She pulls me to her chest, holding me tight. We stay like that until she leans back and looks at me. “Cinder,” she whispers. “Always remember everything I taught you, okay?”
“To never cry?” I ask, wondering why she is telling me this now.
“Yes, you—”
The grinding sound of the bolt on the door, which we both hated, made her stop and look away. “Come.” Quickly, she grasps my arm, guiding me to the floor. The heavy door drags open on the tiled floor as we kneel, close our eyes, and clasp our hands together in front of our chests. He—the man we call Master walks in. I know the sound of his footsteps. I have heard them for so long, I can tell. Mama called it a limp.
“Hello, kitten.”
My dream always stopped there. Wishing for it to continue, sometimes I even felt myself squinting in my sleep, hoping to see more, but all I saw was black. No shape or picture, just darkness.
“Sixty Six.”
Drowsy with sleep, my eyes flew open as my name registered. I was no longer in my dream. He was here. My tired body snapped upright. Sudden movement made me blink, and before I had a chance to react, a rough palm connecting with my cheek sent me tumbling off the hard mattress. I landed on my back, not giving into the wince I desperately wanted to, knowing that was what he desired.
Quickly moving onto my knees, I ignored the pain of my aching body, clasped my hands in front of my chest, and closed my eyes.
This was his preference when he visited. No eye contact, words, movement, or even an unspoken prayer. I learned a long time ago it was useless. It meant nothing. No one heard my wordless cries. No one came to rescue me from this hellhole Mama had told me would be my eternity. Sadly, I was born here, and I’d die here, like all the others before me. With nothing but the company of smacks, blows, humiliation, and filthy words followed by silent screams.
“See what you made me do, kitten.” I felt Master crouch before me, his hand touching my cheek, the sting telling me he’d bruised it. His familiar scent crept up my nose, taking me back to when I didn’t like his smell, when I was still an innocent child whose Mama protected her. Then Mama went away, leaving me with a monster and a scent I’d learned to love since I didn’t know better.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered and suffered another slap to my face for forgetting a second rule. To never speak unless spoken to. My knees wobbled, but I stayed upright. Sucking my bottom lip, I tasted blood.
My body was hot and I felt feverish. I couldn’t move, and why I slept through the slide of the bolt, which I always heard. Sometimes, Master brought a doctor to give me a thorough check, as he called it, and until that time neared, I was never allowed to tell him I was feeling sick.
Without warning, he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me on my backside toward hell.
The red room.
Not long after, a hot shaky breath blew across my face as Master’s eyes, dancing with pleasure, hovered above mine. Spread-eagled on my back with my hands and legs cuffed to either side of the bed, I wasn’t allowed to close my eyes. My body, a canvas of red streaks, I had no idea how long I lay there because I had no way of telling time.
“Fuck, kitten.” Once more, his excitement flowed through his words, the sharp sting of the knife tip digging into my thigh again, breaking the skin. I bit down on my tongue like I always did to distract the pain. “So beautiful.” He smeared the blood with the knife, his cock brushing over my pussy. “My own personal canvas.” He chuckled. “And you’re the one that likes to paint, don’t you?” His hard length pushed inside me just a little, his tone demanding I answer.
“Yes, Master,” I replied, shuddering as the knife edge slid over my nipple, scraping the flesh.
“You like that, don’t you, kitten?” He dragged the tip between my breasts, not breaking the skin but hard enough to feel the burn, his cock ramming into my pussy.
“Yes, Master.” I arched upward, moaning the way he liked.
Master wanted me to enjoy everything he did to me. If I didn’t, that made him angry. He was a monster, but I hated displeasing him. If I did, my punishment would be painful. Hunger pangs I’d learned to live with, the blue-black or purple bruises, however, weren’t given enough time to fully recover before the next act of humiliation rendered me incapable of moving.
“Does kitten like Master’s cock?” The sharp point of his blade slid down the inside of my cuffed arm, drawing blood and a ragged inhale from me. My tongue bore the brunt of my pain.
This time I didn’t have to pretend a shiver because my body shook, blowing hot and cold from the fever. “Yes, Master.” Blood seeped from the wound, painting the white sheet under me.
His eyes on the dripping spots of red, he fucked me harder. “So fucking pretty,” he grunted, his breathing harsh.
Another ragged moan escaped my lips when his blade found a new spot and he stopped fucking me with his cock still inside me. However, this time, I waited for him to press down harder, almost begging him to do it. His eyes on me, the knife inched into my neck, the pressure slowly increasing, watching me without blinking. One jerk would be the end for me, but he knew that was what I craved.
“Cry for me, kitten, and I’ll give it to you,” he coaxed, his voice so low as if any louder and it would bring the desired result for me.
I stared at him, forcing myself not to shake my head, willing my tears to stay hidden no matter how much it hurt because that was what Master craved the most.
My tears.
“Cry,” he demanded, shoving his cock into me while holding the blade steady. I just stared. Frustrated, he pulled out and backhanded me with the knife hand, the hilt smacked a cheekbone. I moaned. “Fucking bitch,” he roared, the knife tip sliced skin as it moved with his hand flying over my body. He knew where to hit even in his crazed state, causing pain but not the death I wanted.
Nicking. Biting. Wounding. Some deep, some a scratch.
