Chapter 12
The first thing I realise is the camera is off. My eyes dart to the door and as it opens, fear explodes in my chest.
No.
Noooo.
I scramble back, pushing myself into the white wall, but I can’t disappear I can’t hide in it. There is nowhere to go.
Two men closer to devils strut in.
Magnus stares at me with that same brutal look he always seems to have. Conrad tilts his head, smiling like he’s just found a new thing to torment, a bug he can rip all the limbs from and tear off the wings… only, I’m the bug.
“We heard you were misbehaving.” Conrad says in a tone that makes me whimper.
I want to say something clever, something witty, brave even, but I’m so scared right now I might just piss myself.
“Why, why are you here?” I gasp, looking between them. And more importantly, why the fuck are the cameras off? What awful things do they have planned that they don’t want the rest of the Brethren to witness?
“Bad girls get punished.” Magnus says in a way that sounds deadly.
“I’m not…” I don’t try to finish that sentence, instead fear erupts in me. I know it’s useless, fucking stupid but I make a run for the door, slamming my fists into it as if it might just open for the first time and let me out of this nightmare.
It’s Conrad who grabs me, Conrad who hauls me back and then yanks my wrist around to show the freshly healed scar from my suicide attempt.
Magnus tuts, dragging a finger along the pink raised flesh. “You’ve devalued yourself, Grace.”
I glare at them both before I think better of it.
“Only one thing to do now.” Conrad says to his brother who nods.
I scream out, I kick out, I turn into something feral as Conrad holds me tighter and Magnus rips away at the fabric of my dress.
“No, no,” the sound that comes out of me is pathetic.
They can’t be doing this. They can’t be. The whole point was to sell me as a virgin, as some sort of prize. But what prize will there be if they’ve already claimed it?
“You can’t.” I shriek. “You can’t.”
Magnus grabs my face, pinching my cheeks so tightly it hurts. “We can do whatever the fuck we want with you.” He states.
“If you do this, I’ll be worthless. If you do this, then you’ll have no prize left to auction off.”
Conrad laughs before I can even finish that sentence.
“You don’t have a fucking clue, do you?” He sneers. “You don’t have to be an actual virgin when we sell you, all you have to do is bleed, and I’m certain the man who purchases you will fuck you hard enough to ensure you do just that.”
“Please…” I sob as my legs give in, as fear takes over everything. I don’t want to be auctioned but given the choice, I’d much rather that than have these two monsters fuck me.
Conrad laughs again, pushing me back, slamming my body down with enough force that my skull feels like it cracks in half as it hits the floor and the pain that explodes behind my eyes is enough to leave me dazed.
When I come back around, my arms are up above my head, and Conrad is holding them there. I’m fully naked, sprawled out, exposed, and Magnus Blake is straddling my waist.
I scream out in horror, I thrash and I buck, and Magnus lands a good punch to my face to subdue me again.
“It’s time you understood,” Magnus says calmly.
“Time you realised that actions have consequences. Your father is dead. Your mother is less than a whore now, and you are an adult and will be treated like one. No matter how much you try to make your own escape, your fate is sealed. You will be auctioned. Sold. And the more you damage yourself, the more we will have to make these little amendments.”
“I’m sorry.” I blurt out, even though it’s not true. I’m not sorry. I’m not in the least bit sorry. Who wouldn’t try to end it in my circumstances? Who wouldn’t try to take one tiny bit of control when everything has been taken from them?
“It’s too late for that, Gracey.” Conrad says.
I sob harder as Magnus’s hand moves to grab my exposed left breast. The touch isn’t gentle, isn’t sexual in anyway. It feels more like he’s grabbing a hand, or a finger, and is about to hack it right off.
I shut my eyes, wondering if this is just my way of rationalising it, if that’s my body’s defence mechanism against the horror I’m about to experience.
He clamps something onto me, onto my nipple, and then forces something in. Something sharp, something horrific that stabs right into my nipple, and I scream as it feels like a blade is forced into my breast.
“Hold still, you’ll only make it worse.” Magnus says in such a clinical tone, like this is a medical procedure I’m undergoing and not some newfound form of torture.
I scream again as he twists whatever it is around before he releases me, and I slump back with an awful throbbing remaining. I look down, seeing the smear of blood, and my stomach drops as I realise what he’s done.
“No.” I stammer, just as the thing tinkles, as the little bell dangling down from the thick metal hoop seems to sing in mockery. He pierced me. He pierced my fucking nipple.
“One down.” Conrad says above me.
I jerk my head, staring at him and he meets my gaze as his brother grabs hold of me again.
“No, no…” I scream again as more pain hits me. More excruciating agony, this time from my right breast.
I know what’s coming this time. I can feel as the clamp pinches my flesh, as the needle is forced into me and then as the bolt of metal is forced through the newly made hole.
When it’s done, they both stare down at their handiwork.
“Very nice.” Conrad says while Magnus slaps my breast hard enough that both the diamond bells sing, and I scream again.
My face is wet with tears. I can’t keep my body from trembling, but neither of these monsters seem to care. Instead, they seem to revel in my pain like it’s some sort of aphrodisiac.
Conrad let’s go on my arms and I drop them, quickly covering myself, at least, covering what little of me I can.
But the belief I have that this is over quickly vanishes as Conrad lunges for me again, this time pinning me down with his body, using his weight to hold me against the mattress. With his hands, he pries my legs apart and exposes my most intimate area for his brother to see.
“No. Stop. Please.” I cry out, wondering if this is it. If that the whole piercing thing was merely foreplay to them before they took what they really wanted.
“Grace,” Magnus says, his voice dangerously soft. “We aren’t going to rape you. Not exactly.” He sounds almost analytical as he speaks. “But we are going to enhance your appeal.”
