Every Black Rose Has its Thorns

((Closed for Myself and Leopald and Monique Minx but PM if interested for an invite as the thread opens up later on))
IC: Morgan Tanner

The bar was seedy, but in this rundown third world country this bar was practically the ritz. Morgan saw the man he came here to find at a table in the corner. He was nursing a glass of expensive tequila. In this bar such a fine quality tequila would be three times its worth in the states, but he knew them man had demanding tastes.

That was his story, a man of exquisite taste brought to ruin.

He was pouring his last glassfull from the bottle as Morgan sat at his table facing him. "Mr. Remming."

Even with a bottle of fine tequila in him his hand dipped non chalantly under the table-reaching for a knife-no he's not the type to dirty his hands with a knife-a gun more likely.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Remming," Nathan continued, If I was here to kill you I'd have waited for you to pass out from all the tequila you just drank."

"So if you're not here to to kill me," Mr. Remming asked, "Why are you in such a fine shithole as this establishment talking to me, and why do you know my name?"

It was time to put all the cards on the table. knowledge was power and Remming needed to know Morgan knew quite alot and wasn't to be pissed around with. "You are Stephen J. Remming III. Member of the Black Rose Society. A secret society that's the basis for the Illuminati urban myth. Your society was started during the sacking of Troy. You follow complicated rituals like the freemasons that none of the members know the true reasoning behind anymore. Rituals that use women as sexslaves-usually kidnapped and tortured women."

"Well," Remming said crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, "You do know quite alot, which strikes me as somewhat odd since, most who know so much are part of the society and would not give me the time of day, or an outsider who is very very deceased via a very very tragic accident."

"I'm not finished," Nathan snapped, "Like I said you are Stephen Remming meber of the Black Rose Society. You were a prominent member, a rising star in its complicated politics, which put you at odds with its current leadership-a man by the name of Solomon Perez." Nathan smiled at the little glimmer of hatred he saw in Remming's eyes at the mention of that name. "He framed you for a violation of the society's rules, stripped you of your fortune, and seeded most of the countries of the world's Intelligence and Law Enforcement agencies with your name on the top of their most wanted lists. That bastard didn't even have the decency to arrange your death as you slept. Instead he cut you loose to agonize in your newfound state of impotence."

He had a hard edge to his voice now, "Finished now? Good, because I've just figured out who you are. You're Morgan Tanner, former US Navy Seal turned paint shop owner. You and your wife vacationed in the caribean one year. You went out to sea for a few days and she stayed behind to shop. Only she didn't do much shopping. She was abducted and bought on the market by the society, and singled out by Grandmaster of the sixth circle Solomon Perez as his newest pet. She was tortured, brain-washed, and raped so much that she became wounded bleeding from the inside out, and rather than have her attended to Perez left her to hemhorraging on the beach. I seem to remember the local paper saying how you found her Mr. Tanner. How you held her in your arms as she bled to death telling her how much you loved her." He laughed, "God damn, isn't it the perfect set up for one of those lame late night action movies on TV?"

Morgan's only reaction was a furious glower like the split second before a volcano blows its top.

"Tell me, Mr. Tanner," Remming continued, "Why do you look so lively for a man that supposedly died in a carefully staged tragic car accident over three years ago?"

Morgan slowly reached into his pocket. "When I went out to sea those few days I went deep sea diving, and there at the bottom I found a wrecked spanish galleon filled to the brim with these." He pulled out a golden coin. "I survived you bastards' little car accident and used my new found fortune to make everyone believe I died in it. All the better. It gave me time to dig for anything to learn about you bastards and to prepare to settle up with that mother fucker who raped and murdered my wife."

Remming laughed again this time much more hearfelt and satisfied, "God damn, Solomon has no idea he has a shark in the wading pool, does he?"

"That's where you come in. I can't get close enough to settle up with him."

"Oh," Remming asked, "And what do you need from little ole poor Stephen Remming? I'm twisting in the wind, on my last dime, and more than likely going to wake up with CIA stormtroopers kicking in my door."

Morgan reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. It was a man's ring adorned with a diamond, a black diamond.

"The Black Rose," Remming said grabbing it and lifting it up for his inspection, "It looks just like one of the real ones."

"It is, I used a few million to surreptitiously have it added to last year's new additions. your jeweler may be a member and uncorruptible but his son isn't and is greedy enough to take a bribe."

Remming wasn't really listening he was slipping the ring onto his finger. It stopped at the second knuckle.

