CHAPTER 62

Claire's legs clung to the metal pole firmly. Her face was masked, and she had just dropped her coat.

She could see the lustful looks of the many men encircled round her, she could hear them whistle and hoot in excitement

But her mind was somewhere else, and get heart was wrapped around the palm of a man she knew she could never ever have

She twirled around the pole, and felt the friction on her thighs. It burned, but she was accustomed to it.

But then, she felt a wave of nausea taken over her. She felt her grip loosen against the pole, and her head began to ache

The after effects of her drinking spree were beginning to hit her

But instead of feeling concerned, the crowd cheered more. Bunch of sick morherfuckers thought it was part of the show.

Claire felt her knees give way, and soon, she was lying helpless on the stage

They could've taken her out, but instead—

They began to bid on her

In the crowd, there were a lot of disgusting rich men who enjoyed the show so much, they decided they wanted a second phase —

Privately

And without her consent

She kept hearing numbers, and the numbers kept going up.

Until she blacked out on the stage

Two men in black walked to the stage and held her unconscious body upright. She had just been paid for.

The man that bid for her was in his late fifties, but he had almost no hair. He sat on a large feathery couch, in one of the sections reserved for very important persons. He wore dark shades, and when he pulled them off, it became visible that he was blind in one eye

“Should we wake her up?”

One of the men who carried her asked

The man stood up from the couch, knocking a tray of expensive wine with his robust figure, as he walked to where they were standing

He licked his lips disgustingly

“No, I like them unconscious”

The men didn't ask questions, they just complied like they were zombies, like they didn't just have a conversation with a somnophiliac

Claire was placed on a soft bed, in one of the rooms. Her eyes flickered open shortly after. But she was still drifting in and out of consciousness

Still—

She knew she had gotten herself into trouble, the kind that had consequences she wasn't going to recover from anytime soon

She sighed of hopelessness

“Usually when I'm about to rape unfortunate girls like you, my ears are filled with desperate incessant cries for mercy

But you are silent”

He walked over to the bed, and unzipped his pants

“I find it boring”

He brought his hands to her face, in an attempt to pull off her mask

She pushed him away,vwith the little strengths had, but her resistance only brought her a slap on the side of her face

“You are my property, that means I get to do whatever I want. That means if I want to see your face—”

He ripped off the mask

“I get to see your fucking face!”

Her eyes were empty, and void. There was no fear, or anger, no emotion at all. And it scared him

He zipped his pants back up

“I'll have to get a reaction out of you somehow—”

He grabbed a wooden cane, that leaned on the doorpost, and caressed it with his hand

“I promise you, this is going to hurt—”

Claire felt something hard prod at her entrance. No!

It wasn't what she was thinking, it couldn't have been—

Her eyes flickered, as she tried to make sense of what was happening

Then it hit her, consciousness and perception found a meeting point, and she realised what he was doing

A loud scream escaped her lips, and his laughter echoed through the room

He pulled out the cane. He was torturing her, building fear inside of her

She breathed fast, she needed to escape quickly, but her legs felt lifeless—

She closed her eyes, and slowly accepted her fate. It was probably payback. Karma had caught with her, and she deserved everything she was getting

But then, she heard a loud bang

And a familiar voice

She was about to black out again, but somehow, before her eyelids closed shut, she muttered—

“Arman”

***********************

She could hear his voice occasionally

But she couldn't tell what was happening

All she knew was that one minute, she was cold, and the next minute she wasn't. Something was wrapped around her

It felt like a suit jacket

Her eyes flickered open one last time

She could see Arman driving, could see the pain in his face through the mirror. There were droplets of blood on his white shirt—

“Ugh”

Claire took deep breaths, as another moan escaped her lips

Her hair was in a shower cap, and her entire body was submerged in a tub of warm water

She could make out his figure through the fogginess of her eyes

He was standing with a washcloth in his right hand, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow

She shivered, and he turned around. Like he could feel her discomfort

He walked to the tub, the washcloth still in his hand

“Not hot enough?”

He asked

Claire nodded

He pressed a button at the side of the tub, and the water slowly grew warmer

Her body relaxed to the new development

“Where am I?”

“My house”

She was taking things pretty well. He had expected her to be terrified, scared the hell out of her mind that she was half naked in a tub inside his home. But she wasn't fazed, Not after being sexually abused by a psychopath with a walking stick

He brought the washcloth to her forehead and wiped it slowly

“Arman you don't have to—”

He didn't listen her. His left hand held her chin up, which he kept dabbing the cloth on her forehead

“What— about the guy”

He creased his brows, and paused

“I stabbed him in his good eye

With the walking stick—”