Enhance. That’s the key word. They’re thinking of me as a product, a prize, and they want to make me more valuable. More desirable. More…broken.
“Enhance.” I echo numbly, unable to comprehend the sheer depravity of what is going on.
My breasts ache with a pain I can’t even describe, and the way Conrad is pressing down on me makes it even worse.
Conrad laughs, a harsh, grating sound. “Think of it as investment, Gracey. We put in a little something, and suddenly no one cares about those little scars of yours, and you’re worth ten times more.”
His nails dig into my flesh, leaving red crescents on the soft skin of my inner thigh. Fresh terror mixes with the bile rising in my throat.
“Don’t fight us, Grace,” Magnus says, his voice unnervingly calm as he watches my agony.
“I’ve done this to enough slaves, and I can assure you it only makes it worse.
” His hands are on my knees now, pressing down hard, pinning my struggling legs against the bed frame.
“Just cooperate. It’ll be over quicker.”
Cooperate? I am cooperating only by enduring this violation.
Each second feels like an eternity stretched thin with agony.
Tears stream down my face, hot and stinging, but I can’t wipe them away.
My eyes are wide, staring up at the ceiling, past the harsh yellow strip of fake daylight, trying to escape the reality of what’s happening.
Conrad manages to pull my leg up, my foot dangling helplessly above the concrete floor.
His hand moves up, fingers tracing the inside of my leg, deliberately brushing against the sensitive flesh.
A fresh wave of panic washes over me. This is worse than the nipple piercing.
It’s calculated, invasive, designed to break me.
“No. Stop, please, stop.” I sob, my voice raw. “You’re hurting me. Please...”
His fingers continue while the cold air touches my most private places, sending shivers of pure, unadulterated panic through me. I feel exposed, violated, not just physically but in the deepest recesses of my soul.
“This is about preparation,” Magnus says, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. He leans down, his face inches from mine. “About ensuring your condition is… optimal for the buyer.”
Optimal? Preparation? The words hang in the air, dripping with cruelty. He is treating my body, my shame, as something to be ‘prepared’.
Conrad ignores my pleas, his fingers finally reaching the juncture where my thigh meets my hip. His touch is firm, almost brutal as he pulls back my pubic hair, as he reveals a part of me I know is forbidden.
“What you don’t understand, Grace, is that your body was designed for this.” Magnus says, as he pinches a part of me, a part that’s deep, a part that makes me shriek. “Almost as if God himself created your cunt with this sole purpose.”
I don’t understand what he’s saying. I don’t understand a word of it.
“This is called your clitoral shaft.” He explains, like we’re now in an anatomy lesson. “Not all women have cunts where you can grab it. Because you do, it means you can have a very particular type of piercing…”
“I don’t want it.” I hiss. “I don’t want anything.”
He shakes his head, tutting. “Don’t be ungrateful. Your new master will be very happy to see this amendment, not to add, you will too every time he fucks you.”
I gulp, trying once more to get his brother off me, but Conrad simply rolls his eyes like I’m an inconvenience.
“I take this needle.” Magnus says, holding it up for me to see. “And I drive it in…”
Its long. So impossibly long.
With a sharp, deliberate movement, he forces it inside me.
It’s cold, hard, an intrusion so profound it feels like a violation of my entire being.
It sinks in, pushing past the top layer of my skin with a jolt, slicing through the delicate tissue underneath.
The sensation is indescribably painful; a sharp, stretching agony that makes me arch my back instinctively, straining against hands that hold me down.
“No.” I gasp, tears streaming freely now. “Get it out. Please, get it out of me.”
Conrad laughs, a harsh, grating sound devoid of any warmth. “Oh, Gracey. That’s the point.” He shifts his weight slightly, and I feel the needle move.
Magnus nods, his expression unreadable.
He takes a thick, metallic bar, perhaps an inch thick, wrapped in a thin, clear coating, and at the end, a small, perfectly cut diamond dangles down. The sight of it is horrifying.
My breath catches in my throat. Words fail me.
He presses down, applying pressure, and I feel a searing pain as the thing forces its way through my skin. The sensation of sharpness followed by the bar being pushed inside is excruciating.
It feels like I’m being stretched, violated, rearranged. There’s no way to brace myself, no escape. I can only take it, endure it, and pray for the oblivion of unconsciousness, for the moment when this torment ends.
Magnus picks something else up, twisting it around, touching me in places he has no right and though it’s almost certainly unintentional, it still feels violating. It still feels like a form of rape.
When it’s done there’s a sickening tinkle, tinkle sound; the metallic clang of the diamond bell, dangling from the bar, no doubt matching the two dangling from my nipples.
I cry out, a high-pitched whimper escaping my lips. Magnus immediately steps back, grabbing a mirror from the bag they brought with them and while Conrad pulls my labia back, the glass is angled so that I can see myself, I can see what they have done to me. I can see it all.
“You see?” Magnus says, pointing at where he’s just brutalised me. Where he’s just mutilated me.
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to and yet it’s like a car crash, I can’t tear my eyes away. There’s a bar, a half loop that dangles down, with not just one but two bells on each end. It dangles with my clit between it, like it’s framing me. Highlighting my most intimate part.
I shudder, and a wave of adrenaline makes me almost puke.
The pair of them step back, and I slump into the floor while they stare down at me.
I shut my legs quickly, too quickly, and am rewarded with a sharp bolt of white-hot pain that makes me double over. It’s going to take forever to heal. All of this will.
But as I sit up, as I snatch at the remnants of my dress to cover myself, I realise that’s the point. I have years left here. Years of torment. They’ve done this while there’s plenty of time for me to heal, plenty of time to ensure I’m ready for their damned auction.