Torn (4 page)

Four torches lit the round chamber. The only window was a tiny circular hole close to the high ceiling. Far from the ground and secluded from the rest of the palace, the room’s location ensured no one could hear the screams sounding from The Lady’s victims as she worked.

Manacles dangled from chains hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, and on the floor below them ankle cuffs waited to hold the victim completely immobile. When the prisoner was tied, The Lady would have full access to his entire body, back and front. Honey Wine knew how devilishly she used this advantage. She’d seen her work before.

A stone couch cushioned in brown velvet was positioned before the chains so that The Mistress could observe the punishment. She didn’t order such tortures often, but saved them as a treat to herself and lessons for those rare champions or enemies of state foolish enough to cherish their desires above hers.

Bron left Honey Wine alone inside, and she paced the room, wishing to be anyplace but there. How could she watch this punishment without revealing what she felt for the Knight? What would happen to both of them if her sister found out, and worse, how could Honey Wine plan their escape if The Mistress knew she cared for him?

The door burst open and guards dragged the Knight inside. They fitted his hands in the manacles above his head and his ankles in the cuffs on the floor so his long, sinewy body stretched almost immobile. She tried not to look at him, but couldn’t help herself. An inkling of fear gleamed beneath the endless patience in his dark blue eyes.

“Ah, Honey Wine!” The Mistress swept into the room, her straight, black hair hanging to her buttocks, her tall, curvaceous body covered in a robe of black silk, a red sash about her narrow waist. Her pale skin made her molasses-colored eyes look even darker.

Many considered her a beautiful woman and often remarked on how much Honey Wine looked like her, except Honey Wine’s body was more thickly muscled and her skin tanned from spending days on the field. Or at least it had been tanned once. Now she bore the same pallor as everyone else who spent their lives in the prison below. Only Honey Wine’s eyes were different from her sister’s. They were light brown, almost tan, thus her name Honey Wine.

“It’s been so long since this chamber has been in use, and I know how you love to watch The Lady work,” The Mistress continued, voice dripping sarcasm.

Everyone knew how Honey Wine despised such punishments, particularly since it was never criminals who suffered them.

“This is unworthy even of you, Alva,” Honey Wine said.

“Why?” She smiled and walked to the Knight. “Because he’s of the Ruby Order? Because some consider them untouchable and holy? He looks quite touchable to me. Quite handsome.”

Alva splayed her hands across the Knight’s lean chest, her fingers biting into muscle. She stood on tiptoe, and her tongue snaked across his mouth. He turned his head in disgust, and Honey Wine’s fists clenched at her sides. Maybe if she lunged quickly, she could break The Mistress’s neck…

Too late. Guards stepped inside, carrying a round stool and a narrow table covered in leather, The Lady behind them.

The Lady scarcely reached Honey Wine’s shoulder in height. Her golden hair was pulled into a severe bun on the very top of her head, causing her narrow blue eyes to slant. Her face was thin, cheekbones prominent. Though at first glance her lips appeared lovely and full, if one looked closely enough, they were merely thin, shapeless lines embellished by red paint. A green tunic covered her frog-like body, and gold hose disappeared into soft, green, thigh-high boots.

“He’s haughty,” Alva said to The Lady, hands still clutching the Knight’s chest. Suddenly she slapped him hard across the face, her palm leaving a red imprint on his skin. “But he’ll learn to appreciate me.”

“Don’t you ever tire of this, Alva?” Honey Wine tried to sound bored.

“No.” Her sister smiled and floated to the couch. She sat and patted the seat beside her.

“I’ll stand,” Honey Wine said.

“As you wish, but it will be a long two hours.” She nodded for The Lady to begin.

The blond woman’s small, gloved hands tore the leather from the table, revealing the sharp silver needles gleaming on a cushion of black velvet. There were hundreds of needles, hundreds of moments of pain, and The Lady knew how to use each one to squeeze out delicious agony without killing her victim.

The Lady chose one of the needles and placed it strategically through the Knight’s skin. Honey Wine’s nails bit into her palms as he tensed.

