The Eye Ch. 01

I haven't submitted anything to LIterotica since I was published, but people have been asking for more, so here is a story just for Literotica. Enjoy.

The Eye

Chapter 1

Darla pulled her coat tighter around her, trying not to notice the Eye. She knew that it couldn't be focused on her—she hadn't done anything and wasn't anyone important. Yet from the edge of her vision she saw it turned towards her, watching. Other people moved past and around her, most of them glancing furtively at the floating orb that was how those in power watched the rest of the world. It was inevitably bad to be noticed by the Eye, and although Darla had never had it focus on her before, she'd known people who knew other people who had disappeared after the Eye had become interested in them. People who just disappeared from the city—never to return.

Although Darla had been planning on walking to work, she suddenly changed her mind and went down the steep steps to the subway. She was moving more quickly now, even though she felt as if the Eye was a bit like a cat that would follow a fleeing target with more interest than it would a sedate, boring one. Even knowing this she couldn't help herself from looking back over her shoulder one more time to see if the orb was still following her.

It was.

A train pulled up into the station and in a rush Darla pushed her way in as people streamed out. No matter that this wasn't the right train and was going the opposite direction. The itch of fear that had started between her shoulder blades and had now spread down her entire body was nearly taking her over. Once in the train she sank into a seat and drew her knees up, hugging them to her and resting her head on them. She was being ridiculous, of course she was, but what the hell. She'd tell her boss at work that she'd overslept or something, and then she'd laugh at herself for freaking out over a passing Eye.

The train doors closed and the orb was left behind.

Relief hit her so hard she laughed a little, making people edge away from her. She had imagined the whole thing. Now she turned her attention to what she'd say when she finally got to work. She didn't realize that several other passengers were looking at her, seeing a tall, slim brunette with pleasing features sitting in obvious distress.

She got off at the next stop and boarded the train heading the other direction. She was only minutes late for work but her boss chewed her out anyway. She supposed she deserved it and nodded at all the right places. She hated getting in trouble, liked going along without notice. In her world, getting noticed was rarely a good thing. Like the Eye, getting noticed at work didn't lead to a better job or more pay, it usually led to punishment or even demotion or termination.

Darla went to her desk and sat, immersing herself into her work. Hours later she took a very short break, using the restroom and getting a drink of water. She saw her boss looking at his watch and moved quickly back to her desk. Work waited. Work always waited.

At the end of the day—twleve hours of routine, monotonous work—Darla stood and rubbed her aching back. One of the men who worked with her smiled at her. She looked away, hoping he wouldn't talk to her. She didn't want any attention, didn't want a relationship or even a date. Although it was against code, people did date. Maybe because it wasn't supposed to be happening people seemed to want it all the more. Sometimes people were like that. Darla figured she'd do as the code stated and wait until her mate was chosen, then do the kid thing. Once the children were five or older she was allowed to dissolve the mating. If she was honest with herself it didn't sound all that good. Relationships were often contentious, and she hoped she was one of the lucky ones who seemed to be overlooked when it came to mating. That would be easier all around.

She was halfway home when she noticed another Eye. Had it been there before? Was it the same one? She walked faster now, ready to break into a run. No, don't give it anything to watch. Don't look guilty. Just ignore it. She knew all the right things to tell herself but it wasn't working because she was growing sure that it wasn't coincidence, not her imagination, it was watching her and was following her.

Once she reached her small apartment with its uneven floors and lively bug population she stood against the wall wishing she had coverings on the window. It was forbidden, of course, to block the Eye from seeing, and every apartment had big windows that were to remain unblocked at all times. The only place she could be completely alone was the bathroom, and it looked dodgy if she spent too much time in there.

She made a quick meal for herself, carefully not looking out the window. If the Eye was there, she was marked for sure. It would just be a matter of time before they came for her.

She made it until she was sitting down to eat. Then she raised her head, unable to wait any longer, and there it was. The Eye was hovering outside her apartment window, looking in. Game over.

