Krissy awoke hoping against hope that she’d just been having an awful dream, but the moment she opened her eyes and saw the acoustic tile ceiling her heart sank. It was no dream. It was a waking nightmare, beyond doubt, but it was no dream. There were no windows, just dim overhead lighting, and no clocks, so she didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping. It seemed like a long time, but a quick inspection of her bruises showed her that it hadn’t been long enough for them to have faded noticeably. She sat up, feeling small pains and twinges throughout her abused body. As she did, the lighting in her room brightened. She blinked. There must be some kind of motion sensor in here to control the lighting.
Her room was not large, no more than ten feet square. It had the narrow single bed she had slept in, and two wooden chairs. There was no dresser, no chest of drawers, and no mirror. The floor was carpeted in some dark gray color. There was some kind of padded mat in the middle of the room, covered with a lighter gray plastic sheeting. She wasn’t sure what that was for. She didn’t remember it being there when she had been brought in. But then, she didn’t remember much from when she had been brought in. She might have just not noticed it.
There was a door in the corner of the far wall. As she peered at it more closely, she realized that there were two doors, an inner one of iron bars, more suited to a jail cell, and an outer one of dark wood paneling. There was another door set in the wall to her left. Seeing it brought back a vague recollection of being told that there was a bathroom on the other side of it. She’d been completely out of it when she’d come in here, wanting only sleep and rest. Even the promised hot bath took a distant second place to that.
She flopped onto her back and sighed. This wasn’t her ‘room’. It was her cell. As cells went, she supposed it was more comfortable than most, but she was stuck here until someone came to get her just the same. After a moment, she slid out of the bed and made her way to the bathroom. It turned out to be about the same size as a small walk-in closet, with a sink, a toilet, and a cramped little shower stall. There was a lone paper cup on the back of the sink, and she used it to get herself a drink. As she sipped at the cool water, she regarded the shower stall. A nice hot shower seemed like a good idea, if only to help soothe her body’s lingering aches, but there were no towels to be seen. She sighed again and put the now-empty cup back on the sink. There wasn’t anything to do now but go back to bed.
She was in the middle of her cell when she heard a loud click and the outer door began to open. She froze, not knowing what to do or what to expect. Then she remembered the driver’s early instructions and she dropped to her hands and knees on the pad, her head down.
“On your knees, girl,” she heard an unfamiliar man’s voice order. She got up on her knees as ordered. Not sure what to do with her hands, she rested them on her thighs. And she kept her head down. She hadn’t been told to do that by anybody, but she had learned during her time with the bikers that if she kept her gaze fixed on the floor she came in for a little less abuse: Just a little less.
She heard the inner door creak open and kept still. Two pairs of feet appeared in her limited field of view, both male judging from the shoes and slacks.
“Look up, girl,” the command came. Krissy obeyed, careful not to look into the eyes of either of the men. One was older, with gray hair slicked straight back above a sharp-eyed, beak-nosed face. The other, younger one was Asian. He had short dark hair and dark eyes that ran approvingly all over Krissy’s naked body. She suddenly wanted to cover herself with her hands, but did not dare to.
“A cute little thing,” the younger man smiled. “A bit battered, though.” He spoke English with a definite English accent.
“Looks can deceive,” the older man grunted. “She let on that she was a model, but her real profession was thief. She specialized in luring wealthy men with her body and then drugging and robbing them.”
“She has a lot to lure them with,” the younger man observed. “Even all banged up like that.”
“I told you that looks can deceive. She doesn’t even like men. She only fucked other girls.”
“Really.” It was a statement, not a question, but the younger man’s interest only seemed to intensify. “So I assume that all those bruises are from breaking her in?”
“That would be a safe assumption,” the older man replied.
“What’s her name?” the younger man crouched down in front of Krissy and reached out one hand to brush the backs of his fingers gently against her nipple. Krissy kept still, but only with great effort.
“She went by ‘Krissy'”, the older man answered.
“‘Krissy’,” the younger man mused as his attentions moved to Krissy’s other nipple. “It suits her.”
“Well, she’s in your hands now,” the older man shrugged. “You can call her whatever you want. I suggest you take her along to the baths first.”
“Good idea,” the younger man nodded. He straightened up and looked down at Krissy as the older man left.
“Stand up,” he finally ordered. Warily, Krissy got to her feet, still not looking directly at the man.
“Hands on your head,” he told her. Again, Krissy obeyed. Her head barely came up to his chin. He had thick wrists and wide shoulders. If he wanted to use force to compel her to obey he undoubtedly could, but she had had more than enough of being forced. The bruises were beginning to fade, but they still hurt. Her long sleep had been speckled with horrid, vivid nightmares of being beaten or whipped with a heavy belt.
“You may call me ‘Master’,” the man said to Krissy as he walked slowly around her, caressing her body lightly here and there with his fingertips. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” Krissy replied. She might be awake, but she was beginning to realize that all that that meant was a different kind of nightmare.
“You will follow me to the baths,” he continued. “You will have an hour to relax and clean yourself up. There may be other women there, but you may not talk to them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”