The Lady stood before him, a half-smile on her lips, her head cocked to one side like a curious dog. She chose a second needle, then a third.

The Knight’s fists clenched, his wrists twisting in the manacles until blood dripped down his forearms.

Alva laughed and stretched out on the couch, the front of her robe parting.

Her long, pale hands stroked the cleft between her breasts, and she sighed with contentment. “Seems he’ll take his punishment with the same strength he took his opponents during the Entertainment. What do you think, Honey Wine?”

Honey Wine refused to acknowledge Alva. If she so much as looked at The Mistress, she’d strangle her and bring the guards in fighting. At that moment, Honey Wine didn’t care for herself, but without her help, the Knight would not escape, and she was determined to find a way to free him from this hellish place.

“How many needles do you think it will take before he screams?” Alva asked The Lady.

“Just one more,” The Lady chimed in her high-pitched voice, positioning the stool before the Knight and standing on it so she could better reach his upper body.

At the touch of the next needle, he shrieked as The Lady predicted.

Honey Wine’s heart pounded, her head throbbed with the desire to kill both Alva and The Lady, to make them suffer as he was suffering.

He’d no sooner regained his composure from the last excruciating attack when The Lady added another of the metal demons to his trembling flesh.

Honey Wine circled the room like a caged animal, trying to avert her eyes from the spectacle in the center of the floor, but compelled to watch.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Alva called to her. “You’ll be tired of all that walking by the end of the session.”

“Your soul is damned, Alva,” Honey Wine hissed.

“Who really knows what the afterlife will bring? I believe in entertaining myself now, while I can enjoy it.” She turned her dark eyes back to the Knight, stroking her nipples through the silk to the rhythm of his tortured breathing.

Alva approached the Knight and raked her nails over his chest, scraping his flat nipples. “Goddess, what a magnificent body he has.”

“Then why are you ruining it?” Honey Wine snarled.

Alva continued running her hands over his body. “You know the needles will leave no mark. But I might.”

Alva sank her teeth into his chest, drawing blood and causing the Knight to gasp. Honey Wine’s fists clenched so tightly her nails cut into her palms as she watched Alva slip a dagger from the folds of her robe and slice off the Knight’s loin cloth. His cock dangled, thick but flaccid. Alva ran her tongue over his abdomen, clutched his hips, and took his cock into her mouth.

The Knight closed his eyes, but not before Honey Wine saw the disgust and shame burning there. In spite of himself, he grew hard beneath Alva’s skilled tongue and lips.

I’m going to kill her
, Honey Wine thought.
One way or the other, I’m going
to kill her.
But she would bide her time. There were other, more important tasks to complete before she sought revenge on the savage monarch who, to her revulsion, shared her blood.

“Swear that you will kill when ordered to do so during the Entertainment.”

Alva, the sash about her waist discarded, her black robe parted to reveal her nude body, stood before the Knight. “Look at me.”

His eyes were closed tightly, his sweat-slicked body pierced by dozens of The Lady’s wicked needles. The end of the session neared, and Honey Wine’s sister grew impatient. For the past hour, she’d repeated the same words to the Knight. She wanted acknowledgment from him that he would do her bidding during the Entertainment. Other than his raw screams that echoed through the chamber, he hadn’t spoken.

The air reeked of the disgusting mixture of Alva’s strong perfume and urine puddled at the Knight’s feet. The dangling position combined with the agony of the Lady’s needles made breathing nearly impossible for the Knight, and Honey Wine noted he seemed to be losing the struggle for breath as exhaustion overcame him.

“I told you a hundred times, he’s mute!” Honey Wine seethed. “He hasn’t spoken a word since he was captured.”

“He doesn’t need to speak.” Alva turned to Honey Wine, the ridges of her white cheeks stained pink with frustration. “He can make a motion that he understands. You said yourself he’s not ignorant.” Alva turned back to The Lady. “Use another. One way or the other, he’ll do what I want.”

For the first time, The Lady looked hesitant.

“He could die from this, Alva,” Honey Wine said quietly. “The Lady knows it, just as you and I do.”