Her heart pounding, she forgot her dinner and walked over to the window finally allowing herself to look right at the Eye. Why pretend not to? She wondered how long it would be before people arrived at her door and took her away. And then what? The list of possible offenses for removal was long, but Darla really thought that she'd been living a clean life. No dates, work history was clear, no disallowed books, magazines, toys. Nothing. She'd spent her whole life trying not to be noticed. And yet there was obviously something she'd overlooked. Something important enough to have marked her.

She lay awake that night. The blue glow cast by the staring Eye was keeping her edgily awake. She waited for that knock at the door minute by agonizing minute. She'd thought about running—thought about it seriously—but she couldn't do it. No one made it once they were marked. The city was walled in in any case. And maybe, she thought, this was all a mistake and when they came to the door they'd tell her it was fine, no problem, she could continue with her life. But the part of her that even hoped for that was small—frighteningly small. As the sun rose, the expected knock arrived. Darla rose as if she were dreaming and went to the door. As she'd expected two extractors stood, their faces shadowed with visors, and said, "Darla MacKenzie, AHR196316, you are to come with us."

Darla turned to take a small backpack that she'd packed the night before once she'd given up on escaping the eye. She slung the pack over her shoulder and turned to the extractors. "I'm ready."

No one came out of their apartment to watch her extraction. No one wanted to catch the attention of the people in charge, sometimes called the officials.

Darla plodded along after them, wondering wildly if she should try to escape. But escape to where? She didn't know anywhere to go that the orbs didn't patrol, and knew no one who would hide her. Still, shouldn't she try?

She waited until her body was humming with tension, then suddenly, as the extractors walked by a subway, turned and ran headlong into the dark depths. She dodged around people who stood where they were as the extractors followed her easily. No one wanted to look like he or she was helping. Darla kept ahead of them, barely, and wasn't surprised when they caught her. She expected something—some kind of retribution for disobeying—but the extractors simply held her arm this time as they led her back up into the street then into a vehicle. The taller one of the two pressed some kind of patch to Darla's shirt. They seemed almost . . . amused.

The vehicle was state-of-the-art, nothing like the pathetic cars that plied the street. There were other people like her here, possibly being extracted as she was. She paid them no attention, too scared of her own future to think much at all. Once she was belted in, the sleek vehicle rose off the street and flew towards the edge of the city—towards the wall. Darla held her breath. She'd seen the wall—she didn't live all that far from the western wall—but this was different. She'd seen vehicles like this one rise over the immense walls to . . . somewhere. Somewhere else.

As the vehicle went over the wall, Darla couldn't help but look about with a sick eagerness. Whatever was about to happen to her, at least she'd get to see what there was over the wall. That was something.

The landscape changed. No city, no people. The ground was dry and filled with gullies and washes. How could anyone live here? She was too high to see clearly but thought maybe there were things moving below. Animals?

They made towards a building that grew ever larger as they flew close to it. A part of the wall opened up and the vehicle flew inside, touching down with a grind and a jolt. The people inside were herded along into a room where the door shut on them and they were left alone. No one spoke at first, then several asked what was happening or why they had been taken. Darla said nothing since it was clear to her these people knew little more than she did. Instead she scanned the room—one door and bubbles in two corners that probably housed cameras. Nothing to do but settle down and wait.

Time dragged with Darla finding herself pulling away from the two people who looked and sounded the most scared. One was crying unceasingly and the other asked question after unanswerable question. She turned away from them, somehow feeling that these two weren't representing themselves well.

Eventually the door opened and someone was taken out. At first Darla thought it was random, but decided later it wasn't. Coincidentally she was the next one taken.

She wasn't sure what she had expected. Maybe some kind of interview room where she would be told her crime and questioned extensively. So when she was simply taken to another room and shoved in she looked around a little wildly. Her composure had lasted up to now but it was crumbling around her. The room looked like a place people lived or slept. There was a large main room and other rooms—Darla could see one was full of beds. Was this a prison? Was she to be punished for whatever crime she had unwittingly committed?

