Chapter 5 part 3

Peter had been attempting to sleep when he heard the angry footsteps storming towards him; bringing an unsettling feeling of dread that churned in his stomach.

"Well prove it wimp. Mr. Frankenstein won't bother us 'ere"

The man didn't dare open his eyes as he felt the men's piercing eyes on him…again. But he kept his breath steady and attained the look of sleep for the moment. He couldn't help but notice just how drunk they were.

And what were they trying to prove this time? How many times had he seen strength contests from his cell, or drinking- contests, or who- had- fucked- the-most -girls contest…and in the end, for him, they all resulted in his pain. He knew this would be no better.

The footsteps continued closer to him, one set, a bit more prideful, and calm as well. The sounds of keys Jingling accompanied it.

"I'll show you how to handle a monster," said Gabriel walking through the door of the chain room carrying his favorite single tail whip.

Peter barely opened his eyes and froze.

Not again…

---

The woman heard deep laughing, drunken and dangerous, as she came close to the door. She put the tray down on the floor and sat up against the door, content to wait till the drunken fools went to sleep. Part of her wanting to peek inside but a feeling of dread swept over her.

Something about what Peter had told her sunk in. If they had no qualms doing what they did to those girls, then why in their drunken state would they care about her, even if she was their employer's wife?

And it wasn't like Peter would be able to help if they tried anything. She shivered in fear at the thought.

Poor Peter. She hoped they weren't bothering him with the threat of docked pay over their head.

---

They had gagged him and bound his hands, laughing darkly, this time in rough rope. He tried to struggle as they pulled him off the bed, forgetting the uselessness of it. His instinct was telling him to get away, and fast. Logic only took hold once they threatened to re-break his leg.

So he forced himself to keep from panicking like he knew they wanted him to, and let them drag him out to the middle of the chain room. Instead he dropped his weight to the ground and let his feet drag; he would not make this easy on them.

Once there he felt Gabriel's rough hand pulling his hair, making him look into the crude man's face, as the guard said,

"I ain't scared of you, freak."

His head has dropped and he fell hard onto the stone floor, making him see stars.

Peter twisted around seeing Gabriel and John move out of his sight for a second. But he wished he hadn't. Gabriel had the single-tail whip with its metal tip in sight, its red tint eerily glowing off the oil lamps nearby.

He was pushed down once more and soon the comfort of the tattered shirt he wore was gone, ripped off, displaying his disgusting body. A chain was threaded through the rope and onto a ring on the floor, forcing peter to stay on his stomach, his already scar-littered back free to torment.

As the torture began he could only hold off the need to scream for less than a minute, the cruel metal tip dragging its way through healing wounds, and stitched skin.

But soon enough the drunken men started laughing as he pathetically cried out into the gag, tears streaming down his face. God, he figured he'd be used to this torture by now.

He screamed, begging them to stop, only getting cruel taunts back.

And soon enough he felt darkness call him and pull him into its clutches, leading him to a blissful state of unconsciousness where pain could not follow.