It had taken three days to recover from Dolion’s Great Cock-Up, and then the officers dragged me up to the top floor of the dungeon, strapped me to a whipping post in the back corner, and had another go. Those fuckers were good, too. They hurt me just enough for Nyfain to bring me to orgasm, then gave me a day or two to recover before they did it again. They knew I wouldn’t intentionally lash out with my will due to the threat of being beaten to death.
My life was pain now, but Nyfain made sure it was always mixed with pleasure. What a crazy fucking afterlife I was living at present. Horrible but good at the same time. A fucking nightmare…and an exquisite daydream when in the moment.
Despite all the torment, I’d never once reached for the sword. Not in the height of danger, or when they were changing shackles and I had a few seconds to spare. That was probably why I still had it wrapped around my waist. They took it off for whippings and gave it back with a snicker afterward.
Ha-ha, fuckers. I don’t know how to use this fine sword. Hilarious joke.
The guards didn’t seem to take such enjoyment from their jobs, eyeing the sword warily before stoically carrying out their orders. I liked them much better for it.
I squeezed my hand around Nyfain’s letter, which I held for comfort when I got back from being whipped. Govam had returned my clothes as promised. Nyfain’s letter had been replaced with a note of Govam’s, indicating under which stone the letter was now hidden. Some were loose at the back of the cell, and one of them had a somewhat deep hole under it.
Why the fuck Govam was so cool about some things and a lying sack of shit about others, I did not know. Mind-fuckery, probably. A means of breaking prisoners. I had to be on my guard. There was no kindness here. Not from the demons, at any rate. I couldn’t let myself think otherwise.
“You bring this on yourself, you know,” Jedrek said, sitting in the corner of the cell with his legs pulled up and hugged close with his arms. His hair was mussed but recently cut, his clothes were plain but freshly laundered, and he didn’t have any dirt streaks.
“Do I really?” I asked, catching sight of Vemar down in his cell, sitting with his shoulder propped against the bars, listening. A couple of others edged up closer to their bars as well, mostly quiet except for some rustling of straw or clothes. I was pretty sure my bickering with Jedrek, whenever the demons brought him back to “cheer me up,” was a source of entertainment.
“If you’d stop talking back to them, they wouldn’t have any reason to beat you, or whip you…or whatever it is they do.”
“You know what, that right there is why our forced relationship is going to stand the test of time. It’s your attention to detail regarding my affairs. I feel like you really listen when I talk, you know? You really pay attention to what’s going on in my life.”
“Your sarcasm is a little thick.”
“Just a little? Huh. I thought I was really laying it on.” I contemplated bringing my hand up to scratch my face…but that would hurt. For the moment, I’d take the itch over the pain. The slip of fabric covering me lay in tatters around my body. They only changed it when it was so ruined that it actually fell off. I’d stopped caring about nakedness. There really was no point. “They whip me, Jedrek, for the most part. Because I know you care so much—more sarcasm, by the way. And cut me with knives sometimes. You should come by sometime. I really draw a crowd. The officers drink in the power I exude, and then there are the pleasure seekers, who get off when I do, and the emotional turmoil and pain seekers—I’m quite the attraction. And no, it isn’t brought on by talking back. They don’t talk to me, and I don’t talk to them. Unlike the guards, the officers crave power. They create their creatures with it and then celebrate with some sort of drink they tend to constantly. It’s quite the party.”
“I heard you make fun of them. The officers, I mean.”
“Where’d you hear that from?”
“Sorry, Strange Lady,” Vemar called. “I thought it was funny, the things you said when we were being whipped together. I didn’t know he was going to be a douche about it.”
Sometimes they brought multiple people up at once. Vemar had been very confused about the amount of people hanging around for our joint torture sesh, and even more so when I orgasmed at the end. He’d doubled down on calling me “Strange Lady.” I couldn’t really blame him.
“That’s a more recent development,” I said, a little drool escaping out of the side of my mouth. I didn’t worry about it. It was better than blood. Or hell, maybe it was blood. Really hard to say at this point in the healing process. “They’re going to keep bringing me up there regardless of what I do. What’s a little banter among friends?”