[NSFW] LET'S WRITE... (TORTURE)

Chapter 1

When Darren woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he had a pounding headache.

The second thing was that there was a bag on his head, and he was tied to a chair.

"What the fu--" he started.

"Oh, I see you've woken up, Sleeping Beauty," said a familiar female voice.

It took him a few moments to sort through the foggy memories from last night, but he was eventually able to picture her face: the cute brunette he'd been flirting with at the bar. He'd told her some lame joke, she'd laughed, he'd finished his drink and her radiant smile seemed to become...predatory. Chilling, almost. It was almost as if she--

"You...you spiked my drink?" he asked groggily, already knowing the answer. More memories of their conversation came flooding back. "You said...you said you worked in the justice system."

The bag was roughly pulled off his head and he looked into her blank, remorseless eyes. "And I do, Darren. I work for all the jilted women out there who have cheating bastards like you for boyfriends. I'm here to show you that your behaviour has consequences."

"Damn right it has consequences! If you don't let me out of this chair right now I'm going to--" his words were cut off as she swung a wrench he hadn't noticed she was carrying in a heavy arc that cracked him in the jaw. He grunted and spat out blood and a shard of broken tooth as he glared at her defiantly.

"That all you've got?" he asked through clenched teeth, wincing every time he moved his mouth.

The girl smiled her predatory smile. "You can cut the bravado, Casanova. The night is young and believe me: I have nothing but time."

She sauntered over to a tray laden with various pieces of equipment: scalpels, a car battery, a few rusty things that looked like ancient medieval torture devices, and...well, Darren got the gist of the rest, but he didn't want to look at any of it.

"We're going to have some fun, you and I," the girl continued in a sing-song voice. "That's what you wanted, right Darren? Some fun?" she lifted the hem of her skirt as she spoke, flashing him her panties.

"We'll see how much fun you're having when I get free you psycho bitch," he spat.

"Now now, calling a girl names is no way to get her juices flowing, Darren! Let me show you how it's done," she said, reappearing before him with a miniature guillotine. She grabbed his hand, placed his left index finger through the hole, and before he could register what she was doing she had flipped the lever and the blade descended, cleanly severing the tip. Darren choked back a scream, chewing the inside of his cheek to stop himself. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

"An admirable effort, loverboy, but I'm just getting started," the girl said softly. "You will scream before I'm done, trust me. Nobody will think any less of you if you want to start now." she sounded almost tender as she said this, mopping up the blood around his finger.

"Fuck you! Do you think my girlfriend is going to thank you for fucking mutilating me? This is so fucked up."

"Oh, my dear, sweet Darren..." the girl began, and her smile grew even bigger. "She's the one paying me to do this."

Of all the things he'd been expecting her to say, that has been bottom of the list. It couldn't be true...his Rebecca? Surely she wouldn't...he'd only been unfaithful like four times, she couldn't hold that much of a grudge, could she? This unhinged bitch had cut off part of his fucking finger! He couldn't imagine Rebecca paying someone to do that.

"You're lying," he said with a grin. Of course she was.

He'd almost convinced himself when she played him a video on her phone of her meeting up with Rebecca and taking a wad of cash to "do whatever it takes to show him I'm not fucking around this time." His grin vanished.

He was only dimly aware of her lining up the guillotine again. Before he lost consciousness, he proved her right: he did scream.

Chapter 2

She had gone out. Darren was pretty sure, but not sure enough to risk moving. She didn't like it when he moved.

In the darkened room, it was impossible to tell the passage of time. How long had he been here? A month? Three? His only clue to any time having passed at all was the growth of beard that itched his chin.

It was obvious by now that nobody was coming for him. He had to admit to himself that this was hardly surprising: he was a total asshole to everyone who knew him, family included, and had often gone on impromptu trips for days at a time without telling anyone, and hardly caring what they thought had happened to him. For the first time, he was starting to regret being so careless.

As he often did while she was away from the room, he started counting seconds in his head. He'd gotten as far as 7256 when he heard the clattering of the metal door somewhere above him. She was back.