"It's fitted for me," Morgan told him holding his hand out for it.

Gritting his teeth and fire filling his eyes Remming said caustically, "Of course it would be." He placed into the waiting palm of Morgan's hand. "So you need me for what to rub in my fall from power?"

"No, the ring can get me through the door, but beyond that is a problem."

"Oh we never wrote down the rules for our rituals did we, and that ring would belong to a member of the fifth circle. Not one who would be unaware of a single little rule."

"I need you to tell me how to get close to Solomon, Mr. Remming." He pulled out a knife from his belt. "This is a survival knife Claire gave me for our-for her-last wedding anniversary. I want to get close to solomon, become buddy buddy with him close enough that he'll let his gaurd down so I can ruin him like he ruined you, then shove this into his back as I tell him just for whom I'm killing her, for my Claire."

He looked dead serious into Remming's eyes, "He gutted you and left you to be hunted and slain like a rabid dog, Mr. Remming. So what do you say? Will you help me get revenge on Solomon Perez? Will you help me send that mother fucking bastard straight to hell?"

"It's tempting," Remming told him, "But it would never work. You have to be a god damn human-sized tyaranosaurus rex in the society to pass off as a member, and especially to get close to Solomon. You aren't the type. You're more the dashing hero than the rat bastard. What we do to our cumsluts, you would never have the stomach for."

"You will teach me, to be a rat bastard."

He pointed to the ring still in Morgan's hand. "You will need several sluts, or one exceptional one with you."

He pulled out a picture and placed it on the table. "I already found her. She's younger than Claire was, but blonde, petite, one of those fucking pocelain dolls turned to life-just Solomon's type."

"God damn," Remming swore lifting the photo up to look at the girl closer, "You really want him dead don't you?"

"And you don't?"

"I do," Remming said looking at the girl in the photo, "Yes, Mr. Tanner, I am in. We will take this girl, and I will twist her to be the most perfect of cumdumpsters and you to her perfect sadistic master for the Black Rose Society."

IC: Morgan Tanner

The water felt cool on his hands and face as he spalshed it over him. Morgan looked up to stare into his reflection.

He couldn't do this. Morgan felt like he was going to be sick.

He had secreted his wealth from the sunken treasure ship in forty-two anonymous bank accounts across the world, had barely used more than a fraction of that to dig up all the information on the Black Rose Society and Solomon Perez he could. Now it was time to use the information he had learned, begin the steps to make that bastard pay.

Two weeks since he had recruited Stephen Remming as a partner, he had spent more of that wealth, buying this building in the middle of nowhere, and filling it with all the "tools" Remming would need to transform him and the building's newest occupant.

He took a deep breath. He needed to be hard, brutal, a human tyranosaurus rex. He rose up from the bathroom sink and straightened his clothing. He could do this. He would do this.

For Claire.

He opened the bathroom door and walked down the long hall opening the door at the end of it. The room was lined with video monitors showing the various rooms Remming had "decorated". Remming was here watching one monitor in particular.

April's cell had bare spartan walls and a concrete floor-that was it. The girl lay on the cold floor naked and still asleep from the drug they had dosed her with for transport. Kidnapping her had been surprisingly-even startlingly easy. they had waited until she had left the university to visit her family and taken her before she could even raise a struggle. No one noticed, no one even knew yet she was missing. It had been that easy.

Morgan wondered if the bastards that took Claire had found it so easy. A little angry-mostly at himself-he asked Remming, "Is she awake yet?"

He looked closer at the prone girl on the monitor again struck by her resemblance to his dead wife. Jesus, she could've been Claire's younger sister.

He needed to be hard, brutal, to do what he needed to to this poor girl.

He would probably burn in hell for singling her out, doing to her what he was going to do to her, but not before he sent one Solomon Perez to the devil, and then...well, one way or the other he wasn't going to survive past that. He had already arranged that every dime of his wealth he did not use for his revenge would go straight to one April Danevere's bank account. If she survived he and Remming getting their revenge she would escape to find herself rich beyond the dreams of a struggling college student. It was the only kindness he could afford to give her for what they were about to begin to do to her.

She was stirring, beginning to wake up. He looked down at Remming, "Should we begin?"

Stephen Remming

Remming watched the video monitors carefully, his face a living statue, devoid of life or emotion. The only sign that he was even a human being were his eyes, which would move ever so slightly over the form of the girl in the monitor. His was even rigid in his seat, arms crossed and immobile as he waited for a change that indicated her revile. But his mind was a torrent of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, one to be carefully wade through, lest he be lost completely in them.

