Wilt

by Rae, Nikki

  “You’ll see,” she added after I hadn’t said anything, climbing back to her feet with the aid of a chair. “I expect we will be collected for dinner soon. We should sleep until then.”

  Dizzy from more than the drugs, I half-stumbled, half-crawled back to my bed. I was freezing and I wasn’t sure if it was from the room or something else. Regardless, the pretty pink blanket could do nothing to stop my shivering. I stared at the slats supporting the mattress above me confused yet somehow unafraid.

  Small dots had begun to take shape in front of me, morphing into different silhouettes of things I knew were familiar, yet it was impossible to put names to any of them. Right now, all that mattered was this numbness, this absence of fear, pain, and uncertainty. It was easy to close my eyes and breathe, to push away each new unpleasant bit of information as if it didn’t exist.

  But then there was the slamming of a door somewhere and all the lights in the bunker-like room were turned on. I had to adjust to the sudden brightness as it intruded my eyes. Above me, the girl shifted on her bunk and I could see her smooth legs hanging over the edge.

  “Nap time is over, ladies,” said a foreign voice, repeating the words in English, French, and Spanish.

  I poked my head around the corner of my bunk, only able to make out the form of a man in a suit beyond the door. “Start making your way upstairs for dinner.”

  Again, he repeated what he’d said in the different languages. He made it sound like we had a choice; as if we really were guests here and not slaves.

  The figure bowed, and I realized this must have been Wolf Manor’s butler. Then the door shut softly behind him. I watched with sluggish eyes as girls rose from their beds like corpse from graves. I wondered how many of them knew what was really happening; some or all of them were the same collateral they’d made this girl into.

  There was a collective pause, as if we’d all agreed at precisely that moment to prepare ourselves before carrying ourselves discreetly into the Wolfs’ den.

  No one moved from their spots; no one made that first step towards the door.

  Then, as if someone had relayed a silent signal, girls lined up one after another, following each other without any lingering hesitation.

  The girl grabbed my hand as if I wasn’t older and stronger than her. “We have to go,” she whispered as if it was some secret.

  It didn’t even occur to me to fight her. Even if by some miracle I could avoid whatever awaited us, this girl would be punished because of my actions. Still, my head was heavy ad it was hard to walk, let alone flee. As we filed out the door which led to a stairway we took upwards, she squeezed my hand just a little stronger. Across from us, there was another open door and another set of stairs where I counted five boys exiting. I had never seen a male slave—our Compounds were always separate—but sex didn’t matter in our world. We all had the same drug running through us, the same powerful men in charge of our lives. Soon, the boys fell in line behind us, all dressed in suits with neat hair and vacant eyes.

  The hall was encased in shining dark wood, the deep red carpet nearly blending in with it as we followed who I assumed was the butler who had spoken to us. The small amount of cushioning it provided gave my sore ankles some relief, yet I still managed to trip every now and then, the girl’s hand still wrapped securely around mine.

  I scanned the girls and boys I could see with my head slightly bowed—everyone had immediately taken this position as soon as we were in the main part of the Manor. Altogether, I estimated there were at least fifteen or twenty of us, all from different places, ranging in skin tone, eye color, hair color, and age. Yet we were all the same. We were all the faceless sacrificial lambs set upon the Order’s altar.

  I was towards the back of the girls’ line, closer to where the boys’ started, and as the front of our group reached the ornate double doors that I guessed was our destination, I could see why.

  The light was brighter in this room, but it was mainly produced by a multitude of candles on every surface I could see. The first thing that came into focus were the statues. Depictions of David, Venus, Lacoon and Sons and more, only their heads had been replaced with sculptures of wolf heads.

  Seated across a long marble table with far too much food for the thirty or so Members assembled around it, I spotted Master Lyon, who sat beside an older man I didn’t recognize and Gregor, who sipped from a wineglass as if there wasn’t a parade of boys and girls before him. Even though things moved as if I were in a dream, I made sure I glanced at each one of the men and women seated at the table. None of them were Jäger.