Shit! Was he in the same position he'd been when she left? He glanced around to make sure he hadn't absent-mindedly touched or moved something in her absence, but it all looked exactly the same. He breathed a sigh of relief and sank back into his chair.

"Darren! Yoo hoo! You still alive?" came her sing-song voice. She laughed at her own joke, and finally popped her head around the doorway before entering. "Oh, there you are. Have you been behaving?"

He paid for his momentary pause as she grabbed a whip from the wall and gave him a solid lash across the leg. He looked down at the red welt, tiny droplets of blood welling on the bare skin.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he said, careful to use the correct phrasing.

"Good, good," she said, walking over to the chair and hugging him gently. She broke the embrace and started to strip. "Do you want to make love to me?"

The first time she'd done this he had thought his luck was finally turning and that she was falling for him despite what she'd done. That was the day she took his clothes. Now, he looked over at the ten fingertips lying in a sorry pile next to him. "No, ma'am." he said automatically.

She straightened her clothes and hugged him again. "Good."

He couldn't help but beam with pride at her praise. She noticed and her brief smile vanished. "Are you...smiling, Darren?"

"N-no!" he cried, forcing the grin off his face. But it was too late. She knew the truth.

"You think you're here to enjoy this? That you are worthy of feeling joy for any reason? I guess I haven't been thorough enough."

His protests fell on deaf ears as she stalked over to her tray of instruments, grabbed the scalpel, and approached him. She made the first incision in his arm, and he winced as he felt the blood begin to drip.

"But I've been good! I've done everything you asked! I thought..."

"You thought what?" she asked sardonically, as she finished another incision on his ankle.

"I thought...once you knew I had learned my lesson--and believe me, I have!--you would let me go."

The laugh she gave him in response chilled him to the bone. "Let you go? Darren, when did I ever say I was going to let you go?" she made her final incision--across his jugular vein. His last, ludicrous thought was "That wall is really red."

Epilogue

Rebecca hung up the phone for the twelfth time that evening. Just like all the other times, it had gone to voicemail. Where are you, Darren? she thought to herself.

In her less sane moments, she entertained the thought that Lacie had done something to him. She'd paid her to pull a pretty immature prank, sure--kidnap him, put the fear of God in him, make him beg forgiveness for his latest transgression--but that was as far as she'd expected it to go. She couldn't imagine Lacie even doing that; the girl was as mousy as they came, and Rebecca hadn't even believed it when a friend let slip that she ran some kind of humiliation-revenge gig for money.

She had the phone in her hand and Lacie's number half-dialled when she realised what she was doing and put it down. You're being ridiculous, she said to herself. Any minute now he'll come waltzing through that door, probably with two blondes on his arm. He'll never change. She nearly hit the roof when her phone started ringing.

"Darren?" she answered breathlessly.

"Nope! It's only me!" came Lacie's annoyingly-chipped singsong voice. "Just calling to let you know he won't be cheating on you again."

"Oh, that's great," Rebecca said with an enthusiasm she didn't feel right now. "Listen, Lacie...he's okay, right? You didn't...hurt him?"

"What? Noooo, girl, what sort of psycho do you take me for? He's a little rattled, but other than that he's fine!"

"Oh, thank god. I've been going out of my mind! Where are you guys?"

Lacie gave her the address and said Darren couldn't wait to see her. She dressed quickly and set off.

------

Wiping the blood from her scalpel, Lacie thought back to the time she saw Rebecca kissing that friend of Darren's. Nobody paid for it, she thought idly, eyeing up all of her freshly-cleaned toys, but justice has to be done, all the same.

Lessons could grow exhausting and tedious, but Sabine rarely, if ever, let her boredom show. It wasn't her place to express her displeasure. Still, twelve years of an constant routine could wear on a person. It was because of that unvarying routine that advancement was not only a source of pride, but something to anticipate. At the age of nine, she had been overjoyed to learn that she would learn to make her own sword, especially since that meant the time was not long before she'd learn how to handle one.

Anything new was welcome, but usually, there were long stretches when there was absolutely nothing novel to break the monotony. They awoke in the morning, did their duties to the Sodality and their fellow sisters, performed the morning rituals, went to their lessons, honed their bodies, and if there was any time left in the day, then they may take that time for themselves before their nightly meditations.