This man had come to him, a broken shell of his former self, with an offer that couldn't be refused. At least, not by anyone with a hatred for their target as healthy as the one he nurtured on a daily basis. The ring had been what impressed him the most; a Black Rose set perfectly. It was the genuine article, and Remming knew it now. Even the girl had been hand-selected by the strange man with the lost past. The dead man with riches of kings, Morgan Tanner. Remming wasn't sure they could pull off this ridiculous scheme, but if they could... as long as there was even a shred of hope for vengeance... they had to try.

Morgan entered the room and spoke, asking if the girl was awake. But Remming said nothing, he merely nodded towards the monitor to indicate that she was still hibernating. They may have been a little heavy on the drugging, as it had been hours yet. Must be her low body mass that had caused the drug to outlast its expected course.

Remming wondered if the former special forces man would actually be able to go through with this. The noble hero would have to become a complete and total asshole in order to pull this off. He may be able to pass as a fake member of the fifth circle, but there was no chance his girl would pass as a fake cumslut. She needed to be completely and totally broken, in a very real way. There was simply no way a girl could play-act a slave of that nature, the ruse would be spotted from a mile away. Her service had to be perfect.

It had been a long time since he'd trained a girl, but Remming was fully confident he could teach Morgan this much. But if they had chosen wrong, if this girl was too resistant, then they would be in for a long period of training. A very long wait for their plan to come to fruition. As it was, this would take time and patience. Remming only hoped they hadn't chosen wrong. There was only so much patience a man could summon, when the object of his hatred was finally in sight.

Finally, the girl stirred in the monitor, and Morgan noticed at the same time as Remming. He heard the question, and finally moved to hold up his hand. "No," he said simply. "We give her half an hour. She needs to wake up fully, before someone busts in there and she has no chance of having her situation sink in. This works best when she is completely coherent, trust me."

Over the next twenty minutes, they watched the girl as he reminded Morgan of the nature of her training stages. Remming had to be seen as the bad guy, so to speak. The one with no mercy, no empathy whatsoever. Morgan would have to be hard and demanding, but just enough of a human being that the girl would identify with him as the lesser of two evils, the one she would be drawn to eventually. She would hate them both, to be sure, but if they did this right, she would far prefer Morgan to Remming. And that's what needed to happen to turn her.

Finally, Remming stood and walked out. Instead of heading to the room, though, he stepped out the main door to the hot air outside and lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, calming his nerves and finding his mindset. When he stamped out the butt of the smoke, it was finally time. He strode back inside quickly and reached her door.

Another deep breath, the lock turned, and he stepped inside.

April Denavere

April Denavere had led a relatively normal life up to this point, she’d been the average student, not outstanding by any means but not the class dunce either. She’d been on her way home when he blitzed her. Or was it they? She remembered struggling but beyond that? Darkness and the slam of metal on metal which was suggestive of a car boot slamming above her head. Now her eyes opened slowly with a groan, she was met with blazing white concrete surroundings and her hands slapped the floor as she rolled up and off her stomach.

April scrambled up off the ground in shock and spun around too fast, she gripped her head as the room continued spinning. The drugs still swimming through her bloodstream had a dizzying effect on her. When she could finally lift her head again, she gasped and realized she was naked. Her hands moved to collectively cover her breasts and clean shaven mound before she remembered that she was alone.

“I gotta get out of here…” She swallowed her fear and tried to be calm as she walked to the door, deep down she knew it would be locked long before she turned the handle to be met by a resistant click.

“Fuck!” She screamed and beat her fists on the door, “Hello?! Help!”

She wasn’t sure this was a smart idea but April couldn’t care, she was naked and trapped in a windowless room…things couldn’t get much worse. She gave up beating on the door and kicked it in frustration.

“Ow! Ow, ow, ow!” She whimpered and lifted her leg up, hopping after her toe exploded with pain. She limped over to the opposite end of the room and sat down against the wall, bringing her knees up to her chest protectively.

“What do you want?…” She asked in a quiet and fearful whisper as every abduction film she’d ever seen, every horror story ever told flashed through her mind and nothing could truly prepare her for the events to unfold.

“What the hell do you want with me?!” She screamed into the empty recesses of the barren room, it echoed off the walls and drifted into silence. Her questions, her screams, her calls and cries unanswered.

