Update: I am making progress on the story. I hope to have it done soon but I'm worried about rushing and causing errors. If you have read this far, I assume your kinda curious and I thank you for reading. (If not your probably here for the torture as mentioned in chapter 1, ha!) Be warned though after this chapter it escalates into something much worse. (hence the blood/gore warning)

Holding the candle light a bit longer in her heartless face, Ashta continued to sharpen her blade with a slow obsession. By now it had become so sharp that she didn't doubt a simple touch could draw blood. It had taken many lives in the past and today it would taste blood again…

Nearly slipping into reminisce Ashta was grateful for the background echo of secure chains and departing footsteps.

Finally...

Sheathing the dagger she stood up; eyeing the candlelight one last time before disappearing into the black doorway.

Not to far away in another room Kyle groaned weakly. The sedative was still semi active and time didn't seem quite real yet. Pain did, but that was still beside the point as his mind began to cycle though its inevitable questions.

"Where am I?"

It was cold and his eyes were still having trouble focusing in the light. As far as he could tell it was artificial, but the blur wasn't helping much. It was also quiet, very quiet with so little sound he could hear his own pulse throbbing in his ears. Apart from uncertainty, at least he had enough self awareness to know he was standing up, partly from the knowledge that his bare feet were freezing and something cold grasped his wrists.

Wearily, Kyle tried to clear his head and he swirled about, rotating his neck in random directions. Still groggy, his desires were mixed and his only concern was that if the police were indeed behind this it would easily place them at the top of his revenge list. Kindling the thought, the anger helped to push the migraine back as he began to fight for full consciousness. It took a few minutes, bobbing in and out of relative thinking, but at long last the drowsy agent left him. It was hardly a reward though as the first thing Kyle saw robbed him of a few heartbeats.

Staring upwards, Kyle could see his arms were raised high above his head at tight 45 degree angles; with solid steel shackles encasing a good three inches of his skin below the wrist. The chains which connected them to the holes in the ceiling were taut and his attempt to move was quickly checked; being useless at best. Looking down didn't increase his fortunes either since two more shackles bound his ankles with the same merciless strain. Anchored though similar holes in the rock, the chains were so tight his heels wouldn't even lift from the ground. Having already noticed he was naked except for his black boxers the sudden realization of what was happening crystallized and a new kind of fear began to creep into him as his eyes darted.

It was a cell, one that was made of stone and had been crafted with only one doorway; which at the moment held nothing but darkness. And on either side of him, two tables acted as cherubim, concealing their various shapes and outlines from under grey cloth. Finding it difficult to look over his shoulders, Kyle managed to snap pictures of the empty space behind, noticing the suspended lights last. Apart from the tables the room was bare despite being 30x30 feet or so.

Kyle tried to breath. The back of his mind was falling into denial and the thoughts about what would happen were whirling around him.

His mind fought over it, as his emotions began to slip. Nervousness took hold.

Soaking all this in took only seconds but the alarming part was not the room itself but the fact that he was here in the centre of it; chained and helpless. It looked more like a torture chamber then anything and the foreboding part was that his soul was telling him it was exactly so. Normally Kyle had a good grasp on fear as he had been in fights; with cops, he had his life threatened on numerous occasions, and even came close to drowning once. He also had been graced with the adrenaline rush of almost crashing at 120mph. There were other incidents too but the constant thing was that the fear seemed to stay on the same level. All of these (for the most part) had been in situations he put himself into and where he had the most control of what happened.

But here he was alone, exposed, and helpless with not even the remote chance of escape. He couldn't defend himself and it was quite possible no one would hear him if he screamed for help. There were no windows here and the smell of stale cold air stabbed him with the awareness of being underground. Combined with the universal fear of the unknown Kyle's heart began to race as he attempted a struggle; the chains mocking him as he squirmed.

Struggling harder and harder, Kyle threw all his strength at the bonds unable to bend one limb or rattle one link. Trying his wrists in hope that they might slip he had only managed to flex his hands once before a sudden and rather ghastly echo rasped his tuned hearing. Stopping instantly, Kyle listened. The echo came again, a clear sharp sound; and again becoming almost rhythmic. The fourth note brought a huge crash with it, leaving a sort of rusty shriek and a slam that vibrated his bones as if it were a jet. The first sounds continued after that and it didn't take long for Kyle to realize they were footsteps. Perfectly still with the fear in all but his face, he could only listen as they approached, spiking his adrenaline while he faced the hollow doorway.

