Final Part - 05 | Scars Only Dry

"Hah, look at how she squirms!"

"Dumbass cat."

A whip cracks against the air. Rusted chains tremble atop one another, creating an echoing song of metal.

"I've been waitin' real long for my turn. This is like heaven."

"Tell me about it. Sir Augustus sure knows how to keep us occupied."

"That's the big man for ya."

The whip cracks again, slicing into tender skin. Cold chains continue to quake with every skittish movement she makes.

"When do you think this little kitty is gonna be up for grabs in the other room?"

"Heh, that's the premium stuff, ain't it? Augustus don't like her one bit, but she ain't been sent to the pleasure chambers yet."

"Pleasure chambers? That's what you call 'em?"

"Am I wrong? Those are the gals we get to take to pound town as long as we like. I'd say that's plenty pleasurable."

"The name could be better."

The whip strikes, clashing against Linia's already bruised torso. As she strains against her steely binds, the chains jingle and sway in a broken, desperate rhythm. It strikes again, slashing neatly across her stomach and leaving a long line of crimson in its stride. Linia chokes on a broken gasp, her body jerking forward as she — like many times before — attempts to free herself from her silver restraints. But they are resilient, unbreakable.

Her wrists and her ankles are bound to the cold, dusty dungeon walls and the two men standing before her continue to heartlessly mock her despair with guffaws, and all she can do is look on at them in silence, her mouth jammed by a dirty clump of cloth.

"Look at her face."

"She's a pretty lil' thing. I see it now. I hope she gets transferred soon. Wouldn't mind making her purr for me."

"You could do that right now. Augustus stripped her down. Easy access, eh?"

The man with the thicker accent greedily casts his eyes down on Linia's naked body. Until now, she has been dressed in the dirty rags allotted to all women unfortunate enough to step foot inside the chambers. Those same rags leave hardly any room for the imagination, just the way Augustus intended, with the way the "outfit" collapses into a loose, too-thin gown short enough to permit a glance between the legs. Some are longer, though it never makes much of a difference in the long run. They all eventually slip into more revealing attire, ripped cloth altogether, or no clothes at all.

And right now, Linia herself is disgusted by the fact she's been forced to wear nothing but her bare bruised skin. Even more so appalled when she sees the look of ravenous lust radiating behind the men's eyes as they skim over her supple breasts and the shape of her scarred legs.

"You know," says the guard with the accent, "she's the real feisty one. Only reason she got cooped up in here is 'cause she kept fighting back against the big man."

"I heard. Think that's the first time Augustus hasn't been able to tame one of them well enough to breed."

"Well, ain't that just a shame. That should give him all the more reason to let us have our way with her."

The whip cracks once more.

It swishes through the air, beating hard against Linia's chest and swinging up in a small arc that smacks her chin. The searing pain brings hot tears to her eyes almost instantly, the cat-girl slamming her weight against the chains in another fruitless attempt at escape. Much to the cruel men's delight, she is denied that escape, reeled back in by the metal vortex binding her limbs to the wall, dispelling all but ceaseless gasps in her throat until she's huffing and puffing wildly only through her flared nostrils.

"God, I'll never get tired of this."

"Hey, you know, I heard beast-folk give crazy head."

"Oi, is that right? Guess they ain't called animals for no reason."

Another strike of the whip lands. Linia whimpers, flailing desperately against her binds but to no avail. At this point, she wishes she was simply killed and gutted.

"You could probably get this gal to do some wild shit. She'd probably throat you nice and deep just to spite you."

"Yeah, sure, then chomp off my willy."

"Not if you hold a blade to her temple."

"Mmm, you've got a point there, lad."

Another crack of the whip. Another shrill whimper.

"And what about the sister?"

"Ya' mean that dog girl? Pretty sure she's the one the big man's been lookin' for. I ain't been around here long, but I do know she's his golden goose."

"Why's that? She doesn't look any different from the other ones."

"Augustus has only got one use of that fancy lust magic of his. At least, that's what I been hearing. He plans to use it on her. Give her one of them breeding tattoos, whatever they're called."

