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?”

He doesn’t respond, merely gestures to the screen with his chin, silently ordering me to turn my attention back to the television.

The name disappears, and a scene appears with a man who looks to be in his early forties, graying hair with a scraggly beard that reminds me of barbed wire. The lens follows him to a bed where a girl who can’t be much older than my eighteen years is bound helpless.

She’s begging, crying, and pleading with him to let her go. The vibration between my legs intensifies and I’m lost in pleasurable confusion. My body is reacting to the stimulation, but my mind recoils at the scene on the television.

I can’t look away, and I can’t close my eyes. I’m bound so well with my head fastened to hooks on the wall that don’t allow me to move an inch. There’s something on my eye lids that allow me to blink, but I can’t keep them closed.

I’m assaulted by the scene before me of the old man thrusting himself inside the girl. There are feral grunts, screams of pain and when the lens zooms in, blood is dripping from where they’re connected.

My body gives in to the pleasure, my stomach convulses from the scene before me. I can’t stop my orgasm, and I can’t stop the puke that’s dripping from my chin. My mind feels almost fragmented, shattered and torn at the emotions racing through me.

The man who’s dressed in an immaculate suit continues to violate her, to torture her with his cock, his grip around her neck tightens as her choking intensifies, while he spits on her. It’s horrific to watch and I’m afraid to see what’s to follow. His large hand grips her tiny breast, tugging on the flesh harshly as if he’s trying to rip it off. Her cries echo in my ears, and his grunts fill the room.

It’s sick.

It’s vile.

And I can’t move away, turn away from the scene. The large silent man dressed in a white lab coat stalks closer, his hand holding an object dripping blood and when I finally take a good look I notice it’s a human heart. At least, that’s what I’ve seen pictures of in Biology class. My body is rigid with fear, my blood turning icy cold. What are they doing with that? My thoughts are erratic, fliting between fear and revulsion.

“She had so many pretty parts,” he sneers, pushing his hand holding the organ against my mouth as I try to fight him off. The screams still echo around me as he feeds me. With his other hand, I feel the pressure between my legs as he forces two thick fingers inside me. “You’ll be broken soon, just like her.”

I can’t close my mouth as he shoves it into me and I’m painted in the crimson liquid while the video plays and my body leaps over an edge I’ve been fighting but the assault on my clit is too much.

I’m drenched in red. My mouth, my shoulders as he grips me, ensuring I’m soaked in the metallic liquid.

“So pretty, little girl,” he sneers.

My body locks and convulses as pleasure shoots through me. It’s not from the scene. It’s from the forced orgasm that I’ve been subjected to. But the vibration only intensifies. I cry out, begging for mercy, even though I know they’ll never offer it. I feel another release on the edge, it’s right there and the filthy words from the TV vibrate though me and I cry out in pleasure, in pain, in disgust.

Another notch on the vibrator is turned up and I’m wet. My clit is throbbing now, and I can’t stop the moan that slips from my lips. A third orgasm is close, I’m watching a girl get violated and all I can do is find release, pleasure watching pain.

The piece of filth steps back, admiring me shaking and shuddering wildly. My captor turns around and calls out to someone I can’t see.

“Get Drake in here, she needs to be cleaned up.”

“Why?” I whimper, attempting to spit the blood from my mouth.

He spins on his heel, glaring at me. “Because, little girl,” he says in a low menacing tone. “You’re going to bring me a lot of money. Every part of you.” His blue eyes glow with evil intent.

My body is rising to the edge. I’m standing on the precipice as the old man on screen pulls a blade from under the pillow and severs her head as the wand is turned to full pelt and I come harder than I’ve ever known a woman could.

My body is wracked with a sob, convulsions, and an orgasm that turns me inside out. My toes curl, I watch the head of a beautiful girl fall off the bed and the man find his own release in her now dead body.

When the door flies open, I’m crying. The white coated man steps back after turning off the vibrator that’s assaulted me for as long as the video had been repulsing me. He smirks at the newest member to the room.

“Get her cleaned up,” he orders, then leaves us, his footfalls disappearing into the darkness.

The screen is black, but the dim light that streams in from the room beyond offers me a glimmer to see who’s walked in. My tormentor. The blond boy with the blue eyes that remind me of an ocean. Drake.

“You’re weak,” he tells me. “He’ll toughen you up.” It’s a veiled threat and I wonder if he’s telling me that in warning, or if he’s disgusted at what I’ve just been through.

“Help me.”

He stills in his need to unchain me. “There’s no escape from the dungeon. You either conform, or you die.”

He continues to move swiftly and then I’m in his arms. When we enter the adjoining space, there’s a bed that he places me on. I’m shoved onto my stomach and once more bound to the metal poles on either end.

Once he’s completed his task, he leans in close to my ear.

“If you can survive this,” he starts, “then perhaps there’s hope for us all.”

With that, I’m left alone to wonder what he means.

All I do know is that it can’t be good.