They were coming this way.

Slowing up, the footsteps pounded against the silent air until at last a shape shifting figure appeared just outside of the ominous doorway. While just out of range and veiled in shadow Kyle knew, no doubt, that it could see him. Probably even see his body's shaking from his rapid pulse.

Ashta stood in the doorway, clad in the exact apparel she wore last night. She knew that he couldn't see her yet and she would leave it that way since psychological intimidation would suffice for now. Being an expert at reading people it was mere child's play to see he was quite fearful. And although she would admit it was interesting at how most of it escaped his facial expression, his body on the other hand, was on the edge.

Taking a moment Ashta swept her eyes over his figure, enjoying the lust her dark mind was generating. Aside from the rich and famous stereotypes of what a man should be, he really did look quite good. A cute face and mostly hairless body down to the waist; it was a pleasing sight to her. She knew he was twenty two but without his usual attire he looked as if floating in the margin of nineteen or twenty. Hardly grotesque, a few bones of the ribcage were showing and most muscles although small looked strong and compact. In the architecture of his own body it wasn't a bad sight at all; even though she might have guessed he was only one sixty or one seventy pounds.

Breaking from her momentary desires Ashta's mind suddenly snapped, catapulting her to the other side of the scale.

"If only..."

Yeah, if only he hadn't betrayed her and said those last words "Get lost!"

Tightening her hand so that her finger nails almost pieced herself, she let her eyes close. This youth had no idea what he was dealing with. No one upon no one said "no" to her. And he would soon find out why.

In their brief relationship she had hidden her wealth, influence and power from him easily. Thus in the process had also hidden her biggest weakness. Her desire for power… A common trait between many it was incredibly excessive in Ashta. And mixed with a parentless inheritance, an unquenchable lust, and violent mood swings had become lost to voracity at the early age of twenty.

Now twenty five, having many chances to apply it, her interests for pleasure and fun were almost demonic. She had been to Europe, and had had a lot of fun there with the organization. But after time even the auctions, the torture, and the circle of power was annoying…not to mention boring. Not that she needed it; here in the US it was just as easy and with her amount of influence and resource in the dirty world it wasn't a challenge to get anything she wanted.

Greater then this was the truth that she was very smart. Gaining wealth and power always took brains, and with a ruthless mind such as hers she was a natural. To top that she had spent the last fifteen years training in all sorts of weapon craft and martial arts on the side. Starting out as a shallow method to defeat boredom it was now a nasty weapon to be wielded in any way she saw fit.

Looking again into her captive from the darkness Ashta let her smile fade. He and everything about him belonged to her. By now his car should be scrap metal, or at least well on its way there. No one would find anything… "Erase" was the idea and from her past knowledge it was laughably obvious that nothing would be done. According to all the "Private" information she had fished out from him and the government he was hated by the police, had no family, and kept only three contacts which he rarely spoke to. Additionally he lived in a secluded part of the outskirts….alone nonetheless. And even if in the odd chance someone did something, she would be ready. All aside there was just one more thing to close.

Why she had liked him.

Ashta looked at the floor. Did she like him? She couldn't remember. Did it even matter? No. Would she relent? No. Youth were a lot more fun to torture anyway. They looked nicer and would often scream in greater intensity.

Smelling the fear, Ashta smirked; stepping into the room.

--

Ever growing, Kyle's fear began to escalate. Panic had not yet set in but his body still trembled despite his best efforts to control it. His captivator was stepping forward now leaving only seconds until the harrowing suspense ended.

He wished it hadn't…for what came next was far worse.

"ASHTA!?"

He thought he had screamed it. There was no fucking way it could be her! How could it? It was a dream…no it was a fucking nightmare! She wasn't here, his eyes were lying. Of all the people, this must have been this sickest joke fate had ever played on a human being. Unable to look away his muscles tensed and he leaned back for what little it was worth.

