Little Things

by Madison Street

  Derrick commands, “Take her down and lock her up. Make sure she doesn’t escape this time. I’ll be down in a little bit.”

  One of the captors accepts the order, “Yes, sir.”

  As they carry me away, I look at Derrick and beg, “No, no! Please don’t do this!”

  Derrick slaps me across the face. “Shut her up!”

  One of his minions reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a roll of duct tape, and applies a strip across my mouth. They carry me back into the kitchen and slowly make their way down the stairs as I continue to struggle and scream as loud as I can. As we descend into the darkness of the tunnel, tears return as my body trembles in fear of the horrors that await me around the corner.

  Raya

  I continue to struggle and break free from their grips, but it’s not enough. No matter how hard I thrash my body, or how loud I scream, it’s hopeless. No one is going to help me. As I’m carried off deeper into the tunnel, I hear Derrick speak behind us. He instructs the men to stop and change their course and head the other direction. I try to lift my head to see where we are headed, but it’s no use. I’m too exhausted from the previous escape attempt.

  The blood from my forehead runs down to my neck and my arms are starting to fall asleep from lack of blood flow. The men lead me around a few corridors until we stop at the end of the hall. Derrick opens the dungeon door in front of us and enters the room.

  Suddenly, I hear Layla screaming, “No, get away from me!”

  My heart plummets into my stomach and I kick as hard as I can at my assailant. He maintains his balance and his grip on my legs. I scream for Layla but it’s muffled from the duct tape. The men carry me into the room and stand me upright. One of them grabs a pair of handcuffs and fastened my wrists behind my back. The other tightly grips his hand around my neck.

  Layla focuses on me, realizing I’m unable to save her, “Raya…”

  Derrick approaches Layla and bends down to take a good look at her. He reaches out to touch her blonde curly hair, but she tries to bite his hand, causing him to flinch away.

  “Go to hell, you prick!”

  He snarls, “Honey, I’m already here.”

  He looks at me from the corner of his dark eyes, “Because of your misbehavior, your friend will receive the punishment.”

  My muffled screams of protests escape my lungs but my neck is firmly compressed. Tears run down my face as Derrick climbs onto the bed next to Layla. She tries to kick him off but he blocks her attack and backhands her. She cries out in agony while he hastily pulls off her black skirt.

  Her wails echo throughout the room as she tries to pull out of the metal chains. She thrashes her body until Derrick sits on top, applying his full weight to her. He pins her legs underneath his and he runs his hands up and down her thighs. I start to feel absolutely sick just watching this and am so pissed. The heat from my anger boils my skin as I sweat profusely. My hands ball into hard fists and I try to twist out of the handcuffs.

  She whimpers, “Please don’t.”

  He answers, “Remember, this is Raya’s fault.”

  He reaches to slowly unbutton her white blouse and gradually pulls it off, exposing her white lace bra. Her chest bobs up and down from her heavy breathing and she’s terrified. Her body trembles underneath his rough and hard body.

  He bends lower, and I can’t tell, but I think he bites her nipple through her bra. At this point, she’s completely frozen—not moving at all. His hand grazes across her bra and around her back, slowly lifting her up toward him. He unclasps her bra and she falls back to the bed. Right when Derrick puts his mouth on her exposed breast, I try to look away, but my handler keeps my head still. I close my eyes tight as I try to focus on something else. Anything but here.

  I try to tune out her whimpers and sobs, but the terrorizing sounds cause my skin to crawl.

  Derrick whispers to her but I can’t make out what he says. The chains clank against the wooden bed; she must be shaking. My senses are on high alert as I struggle to take control of the anger seeping out of me. I’m no longer scared or frightened. All that matters at this moment is getting Layla out of here.

  With full force, I push the back of my head into the holder’s nose, pounding as hard as I can, hoping it breaks. He lets go of my neck as his hand goes to his injured nose. I spin kick him in the face, causing him to fly backward. I pace my breathing through my nose to ensure I can take the next guy out with only two kicks. The other man rushes up to me, swinging wildly, but I duck and step back out of the way. I kick him right in the balls and he goes down easily.

