Warning: The following chapter contains adult situations and graphic content that might be disturbing to some readers. I'm choosing not to give spoilers, so if you have triggers please feel free to message me with any questions you might have before reading.

CHAPTER 9

Practice Makes Perfect

Whatever he'd rubbed on my back yesterday had numbed the pain enough for me to sleep, but as it wore off, I was thrust back into a world of agony. I was still lying on my stomach. My entire backside felt swollen and hot—worse than any sunburn I'd ever had. At the same time, the rest of me was freezing because he'd left my blanket lying on the floor when he left. I couldn't reach it without stretching and I didn't think I could bear the pain if I moved right now. It didn't matter anyway; I'd rather freeze to death than have anything touching my skin.

The longer I lay there, the louder and more painful the noises in my stomach became. I rolled onto my side, blinking back tears as my skin stretched until I thought it would split. I gave myself a few minutes to adjust to the pain before I felt around on the bed for the paper bag. My stomach was hurting so badly, I needed to take the edge off. I managed to tear off a tiny piece of peanut butter sandwich and slip it in my mouth. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to me if he didn't come back. Being locked down here at his mercy for food and water meant his fate sealed mine. But if his anger was the price I paid for living, I wasn't sure it was worth it.

I drifted in and out of sleep, eating a little each time before letting sleep take me back under. I don't know if it was a sound or the temperature dropping in the room that woke me, but this time when I opened my eyes, he was sitting side view in his chair in front of the glass cases—naked. His gaze remained steadfast on the women. I wasn't sure he was even aware I was in the room.

My eyes widened when I noticed his hand moving up and down his stiff cock. My mind raced, trying to understand why he was suddenly maintaining an erection when nothing he'd forced me to do to him had been able to make him hard. I looked down at the blanket on the floor, suddenly desperate to have it draped over me. I slowly reached down, holding in my cries of pain as I stretched my body far enough to pull it off the floor and over me as if putting on armor.

As his hand stroked faster, his breathing accelerated, and he threw his head back, groaning loudly. He held his palm over the tip of his dick to catch the fluid as it erupted. After he collected every drop, he took slow breaths, trying to calm himself until he was able to walk to the cases.

While he was in his zone, paying me no attention, he dipped his index finger into his liquid. My eyes followed his finger, unable to breathe, as he painted streaks on the glass, whispering as he moved from one to the next, marking them with his essence. I curled my lip in disgust—appalled that these women had to endure further degradation. As if he sensed me watching, he stopped mid swipe and turned to me, our eyes connected and held. In that moment, he looked innocent—almost childlike.

He abandoned what he was doing and started toward me with single minded purpose, his now limp penis dangling between his thighs with every step. My mouth had been hanging open as I watched him painting on the cases, but now that he was focused on me, I clamped it shut and swallowed hard, fear overriding my physical suffering as self-preservation kicked in. I quickly sat up, ignoring the blast of pain and scooted backward on the mattress to get away from him. When my back scraped against the roughened block wall, I hissed and lurched forward, falling off the bed as my back erupted in flames. Before I hit the floor, he quickly caught me by the arm and yanked me back up onto the bed while still cupping the remnants of liquid in his free hand. I fought to stay upright as he pushed me down onto my damaged back. "Please… my back." I begged him to let me up.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I want you to lie down." His mouth quirked up in a malevolent smile as he tapped my shoulder with the tip of the finger he'd been using to paint the cases.

"No." I begged. I couldn't yield to him, but if I didn't, he might kill me, and I didn't want to die. I squeezed my eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners. When his hand squeezed my shoulder and pushed me down, a deep primal urge to fight hit me, but I told myself it was no use. I was beaten, and we both knew it. He had something in mind to do to me and nothing was going to stop him.

I watched him dip his finger in the disgusting liquid still cupped in his other hand and nearly gagged. I shook my head against the mattress, knowing what he was about to do. "Please don't." My voice broke as I begged him to leave me alone. My instinct to fight was too strong. The closer his wet finger got to me, the harder it was to let him do it—even if it meant saving my life.

