by McGill, Brie
She was still naked—naked, except for the silver shackles clasped around her wrists and ankles, and the conspicuously heavy one around her neck. Her life, her integrity demanded she escape.
Clinging to the bars, she jerked her body back and forth, rocking the cage; looking up, she discovered she was suspended by a thick chain.
Glancing ahead, she noticed another identical cage swaying in the distance, packed tightly with a nude female of similar age. “Hey!” She shook the cage, rattling the chain, hearing the creak and squeak of metal while swinging in the air. “Hello! Look behind you!”
The girl in the cage offered no movement, no response. Ninkasi wondered if she were conscious.
Maybe the girl didn’t hear her.
Ninkasi stomped her feet and slammed her body against the bars, generating enough momentum to wildly knock her cage about. “Can you hear me?!”
The girl didn’t respond.
Her heart sank. What if there were others behind her that she couldn’t see?
The rhythmic echo of boots below interrupted her desperate ruckus.
Ninkasi turned her head, cautiously edging her body within the confines of the cage to look at the ground.
A tall man in grey uniform approached, slapping a kluzein rifle against an open palm.
Voices echoed throughout the cave: she heard several more men, all speaking the language she couldn’t understand.
Pointing at her cage, the man shouted something at the others with a smarmy laugh. The corners of his lips curled in a proud smile and he fired the gun at her cage.
Ninkasi yelped, crashing against the back of her cage in an explosion of blue light, unable to properly collapse due to lack of space. She felt the metal bars digging into her skin, while her body stiffened and smarted.
Legs tremoring, she peered at the floor.
A troupe of guards marched under her, beyond her, as if she didn’t exist.
The cave echoed with the crunch of chains, a metallic crank whirring to life; the cage before her steadily lowered to the floor.
Guards swarmed the enclosure; the cage stopped, hovering several feet above the floor. One officer brandished a jangling ring of keys, and forced open an iron padlock. Another man ripped open the door, two more pushing through the throng to tear the woman from the cage.
The woman collapsed into a ball on the ground, breaking into hysterical sobs, swatting in vain at the surrounding men.
Ninkasi’s blood ran cold. The woman was conscious, but chose not to respond: did every misbehaving girl who rattled her cage receive a blast from the kluzein?
Toting a formidable loop of thick chains, a guard hooked the end of the chain, like a leash, to the choker around the woman’s neck. He gave a sharp tug, dragging her across the floor.
Another guard laughed and kicked her in the ribs.
The girl scrabbled on her knees, weakened, visibly humiliated, struggling to keep up with them. She lunged forward onto one knee, trying to push herself up and walk on two feet.
One guard stomped a boot between her shoulder blades, kicking her face into the dirt.
The other uniformed men gathered around her and laughed.
The girl raised her head.
Another boot came crashing down, smashing her face into the ground.
They all laughed, dragging her away, making sure she never stood to walk, but instead crawled on all fours.
Ninkasi broke into a nervous sweat, and glanced at the shackles around her wrists, her ankles, currently unhooked. She felt the weighty collar on her neck boring into her: what plans did they have for her?
Tilting her head sideways, Ninkasi watched the crowd grow smaller, heading toward a pentagonal structure against the far wall. The men forced the woman against the wall, shackling each arm and leg at the corner of the pentacle, leaving her to hang, facing them, spread open, defenseless.
Doors at the back of the cavern slammed, and a lone pair of footsteps slowly, measuredly approached the pentacle. A man twice the height of the others lifted a hand, issuing an unintelligible command in a deep voice.
One of the officers presented him a riveted bullwhip and bowed.
Lifting the whip in his hands to the heavens, the giant chanted in an ominous voice. Without warning, he raised the whip above his head and lashed the girl.
The girl screamed, crying out in agony, begging, pleading for him to stop.
Offering no response, the giant continued to make his lashes up and down her body, painting trails of welts.
A flurry of others in dark robes surrounded them, enrapt.
Ninkasi watched in horror, feeling dizzy and ill. She couldn’t believe it.
The girl’s cries increased in volume, intensity, reduced to blubbering and incoherent pleas for her life.
The giant lashed indifferently.
The poor girl screamed for an eternity, her skin broken and fresh streaks of red spilling from the lacerated wounds.
Snapping, the giant commanded the attention of his subjects, and returned to them the whip.
The girl’s screams broke into tears and she wept, hanging her head.
The robed monster strode forward, and, seizing her throat, restrained her head against the wall.
She gasped for breath, face twisted in horror.
The robed giant tilted his head. Removing his hand from her throat, he forced it over her mouth so she couldn't cry. Hovering over her neck, he descended, and lapped the blood oozing from her welts. He licked her neck, her chest, her arms, forcing her silence with his hands.
Ninkasi jerked her head away. She couldn’t watch any more.
Feeling the chill of cold stone against her stomach, Ninkasi awoke strapped face-down to a primitive granite table. The slab of rock was the perfect size to support only her torso; her arms and legs dangled from either side, strapped to the table’s legs with thick bands of black leather.
She squirmed against the bonds, fighting in vain to break free—there was no way off this table.
