Chapter 4: Owned

RAVEN, Status: MASTER. Log 004. SUBJECT 0601,

Despite the disobedience displayed in her session prior, I still plan on taking Subject 0601’s virginity as an act of official ownership. I will also rebrand the subject in accordance with what was originally agreed upon, as I have been informed that ANASTASIS has painstakingly removed her previous mark. This will be a good test for the subject, as it will show me the girl’s true colors. Should she put up too much of a fight, I plan to make adjustments to account for more severe daily rehabilitation sessions. However, should she give in too easily, I may be forced to end the girl’s time at the facility early for the sake of preserving her young, supple flesh.

> The day began with an unusual start. I had forced myself to sleep, despite the inferno of pain I was bathing in, to try and distract myself from my hunger. Having skipped two meals in a row, I was too weak to stand when a pair of guards came into my cell. They had to drag me by my arms down the hall, where my feet scraped the floor behind me. I fell in and out of consciousness when they brought me into one of the elevators and closed my eyes for good once the doors shut behind us. Next thing I knew, I was standing beneath a showerhead, stripped of my clothes and tethered to two posts.

The room was similar to the medical suites, with white tiles covering nearly every surface. Drains decorated the floor, like the giant one that stood beneath me. It would have swallowed me whole if I hadn’t been made to straddle its edges, held in place by my feet, which were tied off to the base of the posts, and my wrists, which were shackled to the top. The guards left me like that for a moment, trapped listening to the other subjects in the room scream through their torment. We were separated into identical cubicles, where men in grey scrubs took bristle brushes—the kind used to clean horses with—and pungent soap to scrub us down from head to toe until our skin was several layers thinner. Those who put up a fight were rinsed off with a makeshift pressure hose. Their agony echoed off the tiles.

I hoped that feeling clean would bring me some comfort, but the humiliation of having three grown men sticking random tools and towels into all my private nooks and crannies made me want to vomit. I still wasn’t allowed to have my gag removed, not even as the cold shower water soaked the old cotton balls inside.

Once the guards had forcibly toweled me off, I was escorted to a cold metal table and strapped down to the edge. My legs were stuck as far out as they would stretch, giving my tormentors ample room to smother my skin in hot wax. I struggled to choke down every scream that was bubbling up inside my chest as they ripped the wax away with swift gusto. Once my legs were clean, one guard moved to my stomach and arms, while another focused on my face, and the third gave his full attention to my pussy. They worked in tandem, smothering me until every hair that wasn’t on my head or my brows was ripped clean out of my skin. No stone left unturned.

I had noticed in the shower—though I didn’t dare raise my voice to ask why—that my wounds were missing again. The bruises from my beating and my restraints, the bullet hole, the scorch marks, and the branding had all completely disappeared. I was born anew somehow, just as clean as the day I first arrived. It had to be witchcraft. There was no way I had imagined all that torture. Unless I was being put into a coma between sessions, waiting for my body to heal on its own. But I hadn’t aged a day, and there would be scars left over. Half of me warned not to question a good thing; if I had to live with the wounds from daily torture sessions, I’d surely fall to madness before I ever suffered death. But without those wounds, there was nothing grounding me in reality. I had no evidence to prove that I really had been paraded outside in the nude the prior day and forced to lie on a table while two maniacs used my body like a piece of grillable meat. No evidence besides my memories. And those were fully intact, unfortunately.

My torture ended with a thorough washing of my hair, where the debris and dirt from my pilgrimage into the woods were finally removed, which required the removal of my gag. The guards made me keep the cotton in my mouth until my hair was fully brushed and blow-dried. Though luckily, it wasn’t long before I was being tied to a dentist’s chair and freed of my two-day jaw torture. Without breathing a word to me, a man in a white lab coat cleaned out my mouth until I was breathing pure spearmint and examined the state of my new tracker. Once pleased, the man swapped his medical tools for makeup and left me feeling like a brand-new person, wearing a light blush, gloss, and mascara for the first time in months.