I grabbed his forearm with both hands to hold him off, but his finger continued toward me. I pushed against him harder, fixated on keeping his glistening finger away from me, but the harder I pushed, the bigger his smile got. It seemed as if he was barely applying any energy at all while my struggling was making the skin on my back feel like it was being ripped off. His finger was inching closer—now only millimeters from my nipple—and then… he touched me. I lost all control—hitting, scratching, and clawing. "Get away from me… get if off… get it off me."

"Stop it." His voice was sharp and commanding as he yanked his arm out of my grasp. My hands fell onto my stomach in defeat. "I brought pizza for our dinner, but if you touch me again without permission, I will eat it alone while you watch." He waited for a reaction, but I could only lie there, forcing air in and out through my nostrils and grinding my back teeth to dust. Did he expect me to let him do this to me and not try to stop him? He was out of his mind. "Are we clear?" His eyebrows lifted and held as he waited.

I had no control over anything that happened, but that didn't mean I had to watch him do whatever it was he was going to do, so I closed my eyes. Bile crept up my throat as I felt him brush my nipple, wetting it with his ejaculation, first one then the other.

"Open your eyes." He groaned in frustration, waiting for me to obey. "I want you to watch."

I clenched my hands into fists, grudgingly opening my eyes, hoping it would be over fast. His eyes sparkled down at me in fascinated delight as he blew on one nipple and then the other, making them pucker into tight buds. His mouth fell open, watering for a taste. As his head descended closer to my breast, I tried shoving him away again. This time, he effortlessly took both my hands in one of his and held them over my head, forcing my breasts upward as if I were offering them to him of my own free will. I wanted to puke.

I sobbed as I looked at the ceiling, at the wall, any place but him. When I finally felt his tongue on my nipple, I wanted to die. Tears ran from the corners of my eyes while I silently cried for Ranger, for Joe, for my Mom… for anybody.

He hummed in delight as he slowly licked each nipple, sucking his own taste from my skin. A fresh surge of anger splintered through me and I started twisting and struggling. He was caught off guard and loosened his hold around my wrists. I was able to slip my hands free and shove him off. To keep from falling, he grabbed for me, but I flapped my arms around, leaving him with nothing to grasp.

He landed on his ass with a thud and a hateful expression on his face. I thought for sure, he'd give me another beating, but instead he slowly got to his feet and walked over to the pile of clothes. After he got dressed, he placed a large pizza box on the table and sat down.

"Get over here and eat." His voice was gruff as he reached for a slice of pizza, but I wasn't seeing any signs of retaliation from him.

I breathed a sigh of relief even though his actions confused me. His filth was still on my breasts and wrists, so I used the corner of my blanket to hastily wipe it away before I walked to the table. I was wary of his mood, but from my experience so far, his moods changed quicker than my cars went up in flames.

"What day is it?" I asked as I sat down and reached for a slice of pizza.

"Why," he chuckled. "Do you have a hot date?"

I took a deep breath, trying to harness the urge to put my hands around his neck.

"If you must know, today is January third."

My hand tightened around my water bottle. Today was my ninth day in this cellar, which meant he'd skipped yesterday. I'd been in so much pain I hadn't noticed he'd been gone longer. My heart fluttered painfully at how easy it would be for him to let me die down here. I stuffed my mouth with a bite of pizza, eating with gusto. Only minutes ago, I wished for death and now I was ready to do anything to stay alive.

"You didn't do well on your first test," he said conversationally as he reached for another slice of pizza. "Your lack of focus made me so angry I had to stay away yesterday. I couldn't chance having to punish you again so soon."

Something was very wrong with him and nothing I said was going to change that. The only thing I could do right now was make sure my belly was full. I reached for my fourth slice, leaving one final piece in the box. He seemed to be slowing down and I hoped he'd leave that one for me as well. As if he'd read my mind, his eyes locked on mine and a slow smile creeped over his face as he reached for the last piece. "You don't want this do you?" I turned away, not wanting him to see the hope extinguished from my eyes. He chuckled as he stuffed it into his mouth and put the empty box in a garbage bag. "Don't worry we still have our after-dinner treat."

I wanted to groan in disgust when he pulled out two pints of Chunky Monkey. I was growing to hate them with a passion.

After our meal was complete, he put everything away, and held his hand out to me. "It's time."

