The Rose Diaries v02 Ch. 03

Disclaimer: This story is an incredibly dark story focusing on the forced feminization, trafficking, and torture of a young man by an enigmatic organization. There are elements of violence, slurs, non-consent, and other disturbing details. I hope you enjoy the story if you do choose to read.

Author's Note: This is the second version of TRD attempting to recapture my original vision of the story after I grew disappointed with the first. This version is far more focused with a revamped Blackstone Manor and several narrative changes. Even if you have read the first version there is enough divergence to make this story different than the original. Thank you for your reading! Be sure to leave a comment if you enjoyed it. I may not respond but I do read each one!

Chapter 3:

The old creepy manor full of horrors untold. To Peter it almost seemed cliché. Of course, of course, the big house in the middle of nowhere was full of evil cultists who wanted to use him for their profane rituals.

"I take it you approve?" Miss K. addressed the creature who stood just out of his vision.

"It's silly, cute, and humiliating. I love it!" The creature cheered with delight. "But you don't need to ask me though. You know that I approve most anything that you do."

"I know." Miss K. gave a dreamy sigh and nodded. "That's why I appreciate you so much, Roxanne."

"Aww!" The creature named Roxanne cooed and clapped. "I love you too bestie."

"Any trouble?"

"None." Roxanne's footsteps came closer now. "Everything is prepped and ready."

"So, they're expecting us?"

"Expecting her." There wasn't even a pause between their banter. It was so fluid and connected like they could read each other's -

"Mind giving me a hand?" Miss K. gestured down toward him and then sighed. "She's quite the handful."

"That's my favorite kind!"

"Oh," Miss K. laughed quietly to herself with an almost sisterly tone. "You're too sweet."

The creature known as Roxanne quickly came into view.

She was a human-shaped horror who wore the sun-kissed skin of a young woman with an almost juvenile features that gave her a sort of baby-faced look. She carried herself without the rigidity of the other two nor with the façade of Lily but with a sort of liberty and carefree nature that made her resemble something like an overgrown teenager stuffed into the suit and heels of her friend. However, this all paled in comparison to her eyes.

Roxanne's eyes were wild, untamed, and savage hazel portals that nearly swallowed him up in their delight at seeing his prone form. Her pink lips were curled into a mischievous look as she laid hands upon him and brought him up to his feet. He couldn't dare take his eyes away from hers. There was something dangerous lying beneath them. Something truly terrible that he couldn't dare to fathom.

"See something you like?" The smile turned into grin with each successive word revealing a sharp-toothed smile.

"I, I," He stammered as he attempted to regain his strength. He felt her grip loosen slightly and he, without thinking, took a step backwards.

"Go ahead," She purred quietly. "Keep looking."

"I-" He struggled for coherent thought as the icy grip of fear once more took hold of his brain.

"That's it." Her tone was soft, gentle, and unbelievably warm.

"Wh-"

"Boo!" She lurched forward stamping one of her feet down hard on to the ground as she did so. All of it sent a jolt of fear racing down his spine and electrifying his heart. His body recoiled in fright and he felt the all-familiar motions of the world beginning to tumble as he fell. Then, just as quickly, her right hand lunged out and caught him squarely by the arm.

"Fucking pathetic! Did I scare you, Doll?" She sneered before howling with laughter. "Did I scare the silly little dowwy shitless?" Her hold on his arm began to increase in strength until she pulled him completely into her embrace.

"Roxanne." Miss K. sighed with a shake of her head. "Don't overdo it."

"Oh, you are so lucky!" Roxanne's eyes were alive with delight and ecstasy. "The fun we would have without Kitty around."

He didn't dare to even imagine what sort of fun she had in mind.

"Allow me to properly introduce Miss R., Vice Disciplinarian of Blackstone Manor."

"Oh, I'm sure she's charmed." Miss R. continued to wear her demonic smile while she methodically twirled the two of them in a small circular dance.

"Do not make me regret this, Roxanne." Miss K. huffed with her hands on her hips. A final twirl brought the two of them back to the center of the room and she released his arm and planted a small kiss on his cheek.

"Why, what is there to regret, Miss Katelynn?" She bat her eye lashes at her with a small pout.