Ashta came closer extending her palm to grasp his chin, pulling gently as her face narrowed the distance between them. For a brief second she played with him, stroking the skin while he trembled. But then focusing a stare of hatred, she suddenly locked her grip on his windpipe; drowning her name as he tried to speak. He tried again but this time not even a letter came out. Her grip intensified and soon Kyle's attempt at avoiding panic was all but a memory as he tried his bonds, gasping silently but desperately at her iron grip. For ages he struggled, desperate for air as his head moved about with decreasing speed, attempting vainly to pry her off. Failing, his resistance weakened and he found himself looking straight into her hellish eyes before the lack of oxygen blurred them. Believing she was really going to kill him Kyle was just about to pass out when she abruptly released her grip, letting his head fall. His lungs heaved and for about a minute he just hung there gasping for air while Ashta fished under the tablecloth for her first weapon.

Still rasping as she moved behind him Kyle's thoughts again flooded his conscious. He was still in denial and his brain was moving to fast to think logically. The whole situation was still unbelievable and the initial trauma was doing a great deal to confuse any directed thoughts. The prospects of death and torture were becoming very real and a fear he had never felt before was gripping his insides.

Reflecting upon this Ashta was blank.

Approaching her target she readied her first device. Nothing too fancy or damaging, it was a basic flexible stick; more or less a crude beating rod, except it was very light and had the quivering tendency to deliver blows that were far more painful compared to similar devices. Warping the edge with her adjacent hand Ashta swung the device landing a hit that echoed down the hall.

Kyle screamed, feeling lightning scatter though his whole body. It was incredible at how painful the blow was, almost impossible. Even if it was the first it had definitely been the worst feeling he had ever experienced. Rushing to halt the attack with his voice a second blow pounded the breath out of him. Panting, he almost had enough air for a third breath when again it was blown out. Without the ability to scream the pain intensified and Kyle collapsed leaving the chains to hold his tight position themselves. The forth blow made his body shake a little, as again, he fought for air. With the fifth and sixth blows being no different Kyle was horrified to discover she was doing it on purpose. Just when he had enough air to scream she would strike and force it from his grasp. The timing was consistently perfect and the agony felt like hell. To make it worse, Ashta was fast enough to strike several blows at the same time and it wasn't long before the thighs, calves, and arms were all repeated targets. After only one minute the torment had Kyle on the ropes and was breathlessly begging to pass out. However mercy did not exist in Ashta's mind and she continued with an endless supply of stamina.

--

Kyle constricted, feeling needles in his lungs. It took five or six tries just to moan and even then it was weak and inhaled. He could barely lift his head and was covered in whatever remaining sweat she didn't beat off him. Her whipping had only lasted ten minutes but to him it might have been a hundred. Standing as a testament to her cruel treatment, his body was a mess of cross slashed bruises and littered red marks. All of it was stinging and the inability to bend over made it even worse. The nerves burned and all his muscles shook and twitched.

Ashta fingered the rod, flipping it in her hand as she walked to the front. Glancing at all the damage so far was scarcely enough to reduce a fraction of her anger; and ironically it would return in minutes anyway.

Clasping her hand around her victim's hair she yanked him up, reminding him the source of his pain. His eyes were pleading but she ignored it. It was only a check anyway. There were many things she had planned and couldn't afford for him to pass out just yet. Satisfied that the situation was favorable and not wanting to stay idle for too long she flexed her weapon, bending it back and striking the chest.

Kyle screamed.

Blow after blow, spike after spike, Ashta had decided to beat the front this time, and was pleased that Kyle found it much worse. And while the body received much attention, Ashta had decided not to touch his head. Although in a strange mindset she still liked his cute face as it seemed to heighten the pleasure of her work. She was beginning to settle into her twisted hobby now, like a warrior sinking into battle.

While not as strong mentally or physically as when it started, Kyle was still conscious enough to feel the full weight of every strike. Speech was now like a luxury and the chronic beatings were paving out his endurance. Even his thoughts scarcely existed as the only thing that had sufficient voice was his deafening desire for it to stop. Nonetheless there was nothing he could do and his body just hung there in helplessness.

End of chapter 2