  My pulse quickened when my Owner’s eyes met mine, and the tiniest smirk curled his lips. I wanted to keep my eyes on him, to draw strength from their deep brown depths, but no one else looked their Owner in the eye, so I directed my gaze back to the floor, letting the girl guide me until I was near Master Lyon

  I was surprised to find a small satin pillow on the hardwood floor by his feet. He tipped his head in acknowledgement, so I knelt on it, watching as the girl I’d met took her position by Gregor, who wouldn’t take his eyes off of me.

  There was no tablecloth, so while our Owners conversed above us, we could more or less freely look at each other. Some sat dutifully, acting as if they were the only girl and Owner in the room while some like the girl were silent with wide, searching eyes.

  As conversation resumed along with the clinking of glasses and silverware, I could hear Gregor laughing and knew immediately why she’d become so upset.

  The girl I’d seen with Gregor was nowhere to be seen, and the older man sitting next to Master Lyon gripped the red cloth napkin in his lap with white knuckles. He must have been the man who had saved her—or so she had thought.

  “She’s much better behaved than my piglet,” he said in sloppy German to no one in particular. No one replied, and I got the palpable impression that the other Members didn’t very much like him. Whether that was because they had been blackmailed into being here or if they genuinely found him irritating me, I couldn’t fault them.

  Still, he went on as if he had their full attention. “I’m afraid she’s rather incapable of walking or sitting right now.” I could see the cracked skin of his hand, fingernails bitten down to the quick as he stroked the girl’s hair. She stared straight into her lap, struggling not to cry.

  “I wouldn’t want to ruin anyone’s appetite,” he said with a full mouth.

  More silence followed, people having separate conversations in murmured voices. Fortunately, he seemed preoccupied with his food long enough to give his butler time to bring us food. He and a few others served us, placing fine china with our Masters’ leftovers in the middle. I was given mine last, and I could breathe a little easier when I saw Mr. B reaching across Master Lyon to retrieve what he hadn’t eaten. He didn’t spare me a glance as he transferred the scraps from one plate to another, but when he stooped to give it to me, we shared a private look as he set it on the floor.

  Then he stood and followed the other butlers back to what I assumed was the kitchen.

  They must have been eating in the time I was knocked out, which explained why our presence hadn’t been requested until now; we couldn’t eat until after our Owners, so there was no need for us. I scanned the girls and boys around me, watching as they ate. The girl stared past me to her Owner—if that was what he could be called.

  As my eyes swept downward, back to my plate, I noticed how everyone else’s had differing amounts of food on them. Their Owners determined how hungry they were or how much they deserved. In our teachings at the Compound, this practice was to remind us that the Mainworld was a harsh place—represented by our degree of hunger—and that when one was Owned they needed to be grateful for such a privilege. If they chose to give us little to no food, it was up to us to prove how devoted we were until the next meal, where our actions would be judged again.

  It was why, once I returned to the Compound, they often chose to starve me—at least that was how they h
ad justified it; to remind me of all the Order provided and how I wasn’t worthy of any of it. However, most guards just liked how weak it made me. I couldn’t fight as hard if my body had no fuel.

  My plate looked as if it hadn’t been touched. There were fork marks in the potatoes, and the meat had been cut into bite-sized pieces yet still seemed as if the entire steak remained. Some of the girls and boys looked longingly at my plate while one or two openly glared with jealousy. This dinner paralleled the one I’d had two nights ago; it was as if I’d had practice and therefore I could eat my meal without the same hesitation many of them displayed

  I sipped the water that had been placed beside my plate, fingers slipping on the condensation.

  The hand at the back of my head squeezed the tiniest bit as if to praise me and I let myself appreciate it.

  “Maybe once we’re done here, I should have Master Lyon take her,” Gregor picked up his topic as if no time had elapsed. “Train her the way he trained Master Jäger’s dog.”

