Chapter Three

As I regain consciousness, I am immediately confronted with the stark truth of my environment. The biting cold air mercilessly penetrates my weak frame, leaving me trembling uncontrollably. It is as if I have been trapped in an icy void, where each exhale materializes as a reminder of where I am.

Instantly, I become aware of the presence of Sir, his imposing figure casting a shadow over me; his body language is a blend of anger and unwavering authority. With a commanding gesture, he puts a drink to my lips and a small portion of food, offering me the vital nourishment that I so desperately need.

As I gratefully accept his offering, I am fully aware of the hidden cost that comes with it. The taste of the liquid on my parched lips brings a fleeting sense of relief, as if something momentarily lights a spark of energy within me. The nourishment, although meager, offers a glimmer of hope in the midst of this bleak existence. However, with each bite and sip that I swallow, an unsettling feeling of imminent doom settles deep within my gut.

Without warning, Sir takes the water away, leaving me perplexed. Gradually, what I have comprehended as a wall begins to lower, transforming into a bed, and I find myself stretched out and trapped, unable to move. It is at this moment that I realize the true cost of his generosity. The liquid was laced with a sedative, and I am now at his mercy. As I struggle against the restraints, I am filled with a sense of dread, knowing that I am completely at his mercy. The glimmer of hope that I had felt earlier is now snuffed out, replaced by a sense of desperation and hopelessness.

My heart is pounding as I take in the scene before me. The tray is a work of creation, each item placed with precise care and preciseness. In the dim light, the knives are gleaming and show their sharp and deadly edges. The needles are slender and delicate, their tips glinting in the faint glow of the room. And the silicone objects, with their seductive curves and contours, leave me wondering what their purpose could be.

As I stare at the tray, my mind is flooding with questions. Why did Sir put these objects here? What are they for? And why am I here? Tears stream down my face, as I stare at this display of tools that seem to hold so much power and pain.

Sir chuckles with delight as he exclaims, “Ah, you've stumbled upon my cherished collection! These sharp blades, my dear, are reserved for those who dare to misbehave and deny me their desires. And oh, the needles, depending on which one I grab. They hold either a potent concoction of wolfsbane, rendering your body weak and in intense pain when my anger is provoked.

Or are containing aphrodisiacs that will ignite an insatiable craving for intimate encounters. As for the rest, they are an assortment of tantalizing pleasure devices; eagerly awaiting the opportunity to explore every inch of your exquisite body.”

A flood of tears stream down my face, with an overwhelming display of sorrow and hopelessness, as I plead with the man standing in front of me. With a voice quivering with vulnerability, I manage to choke out the words, "I'm only sixteen. I don’t even have my wolf yet." My heart races in my chest, a chaotic symphony of fear and uncertainty, as I desperately try to reason with him, praying that he will realize the grave mistake he is about to make.

However, his gaze remains unyielding, his eyes void of any warmth or empathy, leaving me feeling utterly defenseless and abandoned in my anguish.

“All the more pleasure for me to bring your wolf out,” he says in a malicious tone.

The mere thought of his methods to extract 'her' sends shivers down my spine, causing my muscles to tense up and a feeling of sickness to wash over me. Despite his attempt to sugarcoat them as “new toys,” I am fully aware that my body will be subjected to unbearable torture. Just as I am about to speak up, Sir towers over me, holding one of his knives, and gradually moves it towards my stomach. I recoil from the icy touch, but he grins wickedly before deliberately cutting into my skin, causing me to scream, “STOP!” As the excruciating pain spreads throughout my body.

As my blood flows from the wound he caused, he leans in and sensually licks it off my skin, emitting a moan of pleasure. “Oh, little omega. The taste of your blood is simply exquisite. And I cannot resist indulging in another lick,” he whispers, as he proceeds to cut me once more, causing another piercing scream to escape my throat. This horrifying cycle repeats itself relentlessly; until the darkness engulfs me.

Slowly regaining consciousness, I find myself overwhelmed by the racking pain coursing through my body, causing me to cry out in torment. Trembling with fear, I hastily scan the dimly lit cellar, desperately searching for any sign of Sir's presence, fearing his watchful eyes. As I release a deep breath, I come to the realization that, for the time being, I am alone.

Determined to escape, I attempt to free myself from the restraints. Only to be met with disappointment as they prove too tight to slip my hands out of, and the chain is too robust to break. My cries of frustration fill the air, and I feel a sense of hopelessness wash over me.

In this moment of desperation, my thoughts drift to my dear grandparents. Wondering whether they believe me as deceased alongside my mother, or if I had slipped from their memory altogether. It saddens me to recall that my mother, amidst her pregnancy and while seeking safety with our family, has only managed to mention me once. Life's unfairness is cruel, for she should still be present by my side, on the verge of reuniting with grandma and grandpa.

As the cellar doors swing open, Sir gracefully descends the stairs. Carrying a tray filled with a tantalizing scent of freshly prepared food and a jug of refreshing water. His face radiates with a warm, genuine smile, creating an illusion that I am not his captive but an honored guest in his modest residence. With a composed and collected behavior, he gazes at me, as if I am here by choice, as if I am willingly partaking in this odd arrangement. In this unexpected situation, I can't help but be scared of his intentions, wondering what horrifying plans he has in store for me next.

“Rise and shine, my slumbering beauty! I have just the perfect remedy to invigorate you.” Sir responds with a vile smile.

As I observe him, a feeling of uneasiness overwhelms my vision, and I’m captured by my fear of the complex facts of this declared remedy. The uncertainty surrounding what lies ahead fills me with a sense of dread; as I know that it will inevitably involve a definite level of discomfort. In this exact moment, all I can muster is a weak whimper as I mentally ready myself for the forthcoming ordeal that awaits me.

“I refuse to accept anything you are offering, Sir!” I boldly say as a shiver goes through my body, only to be met with a forceful blow across my face as a result of my nerve to speak to him in such a manner.

“Never speak that way to me again, you little bitch, or the consequence will be worse next time,” he snarled at me.

My face twists in pain, with tears falling down my cheeks. Instinctively, I turn my head away from the person causing me such torment. Little did I know, he has retrieved a chair and positions himself next to the makeshift bed, his intentions hidden in a sinister aura. With every deliberate and intentional movement, he forcefully begins to feed me.

Completely disregarding my weak attempts to resist. His snarls echo through the room, serving as a bone-chilling reminder of the impending danger I find myself in. To further assert his dominance, he menacingly brandishes a knife; it's glimmer reflecting the hatred that consumes him. The blade dances perilously close to my trembling body, leaving me with no choice but to surrender to his twisted desires.