A man was walking out from one room and focused on her. He was large, well over six feet tall. And although she wasn't usually anyone who paid attention to looks, this man was undeniably attractive. He had a large frame roped with tight muscle easily seen since he was only wearing cotton pants, his torso bare. He walked, his step lithe and graceful in spite of his size, over to where she stood staring.

"And we have another one," he said to no one in particular. "All right, here is what I'm allowed to tell you: Your old life is finished. Your new life is here doing whatever they dream up for you to do. It might a physical challenge or maybe a sexual or mental work out. Seems to me that it's usually sexual, at least for this group. Whatever they want, you will do. When you're in the rooms talking is prohibited, and the more you do it, the more punishment you'll get. You have no choice, but the more you participate the likelier they are to keep you alive and healthy. Those who give up disappear and never return. Think of it like games, and feel whatever it is they want you to feel. When you're not needed you'll stay here."

Darla was seriously overwhelmed. As he waited expectantly she finally made herself nod. Games? What kind of games? "Can I talk here?"

"Not really, no. I'm Dean," he said. "Everything we do here is monitored so don't ask questions that will get everyone in trouble, understand? I'll show you a place to sleep and a bathroom and the rest you'll have to figure out on your own." He seemed dissatisfied somehow but said nothing more, just turned his back on her and walked away. When she didn't follow he turned and stared at her like she was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen. "I said I'd show you where to sleep."

Darla heaved a sigh and followed him.

She didn't know what to do with herself so she watched the people in the rooms with her. There were about twenty, she thought, and occasionally a name would be called out, or several names, and the people would leave the room, often looking distinctly nervous. Darla tried not to ask any questions but couldn't help nearly whispering a few to people who looked sympathetic. The people simply shook their heads and walked away from her without answering.

Finally her name was called and, heart pounding, she rose to walk to the door. It was her turn to join the games.

Her name had been called alone so no one from her rooms had come with her. A man told her to follow him and led her along several corridors, Darla following with fear shadowing every step. She was so nervous, so terrified that she'd face a lion or something that she could barely make herself walk. One part of the hallway had a mirror along it, and glancing at herself, she was shocked at how calm and collected she looked. At least she looked brave, no matter that she shook inside.

The man opened the door and when Darla hesitated to pass him he took her shoulder and shoved her into the room where he immediately shut the door, leaving her alone. She looked around a little wildly. She was in a room that looked a little like some kind of recreation room. There were wide padded tables in several parts of different heights. There were large cupboards that were closed now—hiding their contents inside. The floor was smooth but gave a little. And the walls were normal—or at least two of them were. The other two adjoining walls were reflective like a somewhat dim mirror. And every inch or so was a tiny hole in the glass small enough that she wouldn't probably be able to fit a pencil through it. And that was it.

Darla hugged her arms around herself, wishing she knew what was going on. She walked around, trying to seem confident but thinking she probably looked as terrified as she actually was. She considered opening the cupboards to see what was inside but knew somehow that she was being observed. She finally sat on one of the wide padded tables after long minutes passed without anything else happening. As if this was a cue, the door opened and a man walked into the room, his eyes falling on Darla with a smile. He didn't say anything, and when Darla asked him what was going on he shook his head slowly with his finger on his lips.

So no talking. It sort of went with everything she'd seen here so far. Information was nil.

The man was a good size, blond, with hair that brushed his collar. He was decent looking, Darla thought, with his plain white shirt and blue cotton pants. Still, there was something there that scared her a little. She swallowed with a little click as he walked slowly around her. He was still smiling, but it wasn't a friendly smile, somehow. Her heart rate, already fast, sped up a little more.

Another man entered the room, and the first man turned to look at him, giving the man a nod that was barely there. The second man was slimmer, taller, and dark haired. His face was a series of planes, harsh and unforgiving. This man wasn't smiling, but he had an intent look on his face that was more frightening than the smile on the blond.