Lately, Sabine had grown bored with the games. The flight simulators had been so interesting, allowing the player to fly over jungles and deserts, terrain that hadn't existed on Earth for thousands of years; not since it had become a frozen waste. Interesting though they may have been, one could only participate in simulation for so long before longing for the real thing. There were no deserts or jungles anymore. The only forests were to be found in domed buildings. One had to dig through dozens of feet of ice before encountering sand. The simulations had grown dull.

Sabine excelled in chess. None of the Gythia could even beat her. She wondered if Kona played chess. Now that she was in a position to ask, in the coming days, she may take the opportunity to discover if the artificially young, yet ancient woman might have much to teach Sabine yet about the game. In the evening though, Kona was unlikely to take interest in a game with one of the students. Surely, she had more important things to attend.

Gabrielle would have found a way to break the monotony of the evening, but she wasn't in her room, and she hadn't come to visit. Sabine had grown concerned. Nyssa had an excuse, still having another hour of aiding Gythia Samandra with manuscript restoration, but both she and Gabrielle always visited, every evening.
Consulting the digital display, Sabine resigned herself to meditating for the rest of the evening. Letting her mind relax, she took measured breathes. Having not had to actually meter them for many years now, everything came naturally. She hadn't used padding for her knees since childhood, the hard granite no longer paining her. Through her inactive mind flowed the unprotected thoughts of the young docents, dealing with their own troubles. She could see Nyssa fumbling with ink and synth-paper; sheets of plastic that simulated the properties of ancient pulp sheets.

Surprise and alarm rang as she saw Gabrielle in the same room as Dala. Gabrielle hated Dala, perhaps even more than Sabine. Being younger, and not quite as skilled as her peers, Gabrielle had always been a target for Dala. Sabine knew where they were, recognizing the door they had passed through. If these had been untrained docents, she'd be able to easily hear their thoughts, but Dala knew better than to ever lower her mental defenses from Sabine, and Gabrielle was difficult to read at the best of times.

It was a third party, a young docent that Dala and her friends had dragged along, from which Sabine learned what was transpiring. Aborting her meditation, forcing her way out of trance, Sabine put her uniform back on, refastening her robe, the silver shimmering, reflecting the light from the ceiling. As she left her room and made her way from the main heating exchange deep in the basement, Sabine reflected on how she would deal with situation that had arisen. Dala was older than Gabrielle, more highly ranked, and much more dangerous. Power combined with excessive ego and self-entitlement defined Dala.

Even now, Dala was in the furnace room with Miara and Cavi. Cavi was a head taller than Gabrielle and was substantially more muscular. She crushed Gabrielle against the wall Miara held the docent's arms behind her back. The docent couldn't have been older than seven. Beneath Cavi's crushing weight, Gabrielle accidentally bit into her lip, causing blood to trickle down her chin.

Dala grabbed Gabrielle by her bristly hair and dragged her head out from under Cavi, scraping the side of her face and her ear against the brick wall. “Do you think you're funny? You're not so great without your friends here to look after you. Well, do you have anything to say, or is your brain too primitive to form a sentence?”

Gabrielle should have just kept her mouth shut, but pride wouldn't let her. “I wouldn't need any help if you weren't too scared to face me yourself.”

Dala shrugged, a horribly lazy gesture that could mean virtually anything. No Gythia would ever stand for any of them shrugging. She looked Gabrielle up and down, as if trying to see if anything had changed about Gabrielle since the last time Dala beaten her up. “Well, go on Cavi. Let her up. Let's see how tough she is.” She turned to the docent. “Here's a lesson for you. Some of us are worth more than others. Now, I'm going to teach you who to put your faith in.”

Cavi pushed Gabrielle forward as Dala spun around, her elbow contacting the side of Gabrielle's head. Gabrielle tried to recover, but failed to prevent Dala's uppercut into her solar plexus. Gabrielle kicked once into Dala's injured shin, then side-kicked Dala in the stomach. Just as always, rather than double over, Dala seemed to feed on the pain. Gabrielle ran forward, hoping Dala would think she was trying to tackle her, but no such luck. As Gabrielle aimed her punch at Dala's throat, Dala brought her forearm up and caught Gabrielle's wrist, twisting it back and breaking it.

