[M] The Darkness Down Below

[Violet]

The challenges came one after the other. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. By her count, she’d been in this prison for almost half a year. She’d barely made it into this new realm before being swept away to somewhere even more garish. Xavier had probably given up on her, and with that, who knows what was happening in Camelot now.
 
The ache from so much fighting was a constant thrum deep within her bones, almost as painful as the hopelessness within her heart, but she endured. This was not a place for weaklings; they didn’t tend to go very far here. She, however, had come a lot further than when she began.
 
Her ‘earnings’, if you could call them that, had provided a private room as well as access to the pantry. Clothing, however, was still denied. In order to earn that, she had to take it. To take it, she had to defeat someone of higher rank. There was one particular asshole she had in mind, but the timing was never right.
 
That asshole strolled into her room just then, her lush body encased in black leather with convenient peepholes here and there, with a black chiffon skirt hanging from her shapely hips. Black boots wrapped around her legs and thighs, stopping just short of her buttocks. Silvery clasps and loops held them in place, as well as being decorative. Snaking along her left shoulder and hanging almost to her waist was a long, thick braid of black hair, entwined with silver threading. Irma had a way of making a statement with her faux dominatrix ensembles.
 
Violet’s gaze traveled up her body, envious of the woman’s clothing. She would have it, one day.
 
“Good morning, sunshine,” Irma greeted happily. “I have a present for you.”
 
Violet rolled her eyes and shifted further beneath her covers. “Shut up, Irma. I don’t care about your little presents.”
 
The woman frowned, but produced a package from her person anyways. She laid it lightly on the blanket beside Violet. “Open it.”
 
Violet stared at the tiny black pouch, curious at its contents. Irma brought her little presents every once in a while, usually some stupid stones or trinkets made of bone. It was probably another one of those asinine things.
 
“Go ahead, open it.” Irma insisted, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Her face was aglow with quiet excitement, almost like her usual beatific expression when she was talking about her “Lord”. Ugh, made her sick just thinking about how blindly reverent she was.
 
Violet reached from beneath the blanket and fingered the pouch, fumbling with the little tie that held it closed. Her eyes flicked upward to glare at the smirking Irma. “I swear to fuck if this is another one of those stones, I’m going to kill you with it.”
 
The tie finally undone, she dumped the contents onto the blanket. It was a coin of some sort, with a stylized “D” on one side, and as she flipped it over, there was some sort of inscription she couldn’t understand. Her brows rose quizzically as she touched the engraved lettering. “What is it?”
 
Irma snatched the coin from the blanket and studied the writing on the back. Her plump lips pursed together, eyes glistening as realization dawned on her. “You’ve been sold.”
 
“I…I what?”
 
“Ramses has sold you to someone else. This coin is what some masters use when they sell their valuable property.” Her eyes lifted to meet Violet’s. “In this case, you.”
 
Violet sat up, the blankets falling around her naked waist. She knew better than to fight back against their proclamations that they owned her; she hated the very idea of being “owned”, and although her soul rebelled against it, being in this situation, there was nothing she could do-yet. It was all so infuriating.
 
“So, who owns me now?”

Irma shrugged. “I was told to bring you to the Master’s room after giving you this. He’ll tell you there, I’m sure.” The leather clad woman stood, her skirt ruffling around her legs.
 
“He fucking better,” Violet grumped, sliding from beneath the blankets, her feet padding softly on the cold stone floor. Sighing heavily, she pushed herself up, the blankets falling away to reveal her battered bare flesh. Although clothing would have been a welcome thing in her life, she had gotten used to being naked during her time here. The first few weeks of overcoming the awkwardness of knowing everybody could see every damn thing on her was literally beaten out of her. “I really don’t want to do this.”
 
“I know, but if you don’t, you know what will happen.”
 
She knew. Although Ramses hardly ever did his own dirty work, he would no doubt make her suffer for her disobedience. His brand of punishment made even those that were immortal fear for their lives. Months ago, she’d been the target of his personal attentions, not one of his henchmen, but Ramses himself. Her flesh still bore the scars of the razor-tipped whips. “Yea, I know,” Violet murmured, recalling the memory with such disgust, she shivered.
 
“Let’s not keep him waiting; Master is especially impatient today,” Irma stood, smoothing her skirt around her shapely legs.
 
“Master can go fuck himself for all I care,” Vi muttered. Irma looked at her in disbelief. “Oh, come on, you act like this is the first time I’ve said that.”
 
Irma turned her nose upward. “And every time, I am surprised you still say it, despite the punishments you’ve gotten because of it.”
 
“Won’t be the first time I’ve been beaten for being a bad little girl, will it?” Violet opened the ancient door to her room and stepped into the hallway. “Let’s get this shit over with, shall we?”