Chapter 14
fourteen
Orelia kept begging the guards to let her go, but the batalins were having none of it. They shoved her inside the room and closed the door, locking themselves in with her.
“Strip,” one of them commanded, crossing his bulky orange arms. Weapons sat on his body in every place one could store a blade, and cruel, orange eyes said he wasn’t moving until she did as he said.
Orelia wrapped her arms around herself.
“Either you do it, or we do it for you.” The taller, jade-colored batalin grinned at the other.
She swallowed. “Please . . .I’m—I’m not from here. I’m just a traveler passing through.”
The taller one stepped forward. “I don’t give a fuck what you are. Strip.”
She’d never be able to get past them and out the door. Even if she summoned their weapons and used them against the men, she’d never make it outside before someone caught her.
There’d be no telling what punishment she’d suffer if that happened, so Orelia let the tears well as she kicked off her boots and slowly undid the ties to her pants.
The leathers slid down her legs and she stepped out of them, whimpering.
The tunic hit just below her buttocks, and her whole body shook, unable to continue.
“And the rest of it,” the tall one said.
The orange batalin licked his lips.
Orelia squeezed her eyes shut, tears slipping free. She pulled her tunic over her head, and the room closed in around her as she dropped the shirt.
“Too slow.” The orange guard grabbed at her body, and she screamed for him to stop, but he ripped off her underwear with one hard yank. The tall one grabbed her wrists and held them above her head while the other freed a knife and ripped her breastband down the middle.
Orelia was sobbing. “Please, don’t do this!”
“Fucking hell, you’ve got a nice set of tits on you.” A jade hand roughly squeezed her breast, and she twisted in his grip.
“Stop it!” No matter how she moved, she couldn’t get any distance from them.
The orange one squeezed her other breast. They took their time fondling her, watching her cry.
The tall guard grabbed her face. “What’s the matter? You don’t like that?”
They both chuckled, and Orelia closed her eyes, bawling as the men took turns squeezing her buttocks, her breasts, skimming their fingers over her vulva, and saying foul, disgusting things in her ears.
Her mind went to the shore of Goldbottom Bay and how it had felt to see it for the first time. She pictured the ships, the way the light flickered off the water, and the joy inside her as she’d taken it all in.
One of the guards smacked her on the backside, pulling her from the memory. “Hell of an ass. You’ll fetch a good price.”
She opened her eyes and watched the orange batalin open the wardrobe while the other continued holding her hostage.
Orelia wept as a sheer dress like the one Arielle and Tara wore was forced onto her body. The guard ran both straps over her shoulders, letting the fabric fall down her front before cinching a gold rope around her waist.
When he was done dressing her, the scarf was pulled from her hair. Orelia’s wavy, auburn locks fell just past her shoulders, and the front pieces got stuck on her tears.
The jade guard smacked her on the cheek, and she yelped through the sting.
“Stop fucking crying. Unless you want Doyle to punish you more.”
They stepped away, and she wiped at her face, frozen in place. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. All the years she’d stayed off her back at Beron’s for naught now.
The orange batalin gathered her clothes off the floor and smelled her underwear before tucking the pile under his arm. “Let’s go,” he said.
Nearly every part of her body was exposed. The straps weren’t wide enough, or sturdy enough, to support her frame. Her full breasts were barely covered, and her nipples poked through the thin fabric. She couldn’t see the back but knew most of her was on display.
Orelia slowly walked to the door with her arms shielding her chest.
“That won’t do.” They each grabbed an arm and pinned them to her sides as they walked her down the hall.
Orelia sucked on her lip and tried to steady herself. Doyle would surely beat her, or worse, if she came out a crying mess. The burn behind her eyes receded, but the nerves still rattled her breaths.
She should have never left the inn.
Vade was probably deep inside the barmaid, oblivious to Orelia’s situation. She’d never wished more for the searing pain of their binding spell to activate so he’d know she was gone.
The giant marble horse came into view, this time, free of any riders.
The guards left her in the middle of the noisy room, and multiple girls came forward with bowls of gold paint.
Curious eyes fell on her, workers and customers alike.
A weathered-skinned ren made a kissing sound at her, and she tried to hide her disgust.