Dala kicked Gabrielle's knee out from under her and then dropped her own knee onto Gabrielle's calf. Catching Gabrielle in a choke hold, Dala aimed several blows into her kidney. Gabrielle stopped herself from screaming, nearly blacking out from the pain.

Dala lifted Gabrielle to her feet by the neck with both. “How does anyone so pathetic even make it to first class acolyte?” Gabrielle's blood sprayed across the side of the furnace as Dala punched her in the jaw. Her molars on the right side pushed inward as that section of jaw broke and shifted.

Dala turned to the docent, who was now in tears. “You take sides with this pathetic piece of trash?”

The young docent couldn't take anymore and shouted, “You're older! You wouldn't be so tough if it was someone your own age.”

Dala, Miara, and Cavi all laughed. Dala mocked the child, whining, “I'm older! I'm older! I got to you just in time, didn't I? She was teaching you to be just as pathetic as she was.” Slapping the girl hard in the face, she pointed a stern finger at the girl. “Don't talk back to your betters.”

Gabrielle tackled Dala, but wasn't able to overpower her. Dala latched onto Gabrielle's broken wrist and twisted her arm behind her. Crippling pain shot through her wrist and up her arm. Dala kicked her feet out from under her and threw to the ground. In moments, Cavi was holding her down.

With her knee, Dala leaned into Gabrielle's groin. “Now, what do you say?”
Gabrielle spit at Dala, spattering her robe with blood. Dala leaned harder into Gabrielle, who clenched her teeth, trying not to scream. “What do you say?” said Dala more forcibly.

Gabrielle bit into Cavi's hand. Cavi responded by breaking Gabrielle's nose.
Dala stood. “You know what? I think she's having trouble opening her mouth enough to talk. I think the hinges need to be oiled.” Miari laughed and Cavi grinned sadistically. Dala walked over to the furnace, and after a few moment's examination, opened an access panel and reached inside. She came back out with a handful of black grease, mixed with dirt and grime.

Dala resumed her position, letting her knee drop heavily on Gabrielle's groin, and tried to force Gabrielle's mouth open. “Come on, open up.” Cavi helped to pry Gabrielle's mouth open and Dala shoved the viscous sludge into Gabrielle's mouth. She tried to spit out, but Cavi held her mouth shut. The substance tasted foul. She could taste dirt and cobwebs and the corrosive petroleum burned her tongue and gums. She was forced to swallow some of it, then when Cavi opened her mouth, she spit the rest of it on Dala.

Dala raked her fingernails across Gabrielle's face, slicing lips, cheek, ear. “We are you going to teach you some respect if it takes all night.” Dala stood again, and this time Cavi held out Gabrielle's broken wrist. Dala stomped it several time, then she stood on Dala's fingers and began to grind them into the floor. Gabrielle could feel two of them break, but after that, she couldn't tell as her entire hand went numb.

Gabrielle said, “Are you stupid enough to think you can get away with doing this to someone?”

Dala and Cavi laughed. “Oh, come on. Do you know how many people fall down the stairs around here?” Dala kicked Gabrielle in the kidney. “Now come on, you know what to say.”

“Get off me...”

Dala dropped down again, driving her knee in. “You can't honestly say I didn't give you chance. I let you stand on your own two feet and see for yourself you couldn't touch me. Now, say it.” Dala grabbed Gabrielle by the jaw. “It's easy. You say, 'Dala, I'm a pathetic meat sack, and you're the best.'” With the ridge of her hand, Dala pounded the gum line of Gabrielle's jaw.
Dala, Cavi, and Miara were startled by the sound of rattling as the door handle jiggled. Miara shoved the docent away and said, “Dala, I can't be caught in here with this going on.”

Dala stood and dragged Gabrielle to her feet. Slamming her head into the side of the furnace, she let Gabrielle slump to the floor. “It can't be a Gythia. They don't come down here at night.” Dala's eyebrow's drew inward. “Unless someone was stupid enough to spy on us and tell someone.” That could easily have happened. Dala looked around. There was blood everywhere, a crying docent, and a semi-conscious acolyte on the floor. If it was a Gythia, they'd have a very difficult time explaining this. Then it occurred to her. “Wait a minute. A Gythia would have a key.”

