My knees stay planted on the cool, plush pile of the rug. Around me, it feels like the room sprawls, a testament to wealth and taste that I find utterly overwhelming after the starkness of my cell.
Somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a persistent, nagging thought; Antonio. What the fuck happened to him? What the fuck happened outside that concrete torture room I’ve existed in?
Half his face is melted. No, not melted, burnt. His skin looks like it was slapped back together. His right eyebrow is partly gone, a patch of his hairline is gone too. Can he even see properly?
A part of me felt relief when I realised, because now he’s no longer handsome. No longer something you could persuade yourself to want in a weak, pathetic, desperate moment. He looks as deadly as he is. He looks like an abomination.
I also realise with an awful sinking feeling that him being here, being back and me no longer being locked up in that cell must mean something.
He is back.
It’s not that I’ve survived anything. No, all of this, all I have endured is just part of some carefully thought-out plan.
I’m here, in this room, for a reason.
I shut my eyes, shaking my head as if I could shake out all the thoughts that won’t stop whirling.
“I think she’s broken.”
A voice too loud, too fucking near me says. I jump back, falling backwards with a cry. To my horror I realise they’re there, all three of them are standing in front of me staring.
“What’s you name?” The redhead asks.
My eyes widen, and I shake my head more. This is a trap. It has to be. Why else would they keep asking that question?
“I’m Julie,” She says with a soft, almost believable smile. “This is Anya,” She points to the dark haired woman, “And this is Felice.”
The brunette, Felice squats down, staring at me like she’s about to start pulling off pieces. “You upset Master.” She says. “You made him leave.”
“Felice,” Julie murmurs, pulling her back. “Master is busy…”
“She did something. I saw it.”
“That’s enough.” Mistress says loudly as she walks back in.
The other girls turn, but not before Felice shoots me a look of pure hatred.
“Master has decided to have a party tonight, to celebrate his return and give you all some attention…”
The way they react, the way they gasp and smile, it’s not right. It’s not… I realise with certainty that none of them are afraid of him. None of them fear Antonio the way I do.
Does he not hurt them? Does he not force them? But why else would they be here, in this space, locked away like…pets. My stomach drops, and bile seems to churn as I realise they are exactly that. They’re his pets. His playthings and they want to be here, they wantthis.
“Get up.” Mistress says, putting her hands on her hips as she stares down at me.
I get to my feet, feeling every bit the fat lump she thinks I am.
She walks around me again, appraising my body. Even though I’m wearing this dress, I still feel naked under her searing gaze.
“Each of these girls has a talent, a skill they were chosen for. Anya here was a world-class ballerina…” in the corner of my eye I see Anya do a perfect pirouette. “…Julie is an opera singer,” I don’t know whether to be relieved or not that Julie chooses not to demonstrate her skills. “…And Felice is an Olympic gymnast.”
Felice tilts her head before stretching arms above her head, bending her legs back while her body arches over. The move isn’t just breathtaking, it exposes everything. Every intimate part of her. I blink back as my cheeks burn.
“…They’re wondering what skills you have, what talent you possess to make you worthy of their Master’s attention.”
I, what? Are they serious? Mistress steps nearer, closing the distance between us. “I certainly haven’t seen anything of note, have you girls?”
The three shake their heads.
