Ice-cold water was gushing on the chest, face, legs without ceasing its power. He stood in the middle of a dim dirty room, his hands were caught in metal cuffs and attached to the chain, stretching into the endless darkness above. There was no escape from the merciless stream, and no matter how he protected himself or tried to move away, the water always reached its target. He would scream, and the water would get into his mouth, preventing the air flow, making him suffocate and go silent once again. Along with the water, his tears streamed down to his feet, down the drain in the floor along with the dirt and shit, washed off his body. He used to dream about shower, but not that kind. Suddenly, the jet stopped. Hanging on the chain, coughing and spitting in an attempt of regaining his breath, the prisoner didn't notice someone coming closer.
- Please, don't... Let me go, - he mumbled coughing, without opening his eyes.
- Broken already? Why the fuck so quick? We haven't even started. We haven't even done anything, - the voice was extremely close, by opening his eyes, with his clouded vision, he saw the young man scornfully crooking his lips, and when he moved closer to Nicky, he slapped him in his face. Another voice came in:
- We will wash this little blighter! Whiter, whiter, whiter, whiter! We will scrub this naughty mite white, white, white, white! - an abrupt giggle to the dumb rhyme. The woman who rhymed it came into his view. Slightly, she bent down before him, and Nicky heard the sound of a metal bucket that was put on the floor. Her sleeves were driven up. She took the sponge into her hands and squeezed out the excessive soapy water down her scarlet-manicured fingers.
We are gonna wash the dirty, - she winked to her partner and slightly pushed him with her butt. Casually shaking her hand with the sponge, she began rubbing the tormented husk, hanged by its hands, mercilessly invading into its most intimate areas, periodically dipping the sponge into the bucket. Despite his legs being free, Nicky was so fed up with all of the things that happened to him, that he had no more energy to resist. He could only abide to the hands movements that guided him. Having finished, the woman stepped two meters away and washed her hands in a mild stream, coming from the fire hose, held by the young man,
- Now, the clincher, - he said, and the fire hose burst with water, not as powerful as before, but still cold and unpleasant. The soapy streams ran into the drain, washing away the remains of all the dirt. A few minutes later, the water stopped, and the only thing left was the shivering, hanging by its hands, tormented by the merciless gushes of water body.
- How's that? Feeling cold? You're shivering... mmm, fancy a wiping? You know, you might get cold and die too soon, - the man grinned in the beginning, and by the end of the phrase, his voice got serious, he moved closer to Nicky, pulling off from his shoulder a large terry towel. He put it on Nicky's head and, by hold it up with one of his hands, he nonchalantly put the wet clinging hair away.
- Watch me in the eyes, bitch! - a brief order.
Nicky raised his heavy eyes, looking in the face of his Master for the first time, not yet coming to terms with his role in his new life. Shaking the towel, the young man roughly and rhythmically wiped the water from the flaccid shivering body. Having finished, he moved the towel away.
- You fall, you get washed again, and we won't be as gentle as before, - he warned, while detaching the handcuffs from the chain with his one hand, and firmly grabbing Nicky by his hair with another.
By losing balance, Nicky staggered, and his hands fell limply onto his Master's chest, instinctively grabbing with his fingers by the fabric of the T-shirt, which had some kind of psychedelic imagery. He had already changed his clothes. Nicky began subtly groaning for his stretched hair, and after he realized non-permissibility of his situation, or correctly speaking, his hand position, he backed away, seemingly forgetting that his Master was still firmly holding him by his hair, that prevented him from slipping on the wet floor. Having correctly understanding the reasoning of Nicky's movements, the man chuckled, grabbed Nicky by his hand and led him to another room, leaving wet traces behind.
After moving through a poorly lit corridor, they entered through a door into a tiny room, roughly ten feet to ten feet. There was a solitary bulb hanging by the ceiling and emitting dull light, a familiar red dot in the corner of the room. There was a clean brand-new mattress near one wall, and a waist-high iron brace was hammered into opposite one. A few bowls were nearby. One was filled with water, the other with food. Starving. That feeling made Nicky's jaws clamp.
- Yeah, this is your place now, - grinned the woman, as she entered the room right behind them, holding a blanket and a collar with a chain in her hands. - Get settled in and enjoy our hospitality. Quit standing at the door.
- On your knees, puppy, - Master removed one of his hands, and put pressure on the other without letting Nicky's hair, making him kneel. Nicky himself didn't realize how he got into this position.
- Sit tight, bitch, - then he removed the remaining hand, and Nicky dropped to the floor, putting a hand under his face in the last moment. The woman handed over the collar to the young man, and then, he put away Nicky's hair from his neck, cleverly locked the collar with a key, then he let seemingly indestructible chain of the leash through his hand, reeled it onto his fist and pulled. Nicky instinctively grabbed the metal line on his neck to relieve some of the pressure. It was surprisingly easy to lock him into a collar. He had no more strength to resist.
- Straighten up, bitch! - once again, he grabbed Nicky by his hair with his free hand. By keeping his legs apart, stretching the chain in his hands.
- Keep your hands out straight, - the woman came almost closely and squatted. Her face was in front of Nicky's, - are you making me wait? - her smack burned his cheek, bringing him back into reality. At first, Nicky held the point of the impact, and then, without clear understanding of his actions, he put his shivering hands in the front. A key appeared in her hands, the woman clicked the lock of the handcuffs, removing them and putting them on her belt, where the other keys were. She closely examined his wrists, which were covered in bruises from the handcuffs, bleeding at some spots.
- I'll get back later to rinse them, - she concluded, stood up and moved away, while Nicky didn't even try to touch his bruises.
A rough push with a foot on his back once again made him fall on his hands, Master pulled the chain and made the first move.
