Page 3 of When the Dark Wins


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She would make them money for sure.

“Who are you? Why am I here? Why me? Why?” Beth’s voice trembled, a little raspy from the dry mouth he expected after the sedative. Almost every girl asked the same questions in their own ways, so many whys, and it brought him that fizzy feeling of what others called joy to answer her.

“I’m your Master, and you’re here to be trained so I can sell you.” He hadn’t even finished speaking before she screamed again. A long screeching wail that buzzed over his skin, making his cock rock hard in his pants.

“No, no, no, no…” she pleaded to the ceiling, her head rocking back and forth on the mattress as she unconsciously contracted her limbs against the ropes again.

“And you were chosen because you were what we needed.”

“NO!” Her shout was raw, breaking her voice, but he only tilted his head as he watched her. There was a moment where she became aware of his vantage point, her thighs trying to pull together to meet, but the bed was too wide for that. Her shaved cunt was on display for him, and for everyone watching on the cameras.

Which is what they paid for.

“Do you want to know what is going to happen to you?” he taunted her with the question, and her next groan halted in her chest as she licked her lips. Fear almost tangible in the air between them.

“Are… are you going to rape me?” The delicious trepidation in her question had his cock twitching.

“Not yet,” he answered, and she dropped back to the bed, a choked sob escaping her as she wrestled with the ropes that gave her no more room than his brother had allowed her. It was a pretty sight, and part of him hoped Marcus had signed into the feed on his drive North so he could enjoy the fruits of his labors.

“Let me go, please, I swear—”

“You won’t tell anyone? Go to the police? Etcetera, etcetera?” Anthony felt a smile on his lips as he leaned forward, her head lifting to meet his gaze. “Haven’t you realized you’re not going anywhere? That you won’t be able to tell anyone anything?”

“FUCK YOU!” she screamed, and her back arched off the bed as she did, her breasts angled towards the cameras in the ceiling.

“Later. There’s more to discuss first, Beth.” It was irritating to use her name, things didn't have names, but he needed her attention.

And it would take time to truly make her a thing, but he would. He always did.

“You can’t do this! You can’t — you…” She trailed off as the panic overtook her again. People were so fragile, their minds so narrow in their capacity to absorb concepts they didn’t want to. The girl was property now, nothing more than a body, and it was his job to break her mind just enough that she was pliable. Like making dough he would knead her into the proper shape, beat her if necessary, all so she could rise to her new purpose.

“It’s already done. The sooner you accept your place, the better it will be for you. Though I must admit, I enjoy the slaves who fight.”

“NO!” she screamed, and he felt the vibrations of the air down to his core, wrapping around his spine to make him shiver with the closest thing to delight he was capable. The girl was better than he had hoped, and he pushed himself out of the chair to stand at his full height. He was a tall man. Over six feet. And to a slender girl tied spread-eagle on a strange mattress, he knew it felt like twenty when he loomed over her. It was all about perspective. He worked out, wore suits, kept up appearances — all to maintain the image — but he knew that as aesthetically pleasing as he might be, there was no way to hide the creature under the surface.

At some point he had just ceased trying to appear human.

Others like him, and he had met many, worked hard to hide what they were, to suppress their urges to do the worst to other people. The money coming in every month from their little operation was proof enough of that, but as he stood beside the bed and looked into her face he could tell that she wanted comfort. Wanted him to hide his true self for just a moment. Provide a glimpse of some humanity in the man standing over her, something to kindle hope, give her the glimmer of a light at the end of the tunnel.

That old, childish lie of 'everything is going to be okay'.

It wouldn't be. Not for her, anyway.

Anthony would quite enjoy the things he was going to do to her.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, his voice as steady and calm as it always was.

“What?!” she screeched, but he doubted even she was so stupid as to misunderstand a question that simple.

Regardless, she was afraid. He could see it in her. She broadcasted her fear at top volume, muscles jumping, palms sweating, bound hands clenching and unclenching... but he wanted to hear it. “Are you afraid?” he asked again, maintaining the cold edge in his tone.

“I— yes...” she finally whispered the word, a hushed and broken sound that made his cock jerk in his pants.

“Describe it for me.”

“I don't understand.”

“Tell me what the fear feels like.” His first touch to the skin along her ribs made her jerk, pulse jumping at her throat, face turned away like she could avoid him. Eventually she would realize how pointless it was, and so he enjoyed it while he could. Soaked in her panic, watched the hope dim just a little inside her as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Just describe it.”

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