Fighting Dreams Ch. 09

On the days that Master doesn't keep me in the office, I'm allowed to stay out with the others until he comes. Laura keeps me tethered to Destiny or herself so that I can't slip away. But I don't mind. I'm just grateful not to be in the cage. And every day I'm put back before Master comes.

It's an odd community of personalities. Laura is undoubtedly the one in charge and she's firm in making sure that we toe the line of standards. She's bound by Master's orders. But she also ensures that we're taken care of and she helps keep the peace when tempers flare.

Destiny comes second in the hierarchy; she's gentle-natured, but she knows the most about each client's tastes. Master usually gives her to expensive clients. She's earned enough trust to sometimes accompany Laura on errands outside the floor. But like Laura, she is held tight by Master's hand. She never displeases him.

Sarah is a favorite of the guards with her spicy personality, but she sometimes runs afoul of Him. Laura keeps her on a short leash around M and me. When we can talk, she whispers dreams of traveling away from this place.

Something goes terribly wrong one afternoon.

My client's got me bent over the bed and is buried to the hilt in my ass when the screaming starts in the next room over. It's a silver note of agony and fear and anger that pierces through the proofing. He freezes; we can both hear the thudding of feet running to respond in the hallway but they aren't fast enough. There's a booming sound against the walls and everything goes dead silent.

He finishes with me faster than usual, and there are no others that night.

In the morning, Sarah's no longer around. We clean up silently; Laura's locked the door to the emerald room. Glances are exchanged, but no one dares ask what happened.

The doors open as we're eating and the Master himself comes down. His mood is a black shadow of rage; we keep our distance when he summons Laura to him. He slaps her hard enough to knock her to the floor.

"How dare you. You fuck for all you're worth no matter what happens to them; do you know what you've cost me!"

The guards drag her out. She doesn't come back.

Destiny takes over her role. But a cloud has been lowered; silence hangs and we go through the motions. Two others are brought in later that week, Anabelle and Isis. We try to help them manage to adapt as best we can.

He's taken to medicating everyone. Master personally locks us into our rooms each morning and ensures that when we are, we won't wake. I notice that our pills seem to come more often and there are more of them.

Life reluctantly continues.

Clients still come to use us, and we are forced to endure whatever it is that makes them happy. They seem to be getting more brutal; it's taking longer for the marks to fade and there are always more than had been left previously.

I feel like each day chips away a little more at me. But I still get up.

Until the day when I can't.

Electrostimulation through needles is far from my favorite activity and I'm amazed that I'm still alive when the bells ring to signal the end of their time. I can't remember if they did anything else beyond fucking me; I'm too morbidly fascinated watching them drop needle after needle into the little black velvet case.

This particular gentleman wore an oni mask and black gloves as he worked; an appropriate reminder of the devils that visit this place.

They leave only after a guard has checked to be sure their handiwork has been fully removed.

As I feel the cuffs release, my body can't bear my weight. But this is different from my usual exhaustion or the day that I collapsed from Bolton's overuse. I can't seem to keep my eyes open as my body rocks side to side before toppling to the ground.

The room is spinning.

I can't even keep my eyes on the ceiling and so I close them to try and ease the nausea. It doesn't matter how many times the hands shake me, I can't break the fog long enough to get my eyes open again.

While I can hear the person talking to me, nothing makes sense. They may as well be speaking German. I don't know what they want. I can't do what they want like this.

Fuck. They're going to have the Master punish me.

There's a heavy pinch in my thigh and then everything fades away.

When I wake up, I don't want to open my eyes.

The world around me is silent. I can feel my heartbeat throbbing in the shoulder I've slept on. I'm vaguely aware of something that has created a small bubble of heat against the rough carpet pile that my face rests on. My tongue feels like dried-out gauze; my ass throbs sharply in one spot.

But the world won't wait for me.

Opening my eyes, I stare through the darkness as my eyes adjust.

This... isn't a cage. I'm not even on the ground. I'm laying on a bed; my face pressed against a teal sequin pillow. My bulletin board of inspiration hangs on the wall. My mangled otter plush stares from the dresser where a dried rose lays on its side against the chipped white paint.

This is my room at the House.

It takes a moment before another thought can register through the haze.

What the fuck is going on?

To be continued.