Devils & Rye

by Alta Hensley

  The other girls nodded in agreement.

  I didn’t know what to say. I fingered the collar around my neck, hating how tight it felt each time I swallowed. I scanned the dark room for any signs of escape. The only bright light came from small slits in the window, but it was enough that I could see there was only one way in, and one way out. Each window had metal bars running vertically. We were in a prison—chained by the neck in a dark, dank room waiting for this ritual.

  “What if you refuse?” Even though I asked the question, I already knew the answer.

  The women shook their heads, sighed, one even gave an evil chuckle. “There is no refusal,” one said sadly. “Not at this stage in the process.”

  “And whatever you do,” one woman added, “don’t do anything to insult the men in front of the others. I heard they take those women outside and put a bullet in their heads.”

  Chills ran over my body, and I fought the urge to vomit. Why had I left Alec? He had warned me. He had told me I didn’t want to be involved. Where was my father? What the hell was going on?

  “Is there really no way out?” I asked in defeat.

  “Death,” was the blunt reply.

  I sat in silence and closed my eyes. Maybe when I opened them, I would find this all to be an awful dream. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. There weren’t large secret groups of people who could be so evil. This wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t…

  Who were these women? How long had they been here?

  “There has got to be a way out,” I said, more to myself than them. I just couldn’t accept this fact as easily as they all did.

  “There isn’t. This plantation is buried deep in the Georgian woods. Even if you somehow got in the woods, they’d find you before you could find your way out.”

  “But all these people. They can’t all be bad. Surely there are some who will help us.”

  “No. It’s the way it has always been for centuries. We don’t have the power to stop tradition.”

  “Tradition?” I asked as I tested the chain and the collar around my neck to see if there was any chance of unlocking myself.

  Another girl who had remained silent up until now spoke up. “My daddy, my granddaddy, my great granddaddy. This goes back so far in my family tree. All of our family trees. The ritual happens every year, and this is part of it. The women.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “So we have no hope? Is that what you are all saying?” I looked at each one of the women who not only were physically abused, but were emotionally beaten. “We just sit here chained to the floor in a dark room waiting for this ritual? Have you all accepted that as your fate?”

  None of the women said a word this time, but their silence was answer enough.

  The silence didn’t last long, however, because three men walked in with a tray of small paper cups of what I assumed was water and a bottle of pills. They worked together to distribute the water to each female followed by a pill.

  “Take your night meds like good little girls. You’ll need it to make this night not last forever while you await the ritual. Sweet dreams.” The man’s words were laced with such pure evil.

  Each man left without saying another word. The only sound left was that of crying and whimpering women fearing for what was to come. It took me several moments to realize that some of the sounds of the room were my own cries as well.

  I placed the pill on my tongue like all the others did, but decided it best not to take it. Maybe drugging myself so I could sleep through this nightmare would be a good idea, but I wanted my wits about me too. I knew there was no escape on my own since I was chained to the floor, but I needed to be alert and ready for when a window of chance opened up… if it ever opened up. My life was in my own hands. My father’s life as well.

  Pulling my knees up to my chin, I allowed a moment of self-pity to set in and missed the safety of the lake house. The comfort of Alec’s arms around me.

  Alec…

  Maybe Alec would come.

  Maybe Alec would save me if I couldn’t save myself.

  Self-pity turned to hope. Dark-laced hope, but at least it was hope.

  13

  Makayla

  I heard them enter the room and could see that all the women were still in their drug-induced slumber. I needed to play along that I too had taken the pills. I had no idea what any act of defiance would warrant me, and I was terrified to find out.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to deepen my breathing as if I were truly sleeping. They would know I wasn’t really asleep if I didn’t calm down.

  Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

  “Some of them are stirring,” one man said. “Hurry up and carry them to the shower room before we have them waking up, panicking, and then trying to flee out of here. I’m not in the mood for a run.”

  The shift of bodies told me that the other men were following the command. Focusing on my breathing, I struggled not to flinch when they unlocked my chain and my naked body was pulled harshly from the ground and flung over someone’s shoulder. I remained as limp and still as I could, even though every step the man took had his bony shoulder jabbing into my stomach. If I hadn’t had an empty stomach, I would have surely thrown up with the amount of pressure being applied to my empty gut. Resisting the urge to peek and look around, I tried to focus on the noises around me instead. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the man’s heavy steps carrying me, and the voices of several men all around, each mumbling about the weight of the woman they carried.

  My body was soon tossed to the hard, cold ground. I managed to not cry out in pain as my torso hit the floor with enough force to knock the wind out of me. My head hit the back of a wall hard enough for my ears to ring. The sound of groans and whimpers of the women all around me was my cue that I, too, could stir awake. Keeping my ruse up, I also slowly opened my eyes with tiny moans and an added whimper or two for effect.

  Looking around, I could see that all of the captured women were cast around in one big room, with no windows and tiles from floor to ceiling. The stark white color made the room appear almost metallic in nature. Shower heads were lined up along all four walls, and there were several metal drains scattered around the floor. We had been delivered to the shower room, and although I fought back the madness of being more terrified than I had ever been in my entire life, the thought of taking a shower and having actual running water on my body delighted me. I truly felt like a dirty, grimy, prisoner having spent the night chained to the dusty ground, naked, with other dirty women.

