“Get me the Pear,” he said, and Lucy began to sob.
The women beside Zoey gasped or squeezed their eyes shut.
“Please, James,” Lucy moaned, panting, near hysterics. “Please don’t. I swear I’ll listen. I’ll do whatever you say. I swear to god…” But her choking sobs cut off her words, and what followed next was a shrill scream that rattled Zoey’s eardrums.
James ignored her pleas and accepted the device from the guard who had retrieved it.
On the floor Lucy twitched, her knees jammed together in a futile attempt to ward off her attacker, her body twisted as if undecided which direction it desired to go.
“Spread her,” he said, and Lucy howled, threw back her head.
The Pear was named for its shape, the large metallic oval head supported by a thick rod leading to its base. At the end of the rod, a lever. Metal prongs adorned the head of the Pear.
James pushed the Pear into Lucy’s vagina, and Zoey could see the oversized bulb obscenely spreading the woman’s tortured flesh.
Lucy thrashed, tried to slide away on the floor but was held down tight. Two-fisted, James gripped the handle and began to rotate the lever. With each turn, the Pear spread Lucy further, the metal prongs catching her flesh, and she screeched, unable to escape the torment.
James turned and turned the lever until there was a hideous ripping sound, until blood poured from between Lucy’s legs. Unconscious or dead, she no longer moved.
The stunned women were told to report back to the cells.
Chapter 8
Lights out for more than an hour now. Zoey crept over to the bars that separated her cell from Kim’s and lightly tapped the metal with her fingertips. The clink was barely audible, but in the silence of the room it was loud enough. If Kim was already sleeping she didn’t want to wake her.
A minute later, Kim’s fingers entwined around Zoey’s on the bars. Zoey pressed her face against the cool metal.
“We have to get out of here,” Zoey whispered, lofty breath carrying her message. “I’ve been watching them, Kim. This place is not that well-guarded. And they don’t even have real weapons, just clubs and whips. Those aren’t lethal, not like guns and knives.”
“No, Zoey, we can’t. I’m scared. If we got caught…”
Zoey could barely make out the other woman’s features, could see a flash of white when Kim blinked. A wall sconce had been left lit, throwing the dimmest shadow into the darkness.
Other than that, Kim was barely a silhouette. “I don’t even know where this place is, Zoey. Underground we think, but who knows?”
“I don’t know either. I was unconscious when they brought me in. I only remember waking up in this cell.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“We have to do something. We outnumber them. We could overtake them.”
Kim shook her head; Zoey felt the rush of movement.
“But we have nothing to lose. It just keeps getting worse. I don’t believe for a second that they’ll let us go. Not after all of this. Not after what they did to Lucy.”
Kim squeezed Zoey’s hands. “If you try to escape, you’ll be punished. I can’t even imagine what they’d do. Besides, most of us are just too weak. And I’ve got some really nasty injuries.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I can barely walk.”
“They can clean us up and give us ointments, but they never give us a chance to heal.”
“I wonder how Lucy’s doing,” Zoey said, pressing her forehead into the metal.
“I don’t know.” Kim sighed. “Don’t know where she is. They didn’t bring her back. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”
“All the more reason to get out of here, Kim. Are you in or not?”
Kim exhaled, her warm breath tickling Zoey’s cheek. “I can’t. I’ll be getting out of here soon. James said I can probably go in a couple of weeks. I’ve been here almost eight months already.”
Strings of hair fell in her eyes, and Zoey pushed them back. “Do you know the way out? I’ve been in most of the rooms but haven’t seen an exit.”
“In all the time I’ve been here, I’ve never see one. I’ve never seen any of the guards come or go. Listen, Zoey, I won’t go with you, but maybe some of the others will. Ask around.”
She’d been watching, trying to see where her tormentors went after they left the rooms, to see where they turned off as they wandered down the corridor. So hard to tell. Unmarked doors, and the guards never announced their departure or their destination, even to each other.
If she’d managed to keep track properly, which was almost impossible in their bizarre time-keeping methods, not knowing day from night, she guessed she’d been there at least a month.
Everyone was assembled in Room Five, large enough to hold all the prisoners (guests) and guards. Lucy still hadn’t reappeared, and she’d been replaced by a new prisoner (guest).
Three women were chained naked, facing the wall at the far end of the room.
James faced the audience. “Many of you have become lax. You seem to believe I’m kidding around. Perhaps you think that because you’ve been here a while, I won’t go as hard on you as I would a newcomer. Not so, ladies, not so. As a matter of fact, since you already know the rules, I’m inclined to be even tougher on you.
“But I digress. What we have before us are three guests who have forgotten the rules. Three who believed, perhaps, that this has become some sort of joke.”
The woman closest to James slumped forward, her shoulders hitching.
James pulled on a pair of utility gloves and accepted a cat o’ nine tails—thick reinforced shaft, multiple leather strands—from the guard Tony. Raised his arm, the whip overhead and behind his back, and struck the first women and then another, until he was whipping all three, each blow causing horrible screams. The cat o’ nine tails split their flesh, left bloody welts exuding pus and gore on their backs and arms and legs, ample flesh quivering with each blow.
Breathing hard, hands on his knees, face glowing with exertion and happiness, James pointed at the first woman. “Sandra here spoke. Sandra’s been here way too long to have made such a careless mistake.” Crack! Sandra screamed, her body shaking, as if trying to break free of the chains.
He approached the middle woman. “Marie was late. Again.”
Crack! Flesh blood tricked down Marie’s thigh, and she shuddered. “Marie’s always late. Think now maybe she’ll be on time?”
“Joanna…” James shook his head. “Joanna thought it was a good idea to attack a guard. There’s no excuse for such an indiscretion. No forgiveness.”
Crack! The third woman shrieked, threw back her head, falling toward her knees but caught by her wrists in the shackles. To the guard beside him, he said, “Turn her around. And get me the Ripper.”
Joanna was unchained, and she slumped against the guards, who again secured her to the wall, this time facing out.
Another guard handed James the device.
Four-pronged, like sets of fangs, two metal curved spikes jutting up from the bottom, two reaching down from the top.
Face already drenched with tears, Joanna sobbed harder.
“No forgiveness for assaulting a guard. No redemption. When one bites the hand that feeds her, the punishment must be severe. Some rules are never to be broken; such transgressions are intolerable. Let this be a lesson to all of you.”
Gently, he raked the tool along her abdomen, leaving pink streaks in its stead.