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“Good boy,” Ayden croons, putting clamps on his nipples. Michael hisses, looking nervously down at them. “The nipple clamps are connected together by a powerful battery that will send an electric pulse to them when I click the remote control. I can control how strong each punishment is, ramp up the pain felt, depending on how badly he is doing.”
“May I ask what I’m expected to do?” Michael asks, wincing as he awaits to be zapped for his question.
“Questions are how we learn,” Sidney says, dropping into a chair as he pats Michael’s arm. “Get on your knees, and open your mouth wide. Michael is going to learn how to suck my cock today. Have you ever given a blow job before?”
“No… no, Sir,” Michael murmurs, doing as he’s asked.
I’m so busy watching as Sidney pulls out his dick, I don’t realize someone is behind me, until Andrya is pulling my head back by my hair.
“We learned some very interesting things about you, Silla,” she croons, and goosebumps erupt over my skin. “Every one of you has fears, secrets, things that you don’t want used against you. These are all very human reactions. Except you’re tools, not allowed to fail, as the Queen’s Whores.” Andrya grabs my arm, twisting it painfully behind my back as she forces me to stand. “I need two helpers right now. If you assist me, you’ll be given a pass from participating in anything we have planned today.”
Six people rise, and Andrya calls out the names of two of the men. I don’t blame them for their decision, but I won’t make it easy for them, either. Struggling, I gasp as she pulls my hair so hard, I swear she rips strands out of my scalp. As one of them attempts to grab my feet, I kick out wildly. I don’t know what Andrya is planning, but it can’t be good.
Huffing, she twists my arm up so high, I scream in pain, inadvertently allowing one of the male students to grab my legs so tightly, I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
“Drizella is apparently very scared of small spaces,” Andrya laughs evilly. Black spots begin appearing in front of my eyes as my breath quickens. This can’t be happening right now.
“No…” I whisper.Who told her?
I can’t think clearly, and it feels as if everything is too loud.
“Did your mommy not love you enough as a child, Silla? Were you punished?” Andrya taunts, obviously knowing nothing about my life. Few people know how little my mother cared about me.
Tears begin to burn as they escape from my eyes. “Andrya, stop!” I scream as they begin walking with me between them.
This is going to be so bad…
Ignoring me, she says, “There’s a screwdriver to open the vent. It goes straight up, so you’re not going anywhere. No one cares if you cry or scream. Tyler, open up the vent, and then push the sofa in the corner in front of it. Silla, are you afraid of the dark too? You’re a little old for that, aren’t you? May as well break you of these silly phobias.”
I’m trying so hard not to lose my shit, telling myself she doesn't mean it. These people won’t really put me in a vent and leave me there, right?
I can hear Sidney beginning his lesson at the front of the class, and I struggle harder. Trauma is so odd in that your mind focuses on things that don’t matter: like how much Michael gags as he swallows Sidney’s cock.
“You’re not a monster, Andrya,” I plead. “Please, I can’t believe you’re going to do this!”
“The enemy isn’t going to care how much you scream. You’re just going to have to get over this dumb little fear. Unscrew the grate,” she insists, punching me in the side as I struggle.
My chest heaves as I gasp for breath, winded from the blow. “You don’t understand,” I wheeze. “Don’t do this!”
“How bad could it possibly be? Stop being a baby. You’re the future of this institution. Fucking act like it!” Andrya screams at me.
None of my begging saves me. Andrya gets tired of me, allowing the man who has my feet to throw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I still fight, flail, and scream.
The grate over the vent is removed, and I’m thrown into the opening so hard, I grunt when I hit the wall. I’m winded for a moment, unable to move, and that’s all the students need to seal me into the wall.
“No,” I croak, as the furniture is pushed in front of it so I can’t even see the light. “Please! I can’t do this! I’ll be good, I’ll never tell… Andrya!”
I hear them walk away, and I throw myself at the grate over and over, tears leaking unbidden. Soon, I sound like a wounded animal, keening. I can’t even stand because of how small the space is. The vent zigzags upwards, but the area my body occupies is very compact. Wracking sobs soon take my voice as I lose track of time.
I can’t breathe, and my grounding techniques fail me. Do I even exist as the panic takes away my ability to hear too? All I can hear in my mind is a roar that may actually be screaming. My mind tells me no one will find me, tricks me into imagining I’ll die here.
I’m deathly afraid of the things I can’t see, as my fear convinces me that creepy crawlies are crawling over my fingers and legs. The classroom outside fades away, and the darkness overtakes my world. My mouth parts as I attempt to pull air into my lungs, and I stare unseeingly into the darkness.
Three days at FRC, and I’m already broken.
ISAAC
Silla is really late. Glancing at the clock again for the hundredth time, I curse under my breath as I stand. It’s a little after eight, and the only reason I haven’t gone looking for her before this, is because people have been calling me for things.
