Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction based on the characters in the video game: Soul Calibur. I make no claims of ownership towards these characters, only the twisted things they do in this story belong to me. If you find this story on any site except Literotica, it has been stolen from me, MrsDeathlynx and I would appreciate you letting me know! Enjoy the story, and remember: Feedback is crack for writers!
Daisy woke up to a strange feeling, it wasn't a totally unfamiliar feeling, but it wasn't exactly something she was used to either. Up and down, back and forth, rocking and swaying. She had no clue what was going on, no clue where she was. But when she opened her eyes one thing was clear: she wasn't in her livingroom any more.
Barely managing to stand she would look down upon herself, a look of confusion appearing on her face. The white shirt she was wearing hung off her shoulders, some sort of an elastic band keeping it on but not too tightly. At the same time she could feel that her mid-section was restricted, barely able to see it the black material could be nothing but a half bodice.
The skirt she was wearing was free flowing, of course it did help that there were multiple tears in the fabric it was comprised of. Why was she wearing an outfit like this? It wasn't quite Renaissance Faire season, but to her that's what it seemed to be based on appearances alone. She had also never been so unsteady on her feet, which was made evident with the first step forward that she tried to make.
Down to her knees she fell, not only unsteady on her feet but she had also felt something pull on her ankles. Her knees had hit hard, enough to make her let out a grunt that was noticeable to those guarding the door to her room. Her ankles suddenly felt strange, without being able to turn around her hands would reach back, her eyes going wide once she realized what was going on: she had somehow been captured as she slept.
"I see you are now awake, that is a good thing indeed." She heard the gruff voice speaking before she saw him, her eyes going even more wide when she saw him.
Even upon first glance she knew that this man was not normal, there was something about him that would make her shudder. At first she wasn't able to put her finger on it, it wasn't his grey hair or his pasty skin but something else entirely. While her eyes focused on his chest she noticed something, not a single once in the span of 30 seconds did it rise and fall, which meant that the man before her was not alive but undead.
"You're..." The hoarse whisper would exit her throat, barely able to form the words as she was completely shocked at the sight before her as well as her situation.
"I am Cervantes," he spoke as he crouched down. "As you have probably guessed I may walk among the living but I am no longer one of them." A rough chuckle would escape his lips, the grin that formed directly after enough to send chills up the poor woman's spine.
As if the grin wasn't enough he would place one of his pasty hands beneath her chin, the coldness of his flesh causing her to visually shudder. Forcing her to look into his eyes by lifting her chin he would continue to grin, yet another thing that made her feel the incredibly creepy aura of this man. This man scared her and he could tell, something that only seemed to make him grin even more.
"You will tell me what is it that I wish to know and you will do it promptly or else you shall meet a fate that none survive." After speaking he would rather roughly grip her chin, then thrust his hand forward. This would throw her head to the side, but she would grit her teeth in order to keep from grunting as the action had brought her some pain.
"You have two options, either you tell me what I need to know or you be in pain. If it goes too far you will walk the plank, sinking straight down to Davy Jones Locker." His gruff voice would then chuckle, as if he was amused by the idea of all of this. He had no idea that she knew absolutely nothing, hell she didn't even know what he wanted her to tell him.
"I don't know what you're talking about, one minute I'm sitting at home and the next minute I'm here." She didn't normally do this but in this situation she pleaded with him, turning her head to look to him with her eyes begging him to realize that she was telling the truth.
"For some reason I don't believe ye, but I'll give ye one more chance before the real fun begins." Without even looking he would reach off to his side, grabbing the red hot poker and pointing it at her. "Where did he hide it?" It was clear by the tone of his voice that he was getting frustrated, she couldn't believe that he thought that she knew.
"Please, I swear I don't know. I don't even know what you are talking about, I have no clue who he is or what he hid. Please I swear on my own life, you have to believe me!" As she struggled to get up she would beg, her voice shaky as she made her attempt to plead with the man. But the only thing it made him do was get even more frustrated, at which point he would motion for one of his men to do his thing.
Rather roughly she could feel her hair being grabbed, then her head would be yanked back just as roughly. Once more she found herself clenching her teeth, a tear coming to her eye as she prepared herself for torture. She thought she would be able to look at the man, however the creepy look on his face was enough to scare her. She knew he was going to do it, her eyes closing as she prepared herself.
"Which port were ye in when ye dropped off the sword, wench!?" This time he was yelling at her, the poker creeping closer and closer to her shoulder.
"I don't..." The searing hot poker would then pierce the cloth of her upper right arm, she couldn't even finish her sentence.
The only thing she could do was let out a scream, an almost blood curdling scream. But this didn't make him stop, in fact this seem to fuel him on. Just as suddenly as it had pierced her flesh it would pull out, the smell of her own flesh burning enough to make her want to vomit. While she would gag she wouldn't do it, she was trying to be strong but coming extremely close to failing.
"The location of the sword or yer life, the choice be up to ye. I know ye been with him when he was at port, my eyes may be old but they don't be playin' tricks on me." With his foot he would lift her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes as he waited. This action alone would make her shudder, something that made him laugh.