  At that moment, Derrick picks me up and I go flying into the wall. Since my arms are handcuffed, I have no way to brace for impact. My body crashes into the cement wall and I tumble to the floor. My already dislocated shoulder throbs in pain and my head spins as everything goes fuzzy. I hear Layla’s pleas fade away into the darkness as my eyes close and everything fades to black.

  The whispers of Derrick and the other men slowly grow louder as I open my eyes. The pounding in my head beats so hard, it’s making me nauseous. I look around and I see I’m back in the room where they first had me. They must have carried me here from Layla’s room. Everything is still blurry and spinning. Fuck, I’m dizzy. I shake my head to gain a proper perspective.

  As my surroundings slowly come into focus, I realize I’m lying on the bed, my arms chained to the posts. I try to wiggle my arms out, but really, what’s the point? The sound of the metal chains alerts Derrick and his men. They turn their attention to me and all three of them smile wickedly.

  One of the men complains, “The bitch is awake. Can we teach her a lesson now?” He starts to walk toward the bed, but Derrick holds him back.

  Derrick’s malicious eyes bore into my soul, “Leave us. I want this one all to myself.”

  His men comply with his demands and lock the door behind them. Derrick slowly creeps up to my bed and takes off my heels. I try to kick at him, but my body is so weak from the previous fighting. My legs feel so heavy and I can’t manage to build the amount of force I need to defend myself. He reaches for my slacks and unbuttons them.

  The panic of what’s about to happen builds, making it difficult to breathe. As I try to stay calm and breathe, I start to tremble. Derrick slides my pants off my legs and tosses them to the floor. I flinch the minute his nasty and disgusting hands touch my legs.

  I clench my teeth and gulp, praying that I can make it through this horrifying experience. As his hands run up and down my legs, tears run down my face.

  He wipes one away, “Relax. Soon you will learn to enjoy this.”

  I seethe, “Fuck you, I will never enjoy this. Never.”

  He smirks, “We’ll see about that. One day you will beg for more.”

  He continues to savor my body, “You are fucking beautiful. And your eyes…like those of an angel. You are going to bring me some good business. And because of that, I will not damage my merchandise by diminishing the value.”

  I look at him puzzled, “What are you going to do to me?”

  He hushes me, takes a roll of duct tape out of his back pocket, and applies a strip over my mouth. The rising fear and tension escalates as I fathom what he’s about to do to me. He reaches up to my face and cups my cheek in his hand.

  Quietly, he responds, “I’m just appreciating what I have while teaching you a lesson.”

  He unlocks my arms from the chains, pulls me to sit up, and grabs hold of my hurt shoulder. His fingers grasp tightly and twist my shoulder. I scream under the duct tape as the excruciating pain scorches through my body. My legs fling wildly underneath him.

  He yells, “Quiet!” and slaps me hard across the face. He returns to twisting my shoulder and I swear I can feel the muscles tearing. The intense agony shooting from my shoulder heightens at a fast rate to the point of utter torment. He continues to twist and turn my shoulder as I howl underneath him.

  His devilish eyes
glare into mine as he hits me in the face again.

  “You will not disobey my orders. You will learn.”

  He lets go of my shoulder and yanks me off the bed. I immediately fall to the floor and cry out as he drags me toward the door. He bangs hard until one of his men opens it.

  “Go get The Artist.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  Artist? Fuck. Derrick shuts the door as his guard heads off to get The Artist. Lying on the cold and hard floor, my body shakes violently as I await the next form of punishment. I try to stay calm and focus on my breathing, but who am I kidding? Tears continue to fall and my shoulder is completely torn. I can’t even move my arm.

  Several minutes later, a knock sounds on the door. Derrick peeks out to confirm its owner. He opens the door and a tall, husky man covered in tattoos and piercings, carrying a small kit, enters the room. One of Derrick’s men follows close behind with a restraint chair. Derrick shuts the door behind them.