"No need for the dramatics."

"Really ruining my fun here, Kat."

"You have anything you want to say to our new find?"

"Nothing for polite conversation." He nearly fell once again when that unmistakable hunger began to form in her eyes.

"Protocol first, Roxanne."

"Slave driver!" She stomped her foot down hard with a pout like a child who couldn't get another scoop of ice cream from the truck. Then, as if her outburst hand never happened, she stood with absolute perfect posture and cleared her throat once.

"As Vice Disciplinarian, I am obligated to keep you in line and resolve any issues that do not need escalation to the Head of Discipline. However, I am also obligated to afford you a grace period where I must forgive any small transgression before punishment. If my boss wasn't standing right next to me I-"

"Roxanne." Miss K. chastised her again. "Protocol."

"I hope that we can be friends." Peter found himself stuck dumb for a moment as the absurdity reached new and horrendous heights.

Friends? Protocol? Boss? Friends?!

Then he scoffed.

It wasn't on purpose or meant to mean anything. It was a small nearly subconscious reaction to the absurdity. Really it was like a laugh at a joke without a punchline. In fact, the scoff was so quiet and so small that in the din of normal conversation no one would have ever head it.

But Miss R. did.

But Miss K. did.

The silence that overtook the room was immediate. No more laughter, no more japes and jokes, no more banter. Just pure and unrelenting silence.

"Did you," Miss R.'s eyes narrowed into hard points of hatred. "just scoff at me?"

"Miss Roxanne." Miss K. spoke suddenly and almost hurriedly. "Are you forgetting something."

Just as quickly the hatred vanished from her eyes as she took a few steps backwards to stand beside her friend.

"Once." She hissed towards him jabbing a single finger in his direction. "Only once."

"Very good." Miss K. beamed with approval. "Do you have anything to add, Doll?"

He hated the address. First, it wasn't his name. It wasn't anything close to his name. So why the fuck was he even responding to it. Second, the very syllables that made up the address were like nails on a chalkboard. He never asked for a new name! What the fuck was so wrong with his! And honestly...

What the ever-loving fuck was wrong with this place?

The surge of anger came bubbling back into his mind, but he could only force his gaze downwards as he seethed trying to calm the storm brewing before it could escalate further.

Survival was paramount.

Emotions could come later.

It was this cold logic that frosted over his inner fires. That and the constant weight of the newly added accessory around his neck.

Was this hell?

"Doll?" The address cut through his haze once more as he forced himself outside of his own head and back into the present. He had to stay strong for now.

He had to.

"Yes?"

"Yes, what?" Miss K.'s placed a hand on her hip with a frown as she watched him with a sort of anticipation.

He had no earthly idea what she wanted but he was going to have to give it to her.

"Yes Miss?" He guessed and when her posture straightened, and her gaze relaxed off of him he couldn't help but relax a bit himself.

"You should address me with my full name. I will, of course, accept your attempt but I would remind you to only use 'Miss K' moving forward."

"Yes, Miss K." He was almost too quick to placate her.

"Now, do you have anything to say?"

"No, Miss K." Peter shook his head quickly. He was sick already of the asinine rules that Miss K. was constantly spouting off. But keeping his head down and staying out trouble was his priority. Surviving her was his priority.

"An apology perhaps?"

"I'm sorry, Miss K." Her eyes narrowed once more as she began to tap her right foot.

"To my friend?" Her tone was beginning to sound more annoyed at his antics.

"Oh!" He felt almost dumb for not recognizing what she wanted sooner. "I'm sorry, Miss R."

"Oh Dolly," Miss R. laughed suddenly and harshly. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for, do you?"

He didn't answer.

"That's alright." She smirked grabbing hold of his arm once more and with a hard yank pulling him back into her arms. "Plenty of time to learn."

"Shall we?" It wasn't until Miss K. turned to face the end of the room and had her back towards the two of them that Miss R. leaned in until her lips were touching his ears that she spoke:

"You'll see...we're going to have so much fun together." Her voice sent sparks of cruel delight surging down his spine. It was heavy, thick, and laden with that soft sultry tone that would've driven most men wild. He swallowed a lump forming in his throat while he desperately flailed against any instinct to speak back. After a period of blessed silence, she took hold of his earlobe gently between her teeth slowly retreating out of his personal space. It took every effort to keep his legs from becoming jelly from underneath him.