And she was still naked, with no end to her nightmare in sight.
She grimly recalled one of the girls saying that once a girl was taken from the waiting room, none of the girls ever saw her again.
Ninkasi had a damned good idea of what was about to happen to her, buck naked, ass up.
She pressed her forehead into the stone and tried to ball her fists, wrists snugly restrained. Squinting her eyes, she felt a deep cry welling in the pit of her stomach: she was so far away from home.
What if there was no way back?
Were they about to do to her what they did to the other girl? Whip her, suck her blood? Or worse?
What psychos!
It was likely she would die here, but apparently not before sacrificing her sweet virgin ass to a bunch of genetically modified freaks. She would rather die before becoming a dinner entree and losing her integrity, in either order.
Turning her head to the side, Ninkasi sniffled: it made her sick to think about the humiliation, the violation she was about to endure. She possessed nothing—absolutely nothing—to jerry-rig into the saddest makeshift weapon and fight her way out. Her set of keys was long gone, her nail file, her purse, anything—her mind scraped for ideas to help her, but deep inside, she knew she was screwed.
The door groaned, swinging open. The march of several pairs of boots echoed through the cave, approaching her.
Not wanting to see them, not wanting to know anything about them, Ninkasi squinted her eyes shut. She could have turned to look, but she figured the less that she knew of the wardens about to destroy her, the easier the whole situation might be to forget.
It might not be quite as awful.
She choked on a rain of tears. Shit, this was worse than awful. Were they even human?
This was worse than being kidnapped, worse than never going home again, worse than death.
One man barked orders in the mystery language. Two other men shuffled behind him, somewhere to her left, and Ninkasi heard th
e puff of bellows, the whuff of flames ignite. She heard the crackle of burning wood, and, after a moment, felt the radiant heat of a fire warming her skin.
Great. At least she wouldn’t freeze.
While she was violated. Underground. In a cave. By aliens.
Burying her face into the stone, she wept and wept, helpless to stop anything about to happen to her. She listened to the clank of irons near the fire, an indifferent decree of orders in a foreign tongue.
Ninkasi wondered if they would be quick, or if it would go on for hours. She wondered how much it would hurt, or if she’d end up pregnant.
She heard so many of them in the cave with her, she’d need a morning after pill the size of a jawbreaker.
Her stomach knotted at the thought. Her birth control disappeared with her bag. She knew it had been at least a few days since she was at Echidna’s facility, plus the time spent at Wolfram’s—she had slept a few days there—and now she was here. She could skip a day or two at most, but after that, it wouldn’t be safe. Her period had nearly passed, which meant she approached the peak fertility of her cycle.
More irons clanked on the fire.
She bit her lip. It couldn’t get any worse.
Hearing the stomp of boots behind her, her body stiffened. She braced herself: this was it.
One of the men snarled something in a rough voice.
The others grunted in agreement, and sauntered around the altar, one standing on either side of her.
She squinted her eyes. Approaching hysteria, one dreadful thought flashed through her mind: no lube. What a pitiful last concern for her nearly-ending life.
One rough hand clamped around her skull, pinning her head against the table.
No lube. Oh god.
Breathing sharply, she opened her eyes: she saw only a chest and legs, in the same grey, police-like uniform the other guards wore.
Hands secured her shoulders, her body against the table, so she was unable to squirm an inch.
Ninkasi cried hopelessly.
The man barking orders approached slowly, each step echoing against the high ceiling of the cavern.
Her heart thudded: his approach felt like an eternity.
Addressing the others once more, the man stopped directly behind her.
She heard only silence: there was no movement, no removal of clothing, no more words for his foreign accomplices.
Without warning, the man rammed a searing hot branding iron remorselessly into the fleshiest part of her ass.
Ninkasi yowled, her piercing shriek reverberating through the dank cave.
Her captor held the iron in place, speaking solitary words in regular intervals, as if he were counting.
She cried and wailed, shocked, hysterical, horrified at the sheer brutality of the act. She was not informed; she was given nothing for the pain now, and she doubted they’d give her anything after.
It was molten, searing, unbearable, unlike any other pain she’d known. Blood rushed to her head and she thought she might go insane: no amount of tears or screaming eased the agony, distracted her mind from the blazing hot iron melting into her flesh.
Ninkasi felt sick: she smelled it, the burning, charring flesh of her ass. The disgusting smell, coupled with the shock and the pain, offered her a blissful escape through loss of consciousness, before she could fully contemplate whether or not the unexpected turn of events should be considered a win or a loss in her book.
Unreality Show
XXII.
Orion slammed shut the door to the vault.
Renwick surprised him, resembling a ghost in his white gown. He stood at the top of the stair, flaunting an ebullient smile, waiting silently, eyes wide with eternal wonder.
Crossing one arm over his chest, Orion placed a hand on his chin and studied the boy. “Did you wait for me?”
The boy’s smile grew.
Orion shook his head, smirking in spite of himself. “Will you take me to Wolfram?”
Renwick nodded, beaming, and reached up to grab a handful of Orion’s shirt, tugging for him to follow. Guiding him through the kitchen, Renwick led Orion through the dining area, and into a hallway previously unintroduced.
