There was darkness. Voices. Dreams, dark and murky. Fear, pain. So much pain.
Larkin opened her eyes, but the light hurt. She winced and tried to move. She could not. She was in a room, bright and open. She saw Yvette come into view.
"There you are child. Why'd you go and do such a horrible thing? The boy has just been beside himself, then he lost himself completely. It's such a shame what you did to him. I'd half a mind to just let you pass on in your fever dreams, but he demanded I help you heal. I did, but I didn't like it, not one bit! Your burn is better, there is no bone showing anymore, that's healed over. No more than you deserve if you ask me..."
"I didn't ask you," Larkin croaked. "Get away from me, let me die."
"You spoiled little...!"
"Yvette, has she woken?"
"She is awake m'lord, but not yet out of danger. I was about to get her some water."
Wynter appeared in her view. He had shaved and his hair trimmed, but he still looked tired. "You will not die, Larkin," he demanded.
"I will if I have anything to say about it."
"You do not," he said, lifting the bandages to look at the burn. He smirked at her. "Do you know what it is?"
"A burn," she answered dully.
He snorted. "No longer the biddable, sweet girl. No. It is my initials. You will never be able to go anywhere without everyone knowing you are MY slave. Not just any slave, but mine. You will never receive sanctuary again. Perhaps I should have told you before you left, you cannot hide from me, not when people hear who I am."
"Who are you?"
"I am death, Larkin. Before I decided to spend time finding slaves, I commanded elite forces. Most of my men are still with me. I am a lord, I am a commander, I am death. I am known far and wide by many. When I stepped down from my military role, I decided to step into the slave trade. Looking for my perfect slave, earning favors along the way. You ruined it all though, didn't you? Played me false, nothing but a whore."
"I was never that. You can tell yourself whatever you like, but you forced yourself on me before I gave you what you wanted so that you wouldn't take it and hurt me in the process. Self preservation is not whoring. And I have been with one man in my whole life, the man who raped me and tortured me and made me do horrible things. The only thing worse than you is your servant, your female servant, thinking it is ok for you to do those things to girls and making excuses for you. You are disgusting and a monster, but she is worse."
"Silence, Larkin," Wynter hissed. He put a hand to her head, her chest. "Once her fever is down. Let me know. I will begin her punishments."
Wynter left and Yvette sidled up to her with an angry scowl. She slapped Larkin as hard as she could, then did it again and again. "You little bitch! I hope he tortures you for a decade!"
"Truth hurt, Yvette?" Larkin asked, turning back to the woman calmly. "You are an abomination. I hope you live to see your hateful life ruined, have your own deeds turned back on you tenfold. I will make it my life's mission."
"You won't be getting unbound till I am long dead."
"I made him believe it once. It won't be hard to do it again. The first thing I will do is see you punished in every way he has ever punished anyone."
"He'll never fall for you again. He knows what a deceitful little cunt you are."
Larkin gave her a dark smile. "We will see, won't we?"
It was two days before Wynter returned, after Yvette told him her fever was gone. He scowled down at her. "Who has been hitting her?" he demanded.
"Yes, Yvette, who has been beating on me this whole time, telling me I am not good enough for her master and demanding I just die?"
Wynter spun to Yvette, who stepped back, wide eyed. "M'lord, the things she would say about you! I couldn't let her just say them!"
"I told you no one lays a hand on her but me!" he screamed and the woman flinched back.
Wynter turned back to Larkin, his nostrils flaring. He unfastened all of her cuffs, then yanked her up by her hair. She immediately went to her knees, her legs too weak to hold her yet. He yanked her up and carried her like a sack around her waist. He brought her back to his room, which surprised her. When she saw the white dress on a form, on display, she felt sick all over again. He really had brought back a wedding dress.
He took her to a small cage, far too small for a human, then laid it open. He set her down, pulling one of the sides up and opening it. It worked like stocks, locking her head and hands in place. He pulled up the sides, pushing hard against her hips on both sides. He moved her legs to line up with the bars as he pulled up the back wall, pushing hard against her ass, her calves and feet sticking out. He locked it all, squeezing her in so tight that she mewled in pain. The bars dug into her shoulders, hips and ass. He locked a bar in place just above her calves, then yanked hard on her ankles. He pulled until the back of her knees dug into the bar, then he secured her ankles in place. He reached up and spread her ass cheeks open against the bars, exposing her asshole and pussy. She was pressed so hard into the bars, the pressure held her ass wide open. He moved again and secured the top of the cage, pressing into her back and tailbone. She was crying at this point, but he wasn't done. He yanked her head back as far as he could, then braided her hair into the bars, forcing her head up at a painful angle. She was panting, her body already starting to cramp. He took a leather strap and threaded it behind her hanging breasts, then pulled them forward so they were pushed out of the bars. He attached clamps to her nipples, making her scream again, then slid a small rod through the loops in them, forcing her breasts and nipples to jut out of the cage.
He stood, but he was not done. He picked up a whip with several long strips of leather hanging on it. He drug it across her face as she sobbed, then moved behind her. The first blow on her open asshole made her scream, but she couldn't move a muscle to escape. He circled her, striking every bit of flesh that was pressing into the bars. He continued to circle and strike randomly, making her beg and promise him anything if he would stop.
He did stop, finally, when a hard strike to her breasts made a clamp release with a painful yank. He growled, then grabbed a cloth from the basin table and pressed it to her tender nipple. He had drawn blood, she realized. Apparently a lot of it the way he pressed so hard for so long.
