The Highest Bidder

❊ Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Tʜɪʀᴛʏ﹣Fɪᴠᴇ ❊

Trigger Warning: Abuse

If you want to skip the chapters that she is with Maverick, go to chapter 44.

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My entire body ached. Something cold was wrapped around my neck, my wrists, and my ankles. I couldn't see. Even so, I was dizzy and felt nauseous. I think I was sitting on a chair. But I could have been wrong. I wasn't sure.

I rested my head back against whatever it was behind me. It felt like I was only wearing my underwear, and the cold room sent goosebumps across my skin.

"Welcome back, little vixen."

"Fuck you," I murmured.

I heard the crack before the pain registered. It felt like someone sliced through my thighs with a knife and I bit back the urge to cry out. I told myself it was nothing compared to what I had done to myself years before. But that had been long ago. I had almost forgotten the feel of physical pain that great.

"Answer correctly." I knew he was smiling. I could hear it in his voice.

I lowered my head. "Fuck you, sir."

Another crack and I hissed. That one went straight across my stomach and I knew for a fact that I was almost completely naked. I felt blood begin to slither down my stomach. What was he using? A whip?

"Try again."

I clenched my eyes shut. The word fight kept resounding through my brain. But what good would fighting do? He'd continue to whip me until I complied. How many times would he whip me before I blacked out from either pain or lack of blood? Ten? Twenty? Could I even last that long?

I remained silent. I wanted to say a lot, but none of it would have been what he wanted me to say.

Another crack and my cheek began to sting. I bit back another cry, instead, forcing myself to breathe through it. It barely helped.

"I'll let you in on a little secret." He was close. Too close. "This is being recorded and will be sent straight to Enzo. Every bit of your torture will be documented and I will send him a loop of the moment you break for me."

I turned my head towards the sound of his voice. "Fuck you."

He clicked his tongue three times before another crack of the whip echoed throughout the room. Instead of thinking about the sudden shot of pain on my abdomen again, I thought about the room. It sounded empty and if the thing behind me was any indication, it was made of concrete. So, a basement? Was Vince in the room? How was he reacting, if he was?

When I didn't react to the last blow, he changed his tactic. The blow that hit my jaw was not made by leather. It was his fist. It hurt less than the whip, but I could still feel my jaw rattle against the impact. And it still hurt like hell.

A prick of something sharp dug into my collarbone. "You will show some respect, do I make myself clear?"

I smiled a wry smile. "Make me."

It was a knife. And it slid from one end of the collarbone to the other, creating a long, deep gash across my skin. I couldn't stop the cry of pain that escaped my lips when he pushed in the tip at the end, allowing it to touch the bone resting just beneath the flesh. Blood streamed from it and I became faint. It hurt so bad.

"Do I make myself clear, Eva," he whispered, moving the knife against the bone.

"Yes, sir." I choked on the stench of my blood.

The knife was pulled out. Seconds later, a door opened and clicked shut. Had he left? Man, I hoped he left. And when minutes went by without a sound, I knew I was left alone. I didn't know for how long, but at least I was alone for the moment so that I could get my bearings and try to think of something other than the throbbing pain.

I set my head back against the wall and moved it, pushing up the blindfold slightly. I continued that movement until it fell to the floor in a heap and I was cringing away from the brightness of the room.

The room was made of concrete and was entirely empty except for the stool I was seated on and the cuffs binding my hands and neck to the wall by a short chain. I searched for the camera Maverick hinted at, but I couldn't find one.

So it was hidden and hidden well, if there even was a camera.

Vince was nowhere to be seen. It was just me, seated half-naked on a rickety wooden stool, tied up to the wall.

The only door in the room opened and Maverick stepped back in. He had an amused little smile on his face when he took in the sight before him. His eyes traveled down to the discarded blindfold and he tisked before closing the door behind him.

I narrowed my eyes.

"I always did like seeing the eyes of the people I torture," he said, walking closer. I think he wanted me to flinch. "I enjoy seeing people cry. Especially if I'm the one making them do it."

Sadistic bastard. I thought, scanning the room for the camera again. Shouldn't there be a red light or something? I don't know why I was looking for it. Maybe to know that I wasn't completely alone in this torture. If Enzo was somewhere watching this, or if he would watch it, I wanted him to know that I knew. I wanted him to see that I was still me and that Maverick hadn't gotten to me yet, even though it hadn't really been that long since he started.

"For your little stunt earlier, I've decided to not let you eat for a week or so." He waved his hand dismissively. "That itself should break you. And, if not, I have different tactics. So let's go with that first, shall we? I'll let you drink water...but only if you do it like a dog."

I shot a look at him, a mixture of confusion and anger writhing through my body. I could barely move, let alone get on my hands and knees to drink like a damn dog.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he fixed that issue by unhooking my chains and replacing them with longer ones, giving me more room to move. And I guessed he knew what I would do next, because right as I lunged forward to choke him, he danced out of the way. The collar around my neck tightened and pulled me back, making me land hard on the concrete floor.

I cringed at the sudden burst of pain through my tailbone.

"Make that a week and a half." He tilted his head and stared down at me. "Have you ever experienced starvation before, Eva? It's painful. Your stomach will start eating away at your fat and muscles and when it growls, it will send bursts of pain through your entire body. You'll become weak and frail. And when I finally give you food again, it's likely that your body will end up rejecting it. So, submitting will get you food sooner. If you keep this act up, you're likely to die."

I only looked up at him from the floor. I was already hungry from the last time that I ate. How much hungrier would I get in that time frame?

"You'll urinate and defecate in a bucket that I will bring you with your water." He smirked. "And if you're really bad, I'll bathe you in your own feces. That will cause infection in your wounds."

He sure did know a lot of ways to kill someone. But I didn't plan on dying in some cold cellar with some crazed psychopath. I'd do what was needed to be done. If that meant acting like I was broken, so be it.

I guess he saw the resolve in my eyes because he chuckled lightly before turning on his heel and leaving me on the floor, still covered in my own blood by the gashes he made in my skin.