I was so starstruck by the sudden gentleness of my treatment that I almost didn’t notice that a large red ball gag was being forced between my teeth. It was tied around my head with a white satin ribbon and finished off with a bow. The surprises didn’t end there, so it seemed. Before I was escorted back into the elevator, I was made to change into a set of white lacy underwear, decorated in ribbons and bows to match my gag, as well as a sleeveless babydoll nightgown made of pastel blue silk and trimmed with white lace. The look was finished with a pair of slippers made to protect my feet in the halls and a thick, heavy dog collar made of white leather.

I hadn’t worn so many pieces of clothing in so long that I was teeming with joy. The impending doom that usually clung overhead was nothing compared to the beam I felt, finally having underwear to protect myself against the guards’ groping hands. And shoes, too? Maybe things were finally starting to look up for me.

The second elevator I rode that day spat me and my two escorts out into a hallway wrapped in elegance and luxury. I felt like I was in the back halls of an old, expensive hotel or maybe even a Gothic European castle. Rich wooden doors lined the dimly lit corridor, framed by end tables that were decorated with silver candelabras or an occasional bouquet of white roses. No wonder they had gotten me so dressed up. It was then that my dread returned to me, as I finally remembered what I was meant to do that day.

Raven’s haunting voice filled my ears, reciting the words, “Tomorrow, I will make a woman out of you,” over and over until my head throbbed from the memory. The two guards on my sides must have picked up on my apprehensiveness, because they tightened their grips on my arms and pushed further at a brisk pace.

We stopped in front of a door tucked all the way in the back, where carvings of lilies and leafy vines decorated the arched frame. The room unlocked with an antique key, leaving me to hold my breath in anticipation of the grandeur inside, but when the door rolled open, I found myself at a loss for words.

The room was a hexagonal closet, basically, with walls made of spotless mirrors. All except for two. One wall was preserved solely for the room’s entrance, while the one across from it held a golden plaque, engulfed in the glow of candlelight. In my confusion, I was easily pushed inside, where the door locked behind me and sealed my fate. A million reflections of me stared back from every angle. They created portals into geometric dimensions that made my head ache to stare at for too long. The plaque offered a pleasant respite from the endless patterns all around me until I realized that there were directions carved into its surface.

1. Kneel before your betters.

2. Lower your head and bask in your shame.

3. Place your palms in your lap in true submission.

4. Utter not a word, should you be rewarded with pain.

The rhyme was too charming and felt unnatural given the demands of the plaque. I glanced back at my reflections in confusion, as if attempting to ask any of them for advice. They seemed just as unsure as I was. But there was nothing else for me to do. The walls were seamless, and the only door was locked.

I followed the steps as ordered, suddenly reminded of spending childhood holidays praying at an altar made for a man I did not believe in. I missed those days, strangely enough. Even if I still hated them.

Sitting on my calves, I forced my back to remain rigid, not wanting to slouch too much and risk drifting off to sleep. The darkness of the room was putting me too much at ease. I needed to stay alert. I had no idea what awaited me.

Several long, silent moments passed where nothing happened. I tried to count the seconds, but I was either too fast or too slow. I could no longer remember how to keep time, it seemed. I hesitated to stand, ready to try again at finding my own way out, but a quiet voice in the back of my head warned that this was some kind of test. So on the floor I stayed.

When the voice disappeared, and I was left alone with my raging desire to give my legs a break and plop down on the floor, I felt a sudden rush of heat strike me in the face, and my body fell rigid. The smell of vanilla and honey flooded my nostrils, attacking my skin with goosebumps as my muscles began to relax.

“Good girl,” Raven’s voice groaned above me. With my head held low, I could only see his polished black dress shoes, standing where the mirrors once were.

Half of the room had pulled away, all attached to hinges, and revealed a much larger space behind. I was right. It was a test all along.

Raven took a knee and gently placed the crook of his finger beneath my chin. He gave me time to examine his body before locking eyes as he pulled my head upward. He wore an expensive black suit but had lost the jacket, leaving only the vest and white dress shirt beneath. His hair fell to his shoulders, just as fluffy and clean as my own, and he had trimmed up his thick beard and mustache, giving him the silhouette of a wealthy, powerful man.

