Final Part - 03 | Lost Property

Heat swarmed Pursena's throat. She couldn't make out why a dungeon, of all places, was so awfully humid. And it stunk. It reeked of rotting body odor and sweat that hadn't been washed off of grimy flesh in weeks. The stone tiles at her feet were gritty, though there never seemed to be a speck of dirt present; Pursena struggled to walk around at first without her bare feet feeling sore. She stopped walking altogether. The bed was dirty, smelled like a myriad of unmentionable things, but it was soft enough to hold her weight for hours at a time.

She would curl up there on the dusty bedspread and wordlessly gaze at the wall. Linia, on the other hand, was much rowdier than her sister. The feline girl would spend hours beating her knuckles into the cell bars until they bled. She would skim the room for anything hidden, like it was something out of a prison fairytale — trap doors buried beneath slabs of wood, inconspicuous passageways carved out of one of the walls, makeshift weapons lying around in wait to be used against an unsuspecting guard.

Even now, she had gone back to punching the prison bars, bare fists clashing on steel. Pursena glanced at her sister, her expression downtrodden and far too depressed to say anything. A few days ago she would've had the energy to yell, but it's been weeks. Weeks of rotting away in a cell, listening to the moans and whimpers of other prisoners brought here to be slaves. It was common for women to get dragged out by the guards. Few had the energy to kick and scream for their lives. Fighting back was a waste of time.

The women who were more frequently taken out of their cells were the ones whose arms were tagged in mythic runes. Black tattoos ringing their wrists or ankles where their white rags could not veil them. They were classified as the breeding slaves — the ones Augustus pulled at his own convenience to fornicate with, to impregnate. They would bear his children in due time and the orphans would be sold to slave traders. After that, there was no telling what became of them.

Pursena found that out the first time she witnessed one of the tattooed women get escorted upstairs to Augustus' chambers. She disappeared for an hour, and the dungeon was silent for a time, then she was returned to her cell with her head hanging on her shoulders. Her hair was sticking out like a startled porcupine, her rags were messy and ruffled, especially where her cleavage hung. Pursena had taken a good whiff of the stench coming from the woman — sweat, musk, something like the faint burn of bleach and bodily fluid. It was repulsive, so much so that Pursena turned up her nose and buried her face in her knees till morning.

. . .

The door came open. Linia stopped pounding her hands into the cell bars, backpedaling as another guard sauntered in. "Shit."

Pursena lifted her head. The sisters exchanged a glance, then gazed through the bars, waiting to see which path the masked man would take. They'd never received a visitor, not from another slave or a guard or Augustus, thankfully. It was almost like they didn't exist. From the day they were tossed into a cell, nobody said a word to them, approached them, batted an eye in their direction.

The guard approached the door, pulling a silver key from his hip and making entry. Neither Pursena nor Linia said anything, they didn't know what to say — this never happened.

"This way, mutt," he said, a gruff voice. "It's your turn."

My turn? Pursena thought. She looked at the man like she was seeing ghosts. Her face went pale and her ears flattened on her head. The guard idly stepped to the side, leaving the gate open for her to walk through, but she had no intent on going anywhere.

"You gonna sit there and gawk at me all day?" The guard trudged over to the bed and took hold of Pursena's wrist, forcing a pained yelp out of her. "Let's go — don't make me tell you again."

"That hurts!" Pursena was too weak. Her arm felt like it had come under the crushing weight of steel, that the man's fingers would have an easy time clutching her wrist so hard to the point it would shatter. With tears in her eyes, she flailed her arm but to no avail; the guard held tight to her body, ripping her from the bed and tossing her to her knees.

Linia's eyes grew wide at this, and she threw herself in front of the hulking mass of a man.

"I'll kill you!" she howled, throwing a punch that never landed. The man took her by the arm as quickly as she had attempted a blow, hoisted her from her feet, and violently slammed her into the floor. The girl let out a sore yowl. Her back cracked off of stony tiles. The man looming over the sisters bent forward, offered nothing more than a listless sigh and hauled them both over his shoulders like timber.

"Feisty bitch," he growled. "I'll just take both of you then, and maybe Augustus will take your head off, cat."

