Two doors led in and out of the room and with no windows on its walls, no draught coursed that space.
And yet the cool air it contained gnawed at every inch of Arabella’s exposed skin. Every cell affected, every hair on her body up begging for a touch of warmth, a breath to break the pattern.
Stuck in that less than comfortable position, hands behind her back, clasped around her elbows as her hamstrings scread for relief.
However, Zarah wasn’t quite done with her.
Indeed, she waved that thin yet terrifying crop around as a constant reminder of the role she occupied in the young woman’s tornts, cutting the air that whistled with every sudden shift in matter.
"I have sothing to do for now, " Zarah’s eyes traveled up and down Arabella’s aching Body, "Stay in that position until my return, do you understand, whore?"
"Yes, mistress," she squeaked.
"And may rcy find you if your eyelids happen to be shut by my return. There will be hell to pay," she warned through tightened jaws, eyes narrowed.
That ti around, the old hag waited for no answer and made her way towards the second door. The one that still kept what lay behind it a mystery to Arabella, but when it creaked open her attention wasn’t allowed to wander as Zarah had one last thing to say.
"This room is where you will be spending most of your days when you won’t be serving. So, you better get acquainted and used to the sll," she left her with a cold smirk.
That sll... That God awful sll of salty sweat, amalgamated with that of other bodily fluids cooled down by the low temperature in that space. None of which were a delight to breathe.
The clacking of the door as it shut echoed against the walls and every piece of furniture in there ... well, if one could call it furniture.
So were built like literal torture devices while others harbored "tools", many of which Arabella had the misfortune of being subjected to by her very first mistress.
What stood out the most or more correctly, what made her heart sink further towards her heels was the neatly organized collection of phallic shaped instrunts, stacked one near the other based on their sizes which ranged from the smallest all the way up to the abnormally large ones.
Mistress Alexandra, her first pleasure trainer had started the young woman on a daily routine of anal insertions as young as fifteen with the goal of dilating her orifice in preparation for whatever need or whim the prince might have had.
But of course, there was a lot more saddening than that... naly, the ropes and ties that dangled from the walls near the collars, chains and shackles.
The furniture in the room was designed to achieve specific goals, such as maintaining the body in a determined position as various acts of sexual nature are perford on the subject.
On the other side, between the torches, a plethora of tal hooks that did not end in sharp and pointy dots. Null doubt for the limited use of anal or vaginal penetration... All were put on display from the ground up to the sad, low hanging ceiling above.
Gazing up at that gray, flat surface hovering over her head, Arabella caught herself wishing the prince had given her the sa treatnt as the servants he had executed. Why didn’t he just cut her ears off?
Why didn’t he hang her in a cell by nothing but thin hooks that pierced her flesh?
Why didn’t he order her beating until she turned bloody and blue? Until her bones gave out?
No! Cedric knew exactly where it would hurt the most and hesitated not a second to put his finger on it!
She wasn’t even a woman anymore... Stripped of all dignity and grace. Left bare before the hungry wolves and their wandering paws.
Reduced to nothing but a pleasure slave, free for use.
The knob turned very suddenly before the door flew open, only for the despicable face of Zarah to co through. The abrupt actions and noises wrenched a jolt out of the sore muscles in the young woman.
"Oh, good! You knew how to follow simple directives this ti around!" She grinned.
Behind her stood a second, feminine figure. One that hung her head low as well. One that was quite familiar to Arabella.
"You know dear Irene, don’t you?" Zarah brought her attention to the blonde trailing in her tracks, "I hear you were introduced," she chuckled one last ti before every trace of amusent on her completely vanished, "Go face the whore right this second!" She addressed Irene.
"Yes, mistress!" the blonde scampered to stand a few feet in front of Arabella.
Not for a second did Irene dare raise her gaze since her entrance.
"Strip then stand in idle position," she ordered her.
"Yes, mistress,"
Irene did not dally and shed every piece of clothing covering her body off to the last one.
When her fair skin reflected the orange hue of the torches, Zarah spoke again, that ti around looking at Arabella, "Do you see how easy it is for her to follow simple orders? But worry not," she clicked her tongue against her palate, "Soon it’ll beco second nature to you too," she then turned back to the shivering blonde, "You were selected by his highness himself for the honor to accompany him and yet he tells you managed to fail him,"
At those words, Arabella did not skip a beat and sprung into action, "Please, mistress! The fault wasn’t hers! She didn’t an-"
But the poor thing never got to finish her sentence.
Indeed, in the blink of an eye, Zarah spun around so swiftly, Arabella barely had the ti to see her hand coming, connecting with her cheek at full force and sending her tumbling to the ground.
"Did I grant you permission to speak, whore?!" The old hag bellowed, her features contorted into the most terrifying of glares "You dare?! You dare open your mouth and cut off!"
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