  “Rise and shine, slaves,” a man shouted, his voice echoing off the tiles.

  Every female had their eyes already opened or very near, and their obvious horror of the situation mirrored mine.

  “Get up and clean yourselves,” he ordered, taking a few steps back toward the entrance. He then flipped a red switch on his right, and water came rushing out of all the shower heads.

  When the freezing water hit all the naked women, some squealed, some cried, but others stood as I did, and we began washing the grime off our bodies. The temperature didn’t bother me, especially if it meant getting clean. Not being sure if I would get in trouble or not, I decided to risk it and opened my mouth, quenching my parched throat. The refreshing liquid tasted metallic as it clearly came from old plantation pipes, but regardless, I swallowed large gulps as the spray rained down on my face.

  “Be sure to clean those dirty cunts and the crack between your ass cheeks. Relieve yourselves here too. We aren’t stopping at the ladies’ room for you all.” The man’s crude comment had the more frightened women whimpering even more than they already were. But again, I didn’t care. I’m not sure why the words didn’t bother me, but they simply did not. The day I left the lake house and surrendered myself, I knew that I was accepting darkness to take over. I had accepted that truth, and the man’s harsh words would only be the beginning. I had moments of panic last night as I thought
of ways of escaping, but then escaping the ritual meant my trip here to the plantation was for nothing. I had come with a purpose, and I’d come to terms with that as all the women slept around me.

  Noticing that others were using bars of soap, lathering the suds over their bodies, I glanced around until I found a bar of my own on a nearby ledge. Reaching out for the soap and rubbing it over my skin, with water cascading all around me, I actually possessed a feeling of acceptance of my situation. It was almost as if I could feel my father. He was near, and I was coming. No matter what I had to do to get to him. Even if it meant standing in a room with other captured slaves, showering beneath freezing water, under the eyes of a complete stranger.

  When the showers were abruptly shut off, we stood with arms wrapped around our shivering bodies, staring at the man, waiting for him to tell us what was next. Water droplets hung from my hair, and goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, but I still didn’t care. I was ready to face this head on. Some cried, others pleaded, yet I did nothing more than hold my head high and wait. Maybe it was that I knew a little of what was coming due to Alec’s awful story, and the unknown didn’t haunt me as badly as it did the other women.

  “Get on your knees,” the man ordered as he opened the door and signaled for the rest of the men outside to enter. Their black shoes splashing on the puddled floor was all I could see as I did what was asked with no hesitation. Other women did not act on command as fast, or at all, and were rewarded with slaps to the face, or pulling of hair as they were forced to kneel before each approaching man.

  “You better get used to it, slaves. From this moment on, you do exactly as you are commanded. The consequences will be severe if you do not. We take preparation for the ritual very seriously here in the Iron Colt Brotherhood.”

  The sound of metal and chain came before a heavy collar was clasped around my neck, hooked to a silver chain. I glanced up to see a man with a devilish smirk staring down at me, holding my leash as if I were an animal.

  “Get used to it, slaves. You are all our little pets. Whatever pride you have right now, you better get rid of it quick.” As he turned, he motioned for all the men to lead their ‘pets’ by their leashes. The few women who tried to stand were shoved back to the ground with a kick to the ribs or a slap to the ass.

  Trying not to pay attention to the cries of others, I crawled on my hands and knees as fast as I could so the collar wouldn’t choke me. My appointed man paid little attention to my struggles at keeping up. My knees kept slipping from underneath me on the wet tile, and a few times I fell, hitting my face on the ground, but not once did the man slow. It only got worse when we crossed the threshold of a courtyard and my hands and knees made contact with the rough brick. Tiny pebbles dug into my palms and ripped my knees to shreds with every movement I made. I wasn’t given the time to tenderly or carefully maneuver my way, and was all but dragged by the tug of my leash if I slowed in the slightest. The bright sun had me squinting my eyes, but the rays of light did little to warm the chill in the air. It wasn’t exactly cold outside, but my hair still dripped down my back and my flesh was still damp, making the slight breeze bitterly cold. There were men in suits all around, and I was embarrassed at being in such a humiliating position, but they didn’t seem to care or notice that six naked women were crawling all around them. Was this the norm for their lives? It was as if we were just the backdrop to their every day routine. I tried to discreetly scan each of them to see if my father was one of the men present, but didn’t see him. Dirt blackened beneath my nails again, my hands covered in dirt and blood. I mourned my moment of cleanliness for however short it had been and wondered what the point in showering really was if they’d intended to do this all along. I guess our pussies were clean. Maybe that was all they cared about.

  We reached some stairs leading back into the mansion. The man holding my leash paused, and for a moment, I hoped he would grant me the mercy to stand and at least walk up the stairs.

  He did not.

