Chelsea’s heart jolted as she scampered off the cot, eyes cast down at her bare toes. Her body was sore, but she’d eaten the protein bar from that morning, sipped water, and moved around enough to prevent further stiffness from settling into her bruised limbs.
The calories and hydration had helped, though she was careful to move as if she was weak and timid. He seemed to like that.
He held a canvas bag in his hand. When he set it down on the floor, it jangled. Not food.
Apprehension stirred in her belly. Something was different in his posture, his attitude.
“I have something special planned for you tonight.” Excitement vibrated through his tone.
Chelsea’s pulse quickened. Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades and breasts as anxiety blossomed into real fear.
“Say the rules,” he commanded, as he had every time he’d come into the container.
She repeated them.
“Repeat number one.”
“I belong to you. I will do what you say without question. I am your property.”
He opened the bag at his feet. “Lay on the cot, facedown.”
She backed to the wall, her bones trembling. “No. Please.”
The words barely left her mouth before she realized her mistake.
He straightened, anger tensing his body. “What did you say?”
She slapped a hand over her mouth.
“I thought we’d gotten past that.” He shook his head in disappointment as he stepped closer. “Not only did you speak without permission, but you dared to defy me.”
The blow came with lightning speed. Delivered with an open hand, the slap stunned and stung without affecting her consciousness. Still, the force of it sent her reeling. She landed on her knees, the impact with the wooden floor ringing pain through her legs.
“I will not repeat myself again.” His words were slow and deliberate, menacing. “On the cot. Facedown.”
Chelsea’s entire body shook, but she couldn’t seem to move. Her limbs were useless.
“I guess we still have some work to do.” He grabbed the handles of his bag with one hand and took a handful of her hair with the other. Her scalp screamed as he dragged her onto the cot.
“Don’t move.”
She turned her head to watch as he removed thick leather straps from the bag. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop the sobs that poured from her mouth.
What is he going to do?
He took one hand and firmly tied it to the leg of the cot. Then he did the same with the other. He pulled her dress up to her waist before strapping her torso and legs down.
Cold air caressed Chelsea’s exposed legs and buttocks.
This is it. He’s going to rape me now.
But he left the room. Minutes passed. She had no idea how much time went by. Her heart thundered. Sweat poured from her armpits. Gooseflesh rippled on her bare skin, and her stomach flipped inside out as she waited.
When the door opened, she startled, her pulse sprinting with a fresh burst of panic. He had a box in his hands. He set it on the floor. From it, he took a piece of gauze and a bottle of rusty-colored liquid. Crouching next to her, he wet the cloth and cleaned her right buttock.
When he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves, she flailed, terror driving her completely out of control. A scream built in her throat, choking her when she couldn’t get it out. The lightweight cot jumped.
“Stop it!” He backhanded her across the side of the head. Pain jolted through her. Her ears rang, and her body went slack.
Dimly she heard him rattling around in the box. The sight of the blowtorch and a length of metal brought a groan from her mouth. At the sound, he turned back to her and shoved a thick piece of cloth into her mouth.
The torch fired up with a soft whoosh. He held the metal rod in the blue flame until the metal glowed. When he turned back to her, she knew exactly what he was going to do.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. OhmyGodOhmyGod.
He was going to brand her.
“Don’t. Move.”
She couldn’t obey. Her brain went into a frenzy. Her body went wild, her limbs tensing and straining against her restraints. With a grunt, he straddled her thighs, his bulk weighing her body and the cot down. He pressed one hand between her shoulder blades to keep her upper body still. Without any hesitation, he pressed the brand into her skin.
Pain blasted through her buttock, the intensity as bright and hot as a rocket. Over the screaming in her throat, she heard his voice, steady and controlled.
“One. Two. Three.” He lifted the iron.
The agony radiated from the wound, pulsing with every beat of her heart.
Drenched in sweat, she went limp. She didn’t recognize the faint mewling sounds that came from behind the gag. She closed her eyes.
“It’s over now.” A gentle hand caressed her head. He pulled the gag from her mouth. “Shh. Take a deep breath.”