by Krissy V
“Sleep well?” Edith asks, sounding sincere.
“Of course not, but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” I hiss as they strip away my clothes. Love bites, scratches, and the occasional bite mark are splattered across my body. It’s like someone has marked me as theirs, and although they’re faded and don’t hurt for the most part, they’re still a reminder that I am a prisoner of this project.
Janet leans in and whispers, “We aren’t privy to what The Council chooses to do with you. We simply make sure you stay healthy.”
Snorting, I wave to a particularly clear mark on my thigh. “Because it isn’t obvious?”
They say nothing as they turn on the water.
Then I’m led back to the room, where food awaits.
And again, I spend all day alone. Only seeing someone when Janet and Edith bring me my next meal.
When the lighting dims, I crawl back into bed, hoping that the next time I wake this will have all just been some crazy dream. Why haven’t my memories returned? Why couldn’t I remember my life as Riley O’Hara? I feel something on the edge of my thoughts as I drift to sleep, like my fingers are brushing up against it, but it’s out of reach. I keep clasping at it, but catching only empty air.
In the darkness, a firm hand pulls me gently from the bed. I’m led to what feels like the middle of the room and pushed down onto my knees. A single light comes on overhead, blinding me momentarily as my eyes adjust. It’s a lone lamp hanging above my head, bathing me in a circle of light but keeping the rest of the room in blackness. What did The Council want to prevent me from seeing? I kneel on the floor and wait, saying nothing. A hand reaches out of the darkness and pushes the straps down my shoulders, and I don’t move as the silk slides down, exposing my breasts.
Something glints in the darkness, and I remember the giant mirror; for a moment, I wonder if it is possibly a two-way glass. But who would be watching us? Why?
The hand reaches out again and gropes my tit, thumb moving over the hard nub, and I clench my thighs together. Why does it feel so good when my brain is telling me that this is wrong? All I have is questions and more questions with no hope of any answers, at least, not until I can find a way out of here.
I can see the outline of a hard penis on the edge of the circle of light that surrounds me, shrouded in shadows. As his fingers twist my nipple, I reach out and wrap my hand around his cock. I make a fist and begin to move up and down the length of him, as my free hand slides between my thighs and my fingers dip into the wetness pooling there. Why was my body responding like this? Why wasn’t I more terrified? A grunt tells me that he’s enjoying the view, so with a coy smile, I shuffle closer. With his dick inches from my face, I pump my hand harder while flicking my tongue over tip. Another appreciative grunt makes me bolder, and so I run my tongue up his length before taking the tip in my mouth and sucking.
Hands fist in my hair, pulling me deeper onto him, choking me with his cock as he thrusts into my mouth faster and faster. I grab hold of his thighs to steady myself as his body begins to tense. Suddenly, he pulls away, and seconds later, something warm and sticky lands on my breasts. It makes me smile, and something in the back of my head registers as I recall someone telling me once that ejaculation was like a sneeze. However, as soon as the memory brushes against the surface, it vanishes.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who you are?” I call out.
A moment passes before a voice grunts, “Number Two.”
“Two? I’m beginning to sense a pattern here…” I respond. Two men so far, and I’m assuming that given The Council is called The Council of Seven, there are five more to go. But until what? What are the Seven a countdown to?
The voice sounds almost smug as he says, “Smart girl.”
I hear footsteps as he begins to circle me, my skin burning up under his gaze. I wait until I can hear him behind me before I ask, “Are you going to tell me what The Eden Enterprise is?”
His steps falter for a moment and then a chuckle fills the room. “No.”
I smile. “Not even if I ask nicely?”
Another laugh, this time from in front of me. “You just had my dick in your mouth, and I’m still not willing to tell you.”
Frowning, I pout, hoping to get something from tonight, even just the smallest bit of information.
“Trust me, you will be happier not knowing.”
A shiver runs down my spine. What the hell is happening here? Where is here? And who are The Council of Seven?
I peer into the shadows, trying to see something, anything, but there is only darkness.
“So, what now?”
His voice replies from somewhere on my left, “Now, we go again.”
Chapter Four
I already know the drill when I wake the next day. I shower, I’m fed, and then spend the day alone, only seeing the nurses when it’s meal time. Then at night some strange man will creep into my room and do whatever he wants to me. I should fight it, resist, but I’m stuck here, locked up like a prisoner—what good would opposing my captor do? Besides, part of me was enjoying it. Did that make me fucked up? Did I have Stockholm’s syndrome? And why could I remember that but not who I was? Did I have a family? How did I get here? Was I kidnapped?
Dr. Saith comes to my room in the early evening with a tray and his trusty clipboard.
“How are you feeling?” he enquires as he takes my temperature and my blood pressure.
I reply honestly, “Tired.”
I don’t know why, but I trust Dr. Saith, maybe it’s the way his voice seems to calm me when I feel like nothing makes sense.
His eyebrows knit together as he looks at his clipboard carefully. “Did you not sleep today?”
Snorting, I wave him away. “I’m not sleeping at night, that’s the problem, Doc.”
“Are you in any pain or discomfort?” he asks, avoiding my eyes as he checks me over. Every day they bring me a fresh negligee in white with the lace trim, and every day I care less and less about how exposed my body is.
