Standing in the middle of the room with her hands clasped behind her head the girl waited. Dressed only in the barest of coverings, she trembled noticeably, and there was fear in her eyes. The door opened and she jumped. Her trembling increased till she was barely able to remain standing. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand, and as he slowly walked towards her, her breathing hastened and her heart beat faster.
"This letter is from Mistress Amina. Do you know what it says?" his voice was softer than she would have imagined it could be.
He walked behind the girl, running his free hand gently across her back. His touch was like fire, and she flinched, her skin crawling violently.
"It says she found one of my slaves, in the village near her manor house, posing as a peasant. Isn't that peculiar? My steward told me he was missing a slave just last week."
He was facing her now, towering over her as her eyes found themselves staring at the floor. He gently caressed her neck, pushing up on her chin, forcing her eyes upward to look at him. He turned from her and continued reading.
"It also says that Mistress Amina finds you pleasing to look at, and if I should choose NOT to keep you in my service she would be more than happy to take you off my hands to sell in the local market. Unless I choose to send you to the auction block myself. She seems to think you would fetch a good price. Do you think you would?"
The girl whimpered, and started to open her mouth to speak, but was silenced with a look.
He was looking her over, studying her, and with horror she saw he'd removed the knife from his belt and was bringing it towards her. She was powerless to move, and the blade was cold as it touched her skin, the edge keenly felt as he rolled it across her belly. She started sobbing, believing she was to die for running away. Roughly he cut away the cloth covering her sex and then the strips covering her breasts. They heaved in rhythm with her ragged breathing as her sobs began to subside.
"Silence, child. No one is going to auction." He smiled, "On your knees, slave!"
She knelt before him. The rough concrete floor held a promise of bruised knees, her hands still clasped behind her head. The lights went out as he shut the door behind him, and she was left in the growing dimness of the setting sun. It was cold, and getting colder. This room had no fireplace, no furniture, no coverings and no place to hide. As she looked around she saw metal rings in the walls. Bars on the only window. Cold fluorescent lightbulbs hung high above her head, and she saw with sick fear in her stomach that there were metal rings embedded in the ceiling as well. And the floor! It was so rough because the floor was grooved, grooved towards the center where a small metal grate covered a drainage hole. The light was fading, and her knees hurt. Her muscles were cramping from the journey here in the slavers cage, and from kneeling so long. Her arms were like lead, her fingers numb. As the last of the light faded away from the window she began to cry softly. And still she dare not move.
The silence became deafening, a roar in her ears as she strained in the darkness to hear something. Anything. Time passed, whether quickly or slowly she could not tell. Time and time again she awoke as her body slammed into the rough floor. She could feel the scrapes from the grooves. And yet something unseen made her pull herself back up to a kneeling position. She was freezing, exhausted, filthy, and bloody. Her body cried out in the agony of enforced stillness.
When the door creaked open she almost cried out in joy at the prospect of being freed from her position, but the face that leered into hers scared her more than anything she had experienced so far. His hand was in her hair and she was pulled towards the door.
Twisting and yelling and trying to get free she fell, but he showed no mercy. No time to get her feet beneath her. She could feel hairs popping out of her scalp, her skin ripping against the sharp edges on the floor as her feet spiraled wildly trying to get up. His other hand reached down to her throat, and he picked her up, slamming her violently against the wall.
"You thought you'd run? But we always had so much fun together." He slapped her face, making her ears ring. "You disappoint me!"
Turning her to face the wall she felt her arms twisted cruelly behind her, her elbows and wrists bound tightly together. As she screamed and fought against him she felt him forcing her legs apart. His cock ripped into her ass as his hand went back around her throat, making it hard to breath. Every time he slammed into her the breath came a little harder and her head was making a staccato rhythm on the wall. As he came, she twisted away from him. He made no move to catch her. The floor, grey and cold, came up fast to meet her as she tried to bring her arms forward to brace her fall.
She was laying face down when she woke, or at least she thought she woke. Her head ached terribly. Everything was completely dark, and there was no sound. She tried to lift her head, her limbs. Nothing happened. She was terribly thirsty. She tried to speak, and only then she realized she was unable to do that either. She flexed her tongue slowly, feeling the bite of what seemed to be a ring deep inside her mouth holding her tongue down. Following the feel of it, she learned it was pulling the corners of her mouth backwards. She groaned again as she flexed muscles in her legs and arms, finally feeling the restraints holding her down. No more strength to fight. The surface beneath her was warm, she had been here a while. It was soft, padded, and if she could have moved it would not have been uncomfortable.
She woke. It was still completely dark, and then she realized she was blindfolded. Her ears felt stuffed with something, and the sound of her own blood rushing through her head was loud. The gag was still in place, her body still held fast, her face cradled in some sort of hole so she was facing straight down. People were close. Their body heat. The air moving as they went about their business. She stifled a groan, not wanting their attention, but it was too late. Without warning she felt a flash of fire down her back and she jerked against her bonds. Again, and again, tears unable to spill from behind her mask, animalistic sounds coming from her mouth, until no inch of her back, buttocks, or thighs were left lacking attention, and still the blows came. She could feel the welts raising up, criss crossing, the lash now cutting into her flesh in some places. Small trickles of blood ran down her sides, pooling in the low spots on her back and legs. As abruptly as the beating began, it was over, and she was alone again. Her breathing was ragged as she tried to regain control of herself.
She was laying face down when she woke. The gag was gone from her mouth, and she could hear. Her mouth and throat were dry, raspy.
"water, please."
Silence.