“You will hold this position whenever you are left alone in a room like this,” Raven said. His voice was long and drawn-out, bathing me in waves of guttural velvet. “This position is for your master and your mistress alone. Do you understand?”

I nodded, chewing down nervously on my gag.

“Very good.” Raven petted my hair with a warm smile, allowing his curious eyes to slip down my face and peek into the crack between my dress and my bra. But he snagged a glimpse of my collar first, and his smile widened to devious lengths.

“I’m sure you’re just mortified at yesterday’s conundrum,” Raven said, tracing his knuckle down my cheek. “Perhaps you’d like the chance to prove your growth?”

I paused, then nodded when Raven’s eyes flickered from amused to annoyed in mere seconds. His spirit lifted at my response, and he whispered an affirmation back to me that was too quiet to hear.

From his back pocket, Raven brandished a long chain leash, nearly identical to the one Catherine used the day before, only it didn’t attach to my collar by a clip but instead by a hook that was far easier to remove.

Another test, no doubt.

Raven linked the chain to my neck and slowly rose to his feet, staring down at me with a devilish grin. He gave me a light tug to usher me forward, inviting me to crawl across the threshold and embrace my inevitable torment on all fours.

The room he brought me into felt impossibly sized, given its comparison to the mirror closet. Its ceiling stretched high overhead, covering us in a dome where an unlit crystal chandelier dangled like snowflakes frozen in the sky. Couches and tables sat in a foyer area close to the mirror entrance, which appeared to me as windows from the other side of the glass. Raven had no doubt been watching me the entire time, à la Phantom of the Opera.

The only light sources in the room came from either the many candles sporadically placed on tables and shelves or from the raging fireplace, which stretched as wide as I was tall. It was the source of the room’s crackling heat and was by far the most glamorously decorated element in the entire space. I was so enamored by its delicate filigree-covered marble frame that I almost completely missed the larger-than-life circular bed waiting for us across the floor.

Milky white sheets draped its surface, their every silken ripple glistening like crystal beneath the flicker of the fire. The bed was tucked against the wall, where a canopy made of black, glittering tulle created a cove-like effect, and pillows lined its back edges, each made of different soft, black textiles.

“Usually the sheets are red,” Raven said with a humored growl. He glanced down at me, catching me gawking. “But blood doesn’t show easily on red, and I want to see the exact moment I tear that pretty pink pussy of yours wide open.”

My mouth turned dry as the muscles in my privates began to clench on instinct. Raven must have sensed my worry, because he took a knee once more and cupped my face in his large, strong palms.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, his voice tinged with a soothing hum.

With a smile, Raven began tracing his thumb up and down my cheek until my head lulled deep into his hold. He chuckled and planted a light peck on my forehead. His breath smelled like cinnamon and smoke.

Once I was captured in his arms, holding my forehead to his shoulder, Raven buried his nose behind my ear, nuzzling the skin of my neck until he cracked with a chuckle and added, “—At first.”

My body clenched again, and I whimpered into the ball gag. Raven pressed our foreheads together until our noses were grinding up against each other and our breath was becoming one.

“Would you like me to take that pretty little gag out?” Raven asked quietly. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard you speak.”

I nodded slowly, fighting back tears.

Raven’s face cracked with an ear-to-ear grin. “That’s my girl. You want to open up those lips for your master, don’t you?”

I shriveled up and groaned, tearing my face away. Raven was quick to catch the back of my head and pulled me right back into position.

“I’ll take it out for you,” he said. His breath was beginning to grow erratic, as if working up a sweat. “But you’ve got to do something for me, okay?” When I didn’t answer, Raven’s eyes snapped open and his grip on my head grew tighter. “Okay?” he repeated, taking on a sharper tone.

I nodded again and forced the word “okay” through the gag to the best of my ability.

“Good girl,” Raven purred. “All you have to do is keep perfectly still for me. Is that something my little girl can do?”

I nodded again, though regret churned my insides at the sound of Raven’s laughter.

“That’s a promise, you know. If you break that promise, I’ll have to keep you gagged until tomorrow. And neither of us wants that.”

Oh god, I couldn’t handle another night with the gag. My jaw already felt like it was going to pop off its hinge. I shook my head feverishly, even though Raven didn’t tell me to, inviting another string of chuckles to vibrate his chest.

