***If you haven't read Forget to Remember Ch. 1 or 2, please do so before reading this one. It will make this story a lot yummier to read.***
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The walls of the dungeon dripped with blood and fear. Past prisoners' screams rang the cells and halls, bringing my body on full alert. When I open my eyes, my arms were bound above my head and I stand suspended in the center of a small jail cell. I looked down and saw my body, completely naked of clothes but covered in dirt and sweat. The strain on my arms brought my head back up just in time to see the door to the cell open and a masked man enter holding a whip.
The mask was black and covered everything except holes for the nose to breathe and eyes to see. His chest was sculpted to impress with strong arms crossed over. Instead of drinking in his looks, I panicked at how hard that whip would hurt with his strength. I had no doubt in my mind that the whip was meant for me. I got as scared as a deer with approaching headlights coming at me. I knew the effort was pathetic but I tried talking. It ended up coming out as a whimper.
"Please... why are you doing this?"
The masked man was silent as he stood to one side to let someone else come in. This man had no mask, but his clothes told me more. He must be powerful and some form of royalty or high political standing. His tanned skin and features let me to think he was Middle Eastern, resting well under the gold suit and medals that were polished to a gleam. He was smirking, not smiling, at me as he struts into the cell looking like a solar eclipse in the dirt of my prison. A uniformed guard walked in behind him holding a large and intimidating sword. Maybe the whip was the lesser evil, and I sent up a silent prayer for the whip and not the sword.
Tears began to fall in frighteningly fast rivers down my face, creating dirty streams all over my body front. The man chuckled and said in a strong Indian accent, "How many times have we been through this? Your tears are wasted emotions. They no longer work on me."
He approached me and the sweet, spicy scent of his body hit me. The black hair was cut short, but the front fell in a wave over his forehead. The look in his eyes could only be described as one thing- evil.
"For all the pain you caused, all the wars lost and all the people that have died for the revolution you started, you will be my slave. You will be my toy to do what I wish and the only alternative is death."
He laughed and turned to the masked man. "Now, I want you to prepare her for what is to come. Give her a taste of what I expect. I think... ten lashing to start."
Lashings?! Was he mad?! My pleas began once more as I cried but I was abruptly stopped when he yelled, "Silence!" With a nod of his head he signaled the masked man to go behind me. I pulled at my bonds despite knowing there was no way out. He stood for a moment with his hand on my shoulder and his face close to my ear. He whispered, "Forgive me," and delivered the first slash to my bare back.
The pain was extraordinary as my skin took the hit without much of a fight. I had no way to fight it anyway. I know not what crimes I committed to deserve such treatment but the burning between my shoulder blades was brutal enough that it must have been horrible. With the second hit I screamed but stood still, not wanting to distress my body even more. By the third I could feel blood or sweat, maybe both, trickle down my back and between my bare cheeks. By the sixth I was all out of cries and my back was completely numb. I sat and took the rest like the slave he wanted me to be.
When he was finished, the royal prick nodded his approval. "Good. You'll learn to live with it." Looking behind me he said, "Clean her up and tend her wounds. I want her fresh for tomorrow. I'll show her what it means to serve the king." With another diabolical laugh, the king walked out with his guard.
I began weeping silently, not enough energy to spend on full tears. The masked man placed a hand on my hip, making me flinch back as if burned. When we heard the dungeon door seal the silence of the prison, he put his forehead on my shoulder and said in a muffled voice, "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this." I tense at his touch, scared of what he's going to do to me.
He walks around my front, tossing the whip across the cell in anger. He abruptly took off the mask, tossing it aside with the whip and looked into my eyes. He was crying. His brown hair was pulled back with a small piece of string, but pieces fell out around his beautiful face and I knew instantly, I knew who it was. It was the one in my dream for the past few nites. My dream, my love, stood before me with sadness in his eyes when I know all I held inside was hope and love.
"One more day, beauty. One more blessed day between us. After tomorrow, all will be taken, all with be shown, I promise."
He cradled my face in trembling fingers and I began to shake in my bonds. "Untie me, please. I'm not sure how much more I can stand this."
He kissed my lips, tasting our tears burnt into memories past. As he untied my wrists and ankles, he kept chanting, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," under his breath. When my arms were free, my body gave up the fight and I collapsed in his arms. But instead of feeling scared or sad, I felt safe with him. Inside I know he will take care of me as he has done all of these past weeks since my capture.