When a minute passed and no one else came in, the men moved in towards her as if they were synchronized. Darla slid off the table and tried to dodge around the blond, but he grabbed her easily and pushed her towards the other man, who obligingly grabbed her elbows, holding them so Darla's back was against his chest. She pulled against his hold but didn't loosen the hold one bit.

The other man pulled out a small knife.

Darla felt panic beating inside of her like a large bird struggling to lift into flight. Surprising herself she lifted her feet with the man behind her holding her weight and delivered a good kick to the man in front of her.

He stumbled back, and now a cruel smile crossed his face. Darla felt the man behind her tighten his grip, and her shoulders ached from the pressure. She raised her feet again but this time the dark-haired man grabbed them and before she realized what they planned to do she was forced onto the padded table on her back.

She screamed and struggled, giving in to the panic. The dark-haired man took the knife and cut off the sleeves of her shirt, cutting her shallowly on one shoulder. She screamed again and mindlessly fought.

The sleeves were pulled off her and used to tie her arms down to the table over her head. Now all she could move was her feet, and the men each took a leg and held it down on the table while she struggled.

She began to tire. She forced herself to stop struggling. It wasn't doing her a damned bit of good, and she might need her strength yet.

As soon as she stopped struggling, the men began to pull her pants down. By force of will she made herself lay stiffly, not letting the panic take her over again. She wondered if they'd rape her before they killed her, and couldn't help the shakes that wracked her body.

They pulled her loose pants off and cut them into strips which they used to tie her legs to the table, one leg to each side, legs spread.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked for maybe the tenth time. The men gave no indication they'd even heard her question.

Tied down, Darla tested her bonds. She was firmly tied, and couldn't stop whatever they men would do to her now. Darla kept talking, kept asking why until the blond lightly slapped her face to get her attention, and Darla's wide panicked eyes looked at him.

He put his finger to his lips again and when she said, "I don't really give a shit what you want," he slapped her face harder, turning her head. Again he put his finger to his lips, and his hand came up to slap her again. Darla gave him an impotent glare and when she swore at him her slapped her again, this time hard enough to make her say, "Fine, whatever, I won't talk!"

Darla watched them in silence as they circled the table. The dark-haired one with the knife pulled it out again and the blond shook his head and put out his hand, obviously silently demanding the knife be given to him. The dark-haired man snarled something unintelligible, but the blond pointed to the shallow bleeding cut on Darla's shoulder, raising his eyebrows as if to say, "See what you did?"

Turning for a moment to glance at the two dimly mirrored walls the dark-haired man feinted with the knife at the blond. Darla yelped, sure they dark-haired man would cut the blond. But the blond never flinched. He simply waited with his hand out, and the dark-haired man slapped it into the blond's waiting hand, reluctance and annoyance in every movement.

The blond took the knife and moving slowly, cut the t-shirt she was wearing down the middle, baring her top to their view.

Darla moaned a little, seeing where this was going, but remembering the slap didn't beg them to leave her alone. But she wanted to—she really wanted to. Instead she turned her head to the side and forced herself to lie still.

The dark-haired man made an appreciative noise and slid his hand along her waist. Darla jumped at the first contact, then held herself stiffly again. The blond man ran a hand down her leg, his hand curving around her foot—not hurting her, just feeling her. Why were they doing this? Was this some kind of punishment for some wrong she didn't know she'd committed?

More soft impersonal touches until Darla relaxed the slightest bit. She'd thought they'd go right for her breasts and the unexplored place between her thighs, but they stayed away from those places.

As if her nearly unnoticeable relaxation had signaled them, they now moved to those places she thought they'd hit right away. The dark-haired man grabbed at her breast, squeezing it and rolling the nipple between his fingers. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it was nothing Darla could ignore. The blond mirrored the other man's motions with her other breast.