  Yanking hard, he climbed the steps, dragging me behind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t crawl up the stairs quickly; the awkward position of my body doing so, spread my legs apart. I knew all of my privates were on full and vulgar display to all the men in their pressed wool blazers and silk ties. But there was nothing I could do as I gagged and wheezed for breath as the metal of the collar cut into the skin of my neck.

  “Move it!” my assigned man snapped.

  But what could I do? The coordination to crawl up the steps did not come to me fast enough. I cried out, but no sound came from my strangled throat. Tears ran down my face, and all I could see were the blurry shoes of my tormentor before me. Would I die like this? Would my death be caused by crawling up the stairs? It was certainly not the most glamorous way to meet my maker.

  The holder of my leash, growing frustrated by my lack of speed, reached down and yanked me by the hair. The biting sting at my roots was welcome because it meant that I had a moment to gasp a large, life-saving breath, refilling my deprived lungs. Tossing me to the landing at the top of the stairs, he once again reached for my leash and led me the rest of the way into the house. I crawled as fast as I could, wanting to please him since, in a sick way, I felt I owed him a renewed obedience. He had shown me mercy by pulling me up the steps—by my hair, rather than the metal and chain—the rest of the way.

  We stopped in a large empty room—a ballroom. Each woman remained kneeling, but we were all in a single file line facing the back of the room. The men dropped our leashes, all walked to the side of the room, and stood against the wall. I glanced in both directions with my eyes, but trying to keep my head down, not moving an inch. I didn’t want to stand out or have anyone notice me. The woman to my right silently sobbed, while the woman to my left shifted her hands and knees, smearing blood on the white marble floor beneath her.

  We waited. For what, I wasn’t sure.

  My knees ached and my palms throbbed, but I refused to break position, as did the rest of the lined up women. We remained in position for ten minutes, twenty, thirty… I couldn’t be sure. But with each passing minute, my body screamed in agony, desperate to move and relieve at least some of the pain.

  Finally, the heavy sound of shoes walking across the marble floor, then several others following, announced others were joining us in the room.

  “You all may sit back and rest on your feet. Place your palms on your thighs and spread your legs wide,” came a deep and powerful voice as he walked in front of us, standing with his arms crossed.

  I almost moaned in relief when I was able to relieve the pressure on my battered hands and knees. Fighting back dizziness, I did as the man commanded, trying not to focus on the cool air of the room making contact with my exposed sex. The dampness from the shower still remained on my pubic hairs, only causing my vulnerability to heighten even more.

  The man before us had dark hair that hung in waves to his shoulders. His face had a faint shading of stubble, and his eyes bored into each of us with an intensity that sent a shiver down my body. His nose was long and narrow, standing out as his most prominent feature. He reminded me of what I imagined a goblin king to look like in a classic fairytale.

  The rest of the men who marched in behind this man lined up behind him with their arms clasped behind their backs, legs shoulder-width apart, and they stared at each of us. They all wore some type of business suit just like the others I had crawled past—and just like with the others, my father was not one of them, but I also didn’t have time to take in each person before my attention was directed at the man speaking.

  “We are the Iron Colt Brotherhood,” the man began. “I am sure you have all heard of our society in one way or another.” He gave a wicked smile. “And let me assure you. All the rumors you have heard are true. And even worse.” He snickered at his own joke, but no one in the room showed any emotion at all. Unless you counted the women, who softly whimpered or gasped at his words. “I will be the master of ceremonies for th
e ritual tomorrow.”

  I swallowed hard, struggling with the overwhelming urge to close my legs when his eyes peered upon me. Luckily, his gaze eventually moved on and looked at the next woman, and then the next.

  “You are all now part of our ritual process. You belong to the brotherhood and no one else. The only way you can break free from that collar around your neck is when someone purchases you as their slave for the ritual. At which time, you will be handed over to your new Master.” He paused, but didn’t move his stance at all. “I have high expectations for this year’s ritual.” He paused long enough to look at every square inch of each woman kneeling on the ground. “For now, you wait while the bidding process happens with the members.”

  He motioned to the men on the back wall who had dragged us into the ballroom to come and escort us out of the room which they each did by taking hold of our leashes and tugging us like before. Fortunately, we didn’t have to crawl long because the room we were escorted to was right off the ballroom.

  Entering the room on my hands and knees, I looked up and observed that we’d been brought into another empty room. All except carpet. There was finally carpet to help ease the pain in my knees.

  “Keep quiet,” one of the men ordered as we were all pulled to the center of the room. “It will soon be time for your Master who purchases you to come get you. Stay here, and keep your mouths shut.”

  Again, I was left with nothing but the soft sobs from frightened women and my own dark thoughts of what terrors were still to come.

  14

  Makayla

  I must have dozed off. The light from the door opening woke me as heavy shoes entered the room.

  “Come on, Makayla. You are first. Time we take you to meet your highest bidder. You better be a good little girl and fuck him real good so he doesn’t trade you in for someone else. Otherwise, there will be other bidders just itching to get their cocks wet with your juices,” the same man who’d brought me into the ballroom by chain said. He glanced down in disgust at the other women cowering in the corner of the room. He then reached down, unclasped my chain from the floor, and yanked me up to a standing position. “Walk!”