Page 117 of Velvet Chains
Where the hell am I?
The question echoes in my mind, raw and desperate. Have they been driving long?
“Stop fucking around, suka!” A gruff voice from behind barks out an order, “Bring her in, now.”
“Yes, yes,” comes a reluctant reply.
I feel rough hands grab me, dragging me out of the back of the van. Panic surges as I struggle, but my efforts are futile, my screams muffled by the gag. The brute hauls me out violently, my body scraping against metal.
“Suka! Be still, American.” The man hoists me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I thrash, trying to break free, but it’s like fighting a brick wall. My mind races with fear and desperation.
He carries me across an expanse of land, the breeze carrying distant sounds and unfamiliar scents. I strain to see, catching glimpses of a sprawling, eerie compound. It’s vast, desolate.
Where am I?
As he walks, the thud of his boots against the ground is steady, unyielding. He greets someone with a laugh.
“Got another one, eh?” a gravelly voice greets us, amusement laced with something sinister.
“Just shut up and open the door, Oleg,” my captor growls, his grip tightening on me.
I hear an old, heavy metal door groan open.
The stench hits me first—a foul blend of rat urine and decay. My stomach churns. We proceed down a dim passage, the air growing heavier, more suffocating with each step.
He stops, speaking to another man. I hear the distinct sound of buttons being pressed, a code entered. Another door opens, and my heart drops.
What I see is beyond any horror I could imagine.
Cells line the walls, each one a small cage of despair. Inside, women huddle in corners or stare blankly through the bars.
What is this place?
He stops abruptly, and I hear the beep of a keypad, followed by the clunk of locks disengaging. Another door opens.
“Mmm mmm mmmmm,” I sob into the gag, my cries muffled and futile.
“Boss is waiting,” calls a distant voice.
The man carrying me quickens his pace, his steps more determined. I’m jostled painfully as he steps into an old metal elevator. The flickering light bulb casts eerie shadows.
Jesus.
We ascend, the elevator groaning under our weight. I hear distant cries of pain and despair.
Please, please, someone help me.
The elevator jerks to a stop.
He carries me out, and I’m hit with a scene so grotesque it paralyzes me with fear. The walls are adorned with chains and cuffs, instruments of pain and pleasure mingled together in a horrifying display.
The air is filled with the sounds of moaning and whimpering.
A man walks past, dragging a chain linked to a girl in a barely-there dress. “Faster!” he commands.
She looks up at him with a mix of fear. Her answering, “Yes, sir,” is barely audible, but it’s enough to send shivers down my spine.
The man leads her to a table where other men sit, eyeing her like she’s a piece of meat. The scene unfolds with a casualness that’s horrifying. The girl’s dress is lowered, exposing her to the room. I can’t tear my eyes away as she’s touched, moans escaping her lips. It’s so out of place, so wrong, yet no one bats an eye.