"He's got a thing for beast-folk."

"Don't we all?"

As they speak on and on about her sister, Linia's ears twitch uncontrollably. She lunges forward again, still held back by her chains, and utters a hiss muffled by the cloth between her lips.

This hiss is completely silenced when one of the men strike her across the face, not with the whip, but with his bare knuckles. His fist cracks across her jaw, and her face goes slack, Linia's eyes drooping lazily as she fights back the urge to sink into unconsciousness. For a moment she looks drunk. A man cackles louder at the expression.

"Don't hiss at me, bitch," the one with the accent says. "Let me hear that again and I'll bust your bottom lip, ya hear me?"

Dazed, but conscious enough to respond, Linia slowly nods her head.

"Hah! Good kitty."

"I'm done with her, I think. I wanna see that one really cute blonde squirm."

"Already? Ain't that a bit early? I was just starting to enjoy pissing the pussycat off."

"There's more next door. We'll come back here later before we're back on duty."

The man with the whip hesitates, disappointingly glaring down at Linia's nude body, his eyes indecisively dancing in and out of her crotch, then eventually he lowers the weapon and steps back. A grueling sigh slips from his mouth.

"Alright. You're lucky the blonde is a hottie."

"Hottie indeed. Her voice is like butter too. I'll show you where to hit her if you wanna get some real noise outta her."

"Right, lad, I'm sold."

The two men saunter out of the chamber room, vanishing away into the vague torchlight just beyond the door. Once again the door is shut and Linia is enclosed in a thick blanket of darkness, her senses hobbled by the sight of nothingness around her and the dirty, musty smell of stale air. Succumbing to the grief she's found herself in, Linia drops her head, her ears and tail all going limp.

Salty tears trickle from her bloodshot eyes, cascading down on bruised skin and horribly chapped lips.

In her head, she counts the days. No, the months. Three months since she was scooped up from that humble little village and taken here. Three months since she last felt freedom. Now, all she feels is hopelessness as this horror sinks into her flesh, harder and bloodier than any rich silver blade could.

She casts a tired glance at her arms hoisted above her head.

Her forearms are decorated in both small and long knife wounds — marks left by many abusive soldiers such as the last two. Her torso is covered in sore, red bruises left behind by leather whips, and her legs are specked in fresh cuts. Linia squirms. Even her breasts have been aching from how rough the soldiers have been lately.

She knows it's bad, but it's also better than dealing with Augustus. The only reason the feline is chained down here in these black brick cells built for abuse is because she wouldn't let Augustus take her virginity. She fought tooth and nail to get the man off of her, and he, too, tried hard to subdue her on that bed that reeked of hot body odor and musk.

Linia is strong, but not strong enough.

Pursena is still out there, one of Augustus' most cherished slaves. Both for his own pleasure and the need for profit; she'll be pumped full of children against her will and heed his every wish until finally, she can't keep up any longer and draws her last breath.

At the same time, Linia thinks she herself will also die soon. The meals are never enough. Half a morsel of bread, two swigs of water if she's lucky. Her body can't keep going. It aches and burns and screams for mercy, and her stomach continues to cry in agonizing hunger as if her appetite hasn't already been devoured by the smell of her own blood, her unwashed skin, and the scent of a man's rough dirty hand that had explored her body.

Linia stands there for hours, crying the time away until she can't sob anymore.

She wonders when she'll have to feel the bite of another whip lashing her body.

...

Time flickers away. The dungeon room is silent, save for the faint crackle of fire from outside the door. Linia has stopped crying and focuses instead on trying to get some shut-eye. She can't remember the last time she slept without some soldier waking her by pulling on her tail or her ears or groping her rear.

She begins to close her eyes.

As soon as she does so, the door comes creaking open. Quickly she looks up, seized by fear as she imagines she's in for another long few hours of being tortured.

She fixes her gaze frantically on the figure stepping into the room—

"I knew you'd look bad, but not that bad. Goodness."