“No,” I say with a sigh. “Physically, I am fine.”
A brow raises. “And mentally?”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. “There’s something wrong with me.”
That was an understatement. I was enjoying being trapped, being the plaything of seven men I know nothing about. I needed to get a grip on myself before I ended up lost in the ocean of sex I was currently swimming in.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is gentle, and I place my hand over his as I shake my head.
“What happens after Number Seven?” I wonder out loud as I look at the mirror.
Tilting his head, he frowns. “What?”
“The Council of Seven, what do they plan to do with me?” I focus back on him, and his eyes lock with mine. The grey is really an exquisite colour, like storm clouds gathering over the hills on a winter day.
“I really couldn’t say…”
I squeeze his hand, still trapped under mine. “Do you think I’ll be able to leave?”
“Do you want to?” There's an edge to his voice, and I feel like it’s a trick question.
“Yes,” I say firmly, sounding more confident than I feel.
“And where will you go?”
I can’t remember my life before. “I... I don’t know.”
“Let’s not worry about that now.” He pulls the cover off the tray. “These are needed for this evening.”
I see an assortment of little dishes, one with a spliff, another with a cup of murky looking tea, a needle, and squares of paper with smiley faces. I don’t know why I recognise the cannabis, was I a pothead before? What was Riley O’Hara like before The Eden Enterprise? “What’s this?”
His mouth is tight as he mutters, “They’ve requested that you choose one.”
I point at the joint. “That’s weed, but what are the other three?”
“Heroin, LSD, and magic mushrooms.”
“And
I have to take one? But drugs are bad.” I suppress a laugh at what I’ve just said. It came out without thinking, like it was something I’d heard repeatedly. I guess I wasn’t a pothead then, more of a Goody Two-shoes perhaps?
“Yes. Willingly or not.” He warns as he pushes the tray closer. “So, it’s best for everyone if you choose.”
“What do you recommend?”
He hands me the tray with the smiley face squares. “I recommend the LSD, only a tab though. It will give you a buzz, without making you too dopey.”
I nod as I tear it in half and place it on my tongue. How did I know to do that? The déjà vu that caught me off guard in moments like this was getting stronger. Had I been here before?
“Doc, did you know me before this?”
“What?”
“I feel like I know you. Like I’ve been here and done this before.”
“You’ve made the right choice.” There’s a sadness on his face as he stands, and I feel like the words ‘this time’ are missing from his statement. “Sit back and enjoy.”
I lay back on the bed and wait for him to leave before getting up and looking at the mirror. It’s been bugging me since last night, and as I run my fingers along the frame and try to pull it away from the wall, I realize I’m right. It’s not just a mirror at all. It’s a two-way mirror, a possible way out.
I step back, and that’s when my head begins to swim. It’s like a filter, everything has become brighter, more vibrant. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, my inky black hair framing my pale face. Big brown eyes stare intensely back at me—was I always so serious looking? My almost blood-red lips form the shape of an ‘o’ as hands come around my waist. I can feel him breathing against my neck, but it’s more than that. It’s like I can feel the warmth move over every single cell. Fingers move up my arms, and it’s like I’d never been touched before, every sensation is new and fresh. Even my breathing feels like the cobwebs have been blown away and I am revitalized.
I lean back into the warmth of his body, feeling like I am being engulfed by flames as he pushes my negligee down over my breasts, past my hips, and allows it to slide down my legs before pooling at my feet. I can see the pattern of the universe, waves and swirls in the air that make up everything, as he kisses my shoulder. Where his lips meet my flesh feels like champagne bubbles bursting against my skin. I barely register that he has a mask on as I lose myself to the blur of sensations as he begins to cup my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples. The tightening in my lower belly has me convinced that I may just come from this alone, that is, until a hand slides between my legs.
I’m aware of every muscle in my body, every little twitch or tremble had the ability to engulf me as his fingers enter me. His thumb barely even touches my clit, and yet my legs are threatening to go from under me as I lean forward to place my hands on the mirror. My fingers splay out across the cool glass as I support myself.
Turning me around, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist without hesitation. It’s like I’m supposed to be here, like my body knows what my mind does not. I don’t notice that we’ve moved up against the mirror until I feel it against my back, and it’s like a cold relief spreading through my limbs, contrasting with the fire of his kisses. Our foreheads touch as every slow, delicious thrust is in sync with our breathing. My body welcomes him as we meld into each other, a bundle of nerves and lust. There is no inhibition or fear as the pleasure builds and builds, like a balloon waiting to be popped. I feel like a ghost, fading from the world as we cling to each other, our surroundings blurring as I come. I feel every contraction, and it’s like riding a wave as my body tightens and relaxes as he pushes me over the crest. I have never felt anything like it in my whole life, at least I think I haven’t. My thoughts begin to whir around and fill my head like a million stars exploding at once. Where was I? What was happening to me? Why was I allowing them to do this to me? Why did I enjoy it? Why did it feel so familiar? Why couldn't I remember anything?