  The food in my mouth became too thick and I had to shut my eyes to concentrate on not vomiting. Once I could swallow, I drank more than half of the water in my glass. The word shouldn’t have bothered me this much by now. It was just another meaningless title amongst children in a sandbox calling each other names.

  Once I’d composed myself, I resumed eating, determined to finish it all.

  “She isn’t as pretty as your Doe,” Gregor said, “but once Master Jäger is done with her, my piglet will start looking better and better to you.”

  My Owner removed his hand from my head and from the corner of my eye, I watched him light a cigarette. He took two leisurely puffs then said, “Don’t come to me to fix your mistakes.”

  Though he said it seriously, a few of the other Members laughed.

  Gregor crossed his ankles and I sensed he was leaning his elbows on the table. He spoke through a swallow that could only be more wine. “Always so modest.”

  Master Lyon shifted in his seat, jostled by Gregor clapping him on the back as if they were athletes who had just won a difficult game.

  “This dog was a wild, untamable beast that disfigured and disgraced Master Jäger and tarnished the values of the Order. A few months with you and look at her.”

  My cheeks burned and I felt approximately thirty sets of eyes on me. I was confident they couldn’t really see me, but then Gregor kept talking, intent on watching my Owner fail in front of all these men and women he was meant to convince.

  “Go on, Elliot,” His name sounded acrid on Gregor’s tongue. “Why don’t you show everyone?”

  I smelled more cigarette smoke as Master Lyon gave his suggestion thought. As if he wasn’t on display, he set it down in the ashtray and said, “What do you suggest?”

  To the others, they probably seemed like old colleagues glad to spend time together tormenting innocent girls and boys as much as the next Member.

  Sighing as if he performed this act too often, Master Lyon pushed out his chair and rose. My eyes naturally followed him, but I made sure I kept my gaze no higher than his chest. “Stand,” he ordered, and without hesitation, I did so, dizzy when my knees locked into place.

  I struggled not to look around to see all the faces staring back at me. Master Lyon cleared his throat before pushing aside his ashtray and whatever drink he’d had on the table in front of him. His fingers brushed the bare skin of my back and I suppressed a shiver.

  Without warning, Master Lyon gripped the back of my neck and urged me forward with too much force. I fell against the marble tabletop, shaking the plates and glasses. He set to work unzipping the dress, peeling it away from my body so he could show them all what lay underneath. I was grateful for the way my hair had fallen over my face, because it felt hotter than ever now.

  When I was in nothing but the stockings, underwear, and collar, Master Lyon tossed my dress aside. “Doe,” he said above me, fingers unashamedly tracing the henna designs on my skin and raising goose bumps. “I want you to stretch your arms across the table.”

  Adjusting slightly, I did as I was told, careful to avoid wine glasses and dessert plates.

  I felt him gather the hair from my back and twist so I had no other choice but to crane my neck upwards as he moved me any way he wished.

  “Now listen carefully.” He stared into my eyes and in an instant, we were alone. “These men and women,” he moved my head so I would look at the Members seated around the table. Besides my Owner and Gregor, none were under the age of fifty. “They’re going to hurt you.” Like a blow to the face, I absorbed the impact of his statement without my expression changing. “And you are to thank them each time. Do you understand?”

  I swallowed and replied for all to hear, “Yes, sir.”

  He set my head back down on the cool, hard surface, making sure he knotted my hair on top of my head so I could no longer hide behind it.

  “Anything you’d like to add?” he directed at Gregor.

  I couldn’t see him from this new angle, and I kept my eyes trained on the marble so I didn’t have to look at anyone else.

  “No screaming or crying,” he added. “And the more she hurts, the more she should thank us.”

  Master Lyon leaned so I could see him. “Did you hear that, Doe?”

  I stole a glimpse of his eyes and they were all the strength I needed. “Yes, sir.”

  That mischievous smirk appeared on his face. “Repeat it to me.”