He stumbled but Miss R. kept him steady in her grip while they continued to stroll further down the blackened corridor until they reached what seemed to be just another wall. Miss K. took a small step forward before sliding a metal square located to her left upwards and he heard the telltale sounds of small buttons being pressed.

One. Two. Three. Four.

He memorized each individual click. It was not until the final button was pushed that he heard something approach from behind the wall before it slid neatly to the side and revealed a pristine metal elevator. It had been clearly well-maintained judging from the lack of even a single smudge on the cold and almost sterile interior. A sharp tug at his arm pulled both out of his head and into the elevator with the two of them. He lifted his head but found his full-range of motion sharply restricted as his neck refused to bend back any further. Though a cursory glance didn't seem to reveal a ceiling hatch nor any sort of egress from above. He placed two fingers up to the mysterious object and felt around for any sort of break in the material.

The realization of what it truly was crashed into him will full force in that moment. His brain reeled and Peter felt the words spring off his tongue before he had a chance to slam down his mouth to block them.

"Is this a fucking collar?"

"What a filthy mouth." Miss R. smiled brightly as she met his eyes. He could see the elation in her eyes, the excitement, and even her voice oozed with gratification at his outburst.

The collar beeped once more as the doors slid shut in front him.

"Yes." Said Miss K.

The pain that followed robbed him of sentience for the briefest of moments. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the deluge of tears from running down his cheeks but he found all of meaningless in the face of the pain once more.

The end came quicker this time than before and all he could do was gasp for air and choke as he greeted it into his lungs. He attempted to collapse but he found Miss R. gently leading him downwards until he was on the floor.

"Beautiful." Miss R.'s eyes fluttered as she cradled his head and continued to stare down at him with those sparkling eyes.

"Do not make me do that again." Miss K. said firmly with her back still facing him. She was standing with such rigid attention that he wondered if perhaps she was some sort of military brat.

Do what?

But his thoughts were cut off by the elevator doors sliding open once more. The more ornate features had been stripped away for function. It was just plain white plaster walls that reminded him of much more simpler times in his life though he did spy some sort of wooden and then ornate-styled wallpaper that was some sort of pink in color. The floors did not creak as he was forced out nor feel like the cool touch of the marble above but it was made of simple hardwood though they were meticulously kept pristine. Several bone-white vanity mirrors were arranged against the walls with glass wardrobes between them and inside he could spy various costumes and accessories.

He held his questions this time.

They pulled him quickly through the rooms and he focused instead on counting the steps from the elevator to a door he was being maneuvered towards. Peter kept his gaze focused on the ground slowly watching his feet to make sure his count was as accurate as possible. It had been thirty steps by the time his tormentors had stopped moving to open the door and shove him through the portal once again.

It was some sort of stage though definitely not as big as any that he had ever seen. Lights, blissfully turned off, lined the front of the stage and above a spotlight had been pointed at a chair near the front. The red curtains had been fully drawn back providing him no cover from the darkness beyond the blinding spotlight in front of him.

The darkness was most definitely occupied judging from the quiet din of conversation that came to a halt as the three of them had entered the stage. He glanced backwards quickly but Miss K. quietly closed the door behind them. She approached but did not take hold of him as Miss R. had done.

"If you would?" She whispered gesturing to the chair. He took hold of a bit of the robe firmly between his left fingers and squeezed while his other hand shakily raised to the collar around his neck and tugged lightly at it.

He swallowed and steeled himself for whatever they had planned.

It was not like he had much of a choice and Peter's legs trembled in protest to his brain's commands but ultimately relented. He took another shaky step forward and felt a hand on the flat of his back.

"Thank you." Miss K.'s voice swirled in his head while he continued to approach the chair. He tried to look for anything to aid in his escape but just continued to find the abyss in front of him. He stopped within reach of the chair. He saw now that it was a metal chair with a white upholstered cushion with its back had been shaped to look like a heart. It was cute, innocent, and looked like it belonged in a young girl's bedroom.