  I gulp as I see The Artist remove his tools from the kit. He takes out a small cast iron tattoo machine, a small flat needle, and several ink containers. Derrick hoists me off the floor and drops me into the restraint chair. He then starts to unbutton my blouse and I squirm, causing the other captor to hold me steady.

  After Derrick finishes with the buttons, he slides the blouse off of my body until I’m sitting in only a bra and panties. He places my hands on the arms of the chair facing up and buckles the leather restraints around my ankles, wrists, and neck.

  My chest begins to heave up and down as The Artist approaches me with the tattoo gun. He grabs hold of my left wrist and starts working his design. As the gun buzzes and ink bleeds into my wrist, my anger begins to boil. I look at Derrick, and as he stares back, I have the urge to attack him.

  Minutes later, The Artist stops applying the tattoo and wipes away the blood from my wrist. He grabs it to take a good look at his work and smiles with pride. I glance down at my wrist and tears immediately pour down my face. On my wrist is a barcode with five numbers: one, fourteen, seven, five, and twelve.

  The Artist replaces his tattoo supplies in his kit and returns with a needle, a ring, and a disinfecting wipe. In that moment, Derrick reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, taking it off. In the span of a few seconds, The Artist wipes my left nipple clean, marks a dot, and in a swift motion, slides the needle through, transferring the ring through the nipple to seal it into place. I flinch from the sting of pain but it only lasts for a short moment. The Artist applies the same method to my other nipple, and a few minutes later, packs up his stuff and leaves the room.

  Derrick stares at my exposed breasts, completely lost in lust and awe. My body heats with anger, hatred, and disgust. He reaches out to me and I automatically flinch away from him.

  Derrick instructs his guard to leave and lock the door. Once the guard leaves, Derrick hastily removes my straps, picks me up out of the chair, and rushes to the bed. I squirm in his grasp and cry out as he chains my arms once again.

  He climbs on top of me and murmurs, “I will not have anyone be the first to touch you besides me.” His hands go straight for my underwear and he rips them off in one swift motion. I cry out and try to get free underneath his grip. My panting accelerates as I see him unzip his pants. I yank my arms rapidly to break out of the chains but the attempt is unsuccessful.

  As he begins to lower himself onto me, he rips the duct tape off my mouth, “I want you to scream.”

  In a split second, I reach up to him and bite his ear, causing him to yelp out in pain. I can taste blood on my lips as his vile eyes stare down at me. He bashes his fist into my face, expelling a burning sensation in my eye. I take the pain and try to relay as much confidence as I can.

  He growls at my sense of self-confidence, grabs hold of my waist, and mumbles, “Scream for me.”

  At that moment, he slams inside of me and I cry out as scorching pain shoots throughout my body. I can feel my insides stretch apart as he pushes further and further into me. The burning horror intensifies as he begins to quicken his pace. I silently cry as his hands comb along my body and touch me down there. The feel of his thrusts inside of me causes my stomach to churn and I let out a low whimper.

  The sound of my sobs and whimpers fuels his lust as he plunges deeper and deeper inside. He grabs hold of my hair and pulls so hard that a few strands break away from my scalp but I refuse to scream.

  His growing frustration from my disobedience radiates from him.

  I look him square in the eyes and say, “I will never scream for you. You’re a monster.”

  He barks, “You are my whore and will do what I say!”

  He pulls out of me and flips me over onto my stomach. He pushes my legs up so that I’m at a kneeling position on the bed, grabs hold of my hair, forcing me to keep my body upright.

  His hands sprawl across my ass and move along the curves of its cheeks.

  He grumbles, “This will make you scream,” and plunges himself inside. I immediately cry out but tell myself to not give in to him. The throbbing and burning sensations make me sick as my insides are torn apart from his intrusion.

  Tears spill down my cheeks and I watch them fall onto the bed. My fingers grip onto the bed sheet as I swallow the agonizing torture.

  Derrick yanks on my hair, “Scream for me.”

  I affirm, “No.”