“This session has been longer and more extreme than expected, Mistress,”

the Lady said.

“You’ve both seen this before,” Honey Wine said. “If he hasn’t done what you want by now, he’s not going to. Think about it, Alva. Killing him would be a waste.”

“Because he’s a Knight of the Ruby Order?” Alva scoffed.

“Yes. Because no one has their fighting skills. He might not kill, but I’ll wager he’s been the finest Entertainment you’d ever seen. Do you really want to kill him and waste all that talent, or wouldn’t you rather keep him alive to compete? Eventually, he’ll be here so long he’ll forget about the life he once had. They always do. Even the most human of them become beasts in the end.”

Alva flashed a beautiful smile. “I still think you’re too rebellious, Honey Wine, but you’ve learned much serving below.” She turned to The Lady, took the small woman’s chin gently in her hand, and brushed a tender kiss across her brow. “You did very well tonight. His stubborn nature is not a reflection on your abilities. Take back your sharp little toys and meet me in my chamber.”

The Lady looked past Alva and smiled belligerently at Honey Wine before she began removing the needles from the Knight’s tormented body.

“Alva,” Honey Wine said. “I think you should let me examine him. His wrists need care.”

Alva picked up her sash and fixed it about her waist. “Honey Wine, you are such a good little girl. However, that irritating part of your personality is what always gets you into trouble. You want to help the beast so much, then you can spend the night up here with him. It gets so dark and cold, and you did just stand here and watch him be tortured. Once he gets his strength back, I wouldn’t want to be trapped up here with him. He might not kill, but I’ve heard the Ruby Order knows methods of torture similar to The Lady’s; only they use their hands to inflict the pain. If I was him, I’d give you a taste of it. Sweet dreams, sister.”

Alva swept out of the chamber, one of the guards following her, the remaining ones standing in a circle around the room.

The Lady removed the last of the needles, and the Knight sagged in his bonds, his head bent towards his chest.

The Lady snapped her fingers for one of the guards to remove her table and stool.

As she left, the guards released the Knight from his bonds so his arms and legs were bound only by his usual chains. He dropped to the floor and lay there, stunned and panting, as the guards left, locking the door behind them.

With the torches already burning out, Honey Wine worked quickly.

She knelt beside him and opened her supply box. His entire body trembled with the aftershocks of The Lady’s needles, and when she touched his shoulder, he jerked away. Honey Wine dropped her hand, understanding at that moment, he didn’t want to be touched. The Lady’s needles had left no visible marks on his skin, only on his mind.

Honey Wine used water from a flask to cleanse his flesh beneath the bonds where the metal cuffs had chaffed them. She was treating one of his wrists when he murmured, “Torn.”

She paused and drew a sharp breath. He’d spoken!

“I know they are,” she told him. “They won’t hurt so much after I bandage them.”

“No. My name is Torn.”

“Oh.” She smiled slightly though her throat suddenly constricted with anger and sadness at what he’d been forced to endure, at what so many of them who slaved below were forced to tolerate every day.

“It’s not your fault.” He glanced at her through half-closed eyes. “At first I thought you could do something about it, but you can’t.”

“Maybe,” she said, and applied the bandages.

Using a cloth dampened with rosewater from her supply case, she started washing away urine from his legs. He caught her wrists and took the cloth from her to clean himself. Honey Wine knew even slight movement must have been an effort, yet she sensed his embarrassment and resisted the urge to continue helping him.

He had no reason to feel shame. Honey Wine had never heard of anyone not wetting himself during a session with The Lady, and it wasn’t unheard of for victims to loose bowel control as well, particularly in the moments before death. The latter hadn’t happened to the Knight, though Honey Wine guessed if the session hadn’t stopped, it certainly would have occurred.

Once he’d finished cleaning himself and lay back down on the floor, Honey Wine shrugged off her cloak and placed it over his bare chest. The chamber had grown cold, but at least her dress was long-sleeved and woolen.

In the fading light, she traced a finger across Torn’s full lower lip. She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

“That feels nice,” he murmured.