this meant.
‘What will she do?’ I whispered to the woman who still faced away from me, pretending not to finger-feed me.
There was a hesitation before she shook her head. ‘I can’t say.’
‘You can’t or you don’t want to?’
‘I’m risking enough to feed you. Take the crackers or don’t. You can’t eat and chat.’
I’d spoken with my mouth full plenty of times before, and none of the women or men had ever complained.
When she’d pushed the final cracker towards me, she walked off without a backward glance. They were undoubtedly pity crackers, but why? Was it some sort of last fucking meal?
With a grunt, I pulled at my cuffs until they bit into my skin, marking deep red lines into my wrists. Knowing it was fruitless didn’t make it any easier to sit there and await Harriet’s insanity.
A hiss broke out from near where the doors were, but with the room so packed, I couldn’t see why. Craning my neck, I eventually saw Petros leading an overweight man with ruddy cheeks and a dirtied suit through the crowd. A woman, who must have barely been twenty, followed behind them, Harriet’s friend, who I’d seen when she pinned me beside the couch, held the woman’s hand tightly. The crowd was feral. Women spat at the man as he passed by; others lashed out, catching him with fists or nails. He cursed and tried to fight back, blustering at the treatment. I remained as still as possible, not wanting to attract any of their ire my way.
When he reached Harriet, he aggressively lunged towards her. Petros yanked at the short chain affixed around his neck, stopping him short, his face reddening even further.
‘I’ll kill you and every cunt in this place. Do you know who I am?’
Harriet gave him a saccharine smile and nodded. ‘Westley James Senior. Trusted board member of Stanley-Cooper Bank. Father of three. Husband. Abuser of women. That about sum it up?’
The man glared at her, fury etched into his every wrinkle. ‘She’s a fucking liar. You’re going to believe a stupid little bitch over me? If you’re so convinced, report me to the police. Everyone in the UK has a right to a fair trial.’
With a tip of her head, Harriet surveyed her prey. ‘A fair trial would be fantastic. It’s just a shame that you have so many friends in high places, isn’t it? You’ve had a trial before, last time someone found a woman being kept against her will underneath your home. Yet, she was called crazy. Told she made it all up. Except that we know she didn’t, did she, Westley? You just paid your chums to keep their no-good mouths shut and dampen it all down.’
‘She was a willing participant in a sex game. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of fetish.’
‘And what about Eve here? Was she a willing participant too? Because she very much says otherwise.’ Harriet glanced at the woman, who looked at her feet.