  Around us, many of the Members chuckled, but our gazes remained locked a second longer before I slipped into the role I was meant to play. “I—I’m to thank everyone when they hurt me, sir.” I purposefully played up the scared child angle when I wanted to smash a nearby wineglass and use it as a weapon. Even so, the drugs made the urge float so far away it was impossible to make out anymore. “I am not permitted to scream or cry.”

  Sharp and fast, his hand came down without mercy along my backside, sending a vibrating, bruising sting through me that stole the air from my lungs. “I did not say paraphrase, Doe,” he scolded and once again, the Members laughed. “They get confused so easily when they’re in a new place,” he said as if excusing my behavior and from the corner of my eye, I could see shadows nodding their agreement as my Owner turned his attention back to me, giving my buttocks a squeeze before he let go. “I said repeat.”

  I made a show of realizing this was what he wanted, eyes slightly widening. “S-sorry, sir,” I said in a tiny voice I wasn’t quite convinced was just for show. “These men and women,” I pretended to be in pain when the place where he’d hit me was only pleasantly warm, “are going to hurt me. And I am to thank them each time. The more it hurts, the more I should thank them. No screaming or crying.”

  Now his hand soothed the skin he’d scorched. At first it reawakened the sting and I gasped involuntarily—to which everyone laughed, including him—but soon it subsided.

  “Good girl,” he said before picking me up and posing me on top of the table like the perfect little doll. The drugs worked to my benefit, making me limp and easily manageable.

  “Five,” Master Lyon commanded, and I snapped into the pose, kneeling with my forehead touching the marble and my arms spread straight in front of me. My back arched naturally as my backside displayed itself for all to see. Through the gap between my arm and the table, I watched as Master Lyon took calculated steps around it so he was near my head. To my left, he pulled out a chair, sitting as he made sure my hair was out of my face as he turned it just slightly so I would be staring directly at him during this little exercise.

  “Ladies, gentlemen,” he said without fully looking away, “you may begin whenever you’re ready.”

  A chill broke out across my skin as I heard them all shuffling around me, filing into line so they could all have their turn.

  The short glimpse of my Owner I allowed myself was so loaded with emotions I had to shut my eyes so I wouldn’t become consumed as well. With the exception of Gregor, the others seemed hesitant. It w
as taboo to hurt another Member’s charge, but this was different. I was to be Jäger’s, and right now, I belonged to Master Lyon. Both of these men were highly respected and feared.

  “Come on,” Gregor said from somewhere behind me. “Don’t be shy!”

  I assumed they were his footsteps coming around the table and then I saw him pick up one of the many candelabras.

  I immediately felt the hot liquid of the wax against my shoulder, then the same place where Master Lyon had hit me. Unprepared, a gasp escaped me before my mind could connect the next logical step of what I was supposed to do.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, wanting with every muscle within me to kick him.

  “She’s not going to bite you,” he addressed the other men and women. “The little cunt has finally been trained.”

  I blinked at Master Lyon, who had lit another cigarette with one of the candles. He was too relaxed, too sure I would behave without any mistakes.

  Gregor made it a point to reach over me, the fabric of his jacket grazing the already dried and cracking wax. He retrieved something from one of the disrupted place settings and then hit me as hard as he could with whatever it was. The fine sting against the back of my thigh combined with my spinning head, but I was quicker with my response this time. “Thank you, sir.”

  I wasn’t aware that it had come out as a whimper until Master Lyon said, “Louder, Doe. Don’t be impolite.” Though brief, his gentle hand on my head that looked patronizing to the others was comforting to me. He sat back in his seat and looked over me. “Why don’t you try again?”

  Master Lyon was purposefully prolonging this and I wasn’t certain whether it was for their entertainment or his. “They’re so cute when they’re confused. Perhaps you can clear her mind, Gregor.”

  There was no hesitation, even to laugh, and instead of dripping more wax on my skin or hitting me, I felt the sharp pain of something penetrating my skin as he stabbed it into the fleshiest part of my backside.