Linia squints her eyes at the figure — a young boy. He holds a small torch to illuminate the expanse of the dungeon room, his features highlighted by the warm orange glow. He's vaguely familiar, but she can't recall his name. Considering all the people she harassed at the academy, her memory of them is fleeting.

"Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" The boy approaches the bound girl, wiggling his eyebrows gently at the sight of her naked body. "I tried so hard to get a peek at your sister's gorgeous body before. Now, I guess I get free access. Lucky me."

As he says this, speaking with a thick smug undertone, Linia's eyes grow indescribably wide. She needn't look over his young face any longer; she remembers him. Linia lets out a muffled grunt and a growl, throwing herself against her chains in a failed attempt to lunge at the dark-haired boy.

The boy from her class, who once tied Pursena to a chair and nearly had his way with her before Linia and Y/N stopped him.

"Now you remember me," Marshal chuckles. "Don't worry, I'm happy to see you too, cat. You really beat the snot out of me before. Look who's all tied up now though."

Linia, with her dwindling amount of energy, once again lunges for him to no avail.

"Here, I'll even do you a small favor."

Marshal reaches forward, undoing the cloth in Linia's mouth. He tosses it to the ground and watches as the beast-girl licks her lips, collecting spit in her mouth, then spews it out on his face.

Linia rattles the chains with her every movement. "You little fuckin' rat coward—!"

A loud thud fills the room. The sound of Marshal's fist connecting with her jaw. Linia's voice breaks, going quiet. She spits a gob of blood out onto the floor.

"Watch your mouth when you speak to me," Marshal sneers, wiping the spit from his cheek. "You're the one chained to the wall. You're at my mercy this time, not the other way around."

The taste of metal swims through Linia's throat. She cracks open her mouth, letting a few more droplets of blood spill past her lips. Her eyes, although weak, remain glued to Marshal's — brimming with contempt.

"Where's my sister?" she asks.

"Probably upstairs getting railed." Marshal nonchalantly shrugs. "My father's taking real good care of her."

"I want to see her."

"Don't think so. She's his main breeding slave, and that means no one gets access to her unless he says so."

"I said, I want to see her."

Marshal steps forward and cups Linia's chin in his palm, yanking her head forward and gritting his teeth at her shoddy expression.

"Guess what, bitch," he begins, "it's not about what you want. All you are is a doll — our doll. Our plaything. You don't have any say around here and that's how it'll be until you shrivel up and die like the waste of space you are."

"That won't—" Linia pauses to spit up another wad of blood. "That won't happen. Boss will... Boss will come for me."

"Boss?" Marshal thinks, lifting an eyebrow, then grins mockingly as the image of that one student flashes in his head. "You mean the lowlife who put you and your sister on a leash after you tormented them? That's funny. Why in the world would a victim come to save you?"

"Boss protects us. When they get here, you... you're fucking dead."

"Keep dreaming. Your guardian angel doesn't give two shits about you. If they did, how come you've been here for months now, hmm?"

Linia shuts her eyes, thinking to herself.

It's not true. Boss is probably looking for us right this moment. I know it. Boss won't actually abandon us... Boss doesn't hate me for brawling with them... right?

"No answer," says Marshal. "That's what I thought. No one's coming for—"

"Men! Men, gather your things!"

A loud warning cry bounces through the dungeon halls. Frantic footsteps thump on hard stony floors. The soldiers all rush together in a long line, brandishing weapons of all different types with haste.

"Get outside! Everyone!"

Marshal looks toward the door, listening to the cacophony sounding through the dungeon. Under his breath, he mutters. "The hell is going on?"

Another soldier in the hall screams. "Intruders sighted in the area! One of 'em burned down our watchtower! Get your stuff and get outside, NOW!"

At that, Marshal feels his face freezing. He goes pale, his eyes slowly looking back to Linia's—

She's smiling. Ever so softly, she is just smiling at him.

"What did I tell you, rat?" A weak yet daunting whisper. "You're dead."