After a few more minute of silence, the lock in the door clicked and it opened. April held her breath and lifted her head, trying to cease the pounding in her ears that told of her heartbeat racing in terror. She stared into the eyes of her abductor and prayed she wouldn’t become one of those sobbing hopeless girls she watched in movies. She pressed her back hard into the wall, willing it to hold her there and never let go. April wasn’t stupid, he’d stripped her naked for a reason and she’d be damned before he got his hands on her all that easily.

“What do you want?” April asked quietly, trying to keep her voice steady and not give him the satisfaction of knowing she was terrified.

IC: Morgan Tanner

"Should we begin?"

"No," Remming said quietly his gaze not leaving April. "We give her half an hour. She needs to wake up fully, before someone busts in there and she has no chance of having her situation sink in. This works best when she is completely coherent, trust me."

Morgan was already trusting him. He didn't like Remming, well, he didn't like any of the members of the Black Rose Society, even an expelled one. As far as he was concerned Remming could go straight to hell with the lot of them, but he trusted Remming enough that their mutual hatred for Solomon allowed them to work together to acheive the revenge neither was capable of alone.

Soon Remming got up and left the room pocketing his expensive and rare brand of cigarettes. He exited the door to the outside and Morgan stayed within the monitoring room watching April Danavere.

She was up now stirring trying to get her bearings. He watched her beat against the solidly built thick oak door. He watched her finally sit down looking about the tiny cell.

“What do you want?…” She whispered. the microphones Remming had insisted they install into the cell were expensive but worked to carry even those hushed words, even automatically modulated the sound so the sudden shout she gave next did not assault the ears. “What the hell do you want with me?!”

What he wanted...Morgan gritted his teeth. his large fists balled up until his knuckles were white. "I need you, April Danavere. I need you so I can get the one thing left in this world I give a damn for." He said in answer to her, but he was the only one who could hear it. "I need you to be nothing more than a tool, a completion of the diguise I need to wear to get it. It'll be hard on you. It'll be inhuman, but that is what I want with you."

He looked down at his watch. It was almost time-just one more minute to go.

He looked back at her as she asked again, quieter, “What do you want?”

"I want..." Morgan said, "...I want to say I'm sorry before I can't allow myself to feel sorry for you anymore at all."

The minute was up. It was time. Morgan rose up. he straightened his shirt and pants reminding himself that he was hard, brutal, a god-damned tyranosaurus rex. He left the monitor room as Remming passed it by on his way to the cell April-no she no longer had a name-she must not be human anymore to him. The girl in that cell was nothing but a tool, a fucktoy to be trained and broken in, like a new pair of shoes-nothing more than an object, and nothing less than his new property.

He stood behind Remming watching and amazed at the continued disinterest his body-language conveyed. The door opened and the girl in the monitor he looked down upon with his own eyes.

Remming noticed Morgan falling in behind without even looking. It was tough not to notice the other man, given their current situation having his nerves on edge. As he stood in the room now, the naked blonde porcelain doll on the floor before him, he was still acutely aware of the figure behind him. He didn't answer the girl, but his head turned slightly, to offer Morgan a profile view as he spoke only loud enough for the other man to hear. "Just watch."

He didn't offer anything else, before he stepped forward and rolled up his sleeves. His face was impassive, and his ears were virtually closed off to anything the girl had to offer. A hand shot out, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her closer. A soft growl emanated from his throat as he began beating her mercilessly, with apparently the same indifference as if he were performing a mundane chore like taking out the trash.

His open hand lashed out across her face, chest, shoulders, and back, hitting hard and fast. The hope was to completely overwhelm her before she had any chance to react to anything. It wasn't his job to train her, only break her, and he would certainly succeed in that, even if Morgan didn't have the stomach for the rest. Remming didn't relish this part, though he honestly did appreciate the results. To be honest, before he had been accepted into the ranks, he'd never even considered raising his hand to a woman. Yet here he was, as he had been before, using a heavy hand to inflict shocking pain to a girl he didn't even know.

Remming stopped and tossed her to the ground, before stripping himself of his belt. The heavy leather was folded in half and hung limply in the air menacingly as he gave her a mere moment to collect herself. He canted his head slightly and gazed at her face beneath her hair. A bloody lip, red cheeks, strained neck... Yeah, it all looked about right.

She needed to be broken. He was there to break her. Simple as that. The next period of time would be filled with much pain and abuse for her, and she would either be of use at the end, or discarded, with them back to square one. As Remming lifted and swung the belt, he wanted to make sure they weren't forced to start over with another.

