So it begins...
The shaft of light speared the darkness illuminating the naked body of the girl. She lay curled in a ball, her legs pulled tight against her chest, and her slender arms wrapped around them. She trembled, not from the cold, for it was blistering hot, so hot that beads of sweat dotted her skin, occasionally streaking off leaving trails of pale, naked skin amongst the dirt. She trembled from fear and there was nothing but the fear now. The guards, brutish men who spoke little, but simply leered at her naked body, pushed food and water in through a slot in the door, but she had given it up days ago. She drank only when the men forced her to do so. They could not make her eat, the hard bread needed to be chewed endlessly, ground into a paste by the mastication before it could be swallowed and none of them could deduce how to do that.
Instead they settled for beating her. Her body, at least most of it was a pale cream, actually very close to the soft blond hair, which now was caked with dirt and sweat. Even the thrice weekly showers were unable to clear it entirely of its filth, was a mottled myriad of colours. She had fought them at first, but their relentless blows had softened her resolve until now she simply lay limp as they did what they wanted. It had been horrible had first, but now, now it was simply part of the routine.
There was the rattle and chink of chain as the door was swung open. The great yawning cavern of the doorway leered out despite the intense darkness of the room. Chuckles of laughter echoed off the walls as the two guards pressed their way in, having to squeeze through the narrow confines of the door. One carried a tray laden with bread, meat, and a pitcher of tepid brown water. He set it down near the door and sighed as he caught sight of the other tray, still piled high with food, but devoid of liquid.
Now, now Number Seventy-Seven, he said quietly snatching up the full water jug as he rose. You have to eat, otherwise that flesh of yours is just going to rot off your bones and its such pretty flesh. Such pretty flesh.
The other guard, the burlier of the two stepped around her cautiously, the caution a singular respect for the fight she had put up during the early days of her captivity. Three vivid scars, still red on his face were a lasting reminder that men should take more care around the lesser sex. He removed his truncheon from its hook on his belt and prodded her shoulder gently at first, then with increasing force as she refused to respond, in any fashion.
Cmon on now, Richards. Be nice. She didnt mean to go call Hell-Cat on your face. You had it commin, the other guard said. He held the full pitcher of water in his hand and stared down at her. His eyes, bright and leering ate up her naked form. He was the true monster, the one who smiled and whispered sweet-nothings while thinking other, more sinister thoughts.
The shaft of light speared the darkness illuminating the naked body of the girl. She lay curled in a ball, her legs pulled tight against her chest, and her slender arms wrapped around them. She trembled, not from the cold, for it was blistering hot, so hot that beads of sweat dotted her skin, occasionally streaking off leaving trails of pale, naked skin amongst the dirt. She trembled from fear and there was nothing but the fear now. The guards, brutish men who spoke little, but simply leered at her naked body, pushed food and water in through a slot in the door, but she had given it up days ago. She drank only when the men forced her to do so. They could not make her eat, the hard bread needed to be chewed endlessly, ground into a paste by the mastication before it could be swallowed and none of them could deduce how to do that.
Instead they settled for beating her. Her body, at least most of it was a pale cream, actually very close to the soft blond hair, which now was caked with dirt and sweat. Even the thrice weekly showers were unable to clear it entirely of its filth, was a mottled myriad of colours. She had fought them at first, but their relentless blows had softened her resolve until now she simply lay limp as they did what they wanted. It had been horrible had first, but now, now it was simply part of the routine.
There was the rattle and chink of chain as the door was swung open. The great yawning cavern of the doorway leered out despite the intense darkness of the room. Chuckles of laughter echoed off the walls as the two guards pressed their way in, having to squeeze through the narrow confines of the door. One carried a tray laden with bread, meat, and a pitcher of tepid brown water. He set it down near the door and sighed as he caught sight of the other tray, still piled high with food, but devoid of liquid.
Now, now Number Seventy-Seven, he said quietly snatching up the full water jug as he rose. You have to eat, otherwise that flesh of yours is just going to rot off your bones and its such pretty flesh. Such pretty flesh.
The other guard, the burlier of the two stepped around her cautiously, the caution a singular respect for the fight she had put up during the early days of her captivity. Three vivid scars, still red on his face were a lasting reminder that men should take more care around the lesser sex. He removed his truncheon from its hook on his belt and prodded her shoulder gently at first, then with increasing force as she refused to respond, in any fashion.
Cmon on now, Richards. Be nice. She didnt mean to go call Hell-Cat on your face. You had it commin, the other guard said. He held the full pitcher of water in his hand and stared down at her. His eyes, bright and leering ate up her naked form. He was the true monster, the one who smiled and whispered sweet-nothings while thinking other, more sinister thoughts.
