I was warmer when I woke up and noticed immediately that I had been covered by warm knit blanket. I could tell from the light filtering in through the door at the end of the barn that it was quickly becoming evening. My thoughts were proven correct when the barn lights flickered on a few minutes later. I ate the food set out for me, a cooling baked potato, real butter, and hunk of what tasted like pork roast. Another bottle of water and a few more pills, some of them I figured were probably vitamins from the taste, also accompanied the meal.
After I ate I wrapped myself in the blanket I had been given and waited. The girl across the way watched me for some time before dozing off to sleep; she said nothing this time, which made me even more uncomfortable. At least when we were snapping at each other my mind was away from this horrible place.
I didn't want what was happening to me. In the moment it had felt good; my body responding to the pleasure-pain, the way they over sensitized my body before allowing me to finally finish. It was a fantastic torture, but not one I wanted to continue to endure. Unfortunately I knew little to nothing about locks, and wasn't sure what kind of security they had here anyway. For now I was trapped. I knew my parents would look for me, Brandon was the last person seen with me, and our history, if you could call it that, was quite public. They would come here, they had too. My heart sank a little, if that was my only hope, then perhaps I had none at all. The girl across from me had been here a while, her hair was long without any apparent style, her body was unclean, and she responded without command to the needs of the men. It was disturbing to watch and the more I thought about it, the more my stomach twisted.
I stood up slowly and rolled my shoulders against the ache that had settled there. I stretched my still sore body and ran my hands over my soft, somewhat bruised skin, and gently tested the sensitive flesh between my legs. I couldn't help but groan. I was sore, my ass was sore, my jaw a little bruised still, and I was a mess. I wondered silently what I would need to do to be allowed a bath, and shuddered at the thought. I wasn't ready to be some quiet slave girl, but I couldn't handle this kind of punishment. I would have to watch, and try to behave for now, until I could find a way out, find a way home.
It was as these thoughts raced through my mind that I heard the heavy footfalls of the guards. As they approached I realized that these two were different from Joseph and Morgan, I didn't recognize them at all. This meant that Brandon had a small army of perverted guards at his call and that escaping would be all the more difficult with so many eyes watching.
"Rebekah, your client will be arriving shortly, you're to be bathed and perfumed for his arrival. Are you going to come willingly, or do we need to tranquilize you?" The shorter one spoke and held a small gun in his hand, his features were darker, and Mediterranean I'd guess. I stumbled back without realizing it, my heart hammering in my chest, my breath gone for a moment. No, it was too soon, I wasn't ready for another episode, I still hurt.
That was the last thought I recall before feeling a stinging sensation and drifting to the ground.
When I woke next it was to find myself hanging again from the rafters. My skin was pimpled with goose bumps from the cold, and my head was groggy as I tried to lift it to look around. I groaned against the pain in my shoulders and tried to leverage myself enough to turn around but I couldn't seem to open my eyes and again my toes barely touched the cold wooden floor.
I could hear voices, muffled but close, and when I heard creaking hinges I knew there was a door; perhaps this was a special room? I couldn't imagine having anyone else watch my humiliation, and felt tears well in my eyes at the thought.