Terror. Pain. Shame. Terror. Pain. Shame. Terror. Pain. Shame...
Creed could not remember when last she could think of something that didn't cause those three words. At the ripe old age of twelve, the leader of the gang who owned her had decided that Creed was growing into a desirable creature. As such, to further the finances of the gang, he would send her to be trained by a professional courtesan. That had been two years ago...she thought. Could be more or less. She could not remember the last time she was allowed to see sunshine without being dosed on hallucinogens, and there were no calendars in the cells or common rooms. The lights were kept off or on low so that when their mistress needed their attention all she had to do was speak quietly. If no one noticed, or if she felt like it, she would activate high powered strobe lights to burn their eyes.
Her name was Poppy Sun, and a pit viper would be far more appropriate for how much she cared for her students, or her prey, depending on one's view. In actuality, she was a rabbit faunus, and Creed had spent enough time around cruel and uncaring people to know that Poppy Sun was one of the most dangerous women she had ever met. And she taught her 'girls' to be the same. Those that failed were killed, tortured, or lobotomized and put on sale as living sex dolls. Those who passed were forced to laugh and jeer at their lessers, to taunt them as they were dragged away. They did not do this out of malice. Most of them at least. They were forced to do it. Be cruel to the weak or be punished. Those who were made of stronger stuff would overcome. Those who were not would break or be broken. Creed...couldn't even hate the mistress for their treatment. It was surgical in its cruelty, focused in its terror. Every girl here knew that they were but the mistress' word away from being forced into a lifetime of pain, and between the drugs in the food and their mistress' kinder words, some poor souls had even fallen in love with her.
Creed remembered one such girl. A kind, sad girl. One who had been kidnapped from her family by her father's best friend and sold into slavery. She had been terrified, but had tried to make friends, tried to make the best of the situation, tried to escape. Creed remembered how the girl had once given her her meal when Creed was being punished. They had forced the girls to be nude for the first six months they had been with mistress and Creed had dared to give a girl her blanket. Her punishment was prolonged electroshock treatments and two weeks without food. The girl had dared everything to help Creed and had lost. She had been found out. Her punishment was the same as Creed's though mistress had added extra. After the shocks, they would administer drugs that would numb the pain and make her feel good. Mistress would come in and pet the girl, treat her like a beloved pet. Cuddle her, hug and kiss her. The kind, sad girl who had helped Creed was not there anymore. Dead in all but body, her mind had broken. Now she was mistress Poppy's personal pet. She leads her by a collar and took her everywhere, the girl convinced that she was an obedient dog. Poppy had gone a step further, having the girls hands and legs removed, her hair removed, and her nose cut open to more resemble a dog's. Her front teeth were knocked out and her canines were replaced with dull implants to more perfect the picture.
And because of the addicting drugs and punishments they were given, the girls laughed and taunted the sad creature everytime they saw it. The drugs had even caused many of the girls, herself, unfortunately, included, to show sadistic tendencies. One of the tests they were given was to inflict as much pain on their partner as possible without leaving a trace or permanent injury. Creed had had wooden toothpicks shoved under her fingernails, then they were put into water so the toothpicks would swell. The girl failed so she was punished. Her punishment was up to Creed. And Creed felt horrible, horrible shame at how much she had enjoyed hurting the girl. Even now she remembered how she spoke to the girl, twisted her joints, put needles into her most sensitive parts. How she screamed after Creed gave her something to make her more sensitive then brushed fingers with a feather. Creed hated this place, but not hardly as much as she hated herself. To punish herself, she swore that she would keep what kindness she had left. She would force herself to love, to care, and she would force herself to live, if only out of penance for her sins. She swore this on her salvation, on her sister Lacey, and on her life. She would never harden her heart as they wanted, turn a blind eye, or walk away. Not when she could suffer compassion and lose. Never.