“Very good,” he whispered.

Raven left the collar and leash on the floor, having satisfied his desire to prove my subservience. With the gentleness a parent takes when holding their newborn child, Raven scooped me up in his arms and carried me over to the bed. The sheets cupped my skin like a pile of rose petals, warmed by the distant flames. My body recoiled at the fabric’s touch, begging to melt between the fibers and become one with its construction.

“You look lovely, mi amor,” Raven said, staring over me like a beast ready to devour its prey. I itched to crawl away from the bed’s edge and disappear into the pile of pillows, but I had made him a promise. And I intended to keep it, for my own sake.

A growl rose up from the back of Raven’s throat as he knelt down to feel me. His hands dragged up the lengths of my legs, studying their smooth surface. He inched just past the hem of my dress, taking in a fistful of my thighs until I squealed, then pulled away to kiss the skin. I writhed beneath his lips, our voices creating a harmony of moans as his mouth found its way further and further up. He pulled up my skirt to make room until he was suckling my stomach, just barely grabbing hold of the skin between his teeth. My voice crackled in my throat, turning a groan into a firework of squeaks and whimpers. Raven chuckled at the noise and slowly pulled his lips away.

“It’s such a shame I have to taint our time together with this chore,” Raven said. He studied my eyes as he spoke, brushing back strands of my long, ashen black hair to uncover my face. “The error lies within your parents, for which I do apologize. Though perhaps we consider this reparations for your naughty behavior.”

Oh god. My heart kicked against my ribs with sudden realization. The branding.

I watched Raven roll up his sleeves and slowly drag his feet over to the fireplace. The glow wrapped his body in a halo; an angel of death, come to spread agony across my body.

From the flames Raven pulled out a long iron rod—the very same one that Winters had discarded the day before. Its circular end was aglow from sitting in the fire and hungry for my flesh. Tears stung my eyes as Raven turned to face me with the tool in hand. I managed to scramble up to my elbows when he ensnared me in a disappointed gaze and waved his finger at me.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he said, tutting his tongue. “Lie back down. You are to remain still, remember?”

A sob broke loose as I forced myself to fall flat against the bed.

“Oh, I know, little one,” Raven cooed. He pushed my dress back up with a gentle touch, barely grazing my skin against his fingers. “But it must be done. This will all be worth it, you’ll see. Just hold your breath and submit to the pain, darling. Bask in your new identity.”

I had no way of fighting back, even if I wanted to. Raven was stronger than me. Smarter than me. He knew that. If there was any fear in his mind that I would pose a threat to him, I’d no doubt be bound in chains. Instead, I was free. Free to run, if I wanted to. Instead, my limbs were locked up against the plush mattress, watching in horror as Raven slowly positioned the brand above my stomach.

I couldn’t watch. Not a second time. I did as Raven told me, sucking in a deep, heavy breath, and forced my stomach to sit as still as possible before snapping my eyes shut and waiting for the inevitable.

Mere seconds passed, listening to the popping of the fire. Then, in a flash— Contact.

PAIN.

My back contorted into a violent arch, forcing my head to bury deep in the sheets. I balled up the milky satin into my fists and burst into a flurry of sobs, constantly interrupted by an agonized growl that crawled up my throat. Tears poured down my cheeks, soaking the bed, as Raven pulled the iron back. He shushed me ever so gently as he stepped away to put the iron somewhere safe, then returned to view his handiwork.

“You did so good, mi amor,” Raven hummed. He studied my pain-stricken face with a distant smile, then tossed one final glance at my fresh wound. I didn’t have the heart to look. “The worst part is over,” he said, slowly leaning himself onto the bed until he was straddling my hips and hovering his bulky, damning figure over me.

My trembling body was swallowed up in his shadow, a victim to the terror of his whim. I held my breath as he dropped down to plant his lips on my cheek. His tongue traced the riverbank of my teardrops, then dipped inside to drink their salty flavor. With one hand, he propped up my head to hover it over the bed, and with the other, he slowly and carefully pulled out the bow in my gag’s ribbon until the only thing keeping it in my mouth was my own teeth.