"May I present to you all our newest addition to the esteemed Blackstone Manor," She paused and he felt her fingers curl around the collar of the robe. "Doll!"

As her address echoed into the dark, she yanked the robe free from his body revealing his nude flesh to whatever lurked within. His unknown audience answered with polite applause and murmurs.

"Sit." Miss K. said folding the robe over her arm and stepping further off to the side. He glanced back and Miss R. blew him a kiss from beside the door. He shivered at the thought before taking hold of the cold metal back in his hands. It was not bolted to the ground or offered any resistance though he did not dare to lift it. The thought had crossed his mind to yank it upwards and wield it against his assailants but he could feel the pain from the collar still fresh across his entire body.

He flopped down into the chair and covered himself to the best of his ability. There were slight murmurs again from beyond the light then nothing.

Nothing. No Miss R. remarks, no more addresses from Miss K., just silence.

He strained his eyes against the light in hopes of catching a glimpse of whoever was out there but found nothing that could be discerned.

He glanced over to Miss K. who was watching him intently with an almost amused look on her face at his own confusion. Peter didn't dare to see what Miss R.'s expression was. Instead, he lifted a hand to block the harsh light to grant his eyes a small reprieve and continued to wait.

Nothing.

"Doll." A single address floated in from the dark. It belonged to a woman, with a proper English accent, and it carried with it the threat of the unknown. Her voice was smooth, silky, and polished though it was not at all a pleasant address. It was cool, strong, and oozed with the telltale weight of authority. Even when all she had said was a single world.

He found himself fixated on the accent. It was so perfect, so sublime, and so unrelentingly authentic that a new fear began to blossom in him.

Just where the fuck was this place anyway? Was he even still in America?

Peter held his tongue as he craned his head searching for the sound once more. He couldn't see her but perhaps he could locate her if he tried hard enough. It seemed to come from somewhere in front of him though it was not directly in front of him. She had to be further back. Perhaps she was-

"Doll," She flexed her authority once more with more stress on the idiotic name. She spoke the word like a teacher chastising a child for daydreaming in class. "Introduce yourself."

The prospect alone was frightening enough to give him flashbacks of every mandatory public speaking class he had ever taken. For a moment, he was back in Mr. Diaz's classroom, staring down the dead eyes of his classmates, who did not hide their boredom at whatever bullshit he had been assigned to speak about. He hated that feeling of searching for words to win over an audience he had already lost to the excitement of the impending school bell. He despised being judged the whole time by a middle-aged fag who looked at him expectantly as if he was going to deliver a revelation from the heavens above.

He hated public speaking.

But this was different. This was way worse than any school report he had ever given. It was so fucking simple, but his throat had gone dry so long ago, and he could feel his teeth chattering as a slight cold breeze washed over him. The sour, acrid, and acidic taste of bile surged from his throat into his mouth, and he had no choice but to choke it down and continue to stare blindly at the dark. All his cleverness melted away in the face of the sheer horror that had decided to grab hold of his body and strangle it into submission.

He remained silent as certain death and pretended that the address had just never happened.

"I see."

Something hit him.

He wasn't sure what it was but he felt it. A sharp, stinging, and immediate pain in his right shoulder that made every single neuron in his brain fire off a single word: Danger.

Peter's body moved faster than ever as he slammed his back against the metal chair and saw the entire world turn over on itself until he was sent tumbling backward across the floor with a loud crash. The dull shock of the fall did little to alleviate the pain in his shoulder, which was beginning to feel wet? His brain barely had time to form the logical pathways to investigate the sudden pain before his emotions violently wrenched controls and let out a pained scream. He gripped his shoulder and felt the cool wetness spread between his fingertips. His stomach lurched again and he felt a new sense of horror begin to blossom within his chest following by an

absolutely nauseating chemical stench.

He drew a shaky breath and lowered his gaze to his wound.

It was not blood.

It was paint.

His palm, and by extension, shoulder was coated in bubble-gum pink paint with golden flecks that sparkled in the light. The kind of color that belonged on a birthday cake rather than on his body.