NOVEL WEB Chapter 32: Mr Pleasure
“Wake up!” the craggy voice roared, and she tensed, knowing the slap was coming. The fat man didn’t disappoint. Though ready for the strike, it didn’t stop stars exploding in her vision. “My name is Mr. Pleasure.”
She ached, a weariness settling in her bones. How many times had she heard that line? The swallowing darkness was her only absolution, but it was short lived. Countless times she witnessed him introducing himself; the numerous tally eluded her. What did it matter? Caring was the least of her worries. In fact, she couldn’t remember where she was or why he was doing this to her. Only a fog lingered; she couldn’t recall anything other than his obesity.
“You shall call me by no other name than Mr. Pleasure,” he continued their ritual. “Should you call me anything but my name, I will cut your head off with my knife.”
She almost called him fat at that moment, to skip the misery and go straight to the death where she could escape; but there was something different today. Many other men filled the room. Gruesome, grotesque brutes, some with missing teeth or limbs, puss congealed from open sores or boils covering their bodies. These men were more like parasites from the farthest depths of a cesspool. Were they even alive?
“Who are they, Mr. Pleasure? What are they doing here?” Her mind strained to comprehend something new.
“Why, they’re here to have fun with you. Since torture’s no longer affecting you as it once did, and you aren’t breaking like when we first started, you’ll learn a new kind of pain: humiliation.”
“Something new? A new kind of pain?” she murmured. Her bloodshot eyes burned and drooped, but worry leeched the drowsiness. She didn’t like anything new; she counted on Mr. Pleasure being the same, but she realized if she showed her vexation to her custodian, he’d seize control and never let go. Her mind haltingly turned out possibilities as to how this new scenario would end. None of her conclusions brought warm feelings. With alacrity, she tried to change tactics, hoping to throw him off the scent of her fear.
“Interesting—I must confess you were starting to bore me numb with your grotesque overtures. I can take anything you give to me. Aren’t you worried that I’ll enjoy this new pain, Mr. Pleasure? Aren’t you distraught it’ll give me a reprieve from your usual? What’s the worst you can do to me? They look hungry. Are they going to eat me alive? You’re going to have to do better than that!” A horrified curiosity rippled through her, her breath caught in her lungs, wondering what he might say.
“You wouldn’t get any satisfaction from this,” he said, grinning maliciously. “No, no, a reprieve wouldn’t do you any good. Have you ever had something taken from you? Rape will break you. When you’re tied down and ravaged by men such as these,” he gestured to the gathered, “that’ll be the breech I need. They’ll do as they please; I shall not hinder their sinister impulses. And then,” he promised darkly, a rasping whisper, “we can go back to just you and me, girlie.” He motioned them forward.
A newfound panic exploded within her mind and sent her heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. Her chest rumbled like distant thunder. In the hysteria, the fog she had been living in rolled away. Everything came into focus, sharp and vivid. Her imagination gushed with sequences, each coming within fractions of a second and dismissed, discarded, or improved on accordingly. Julie glimpsed a table with straps behind the gaggle of men moving forward, and she knew where she’d end up. This moment was her chance to break out; who knew when she would have another opportunity? The alternative was to let all these men inside her, to let them ravage her and humiliate her.
No!
Her mind recoiled at the thought. She wouldn’t let them, would rather face obliteration if she couldn’t escape, whether it was a true death or another false postponement.
They removed the restraints on her chair and snatched her up faster than she could react, dragging her to the table near the hearth. Weapons clattered to the floor, flung in haste, before slamming her down. Hands groped her, pulling on her robes, cupping her breast, snaking hands spread her legs. The fabric tore away with ease, a deft tug removed her undergarments. Hands pressed her down, chest to the table. Gnarled fingers clamped around her arms as they stretched her towards the leather straps. Drool leaked out of toothless, rotting mouths as they held her down, bending her painfully over the unfinished, splintered edge.
A cold, clammy hand moved her robes, an oily sensation caressing her divested flesh. A presence hovered behind her, waiting for them to latch her down. Spindly fingers trickled down her legs, attempting to tie her ankles to the table. The man behind her kicked her feet wider, making it easier to bind her with leather straps, making her more accessible and helpless. A scuffle broke out behind her as to who would get first honors. Even the men trying to fasten her arms down lost themselves in the excitement as a shoving match ensued.
Her moment arrived.
Fury, terror, and panic swept through her, and she pushed out with her magic, exploding into action. The blast was powerful enough to knock down all the men; even Mr. Pleasure fell to a knee. Not worrying about modesty, she left the tattered remains of her clothes behind, her stark bottom visible through the thin inner robe.
Moving as quickly as she could, she darted between the fallen men. From the many days or weeks she had been sitting in that chair, slowly dying, she realized her extraction would be slow and weak. She didn’t have to be fast, just faster than them. With strength she didn’t expect, she threw off the last man that tried to hold her ankle as she scrambled to the door. His snagging hand slowed her down just enough for others attempting to latch on to her disrobed extremities. Julie shoved and clawed her way past them, sending a swift kick to the groin of one man who managed to rise to his knees, and an elbow to the face of another.
She bolted for the door and flung it open, racing down a stone hallway, grabbing suits of armor and ripping them down behind her to impede her pursuers. Her bare feet slapped the cold, rock floor. A thick coat of grime clung to the soles of her feet. She heaved a door ajar and slammed it with a resounding rattle behind her. In haste, she scanned the new room for any weapons, spying a stand of swords. Grabbing one, Julie forced it through the handle of the door, wedging it shut, before drawing out another. On the other side of the room stood another door, and she rushed heedlessly through it—only to find herself back in the room she had started in. The bald man with his bulging skin and broad grin.
“Did you really think you were going to get away?” he nagged.
Exasperation coursed through Julie. Was there no hope?
“I knew I’d hit a nerve in you when you bolted for the door. That’s the best response I’ve received out of you since the first session. I’llhave to tuck that away for later use.” He leered at her and cracked his knuckles, closing the distance between them. He jerked his head to the side, his neck cracking. “You’re going to pay for trying to escape.” He reached for her. The blade flashed between them.
Hot blood splashed her face as a chilling scream erupted from the fat man. Without thought, she lashed out again, his arm flying away from his body and landing on the floor. Without caring, without stopping, Julie turned and dashed back through the door, down the stone hallway, past all the suits she’d thrown, beyond the first door she’d gone through, and entered through the next. The door boomed shut.
“Wrong again, bitch!” Mr. Pleasure’s voice rang out. He stood before her with both arms attached, a malicious grin smearing his sweaty face, holding the same blade he used to cut her tongue. He charged quicker than expected, and a haphazard swing sent the sword through his leg. The attack sapped her remaining strength. He toppled to the floor, screaming. With languid limbs, she backed away, exiting the door she entered, hoping it’d take her back to the hallway.
Luck was with her as she crashed down the passageway, her tilt erratic and uncontrolled, leaping over the armor and dashing past doors. She rounded a corner and darted down another stretch of cool, coarse stonework, seeking as much distance as she could before ducking into another room.
An abrupt and startling malady jolted her body, starting with the ache in her head and the cold suckling her flesh. Mr. Pleasure loomed before her, his voice washing through her. “I got you, don’t I?” he growled. With a solid grasp on her hair, he pulled her up to her feet, slamming her against the door.
The torture room flashed briefly in her vision, his knife glinting, and the clumsy pressure registered as it furrowed her throat. Blood spilled out, running down her breasts and over her stomach. Obscurity took her away from the warmth and into an atramentous void.