Obsequium

solemnly, i slowly open the thick, wooden door and peer through the dimly lit room. it is just as i had expected. i enter slowly, almost with a resignation. as i walk barefoot into the room, i know what is to come. i am not greeted, and though i am examined by hunting, darting eyes, no one moves toward me. the room is large, perhaps the great room of a gothic mansion. i lower my eyes and listen to the monotonous drone of a man chanting. the familiar sounds don't ease my anxiety. perhaps if i don't make eye contact, it won't happen right away. the obviously wealthy men milling around inspect the women silently. the women, of course, are not allowed to approach a man or initiate any kind of interaction. we are simply shadows, fading away from our former lives. i tug gently on my short vinyl skirt, and walk carefully through the room. the lack of color among the guests' clothing sets a serious, dismal mood. through the flicker of yellow candles, i see a man peer at me. i quickly look away. my heart races, and i look for an escape.

i see a heavy door with ornate decorative carvings on the opposite side of the room, and i move toward it. pushing through the door, i enter a room identical to the first. blankly, i wander around the room with little interaction. i find a staircase and proceed down it to yet another identical room. as i emerge from the candlelit hallway, i see two men look directly at me. they lower their heads toward each other for a moment and then start toward me with determination in their step. my heart fills with rich emotion, yet i am unable to identify what i am feeling. the first man is wearing a long, black coat. it looks expensive. he has a white mask over his face, and clutches pair of silver handcuffs, cold and antique. the second man wears a black velvet cape over his dark clothing, and a mask similar to the first. his hair is long and tousled under his hood. the first man grabs my wrist and holds it tightly. at first, i fight back, but soon give in to his strong grasp.

i know i have been chosen. chosen. the word echoes throughout my being. my time has come. he attaches the handcuffs to each of my wrists, scratching my arm as i struggle. the scratch penetrates my skin and i see a wet glimmer of red reflect in the candlelight. i weakly moan and fall to the ground. he picks me up, and holds my limp body across his strong, thick arms. those around us watch silently, and though my eyes plead with them for help, none respond. they are not allowed, and know this. a feeling of surrender comes over me. the second man steps closer to me. he slides his mask off, and i peer at his dark face. italian, i think. he leans over, and i can feel his warm breath against my thigh as he unzips my skirt and removes it slowly, sliding the vinyl down my legs.

it falls to the floor. he runs the tip his wet tongue from the point of my right toe up my calf, past my knee and softly along my inner thigh. i throw my head back, in pleasure and in fear. the man holding me shifts, and places me on the ground. he steps away, and lets the second man take control. i stand upright, waiting. he circles me, slowly, looking over every inch of my body. as he stands behind me, i feel the laces of my tight, black, vinyl corset being loosened. i let out a slow breath as the binding allows. by now, the other men and women in the room have created a circle around us. they watch with frozen faces. my corset slips to the floor. he continues circling me, and stops to face me. he takes my soft hands. i take a step forward, out of the corset. i now stand nude in the candlelight, surrounded by strangers. emotionless, i wait for him to continue. he pulls a long, sharp knife from his belt. the blade reflects in the light, a cold, metallic shimmer.

i slowly close my eyes and feel him step close. the blade touches my skin. a shiver runs through my body. i moan softly as i feel the pressure increase against my smooth stomach. a trickle of blood runs down toward my hip. i look up toward the ceiling and breathe softly. the knife plunges deeper through my flesh. he slowly cuts the symbol into the front of my torso. the symbol. so simple, yet so meaningful. i am no longer an individual, but rather owned. the sign i now bear will define the rest of my life. blood continues to stream down my midsection, dripping quietly onto the floor and onto my bare feet. as he finishes the slices, he leans down and licks the blood from my hip.

i shudder, almost in delight. he kisses me softly on the lips. i taste my own blood, so sweet and silky. the symbol is complete. i am now his. he picks me up, and i fully give into my fate as he carries me away. the circle of faces parts, and we leave the room. i glimpse back quickly at the crowd. another girl will be chosen soon, and she, too, will share my fate.