April watched the second man enter and a short heartless stab of fear shot through her. Her question went unanswered, they didn’t seem all that interested in what she had to say; she’d have sworn blind that she was invisible to them both if they weren’t looking directly at her. She felt more naked than ever and hugged her knees even tighter, swallowing down the stuttered pleas she very nearly uttered.

The first man turned slightly, April watched his lips move but couldn’t hear what he said to the other one. His intentions became clearer when he stepped forward and rolled his sleeves up, April started to breathe faster as she sensed something was about to occur and she probably wouldn’t like it very much. He didn’t seem to express anything that would indicate his actions though, he just came closer to her and left her with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide in the empty room.

His hand flashed and grabbed her hair, April suddenly forgot she was naked as he pulled on her hair and dragged the scrambling woman forward. She dropped her arms with a scream of terror, given no options but to move or risk her hair getting torn out by the man. Before she could plead or tell him she wouldn’t call the police, ask them if it was money that they wanted; his hand came across her face and she snapped sideways with a screech.

He wasn’t finished. His hand came down on her flesh many times, April screamed over and over; she couldn’t understand why he was doing this to her but she didn’t have much time to think about anything but the blinding pain he was inflicting. Her lip busted open with his next crack to her face and April clawed at the hand in her hair, tears spilling down her cheeks until he just stopped. He tossed her to the floor carelessly and April’s hands came to her face, she winced as her tongue ran over her lip; tasting the blood there.

She panted heavily, groaning and sobbing loudly as she tried to calm down. She peered up at him fearfully, propping herself up on her elbows but not daring to move. April whimpered as she watched his belt disappear through loops like a snake, she hadn’t been belted since she was a child but that same fear of being hit with one came rushing back to her.

When he folded it over, April found her tongue quickly and stammered her plea, “D-don’t. Please! I’ll do whatever you want!” She screamed as the belt landed across her ribs and mid-back.

April scrambled across the floor, rolling to avoid strikes to her front until she hit the wall again and curled up to take the blows. She screamed and cried as her body stung and burned like fire.

April sobbed out her appeals to him between strikes and screams, “Stop! Please!” Another scream, “God! Ple-eeeease!” Her last came out desperate and strangulated, she was hunched up like a turtle, her ass and back had taken most of it and she wasn’t sure she could take much more.

IC: Morgan Tanner

Through it all Morgan had done well. He had stood before the door and watched as Remming began breaking the girl in to what they needed her to be. It was harsh. It was brutal. It was the only way. He knew that. His research into the Black Rose Society and their methods had told him that, but knowing it intellectually and standing there watching it happen to a girl was more than he thought he could bear.

A cold venomous feeling settled into his gut. His fists were clenched tight the skin over his knuckles stretched white with the sheer need to punch someone who deserved it. But the problem was he was the one who deserved it. He was the one who chose this girl. He was the one who had recruited Stephen Remming for this very task...He was the bad guy.

“Stop! Please!” April screamed curling up into a ball from Remming's belt, “God! Ple-eeeease!”

The cold feeling became icy, but he remained motionless and watched.

Remming drowned out her cries as he continued to beat her body mercilessly. It was important that he was seen as impassive, unmoving, and cold as he worked on the girl's body. There was no reason, she'd done nothing wrong, they simply needed to do this to her. But Remming could only take it so far, for now. Soon, Morgan would have to take over, and establish his ownership of the poor girl.

Flesh was very pliable in this condition, and Remming found his nails digging into her arm as he moved her into an imbalanced pose. The leather struck time and again, until welts rose on the pale skin below. Finally, he stepped away.

With his back turned from the girl, he motioned for Morgan to take over for a bit. They had discussed the plan, now it was time to figure out whether or not the other man could get over his squeamish nature and do what had to be done. It was too late to turn back now, they had already gotten their feet wet. It was either dive in or run away, and it would be a shame to choose the later. Especially after all this work.

With his hand held out, he offered the belt, giving Morgan the choice of how to proceed. "She's all yours," he said, still careful to keep his voice down and out of aural range of the captive. "I would suggest beating and raping her first, but if you would rather show kindness now and save the rest for later, that's on you. I've already established myself to her."

Something kept him from being able to meet Morgan's eyes, though. Maybe it was his time away that had made him soft, Remming didn't know. But something was more difficult about this girl than any of the others. The uncaring Stephen Remming was feeling... Remorse?