  His annoyance at his failure to make me scream increases. He stops to turn me around again, wrapping his fingers around my neck as he squeezes. His eyes, red with fury, transmit fear and horror into my soul. Don’t give in, Raya. You are a fighter.

  He seethes, “One day you will scream for me.”

  I spit in his face, “That’s all you’ll ever get from me.”

  He wipes the spit off and chains me back to the bed, zips his pants, and retreats toward the door. Turning to face me, he whispers, “You will regret this, Angel. I can promise you that.”

  I let out a deep breath and assert, “One day I will kill you. I can promise you that.”

  Laughing at my threat, he opens the door and allows the guard to step into the room. He calls out for a few more of his men and they all gather in the room.

  As he’s about to exit, he states, “She’s all yours.”

  Raya

  I wake to the sounds of someone rummaging through my room. Soft whispers echo against the hard gray walls. I try to move my body but the soreness and aching in my bones prevents me from moving at all. I slowly open my eyes to see a blurred figure standing over me. Squinting, I try to focus on my surroundings.

  The grogginess dissipates as everything starts to become clear again. The room comes into focus and the figure standing above me bends down and rubs my cheeks. I try to reach for them, but my arm is chained to the bed. My mouth is completely dry, and as I try to speak, my voice cracks.

  The dark figure whispers, “Don’t speak. We are here to fix you up. You’ve had a rough night.”

  Realization hits me—there’s a woman in the room with me. I force my eyes to open wider and see who’s in front of me. A beautiful and elegant woman with long, dark curly hair smiles at me.

  I struggle to speak, “Who are you?”

  She chuckles and rubs the top of my head, “I’m Trish. I’ll be your coach while you’re here.” She looks my body up and down and smoothes the hair away from my face. “And by the looks of it, we are going to be very busy.”

  “Wait, coach? For what?”

  She bends down closer to me and whispers, “You want to survive?”

  I nod my head, “Yes.”

  “Then you need to be the best girl Derrick has to offer. If not, then you won’t bring in the money and he won’t have use for you anymore.”

  I gulp, “What will I have to do?”

  “Anything that they ask of you. And if not, then you’re no longer needed. So, my first piece of advice is to listen to Derrick. Don’t fight him. He owns you now.”

&nbs
p; I stare at Trish puzzlingly, “Why are you here? What’s in it for you?”

  “I’ve been one of Derrick’s girls for about ten years now and this is the only thing I know. It’s my life. If we try to run, they’ll kill us. So, I stay and try to make the best of it.”

  I gulp, “I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t just be thrown around from man to man.”

  “You have a friend in here, right?”

  My eyes grow wide, “Yes. Layla. Did you meet her? Is she alright?”

  Trish sighs, “If you want to help her, then you need to surrender. Derrick sees something in you so he won’t hurt you, but her…he’ll go after your friend.”

  Tears spill down my face and Trish wipes them away.

  “Now, first thing’s first, we need to sling your shoulder and get you all cleaned up.”

  She reaches over to my chains, unlocks them, and caresses my bruised wrists. Walking over to the dresser, she takes out a white robe and walks back to the bed. She sits on the bed next to me and helps me sit up. My body screams in pain and my legs shake uncontrollably.

  She slowly wraps the robe around my naked body and pulls me up steadily to stand next to her. I grab hold of her as my footing is a little shaky. Glancing at the bed behind me, there are blood stains on the bed sheets and I cringe.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that on your first night. Derrick is an asshole and gets what he wants.”

  I shake my head, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Last night is the last thing I want to talk or even think about. A person should never have to go through what I experienced last night. I briefly remember begging the men to just knock me out, but they relished in seeing my agony firsthand.

  A glimpse of last night flashes into my mind, I’m bound to the bed, duct tape conceals my screams, and I hear the heinous laughs of three men.

  I shake off the memory and focus on Trish. She notices that I’m distressed and squeezes me tightly, guides me to the door, and slowly pulls it open. Two other girls are standing on the other side and they reach out to grab hold of me. My nerves creep back up as I look at Trish and realize she’s holding a needle.