There was a loud metallic bang as the door burst open, part of the metal frame flying free from the wall. Relief washed over Dala as she saw who was on the other side of the door, alone. It was only Sabine. She couldn't take on all three of them.

Sabine surveyed the scene and almost wish she hadn't come alone...almost. Dala and Cavi looked like their birthday's had come early. They didn't realize Sabine had come armed. They laughed when Sabine pulled her sword from under her robe. In its scabbard, it looked virtually identical to one of the Sodality's practice batons.

In hand to hand combat, Dala and Sabine were evenly matched. Cavi had always relied on her size and strength, a fact that had always been her weakness. Together, they could very well overpower Sabine, but Cavi could also turn out to be detrimental to Dala's efforts. Panic crossed Dala's face--apparently, she had the same thought--as Cavi lunged at Sabine. Sabine, raised her still sheath sword so that it appeared she was jabbing with the pommel. Cavi fell for it and when she moved her right, Sabine spun and threw her heel into Cavi's forehead.
Dala moved forward, trying to create a combat division, but Cavi had no sense of team coordination. Sabine stepped away from Dala and jammed the end of the scabbard into the side of Cavi's leg, just above her knee. With both hand holding either end of the scabbard, she drove the pommel towards Dala, who spun out of the way, and drove the length of the scabbard into Cavi's jaw.

Dala threw a kick at Sabine's kidneys. Sabine dropped to her knees taking the kick across her shoulders, then swung the scabbard around rapping Dala behind the knee--the injured knee--with the audible snap of wood on flesh. Dala fell backwards, her leg crumpling beneath her. Dala hit the floor flat on her back.
Cavi got above her and caught her in a bear hug, but Sabine swung her head up, and smashed Cavi's face with the back of her head. Cavi spit blood and teeth out. She kicked out, catching Sabine in the thigh, and she swung a right cross at Sabine's face. Sabine raised her sword and partially drew it from the scabbard. Cavi didn't react in time and punched the keen edge of the blade. The blade went between her fingers and Cavi had punched hard enough that blade split her arm nearly to the elbow. Half of her arm flopped to one side and blood gushed like a fountain. Cavi grasped at the halves of her forearm and tried to hold them together.

Dala kicked Sabine's knee out from under her, causing her to hit the floor hard. Dala kicked again, striking Sabine in the small of her back. Using the force of the kick, coupled with the fall to aid her moment, Sabine rolled forward, and came back up to her feet. Dala pointed at the closed scabbard.

“You'll be in more trouble than me. You're not supposed to use a class A weapon against another sister.”

“Dala, you need to be worrying about yourself.”

Dala lunged forward. It was a simple rush. Sabine knew the tactic since Dala used it all the time. At the last moment, Dala would feint to the right and try to catch Sabine in a leg lock. Sabine dropped to one knee, putting her alternate forward, except Dala didn't perform the expected leg lock. Instead, she leapfrogged over Sabine and side kicked her in the back of the head. Sabine spun around to defend herself, but Dala wasn't attacking. Instead, Gabrielle was on top of her, beating her face in with her good hand.

Dala got her leg underneath Gabrielle and threw her off. Back on her feet, Dala confronted both Sabine and Gabrielle. Miara grabbed onto Dala's elbow and tried to pull her back. “Come on, stop before someone gets killed.” Dala shoved Miara back into the wall. Miara hadn't protected her thoughts from the other psychics in the room and her erratic, panicked thinking had permeated the situation. When Miara's head struck the wall, her thoughts ended as quickly as someone flipping a switch. Sabine had never experienced anything quite like it. Even when knocked unconscious, the mind was working in some capacity. Sabine had experienced death before, but never so sudden. If Dala felt it, she didn't let on, but confusion certainly crossed her face when she saw Sabine relax her combat posture.

“Come on,” goaded Dala, “you're done fighting?”