Arielle appeared before her. A splotch of purple sat under her right eye, the cosmetics not fully covering the bruise that had already formed. She dipped her fingers into her bowl of paint and met Orelia’s concerned gaze. “It’s okay. He’s hit me harder.”
“Hold out your arms,” two pleasure girls she didn’t know said.
Orelia did as instructed, trying not to tremble.
Arielle smoothed the paint on her right arm in long strokes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through a fake smile.
Orelia glanced at the guards watching her and mimicked the girl’s grin. “I’m sorry you got in trouble because of me.”
Arielle began painting Orelia’s shoulder. “He can go fuck himself.”
Orelia admired her resolve and wished she had even a fraction of it. She’d always admired Teegan for the same reason. Everyone thought humans to be the weaker species, and there was a time in her ignorant youth that she did too. The truth was anyone could be resilient.
The girls she didn’t know painted her legs and hips, whispering to one another.
Doyle stepped into the room, his expensive shoes clacking on the marble. Decked in white and gold, he was the epitome of wealth, with hair perfectly in place, and a smile that had her stomach dropping. He stopped to talk to a dwarven patron that stood under an ornate, iron sconce with barbed ends.
Orelia imagined ripping the sconce out of the wall with her power and letting it crash to the ground as a distraction so she could make a run for it.
But there were enough magic-wielders in the room that someone would surely discover it was her, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of their wrath if they did.
Batalins blocked the entrance to every corridor. No windows, no open halls, nowhere to go. The claustrophobic space had her chest rapidly rising and falling. She was trapped.
Doyle addressed the room with a clap of his hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce my newest filly.” He gestured to Orelia, and all eyes fell on her, sucking the air from her lungs.
“A young virgin from Soulbright ready to be ridden hard. A beauty with fiery hair and eyes as green as the waters of the Verden Sea. Her full, pink lips will be sure to make all your wildest dreams come true.”
People snickered around the room, making her heart beat faster as she met eyes of every color, darkened by the desire to covet what was new.
“It’s first come first serve, but she’ll be working all night, so feel free to get in line.”
Men rushed over to Doyle, shoving each other out of the way, flashing their coin.
Her arms began to shake.
“Don’t let them see you falter,” Arielle whispered.
She started painting Orelia’s chest, then both breasts, and finally her neck.
The other girls finished painting her buttocks and stomach until she gleamed everywhere but her face.
It only took seconds for the paint to dry, feeling like a permanent second skin.
Her voice cracked. “I can’t do this.”
“I like to picture a meadow full of spring wildflowers and I’m lying on a blanket eating fresh strawberries with the love of my life.”
She looked at Arielle with pleading eyes, begging to be rescued from the nightmare that was about to ensue.
“Find what brings you peace, Orelia, and picture that. It’ll help.” Arielle gave her a pitying smile and stepped away as the other girls followed suit, leaving her alone.
Orelia fiddled with her necklace, needing to cling to anything familiar as the men continued to haggle with Doyle.
Run, the voice of self-preservation inside her said. If you don’t run, you’ll never leave this place.
She glanced at the five hallways spilling into the main room again, each guarded, each as impossible to escape through as the front entrance.
“I have to get out of here,” she whispered to herself, panic rising too fast to control.
She didn’t care if the idea was stupid, but she couldn’t go through with this.
The room started to spin, faces blurring as she looked around for any other way out.
She was about to make a desperate run for the entrance when a slender hand gently wrapped around her arm.
A tall, lithe woman with umber skin looked down at her.
“Come with me,” she said with a practiced smile.
Somehow, Orelia’s legs worked, and she let the woman lead her into a garden set in an open-air room.
Colorful birds sat in the trees growing inside, and the soothing sound of water dripping down the fountain eased Orelia’s nerves slightly.
“I’m Maren,” the woman walking arm and arm with her said.
Upon closer inspection, Orelia noticed a split in her lip and that her bruises had also been poorly covered with cosmetics.
The urge to reach out and heal her rose to the surface. “I met Arielle and Tara earlier. They said you—”
“Girl.”
They both turned to see Doyle shaking a weighted leather pouch as he approached. “Already have a customer for you. Said he prefers a woman with full tits and even fuller hips, so be sure to make his money worth my while. Give him two marks. Minimum.”
“Two marks!” Orelia couldn’t hide her shock.