30. Sophia
THIRTY
Sophia
Malfor’s smile widens as he reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek, black collar.
“Strip.” His voice is as cold and unyielding as iron. The word hangs in the air, leaving no room for hesitation or disobedience.
My fingers tremble as I fumble with my clothing, peeling away the thin fabric that clings to my skin. Each piece I remove is another layer of dignity stripped away, leaving me exposed and vulnerable before him. The air is cool against my bare skin, the chill biting at my exposed flesh.
Once I’m completely naked, Malfor steps closer, his gaze raking over me with a mix of cruelty and satisfaction. He lifts the collar, the weight of it heavy in his hands, before snapping it around my throat.
The metal is cold against my skin, the mechanism locking into place—a tangible reminder of my captivity. His fingers linger at the clasp, brushing against my skin with a touch that sends a shiver down my spine—a touch that is almost gentle but filled with the promise of pain.
“Clothing is a privilege,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a sadistic grin. “One that you must earn. ”
I swallow hard, the metal collar pressing uncomfortably against my throat as I nod, knowing that anything less than full compliance will only worsen my situation.
Malfor turns sharply on his heel, and I follow, my bare feet padding silently across the cold floor. He leads me through the winding corridors of his fortress, each step echoing in the silence until we reach the outer walls.
The walls are high and imposing, a constant reminder of my imprisonment. Malfor’s men stand in neat rows along the perimeter, their eyes tracking my every move with an unsettling mix of indifference and hunger. Their expressions are unreadable, but I feel their judgment, their silent approval of Malfor’s control over me.
“The collar you wear is not just a symbol of your status but a deterrent to escape.” Malfor barely glances at me as he speaks, focusing instead on his fingernails. He picks at a cuticle with disinterest, as if this conversation is a tedious chore, his voice detached and bored. “Approach the wall,” Malfor orders, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.
I take a step forward, dread coiling in my stomach. The collar buzzes softly, a low hum that vibrates against my skin. I freeze, but Malfor’s cold, unyielding gaze pushes me forward.
I take another step, and the buzzing intensifies. I bite my lip, trying to brace myself, but nothing can prepare me for the shock that follows.
The collar jolts, sending a sharp, electric pain through my body. I gasp, my muscles seizing up as I stagger back, but Malfor’s voice cuts through the pain, relentless and cruel.
“Keep going. You don’t stop until you touch the wall.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I force myself forward. Another step, another jolt. The pain is unbearable, a searing, white-hot agony that travels through every nerve in my body. I can’t stop myself from crying out, my voice cracking as the shocks increase in intensity with every inch closer to the wall.
I try to fight it, try to push past the pain, but my body betrays me. The closer I get, the more violent the shocks become, each one more punishing than the last. My legs give out beneath me, and I collapse onto the ground, trembling violently, tears streaming down my face.
But Malfor is unyielding. He stands there, watching me with a twisted smile, taking pleasure in my torment.
“Touch the wall,” he repeats, his voice laced with sadistic pleasure. “Or I’ll make you do it all over again.”
I try to force myself up, try to reach out, but the pain is too much. My body refuses to obey, locked in a cycle of agony and fear. I can’t do it—I can’t reach the wall, and Malfor knows it.
He’s teaching me a lesson, one I’ll never forget. I’m nothing more than a plaything to be used and discarded at his will.
Finally, he strides over, his boots clicking on the ground with an air of finality. He grabs me by the hair, yanking me to my feet with a force that sends fresh waves of pain shooting through my scalp.
“This is only the beginning,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Remember this pain because it will be your constant companion until you learn your place.”
Malfor leads me back to my cell, the darkened corridor echoing with the heavy clang of his boots. My body aches with every step, each footfall sending jolts of pain through my bruised and battered skin. When we reach the small, windowless cell that has become my prison, he shoves me inside with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
I crumple to the ground, my body wracked with sobs. I’m too weak, too broken to even think of fighting back. All I can do is lie there, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue, knowing that Malfor’s lesson has been learned.
The door slams shut, the lock clicking into place with a finality that sends a shiver down my spine.
The darkness rushes in, thick and suffocating, pressing against my eyes until the lines between reality and nightmare blur. I crawl forward, my hands outstretched, feeling for the cold, hard surface of the cot. My fingers graze the thin mattress, and I collapse onto it, curling into myself, trying to ward off the biting chill that seeps into my bones.
But there’s no escape from the darkness. It becomes a living thing, wrapping itself around me, squeezing tighter with every breath I take.
I try to keep my mind from unraveling, to remind myself that this is just another of Malfor’s tactics—a calculated effort to break me. But knowledge does nothing to ease the terror.