Sabine gestured to Miara. “There's no point left in fighting. You're getting expelled.” She spit. Her tongue was beginning to swell. She must have bitten it.
Dala turned to look at Miara and when she turned back, the color had drained from her face. “But, I just pushed her back.”

“That's all it takes.”

A gythia appeared in the doorway, out of breath. It was Aluren and Sabine's stomach sank. Dala had always been Aluren's favorite and she had always hated Sabine. She took in the scene, observing bruised and bloody acolyte, possibly with a broken wrist, a frightened docent, and four prioresses, one cradling a mangled arm, one dead on the floor and two standing toe to toe. There was blood on just about every surface; the floor, the vents, the furnace, the walls, the pipes, and even the ceiling. Aluren looked to Sabine. “What happened here? What have you done?”

The docent clearly knew that Sabine needed an unimpeachable witness. Though her fear was genuine, her tears were not entirely convincing. She ran up to Aluren, crying. “Gythia! They found Gabrielle talking to me and they dragged us down her, Dala, Cavi, and Miara and they started hurting Gabrielle really bad. Prioress Sabine came in and stopped them.” Dala looked as though she might throw up.

Several more curious gythia appeared. Sabine realized that the furnace room would be a terrible place for a fight. Dala had kept everyone quiet, and Gabrielle had refused to scream as a matter of principle. That simple thing could have ended her torment. When Sabine got there, there was shouting, people being thrown against the furnace and the duct work, and a general commotion that surely would have carried throughout the vents to the entire building. It wouldn't be hard to determine where it had come from.

Aluren said, “Who killed Miara?”

Dala looked from person to person. It was clear she was trying to find a way to pin it on them, but when even Cavi looked up accusingly, Dala's voice died in her throat. This should have been a supreme moment for Sabine. The revelation of Dala's true nature should have been a moment of vindication against every demerit, insult, belittlement, and punishment Aluren had ever directed at her. Yet, Sabine felt no pleasure. She felt the same heaviness that everyone else felt, and when Aluren looked at Dala with a mixture of disappointment, revulsion, and stunned disbelief, Sabine couldn't even bear to look at her.

“No,” said Aluren, as if she could will it all not to be true.

Dala looked from person to person. Her nose had been flattened to one side and blood dripped from her mouth. “It was an accident. I just pushed her. I only pushed her.”

Aluren turned to Sabine. “How did you know where to find them?”

Sabine said, “Gabrielle's my friend. She called out to me.”

Aluren understood that. The telepathic bond between friends was regularly discussed. Waving that aside, Aluren said, “So why didn't you inform a gythia?”

“Your pardon, Gythia. I encountered none on the way.”

“Have we not taught you to first think?” Aluren's anger was mounting. Even the death of one of her students didn't blunt her abrasive nature.

“No. Our lessons teach us to react with urgency. Gabrielle might have died had I wasted my time searching for a priestess.”

Dala's objection clearly registered in her expression. “Nobody was going to die.”
Aluren turned to Dala and grabbed her by the nape of the neck. “And yet someone is dead. Close your mouth!”

Aluren stood back and surveyed each of them. “You will all go to the infirmary. Dala and Cavi, when you are released, you will return to your rooms and you will not leave for any reason.” She turned to the other gythia. “Eldarra, make certain Dala and Cavi go where they're supposed to.” As Dala and Cavi left, Aluren turned to Sabine, Gabrielle, and the young docent. “Go on. You've done your part. You're in the way, now.”

Gabrielle said, “You don't want to ask any questions?” There was a strong slur to her voice.

“When you are well. Go on.”

Sabine and Gabrielle walked up the corridor to the stairs leading up out of the basement. Gabrielle was walking slowly with a limp and she was having trouble breathing. A black eye was blossoming on her right side and her jaw was swollen. Blood covered the right side of her face. Her hand was swollen to twice its size and it appeared that two fingers were turned at odd angles. Also, a black compound seemed to be mixed with the blood around her mouth. They were both filthy and after a moment, Gabrielle stopped to hug Sabine.

“Are you okay?” asked Sabine.

“I feel awful. I'm not even sure I'll make it all the way to the infirmary.”

“I'll help you there.”