Page 26 of Stolen

I shook my head at him, purposely whispering unintelligible words. Surrender was not on the table just yet. In an attempt to hear me, he brought his face down to my ear just as I wanted him to.

“I don’t think I quite heard that,” he whispered in my ear. And then I made my Hail Mary. I turned my head to the side and bit him right in the side of his neck.

I clamped my teeth down hard on salty flesh and tore at what I could. Unfortunately, the collar on his shirt prevented me from making a lethal bite, but I tasted blood nonetheless. I heard him groan as he gripped my hair so tight that I thought my scalp would rip from my skull. I immediately released him, small drops of blood coating my mouth as I screeched from the pain he was causing at the top of my head.

I tried to claw at his face, but before I could make my hands even move, he slammed my head into the floor by my hair. I groaned as stars appeared in my vision, combined with the pounding ache in my head, I’d lost too much motor function. And then I felt myself suddenly airborne. My body crashed against the side of the wall, the ache in my head now spreading into my ribs and back as I doubled over onto the floor.

Get up, Jaden. Get up.

My energy nearly gone, I attempted to pick myself off the ground, but as soon as I did, I felt the owner grab me again and toss me farther down the hall.

When had I turned into a fucking rag doll?

I landed hard on the floor, rolling on my side until I came up against the wall. I was exhausted now, having nothing left to go on but fumes and sheer willpower. It wasn’t enough, though, and I knew I was going to lose the fight.

I could hear the footsteps of the owner thundering away on the carpet as he came for me, causing the panic to boil up inside. I couldn’t help but cringe a little as I turned my head, tucking it away under my arm in a feeble attempt to shield myself from him. He reached down for my throat, but I swatted his arm away, deflecting with an attempted punch to his gut. He caught my wrist mid-strike and held it tight, squeezing until I thought it would break. I cried out at the crushing pain as his other hand came down again and picked me up by my throat, my feet actually dangling above the floor.

Fuck, how strong was this guy?

I lifted my leg to kick at him, but he anticipated that and just slammed me against the wall again, holding me there by my neck. I felt the blood pressure in my head increase while my eyes felt like they were about to pop out of my head, tears welling in the corners. I struggled against him, but he just reinforced his grip, pressing my head up to look at him. His eyes were dark and dangerous as blood coated his nostrils.

“ThethingsI am going to do to you,” he whispered.

Fuck.

7

Survival

The owner dragged me farther down the hall, still grasping my throat as I pathetically fought against him. I had no energy left, and he knew it. Opening a door to his left, he walked through and tossed me in. Stumbling forward, I staggered to my knees and focused to catch my breath and calm my pounding heart while I still had the chance.

Glancing up, fear spiked in my entire body as I took in the surroundings of what was no doubt a room meant for torture. There was a large four-poster bed against the wall to my left, the chained restraints on full display. To my right, in the corner, was a Saint Andrew’s Cross, and hanging next to it on the wall was a series of whips, crops, chains, and canes. A dresser with a mirror stood adjacent to the wall of the whips while another door nearby was slightly ajar, leading into what looked like a bathroom. A bar, similar to the one in the owner’s office, stood against the wall to my left and a mini fridge sat on the floor next to it. A set of chains with metal cuffs attached at the ends hung from the center of the ceiling, while another set of cuffs rested on the floor beneath them. Different pieces of oddly shaped furniture were scattered about the open spaces of the large room.

After quickly closing the door and locking it with the keys in his pocket, the owner turned and came at me, his large hand digging into my stringy, still damp hair and pulling me forward. I kicked his ribs with my foot, but he jerked my head to the side, creating a sharp pain in my neck and tightening his grip on my scalp.

He dragged me over to the dresser and dropped me to the floor, planting his foot between my shoulder blades to keep me in place. I stifled my whimpers from the pressure he fashioned at my back, his heel digging right where it would count.

My heart raced as I listened to him dig through the drawers above me and place something that didn’t sound very heavy on the dresser. Unlocking whatever it was with the keys in his pocket, he took something out and then knelt into my view.

“Do you want to know what this is?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine.

“Probably not,” I croaked.

“It’s a special drug that oversensitizes the nerve endings, magnifying touch by nearly ten times,” he said, his voice coming low as it spilled into my ear. “We save it specifically for the real stubborn ones, like you, so you can experience the pain you deserve without the injuries it would cost us.”

Minimal effort, maximum results. How very corporate of them.

“The tiniest scratch will feel like an acid burn, a small slap like a razor’s edge, and a light whipping like your back has been flayed open. It’sveryeffective.”

Well fuck.

“That’s inventive. How long does it last?”

“In reality, about thirty minutes, but for you, I guarantee the concept of time won’t exist.”

I croaked into the floor as he increased the pressure on my back. “I’d really rather not.”

But I knew I wasn’t getting a choice before he pressed the needle into my shoulder. I could feel the liquid going into my arm as it traveled into my bloodstream. He then gripped my hair again and pulled me to my feet, sending sharp electric pains through my scalp and down my neck. Within seconds, the pain in my back intensified, and I tried to stifle my cries, but they came out as heavy, loud gasps.

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