“Stay with me…” a voice growls in my ear, the noise like nails being raked down my back, and I don’t try to stop the groan that bubbles up my throat. It’s like he’s anchoring me to him as my focus shifts back.
“Are you Number Three?” I ask between kisses.
He nods, and it sends ripples in the air around us. I don’t feel like I’m ready to come down from the cloud I’m on as he carries me over to the bed and lays me down on the silk sheets. I smile, and it feels like my skin is made of play dough, stretching as my muscles move. I close my eyes as he spreads my legs and begins to lick my clit. Behind my eyelids, I see birds and apple trees, hallucinations taking over as I watch the trees growing, roots stretching out, creeping towards me. The branches seem to reach up, trying to touch the sky as new leaves sprout and apples begin to grow. The tree grows bigger and bigger as my second orgasm builds. When I reach the point of no return, rotten apples begin to fall all around me. I wake, my eyes lazy, but the image doesn’t fade. He claims my mouth, once again directing all my sensations, and the decaying orchard is lost as everything becomes a blur of colours.
Chapter Five
I feel like I spent my night at a spa and yet my tongue is heavy and almost furry in my mouth as I roll over. My body is relaxed, almost serene as if I’m floating on water as I lay between the silk sheets.
Then Edith and Janet enter, almost like clockwork, and I stand lazily. My limbs loose, like I’ve spent all night stretching and, in a way, I guess I have. They take an arm each, and the glint of the key around Edith’s belt stirs something.
I should do something.
I need to do something.
Using my elbow, I throw myself into her and snatch the key as we tussle.
“Is she still tripping?” Janet shouts as she tries to drag me away. I slide the key across the floor and under the bed as they try to pull me off by my hair.
“I don’t know!” Edith squeals, pinned beneath me. “Grab the sedative! Quickly!”
Seconds later, I feel a sharp scratch in my thigh, and the world goes black.
When I wake again, my hair is damp and my negligee has been changed for a fresh one. Not even my being unconscious seemed to disrupt the routine here, they just carried on without my co-operation. I eat the sandwiches and fruit left; it doesn’t make sense to starve myself, and after last night’s antics and the scuffle this morning, my stomach is gnawing at me. Getting down onto my hands and knees, I reach out under the bed, grinning when my hand closes around the cold metal key. Finally, it was time to get some answers.
Poking my tongue out at the mirror, in case anyone is watching on the other side, I unlock the door and slip out into the corridor. I’m familiar with the layout a little now; I know if I head on down and turn left, I’ll end up at the showers. There is always a humming noise and gentle chatter coming from the right-hand side, so I make a note to avoid that direction for a minute, instead choosing a door at random before I reach the end of the corridor. To my surprise, it opens, and I find myself facing another corridor, this one darker as the lights are dimmed. The door at the end of the corridor is marked with a gold plaque reading ‘The Garden,’ and my heart begins to thump loudly in my chest. Is this the way out? Was I finally going to get out of this strange building?
My hand trembles as I reach out and slowly turn the handle. What would I do in the outside world? Would I find someone who knows me? Where would I go? Exhaling slowly, I push open the door only to be met with what looks like a shipping warehouse. Rows and rows of huge tube-like things are lined up, as far as the eye can see. I move nearer to the closest one and realise it isn’t a tube, more like a weird shaped box with a glass lid. Something smoky swirls inside, and I touch the cool glass, wondering what’s inside. I lean in closer, my face almost pressed against it, when I make out the shape of a face beneath the mist.
I step back but lose my footing and stumble, falling onto my ass. There are people in the boxes—no, not boxes—coffins. Hundreds and hundreds of glass
coffins. Real panic begins to build in my chest, and this isn’t like during the night when the panic starts and it subsides when one of The Council touches me. This is raw and suffocating as it feels like my throat is about to close up. I inhale sharply, trying to drag some air into my lungs when I hear voices coming closer.
Crawling under the coffin pedestal, I cover my mouth, trying to catch the noises I’m making in my hands before they get me caught.
“Snow White is out again,” a soft female voice says, and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes, her voice dripping with disdain.
A masculine voice responds. “Why does he like her so much?”
“Number Seven has always had a thing for the innocent-looking ones,” the woman chuckles. “It’s like corruption soothes his black soul.”
A chill goes through me, so Seven is the one behind my prison sentence? Why did it feel like all roads were leading to Number Seven? But what happened after that?
“What number is she on now?”
From my position on the floor, I can see their feet as they slowly pass by the coffin I’m hiding under. I try to make myself smaller, holding my legs in tight to my body.
“Hmmm. Four? Five?” I can hear her pen scribbling away furiously as she makes notes, and I wonder what she’s observing. Four was tonight, and it seemed like everyone here knew that. What the hell kind of project was this?
“Four and Five aren’t that bad…” The male voice seems almost disappointed, and I have to bite my lip to stop from saying anything.
“It’s just to ease her in because Six and Seven will break her. That’s how it always is.”
I freeze. Six and Seven will be the worst? What does that mean?
“Don’t they get bored?”
A snort fills the silence. “You would think so, but Seven is obsessed with her.”
The man laughs. “It’s like a child trying to catch a butterfly and crushing it in their fat, greedy little fingers.”