Neither of them fought back as they were carried off to Augustus' chambers. Pursena, especially, couldn't bear to waste another lick of energy on trying to get out of this. Today, it was her turn. As she gazed at the black markings on her arm, the tattoos worn by breeding slaves, she knew she had taken her life up to this point for granted.

* * *

It smelled like him.

Augustus' room smelled exactly as Pursena had imagined it would. The scent of unwashed clothes in which Augustus poured sweat into like grease, old food gone to passing weeks yet still smothering the air in its stench, too many different body odors for Pursena's nose to count. It was something like a haphazardly thrown-together spiral of sweaty skin, both male and female, and the repugnant odor of seminal fluid.

When Augustus approached and his eyes swept over the girls while he stroked his long, scruffy beard, Pursena's perfect nose picked up another foul smell. A man's thirsty hormones.

"Leave them," he said. The guard released the sisters' arms and stood back, nodding to the blue-eyed beast, then taking his leave.

The room went quiet. Augustus stopped, pausing to get a good look at the beastfolk. Last time he saw them, they were clad in winters coats dotted in snow and blood, and the strobe of firelight was all that illuminated their tender faces. Now, he could see them in their full glory. The way Pursena's cute ears folded in on themselves and laid plastered to her grayish hair, her small face and strong jaw striking a pleasant balance of beauty and maturity. She stood out like no other.

Linia was fine to look at too, but she wasn't what Augustus was interested in. She was a little less cute, more on the feisty side, the kind of person who always gave hard stares and unmoving scowls. Batted her tail here and there, had her arms crossed over her chest. Whereas Pursena looked at Augustus with a face timid enough to be considered adorable, Linia stared roughly and sullen, like she was waiting for the perfect chance to claw Augustus' eyes out and eat his throat.

She would never get that chance.

Augustus stretched his arm and lifted Pursena's chin, meeting her eyes. "You ran from me for quite some time."

She said nothing.

"No use in shunning me now." Augustus' hand descended, moving to her throat and lower. His touch made the girl shudder. "You're mine now." His fingers crossed her collar bone, slipped down unto her chest. Pursena started to move back. She whimpered, the man's hand clenching her breast, fluffing her cleavage all while staring her down. Her heel backed across the carpet. Her subconscious drove her to try twisting her body out of Augustus' hands, but he held tight to her, keeping one hand clasped over her breast and the other reeling her in by the shoulder.

He was stopped when Linia latched onto his wrist. He looked over, quiet, locking eyes with the feline girl's fiery glare.

"Fuckin' freak," Linia said. "Get your hands off or I'll beat your fat ass."

Augustus chortled. Couldn't believe he was hearing her. A skinny little beast girl, wrapped in his rags, in his home, willingly challenging his authority? The man faced her with a grin on his bearded lips. Linia looked up, giving her all to not shudder under his cold blue eyes. She stood firm, tail whipping the air like a dagger cutting the wind.

Augustus struck her across the face.

One swift punch knocked a tooth out. A single touch spilled crimson. Linia dropped to the ground as quick as a flick of her tail and went limp. Blood splattered her lips.

"You'll be next," said Augustus. He turned to Pursena. "Now, get on the bed, Puppy."

Pursena stole a glance at her sister writhing on the floor. The gush of blood brought her back to the day they were captured from that humble little village, and back then Linia looked the same as she does now. On the ground, blood hanging on her chin. Tail laid flat on the ground. Painful moans slipping from her throat.

As instructed, Pursena soundlessly crossed the room, Augustus hot on her heels. She closed her eyes, shutting away the sight of the man's chambers where walls lined with full shelves stood like mocking soldiers and the king-sized bed beckoned her forward. She stopped when her knees hit the sheets. Augustus nudged her forward, bending her over the edge of the bed.

She didn't resist.

She couldn't.

The black tattoos on her arm moved like worms beneath her skin, glowing subtly and oozing out of her flesh. She felt the cold bite of magic on her bones. This spell, wherever it came from, kept her body placed motionlessly on the bed. It prevented her from thinking for herself. She was a slave with a purpose for bearing children and nothing more. Augustus' magic made it so that she couldn't fight back, that she was as still and cold as a life-sized doll.

Behind her, the sound of his pants falling.