NaNoWriMo Day 24
Oh god, every inch of me is in utter agony. I’ve had it rough before, hell I’ve been raped before, but I’ve never had it given to me like that. Fayed is a complete and unapologetic sadist. My insides went cold when he came into the pen that held all of us captive girls. Various wealthy-looking men came while we huddled there, each man picking and choosing the girl he wanted to own. I was grateful each and every time I was passed over, but now I wished I had been taken by someone halfway sane. Fayed’s eyes locked on mine as soon as he entered the pen, and before I was able to cast mine away I saw pure hatred in those dark black pupils. I prayed that he would pass me by but I just knew my luck had run out. He didn’t even look at anyone else, he pointed me out to one of the guards and two men hoisted me up and dragged me out of there kicking and screaming. My outburst only seemed to please Fayed as he followed behind us, a slight smile crossed his face while I struggled. Someone put a hood over my head and I was stuffed into the trunk of a car. I jostled around painfully for the entire long trip, and I heard various men talking and joking jovially inside the car, as if they were returning from the market, rather than an underground slave market where they had just purchased me to do with whatever they pleased.
After what felt like hours, the car stopped and shut off. I gasped at the fresh air through the hood when they opened the trunk, and strong arms hauled me out and threw me over the shoulder in a fireman’s carry. They set me down after a bit and someone took the hood off, along with everything else I was wearing, and I stood there nude in a large ornate room. The place looked like a palace, and I wondered if Fayed was some sort of royalty. He ran his cruel eyes over my body and nodded his approval, then left the room. One of his flunkies lead me over to a plump old woman with a tired face. He told me that this is Marta, to do whatever she said. She took my hand gently and we walked down gorgeous hallways to what I assumed to be the slave quarters, which obviously weren’t quite as nice as the rest of the joint. She had me get down on my hands and knees in a large tub and began to wash me like a dog with a bucket of hot water. I was too emotionally drained to protest while she roughly scrubbed every intimate area of my body. As she washed, she explained the rules of the house and what was expected of me. She warned me gravely of the consequences for insubordination. When she was done, she dried me off with a painfully scratchy towel and handed me a silk robe. Grateful to be covered once more, I let her take me to a small kitchen where two other girls prepared a stew of some sort. She introduced me to my fellow slaves. The first girl, Ilya, looked Persian. She was very pretty, a little bit older than me. She had the same tired expression as Marta. The other girl, Bilanna, couldn’t have been more than thirteen. When I realized this, I stopped feeling sorry for myself for just a moment. Her skin was snow white, with curly blonde hair. I’d guess Norwegian maybe. She didn’t look as defeated as the others, maybe it was just her youth. Marta told me to start peeling carrots and I jumped right into it, thankful to have something to concentrate on other than the fact that my life was basically over.
That night was when Fayed first summoned me. The things he did, I don’t dare to remember for fear of completely losing my shit. I am curled up in a ball in our cramped sleeping quarters, shivering uncontrollably while Ilya and Bilanna sleep on either side of me.
The days go by, sometimes it is Fayed who has his way with me, sometimes it is mercifully one of his servants or guests. He doesn’t seem picky about who has their way with his newest acquisition. The sessions with him are like nightmares, creating scars both internal and external that I fear may never heal. Between these awful episodes, the other girls and I cook, clean, and live quiet little lives. It saddens me when Bilanna is summoned, I hope that evil bastard doesn’t subject her to the same horrors as he does me. We never talk. No one ever expressly forbade it, but I think we all just prefer to suffer in silence.
Before long I am completely dead inside, I make it through each day like a robot, with no hope of ever being happy again. Every once in a while, the guard who stood at the entrance to the slave chambers would wake me up and pull me to the kitchen for a little romp. I didn’t mind so much, he was gentle and actually somewhat giving. Not that I could ever hope to deride any pleasure from this, but it was a welcome relief compared to some of the more forceful rapists that inhabited this horrible place. This particular night, he is going at it vigorously with me bent over the sink. He cums quickly, he usually does, and then the strangest thing happens. He steps back, his limp penis still dripping semen, and he slips on a small puddle of water on the floor. He hits his head with a violent crack on the stove behind him as he goes down, and just like that he is unconscious. I freeze and look at him, pants around his ankles lying prone on the kitchen floor, with blood beginning to pool behind his head. I realize with a rush of excited energy that he is the only person watching the slave quarters, and there is very likely no one else up because of the late hour. Quickly and quietly I sprint out of our quarters and into the dark hallway. I know the place pretty well from all of the trips I have taken after being summoned. If I am careful, I just might be able to make it out of here.
I stick to the shadows like an expert cat burglar, tiptoeing down one hall and stopping to listen for any activity. The front door is so close, but I can’t afford to be reckless now. My heart jumps into my throat and I freeze when I hear someone coming down the hall toward me. I duck behind a large vase and hold my breath. Who should come walking by, looking very much the worse for wear but Bilanna. If I do one right thing in this life, it would be getting this poor girl out of here. I stand with a smile and she freezes like a deer in the headlights. I motion for her to follow me and she just stands there with a blank shocked expression. Then she does the worst thing in the world. She opens her mouth and lets of a piercing scream that just goes on and on, echoing through the dark hallways. Oh you stupid little cunt. Just like that, guards are everywhere, and she starts hysterically pointing at me and yelling that I am trying to escape. So much for sisterhood among slaves.
A guard tackles me to the floor brutally, knocking the wind out of me. Fayed comes from his bedchambers and looks at me lying there, coughing and struggling to breathe. He shakes his head in disappointment, and announces that I am to be punished for my insubordination this very instant. They drag me downstairs to a stone basement room that I have never been in. There are shackles on the wall, which I am promptly put on my knees and locked into, and a large basin with a roaring fire. It looks like a torture chamber, and I am befuddled as to why Fayed hasn’t brought me here before. It seems like his style. There is a small crowd gathered, including Marta, Bilanna, and Ilya. That little bitch Bilanna is on her knees by Fayed, one arm wrapping around his leg like a teddy bear. He clears his throat and the room falls dead silent. For trying to escape, he says coldly, I am to be marked so that anyone who looks upon me will know that I am his property. I really don’t like the sound of that. One of his men pulls a long metal pole from the fire and I realize with panic that it is a branding iron. Oh no no no no. Two men hold my head as the one with the branding iron approaches with a smile. I start wailing when I see that he is going to put it right on my forehead. Things have gone from bad to much, much worse, all because I can’t behave myself and do what I am told.