Despite my stinging back, I slid down in my chair at the same time he grabbed my wrist and pulled me up. "Nooo," I tried twisting my arm away, frantically begging him. "I can't do that again. Please don't make me."

"Stop it!" he yelled. When I didn't calm down, he smoothed his hand over my hair. "Don't be scared. I have confidence you'll do better this time." With that proclamation, he tugged me across the room. I stumbled behind him, suddenly sweating even though it was near freezing in here. My heart was beating so fast, I wondered if it was possible to die of fear.

Instead of securing me to the pole, he made me stand in front of the women. My shackles were still attached and so was my tether, which kept me a little more than arm's length away from them. I blinked back tears and tried hard to keep my body from shaking. I knew full well what was going to happen, and I also knew this beating was going to hurt worse since my back still bore the unhealed streaks from two days ago.

My instincts screamed at me to run. I stepped back, right into his chest, and sucked in a breath. His arms came around me, like a lover, resting low on my belly. "Please don't make me do it." I sobbed. "My back isn't even healed. You're going to kill me."

His arms tightened and his hot breath moistened my ear as he whispered. "You can do this. I believe in you." Abruptly, he released me and walked closer to the cases, placing himself between the women and me. He faced me and unbuckled his belt, quickly removing it from the loops. It made a cracking sound as it whipped through the air. He gave me a wide berth, circling around until he was at my back. "You may begin," he said with callous indifference.

I opened my mouth to protest one more time, but nothing came out. All I could do was suck in air that did nothing to make it easier to breathe. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Nausea threatened and I bent over at the waist. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, getting impatient, and I knew that if I didn't start soon, he'd lash out in anger. I straightened my spine as I tried to control my breathing enough to form words. I started with Jenny, the first victim, and told her story, making only one mistake.

"Why can't you learn?" he screamed at the same time the lash broke across my back.

The blow knocked the air out of me, and I staggered forward, propelled beyond the chains reach. My neck jerked against the collar so hard, I thought my windpipe might have been crushed. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see. The pain was everywhere all at once and it was so much worse than last time. It felt like he'd used a knife on me instead of leather.

I clawed at my collar, desperate to relieve the pressure. When I was finally able to draw breath, I looked down, expecting to see blood dripping onto the floor, but there were only tears. I knew he was still behind me and that any second the belt could fly at me again. I was filled with so much anger I was strangling on it. If I ever got my hands on that belt, I'd wrap it around his neck, and pull until his face turned purple and he couldn't breathe. I'd hold it tight while the light in his eyes went out and he was deader than the women in front of me.

He was oblivious to my murderous thoughts. "Continue," he instructed as he waved the belt back and forth along the floor.

It went on like that until I finished with the last woman, Melissa, and by then I was laying on the floor curled in a ball, tears rolling down my face. The effect of eleven lashes on my already damaged back was barbaric. I could feel him standing over me. Not knowing what he had planned next kept me in a constant state of awareness. He grabbed hold of the chain connected to my collar and pulled me up. I dug my fingers in between the metal and my skin, choking and sputtering while trying to get my feet under me. My need for air was turning desperate. When I was on my feet, he let the chain go slack while I continued to gasp.

He barely gave me time to breathe before tugging the chain, directing me as if I were a dog to follow him. He led me back to the bed and I practically fell onto my stomach. I had no fight left in me, but I braced for what was to come. I knew this wasn't over when I heard him rummaging in the boxes on the other side of the room and then felt the mattress shift as he sat down. I was sure he was rubbing the ointment into my back, but this time I couldn't feel anything. I was numb from the inside out. My mind was a chaotic mess of emotions, swirling like a hurricane until I was so confused, I didn't know what I felt.

"So soft," he said, kneading one butt cheek and then the other as if he was enjoying applying his special brand of after care. I didn't object to his ministrations or fight him off. He was going to do what he wanted, and I was so beaten down I was going to let him. "Lie still and rest." He gave me one final pat on the ass and got to his feet. He moved across the room to put the cream away and exchange the generators and lantern batteries.

He paused in front of my bed and laid the brown paper bag and bottle of water beside me. He stood watching me for some time, waiting for a response from me, but I never turned toward him. He finally sighed heavily and left.