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Yes.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, not answering his question because I know there isn’t any reason
for me to want her.
“Then perhaps you should go in there and ask Dad if he’ll allow you to play the final round.” I glance at my brother then. It’s the first time we’ve really gotten to talk about something like this. An option of perhaps winning and keeping one of the girls.
But even so, if I do get her, she’ll hate me for what I’ve allowed to happen to her. I’ve left her in there with the Devil himself. I know what she’s going through right now. In my mind, I recall the training chair. My father’s idea of teaching impressionable youths on the basics of human nature. That’s a fucking joke. More like the intricacies of being an animal.
“That will never happen,” I tell him.
“You never know,” Dante murmurs as he carries the bucket from the cell and disappears, leaving me to wonder if I’ll ever have a chance against our father.
Caia
My tormentor leaves me in the softly lit room with an object. It’s small, and when I lift it to the light, I note it’s a pocket knife, but the blade is serrated, and even though I’ve never been a fearful person, this makes me shudder. If I need this, then whatever I’m about to experience may kill me. When the music and voices faded, hands grab me from behind and shove me into a dark closet.
The person wrenches the knife from my hand and in that moment all hope leaves me. I’m blindfolded and there are plugs in my ears to keep out the noise.
My body aches when I’m shoved forward and then forced to sit on a small wooden chair. my wrists and ankles are bound to the legs of the chair in seconds.
The person moves fast to ensure I can’t fight, and then I’m left alone.
Seconds pass, then minutes.
“Please let me go. If you tell me why I’m here I can get my father to talk to you. Do you want money? He has money.” Nobody responds to my plea. Tears sting my eyes as my mind plays scenarios like a horror movie before me.
I’m hunched over, the tension in my shoulders is unbearable. I’ve tried tugging at the bindings but they’re knotted too tight. With each tug, the twine cuts into the harsh wounds from being bound to the bed earlier and I know I’m not making it better by trying to pull myself free.
Suddenly, the plugs are pulled from my ears and I can hear the music again. Classical and operatic. It’s not loud, merely a whisper, but almost torturous in volume.
“She’s pretty,” a deep rumble comes from somewhere. My blindfold hinders my sight, and I don’t know how many people are in the room, but if I had to guess, I’d say two. The man who hurt me earlier, and another. The stranger’s voice is deeper, more ragged than my captor.
“Get her ready,” a voice comes, the one of the man who’s keeping me in here. “She’s to be trained as soon as possible. I want her ready for Friday’s auction.”
There are hands pulling at my arms and legs, untying me hastily from my bound position, tugging my wrists together, he twines the rope tightly. Then suddenly I’m thrust into the air. A hard shoulder pressing into my stomach as he grips my small ass and another arm snaking around my thighs.
He walks through the space that I’m not allowed to see. When he finally sets me on my feet, I’m placed against a wall, or something cold and hard. Concrete. Perhaps the same type as the walls of my room, the cell I woke up in.
My hands and legs are bound against the icy wall and I’m once again locked in place with nowhere to go. A chuckle comes from my left and his hot breath on my cheek causes me to shudder.
“Don’t worry, pet, you’ll soon enjoy this,” he grits out in a devilish tone. His calloused finger paints something on my lips. As soon as my tongue darts out, the metallic flavor causes me to retch. “You look so pretty painted with crimson.” His voice is cold as ice as it chills me.
The blindfold is ripped from my face and the harsh light is blinding for a moment. Blinking to clear the sting, I find myself in a small dark room and realize the blinding light is coming from the television set which is before me.
“What are you doing?” I croak, but he ignores me as he moves to the corner and pulls out a small trolley that he wheels over to me. Placing it between my legs, I notice it has one of those magic wand vibrators attached to it. “Please, you don’t have to do this.” I know my words fall on deaf ears, but I try anyway.
He locks it in place and moves to the television that’s shining a bright white screen. When he clicks a remote, an image appears. It’s a video that’s paused on the title that I’m sure is something gory from the word on screen.
Severed.
“Enjoy your movie night, princess,” the man who reminds me of an evil ogre smirks viciously as he walks out, shutting the door with a resounding click. My gaze darts back to the screen and before I can think about what’s about to happen, the wand that’s been placed on my core starts a gentle vibration.
Another older man appears from behind me, he’s dressed like a doctor, with blue plastic gloves and a stethoscope around his neck.
“We’re going to test your restraint, little one,” he smirks. “They asked for a strong one, a fighter.”
I frown at this information, wondering who he’s talking about, or even what he’s talking about. “Please, why are you doing this?”