Raven let out a hungry chuckle as he pulled the ball away. He allowed me to stretch out the muscles in my jaw while he lapped up the tendrils of saliva that dripped down my chin. It was like he was entranced by my every flavor, ravenous for more.

Very soon, his tongue on my chin wasn’t enough for him, and Raven suddenly plunged it down my throat with a growl. My back bowed a second time, giving Raven the pocket he needed to place his hand against my spine and force my head back to give him an easier entrance inside. He chewed away at me like an animal, constantly grunting and squeezing my helpless body, though his tongue felt as soft as rose petals against my mouth. He didn’t fight me too hard as he explored my mouth, even allowing me room to pursue his as well. Just as he smelled, Raven tasted of thick cinnamon and cloves. He reminded me of autumn leaves and late nights by the fireplace. He had an impossible warmth to him that had me beyond intrigued. I needed to know more. There were secrets to that man that were buried deep in the flavors of his body. I needed to taste them all.

Raven broke my focus with a heavy groan. The noise rattled my bones until my body fell limp against his touch. He removed his hand from my back, then used his free fingers to ensnare my delicate neck like a viper ready to swallow its prey. I squealed as his grip tightened around my throat, inviting pure, sadistic joy to light up his face. Raven growled again and chewed down on my lip, his tongue suddenly no longer bound to my mouth alone.

I had never been kissed before, outside of a few playground pecks when I was a child. I had no idea how intoxicating it could be. Terror gripped my chest as Raven listened to the sound of my gasping breaths, waiting until the very last moment before allowing me to take in a drink of fresh air. My body surged with feelings I couldn’t quite explain, enveloping me until I surrendered to the electricity coursing through my veins. When Raven would moan, I’d moan right back. Together, we had devolved back into animals, chewing through each other to declare dominance.

“Your heart is racing, little one,” Raven whispered into my ear. I swallowed a chuckle at the tickling sensation of his breath. He dragged his tongue across the arch of my lobe before taking a nibble. With a laugh, he added, “How about you get up for me? Take off that pretty dress of yours and show off your body to your master.”

I whimpered, already missing the feeling of Raven’s tongue between my teeth when he pulled away. He helped me onto unsteady legs and took a seat on the edge of the bed to watch. Buried beneath his pants, a giant, hard lump sat squarely in his lap. I swallowed, petrified to think of what his cock might feel like inside of me.

“The dress,” he said with an amused chuckle.

My cheeks flushed, realizing he had caught me staring, and I made quick work of slipping the dress right off. Its soft, silky fabric fell away from my skin with ease and landed in a puddle around my feet. Raven’s lips parted with joy as he drank in the sight of me, all dressed up in white lace and sporting a brand new mark the size of my palm, just above my quivering pussy. It was a perfect circle, with no number to name me, and held the image of an orchid bloom inside.

“Why an orchid?” I whispered nervously. The company’s logo was a lily. I had seen it marking my medical documents, the staff posters on the walls, and even other subjects like myself. Yet I was exempt from the image.

Raven’s smile faltered, as if startled by the question, yet he didn’t allow his sultry tone to slip. “That is not for you to yet know, mi amor.”

“Will I be branded with the lily again?” I asked.

“No,” Raven said. A sigh of relief escaped me. “This is the last time you will ever receive a branding. You are to wear that orchid for the rest of your life.”

“But ... how?”

Raven’s brow twitched. “How, what?”

“How does it work? Do all of my injuries heal overnight, or just specific ones? Yesterday, I was beaten, branded, and shot, and the only thing I had to show for the struggle were some leaves in my hair. It’s impossible.”

“It’s science,” Raven said with a chuckle. Though his tone was light, I could see in his darkened gaze that he was growing tired of my questions. “Our subjects receive daily rehabilitation sessions. That much torture can take a severe toll on a person’s body. We don’t want that. After all, your bodies are the only value any of you possess.”

“So you heal our injuries?”