When sleep finally comes, it is fitful and broken. The silence is oppressive, the darkness absolute, swallowing me whole. My dreams are filled with Luke’s cries and the hollow sound of Malfor’s voice, a taunting whisper that follows me even in the depths of unconsciousness.
Each day, the routine is the same. The door creaks open, and the sudden burst of light blinds me. Malfor’s shadow looms in the doorway, his eyes cold and empty as he beckons me out of the cell.
My body protests as I force myself to stand, muscles stiff and sore from the previous day’s torment. But there is no time to recover. No respite. He drags me from the room, his grip unyielding, and forces me back into the cruel world he controls.
The task is always the same—approach the wall. My collar buzzes as I near, a low hum that quickly intensifies into sharp, biting shocks. I try to brace myself for the pain, but it’s impossible. Each step sends a fresh wave of agony through my body until I’m trembling, my legs barely holding me upright.
Malfor watches, his expression one of detached amusement as I struggle. His voice, calm and collected, cuts through the haze of pain.
“You know what to do. You can’t stop until you touch the wall.”
But I can’t. I can’t bear the escalating pain, the shocks that feel like fire searing through my nerves. My legs give out, and I collapse to the ground, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face.
“Pathetic,” Malfor mutters, but he doesn’t let me stop. Not until he’s satisfied that I’ve been sufficiently broken for the day. Then, he drags me back to the cell, tossing me inside like a discarded toy, and locks me in the darkness once more.
The cycle repeats day after day.
Each day, I brace myself for the agony, but it’s a battle I lose every time. The collar buzzes as I approach the wall; its hum is a cruel whisper of what’s to come.
The shocks start as a sharp sting, then quickly escalate, turning my nerves into live wires. The pain is blinding, each step a monumental effort as my body convulses in protest. I grit my teeth, trying to push through, but my legs buckle, and I collapse before I can reach the wall.
Malfor watches, arms crossed, his gaze cold and unfeeling.
“Again.” His voice is a whip that lashes my spirit.
He never lets me rest or gives me time to recover. He drags me back to the starting point, and I try again, and again, and again, until my body is trembling, soaked in sweat, and my vision blurs with tears.
Days blend together, a relentless cycle of pain and failure. Each time I fall, Malfor’s sneer deepens, his disappointment palpable, but he doesn’t let me quit. Not until he decides I’ve suffered enough for the day, and he throws me back into the darkness of my cell.
Slowly, something shifts in me, a tiny ember of defiance that refuses to be extinguished. I brace myself differently, mentally fortifying myself against the pain. I focus on the wall, forcing every ounce of willpower into my legs, driving them forward even as the shocks sear through my body.
The pain is excruciating, but I fight through it, each step a victory in itself. Then, one day, something incredible happens.
I touch the wall.
My hand, trembling and raw, presses against the rough surface. Agonizing shocks still pulse through the collar, but I hold my ground, refusing to let the pain drag me down. Tears stream down my face, but they are tears of triumph.
Tears of joy.
I did it.
I finally did it.
Malfor’s gaze sharpens as he steps forward, studying me with approval. A twisted smile curls his lips as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a small scrap of fabric. He tosses it at my feet .
“Congratulations.” His voice drips with condescension, but I don’t care. “You’ve earned this.”
I stare at the cloth for a moment until the realization sinks in. He’s offering me a reward. A small scrap of clothing, a pitiful token in exchange for the torment I’ve endured. But in this hellish existence, even this scrap feels like a victory.
I reach down, my fingers closing around the fabric, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I have something to cover myself with.
It’s a small, pitiful comfort, but it’s mine. I wrap it around my body, feeling the rough texture against my skin. It doesn’t hide much, barely covering my chest and shoulders, but it’s more than I’ve had since this nightmare began.
Malfor watches with a satisfied smirk. “Don’t get used to it,” he warns, his tone sharp. “Clothing is a privilege. One misstep, and I’ll take it away again.”
His words are true, but for now, I cling to this small victory. It’s a reminder that even in the depths of despair, I can still fight and win something, however small. The pain, the darkness, the humiliation—they haven’t broken me completely.
Not yet.
I’m done with that wretched wall and avoid it like the plague, but my torment has only begun.
The days blur together in a haze of fear and forced compliance. Every degrading task Malfor demands is punctuated by the sting of his lash, leaving angry red marks, welts, and cuts on my skin.
The pain is his sadistic signature, a brutal reminder that I belong to him, but it’s the weight of his cold, calculating gaze that presses hardest on me.
When it’s finally over, I collapse onto the cold floor, my body trembling with exhaustion and pain. My skin is bruised and tender to the touch. Each movement sends sharp stabs of agony through my muscles. The evidence of his cruelty is etched in every wince, every shallow breath, and the way my body betrays me with each trembling step.