IC: Morgan Tanner

"She's all yours," Remming whispered to him, "I would suggest beating and raping her first, but if you would rather show kindness now and save the rest for later, that's on you. I've already established myself to her."

Morgan took the belt offered him by Remming. He looked down at the beaten and bruised girl. She looked so much like Claire. The sight made him wonder if she looked up at her abductors with terror in her eyes the way this woman was.

He needed a long shower. "Aw, fuck this" He decided angrily.

He wrapped the belt around his fist so the buckle hung under it and stepped towards her. "Did you hear what he just suggested I do to you, girly girl."

He knelt down to one knee before her. "He wants me to beat you some more and rape you." His hand shot out clamping on her throat and forcing the back of her head against the wall. "Do you want that? No, of course not, but you will after enough times having it done. It's all part of the game those bastards play. Treat you like a mother-fucking peice of property long enough and that's how you start thinking of yourself."

His finger and thumb forced her chin up so she could look into his eyes and see the steel there. "But I don't have the patience for that. I chose you of all the girls in the world because I need you. But I need you to be that peice of property now. You have alot to learn, and alot to practice to get right. And when you're done we'll take you to the society where the lives of all three of us will rest on your ability to be a better fucktoy than any of the other fucktoys there. So I can get close to and kill a certain man there."

"So what's it gonna be, girly girl." He pushed her to the floor rising and walking past Remming. He stopped at the door and told her. "Shed all the tears you have. Beat on the door. Plead to god for rescue until you lose your voice. When this door opens again. You either get with the program or we do it the time-consuming way." For emphasis he raised the belt and jangled the buckle.

He and Remming left the room. The door shut. The locks closed. He threw the belt onto the floor as he angrily told Remming, "Yeah, I know telling her so much of the truth is a huge risk to take, damn it."

April was left in a daze and barely recognized it when the first man stopped beating her and stepped away at last. She blinked several times to clear her eyes of the last tears she had left to shed and dared to lift her face just an inch to see the two men talking. The belt had already been handed off to the second man and April feared he would take up where the other had left off. She shrunk down into the floor and curled into the fetal position, abject fear gleaming as clear as day in her brilliant blue eyes.

When the second man stepped towards her, April started to shake as the belt looped around his fist like a menacing black snake, "Did you hear what he just suggested I do to you, girly girl." He asked her and April bit her bottom lip, emitted the softest whimper and shook her head ever so slightly as the man dropped to one knee.

"He wants me to beat you some more and rape you." He told her casually and as April started to protest softly, his hand jumped toward her throat and clamped down, moving her straight and back against the wall into a sitting position.

"Do you want that? No, of course not, but you will after enough times having it done. It's all part of the game those bastards play. Treat you like a mother-fucking piece of property long enough and that's how you start thinking of yourself." April gasped and shook her head, she had no idea what he was talking about because she only knew two bastards thus far and she was looking at one of them.

His hand forced her head up, his eyes boring into hers like bauxite ore, hard and leaden. "But I don't have the patience for that. I chose you of all the girls in the world because I need you. But I need you to be that piece of property now. You have alot to learn, and alot to practice to get right. And when you're done we'll take you to the society where the lives of all three of us will rest on your ability to be a better fucktoy than any of the other fucktoys there. So I can get close to and kill a certain man there."

April wheezed and trembled beneath his vice-like grip, she felt a warm tear well up and roll down her cheek. She was confused, he wanted her to be like a whore? Why? Society? Man? What man?

"So what's it gonna be, girly girl." He finally pushed her to the floor and stood up, April didn't dare to move and both he and Remming could still see her eyes flit from them to the belt every few seconds.

"Shed all the tears you have. Beat on the door. Plead to god for rescue until you lose your voice. When this door opens again. You either get with the program or we do it the time-consuming way." April cringed as the belt was raised and shaken in her direction meaningfully, she couldn't answer, she couldn't understand what had just happened to her and she wondered if she would ever be meant to understand what these two wanted from her.

The men left the room and April burst into fresh tears, her skin now burning severely from the assault Remming had wrought on her flesh. She beat her fists on the ground and screamed in frustration and self-loathing for the pity she felt for herself. The utter helplessness and imprisonment was new to April and she feared for herself like never before. Eventually, they would rape her and they had told her as much. She might never even learn their names or know who they are, the most despicable images then decided to make entry into her mind as she laid on the unforgiving concrete and drifted into an exhausted, fitful sleep. April was plagued by nightmares that had never come to mind before this night and somehow, she knew they would plague her again long before this ordeal was over.