He nodded with a huff, cracking his neck to loosen it. “We want to break your minds, not your bones. A subservient slave is worthless if they are too weak to work. Each night, your cell is pumped with a gas to lull you into slumber. You are then transported to a department we call ANASTASIS, who merely tap into your body’s natural healing properties and give you a bit of a boost. The process can take anywhere from hours to days, given the extent of a subject’s injuries. And yes, they do pick and choose. That’s how we keep your pretty little flesh branded.”

“What happens to all that lost time?” I asked.

“You don’t need to know that,” Raven said with a laugh. “The reason we keep you vermin in storage for so long before putting you out on the auction floor is to break your inner clock. We establish routines in order to mutilate your concept of twenty-four-hour intervals. When in reality, everything is timed at random. You think you’ve only been a subject for four days?” Raven howled with laughter. “During your last session, you were only conscious for five hours. What do you think happened to the rest of that time?”

I shook my head and took a cautious step back. “How is that possible?”

“The human mind is quite weak,” Raven said. He extended a gentle hand to me, inviting me into his arms. Yet I held my ground in open defiance.

“You have life-saving technology—the kind of science that could save billions of lives across the globe—and you choose to use it to make sex slaves?”

Raven’s fingers twitched, nearly forming a fist, but he kept his hand extended anyway. “The world runs on sex more than it runs on medicine, little one. If our facility were to suddenly shut down or spontaneously share our knowledge with the medical world, the repercussions would be dire. We are what keeps this planet afloat. Now come back to bed and speak no more of this. It’s clear the subject only troubles you.”

“No,” I snapped. Raven’s face fell into a malicious snarl that covered my skin in goosebumps. I pushed through the terror, even as he rose to his feet, looming overhead, and asked, “Tell me how much time I’ve lost. Tell me how long I’ve really been here!”

That was why the days had been feeling so short—because they were short! Those long hours I’d lie awake in my cell were merely just minutes! That was why I couldn’t count seconds in the mirror room. Time was a phantom in my memory, just like the image of Dad’s face or even my own name. Soon, I would forget that I was ever even free.

“QUIET!” Raven’s voice boomed, rattling my bones. My body went rigid as all of my defiance suddenly slipped out of my hands. “You disobeyed an order from your master,” he said. He covered about four of my steps backward in a single stride, catching my hips before I could jump out of reach.

“I’m s-sorry,” I whimpered, speaking quieter than the fire.

“Redeem yourself,” he snarled. “Or I’ll take your virginity with a smoldering log from the fireplace.”

I began feverishly nodding, feeling his grip tighten around my pelvic bone. I wondered if he was strong enough to crush it to dust.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.

“Bend over the side of the bed, lock your arms behind your back, and speak not a word.”

I nodded, rushing to obey the second he had me out of his hold. My body trembled out of control, forcing my teeth to chatter despite the beads of sweat beginning to roll down my neck.

“Do not move, or your punishment will worsen,” Raven growled. He stepped away for a moment, disappearing out of sight.

I could hear him rifling around a cabinet of sorts before returning with a large heart-shaped wooden paddle. My body recoiled at the sight of it, reminded of what he did to me with a weapon just like that mere days before. Though it easily could have been months.

“Five seems appropriate,” Raven said. He rubbed the paddle against my ass to familiarize me with its slightly roughened surface.

I held my breath, balling my hands into fists as Raven lined up the first strike. He was always so slow and cautious, as if he could get drunk off of my pain.

SMACK!

My body jolted forward, ignited in flames. For the first time in days, I was finally able to crack my jaws wide open and let the force of my voice echo off of every wall in the room. Tears were already stinging my eyes and blurring my vision so much that I didn’t have time to prepare myself when Raven lifted his arm for another.

SMACK!

My shrieks were broken up by sobs that crawled out of my throat with sharp, aching claws. The worst part of it all was that it felt brand new to me. The horrible beating Raven had given me when we first met had been forgotten to my body. It felt as if this was the first time I had ever been struck before in my life.

SMACK!

My screaming turned to groaning as the pain began to layer on itself. Ripples of agony infected my spine, forcing me to fight to keep from buckling under the pressure.

SMACK!

I held my breath once more for the final strike, praying to God that Raven would just get it over with. He was a romantic when it came to torture. The monster clearly loved watching me squirm almost as much as he loved listening to me scream.