Orion marveled at the glowing antique sconces, the gold-framed impressionist paintings of trees and bridges, ponds and lilies. He tread quietly over the carpet in muted hues with geometric patterns.
Wolfram was a romantic.
Renwick stopped at the end of the hall, and opened a creaky door wide enough for him to poke his head inside.
“Renwick, my boy!”
Vocalizing a gasp of delight, Renwick nodded quickly in response to Wolfram’s cheerful greeting.
“Have you brought Orion with you?”
Renwick pushed open the door and threw up his arms in a grand gesture, proudly displaying his find.
Orion tentatively stepped behind him, peering into the room: shelves of books, faded and dusty tomes, lined every wall. Aleister and Wolfram sat at a table before a hearth—glowing with crackling flames of neon green—that reminded Orion of the library at the chateau. Weird technological gadgets covered the table, things with metal coils, glowing orbs, crystals and wires, in messy heaping piles around Aleister’s two guns.
Raising an eyebrow, Orion crossed his arms and claimed a seat in a chair definitively distanced from them.
Renwick skittered across the room into Wolfram’s arms.
Wolfram grabbed him with a giant hug, and glanced uneasily over the boy’s shoulder at Orion; his eyes doubled in size, a horrified look warping his face when he noticed the chain around Orion’s neck.
Grimacing, Orion tucked the plus-shaped pendant back into his shirt. Damnit. He ought to be more careful.
Vigorously patting the boy on the head, Wolfram passed him a small box. “There’s a new puzzle in this one. Why don’t you take it to the den and start working on it? As soon as I have finished my business here, I will join you.”
The boy gasped with delight.
Wolfram squeezed his shoulder.
Puzzle box clutched tightly against his chest, Renwick zoomed out of the room.
“You must forgive me.” Wolfram bowed his head. “I know you’re from another place, and your customs are different, but I can’t help but apologize. If anyone were to learn of my treatment of the boy, of how I” —his voice caught in his throat— “of how I shower him with fatherly affections, I—” He bowed his head. “I would certainly be put to death.”
Aleister reclined in his velvet-upholstered chair and snorted. “Maybe it’s time you considered moving into a new neighborhood.”
“The truth is” —Wolfram buried his face in his hands— “when I look at Renwick, I imagine what my own child would have looked like, and—”
Orion sat transfixed with the fireplace.
Wolfram cleared his throat, waving a hand in front of his face. “As I mentioned before, I cannot leave this place.” He nodded grimly. “Without the limited support of the technology here, I would perish.”
Aleister leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands, his elbows on his knees. “Isn’t it part of the natural order of things to die?”
Wolfram rubbed a hand against his face. “It is the order of things in your mortal world.”
“Either you take a mortal body for the mortal experience, or you don’t.” Aleister tilted his head. “You can’t pick and choose which parts you like and which you don't.”
“As a being of an entirely different nature, I can’t become something I’m not.” Wolfram pushed his hand to the back of his head. “Our best replicas were riddled with unforeseen flaws.”
“There you go, you said it yourself again!” Aleister threw his arms in the air. “Your technology is shit and it’s the whole reason you have health problems in the first place.”
“It would be too risky to attempt a departure with the boy.” Wolfram shook his head quickly. “I can’t do anything that would endanger Renwick.”
Aleister rolled his
eyes. “Isn’t your current arrangement here a bit risky, if he’s forbidden a nightie and a pat on the head? What future could he have here, realistically?”
Shooting Aleister a stern glare, Wolfram tightly pressed his lips together.
“I’m saying, think about it.” Aleister softened his features. “The two of you might be happier on the surface. You could do so many things together that are forbidden down here.”
Wolfram remained silent.
Aleister lowered his voice. “Renwick, he’s a—he’s from up there. It’s his homeland. It’s his birthright. Wouldn’t it be better for the both of you if you could enjoy life together to the fullest?”
Wolfram drummed his fingers on the table. “Then I would grow old and die.”
“That is an indispensible part of the human experience.” Orion crossed his legs, resting one ankle on his knee. “To wither and die.”
The room was silent.
Wolfram shut his eyes, bowed his head and whispered fiercely. “Then I would die before the boy!”
“Didn’t you say you originally took this body to emulate the mortal experience?” Aleister raised an eyebrow. “It includes aging, and it includes death. Parents care for their children while they are young; children care for their parents when they grow old. It’s what makes life precious.”
Frowning, Wolfram assumed a detached air. “Aleister, forgive my inquiry, but did you not mention you fled your own family?”
Aleister lurched forward, pointing a finger. “That was a fucked-up situation. You can’t compare the two. Anyway, it makes no sense to take a mortal body and retain transhuman expectations. All that does is create an unnatural dependence on technology—”
“Enough.” Wolfram jerked his head away. “I have no desire to supersede the flesh.” He paused, glancing over his shoulders. “We are gathered here to discuss business.”
Aleister grabbed his gun from the table and pumped it, charging the crystal units and copper coils with a glowing red energy. Tensing a finger on the trigger, he pointed the gun directly at Orion’s heart.