Flesh Factory: An Extreme Horror Novel (4 page)

Next she moved up to her exposed armpits. There was only the tiniest amount of stubble there, but apparently that had to go too. Hope winced in the pain that was sure to follow when the wax was smeared over the hair.

She screamed through gritted teeth when that too was ripped out.

“Her pain threshold is low,” the woman said, turning her head to speak to the man.

“I know. But it’s early days, she still has a long way to go.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Do you want me to do her eyebrows and lashes too? Is this one to be entirely hairless?”

“No, she’s going to keep that. Her long red hair is unique, Mick wants it to stay.”

“Understandable.”

“The other one will be hairless.”

The woman’s eyes glinted in approval. “Good.”

Isobel, who had been quietly sobbing the entire time, sobbed even harder. Both the man and the woman acted like they couldn’t hear her.

She’s a fucking sadist,
Hope thought.

Now Hope’s body was entirely free of hair, the woman returned to her bag. She came back with two needles and syringes.

Hope cringed in fear. “No, please, don’t inject me with anything.”

“I trust you will be punishing her for all her whinging?” the woman said.

The man smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, she’ll get hers.”

“I am only taking blood so the factory can check for any diseases or STDs. And I’m giving you a birth control injection.”

Hope stared up at her with wild eyes.

Relax,
she told herself.
Just go with it.

She passively let the woman take blood and inject her with the birth control.

If that’s even what it is,
a dark part of her mind whispered.
They could be injecting all kinds of poisonous shit into my body…

“There, all done. Mick would like to see you now, you are to go to his office. Down the corridor, third door on your left.”

Hope got to her feet, her skin burning and tender where she had been waxed.

What’s to stop me just walking out of here,
she thought, when the she was outside alone in the corridor and the front door loomed ahead of her.

Because you’re naked, that’s why. And the door will be locked anyway.

She easily located the office door, recognising it from yesterday.

Tentatively she knocked before pushing it open.

Mick was sitting behind his desk, his fingers laced behind his head and his feet on the desk.

“Come in. Shut the door. Sit down.”

She sat opposite him. Already she was almost getting used to her constant nudity. Not that she was happy about it, just that it was no longer at the forefront of her mind all the time.

“I trust you slept well?” he asked, sitting himself properly at his desk.

His polite question was so at odds with her situation she simply did not know how to answer.

“No matter. I see you have been waxed. That’s much better. Open your legs for me, let me properly see what you’ve got to offer.”

Despite everything she had been through last night and this morning, she blushed hot.

“Please,” she said pathetically.

“Spare me the blushing virgin act. You know you are free to leave at any time. You might think you are here for your brother’s sake, but we both know that’s a lie. You are here because you
want
to be.”

“No! That’s not true.”

“Really?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “Do as you’re told Hope. You know what will happen to your brother if you don’t.”

She closed her eyes and opened her legs.

“Nice. Very nice indeed. You have a beautiful cunt, Hope. Open your eyes and look at me.”

She did, squirming beneath his gaze. Even from this distance she could see his pupils were dilated, flooding his icy green eyes with black lust.

Despite her abject humiliation, she held his gaze. She had to step up to the game; she knew that was her best chance in the long term.

Best chance for what? Becoming a sex slave?

She pushed away the nasty thoughts.

“As soon as your training is complete, you will be all mine. I can hardly wait.” He smiled a reptilian smile and inside she shrivelled in a mix of shame and disgust.

“Please, you don’t have to do this. I’ll get you the money my brother owes, somehow, someway. I swear –“

“Silence!” he shouted, his fist banging down on the desk, making her flinch. He continued in a gentler voice. “You should consider yourself lucky. Every single other girl at the factory are used by men for the rest of their lives. Or at least until they are no longer sexually desirable.”

Dear God,
she thought but didn’t say.
What happens them? When they are deemed not desirable anymore? A happy retirement? I don’t think so…

“Not only am I offering you this chance, at the end of the year I will make sure that you and your brother are financially set up for the rest of your lives.”

“How can I trust you?”

“I will have a legally binding contract drawn up when your training is complete. So what do you say?”

An image of her brother’s sweet face blazed in her mind. What else could she do?

“I’ll do whatever you want,” she said softly.

“Good. Now get the hell out of here. Do exactly as you’re told by my staff at all times, otherwise the deal is off. You have my word that no harm will befall you all the while you are in my care. Whatever you see happening to the other girls, you are protected, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said, when she really didn’t.

“Good. Although that is not to say that you will be exempt from experiencing pain, I am afraid that is an intrinsic part of training. But you will incur no lasting damage or undergo any body modification. If you have any further questions, now is the time to ask them.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me? Of all the girls you could take for yourself, why me?”

“Enough questions. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

His tone was harsh, but she refused to heed the warning in it. “You said you’d answer my questions.”

“Don’t you dare fucking backchat me! This is why you are undergoing training, I
hate
backchatting. Get out of my office. Now.”

Hope drew her thighs together and got up off the chair. Mick’s face was red. Hope had no idea why her question had made him so mad. He did say she could ask anything...

His anger was a tangible presence in the room and she didn’t hang around to see where it might lead.

When she stepped outside the office, the man whom she was to address as ‘sir’ was waiting for her.

“Follow me,” he said matter-of-factly.

Hope assumed she would be going back to the same room as before, but he led her further down the corridor. As they passed the room she could hear Isobel screaming. The sound made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The screams were highly disproportionate for somebody getting a full body wax. It sounded like the girl was being murdered.

Nervously she followed the man, fearing for Isobel but not daring to ask the man what was happening to her.

They had reached the door at the far end when the man turned round to face her.

“You are a very lucky woman,” he said. “I hope you realise that.”

She remembered her instructions; that she was not to make direct eye contact unless instructed. She was sure to honour that rule when she spoke;

“Yeah, I’m real lucky. I’m so happy to be me right now.”

He moved so fast she let out a short, sharp scream of shock. He had her pinned against the closed door, one meaty hand around her neck and his body pressed up against hers. The blast of his hot breath was sour in her face; the stale stench of cigarettes and coffee and just an undefinable odour lurking beneath that she found abhorrent simply because it was the smell of
him
and he sacred her.

“You’re a fucking jammy bitch. I’m not allowed to hurt you, but by God I want to fucking hurt you. I want to do things to you that would make you scream in horror.”

As he spoke he twisted one of her nipples hard. She forced down a scream. Instinctively she sensed that was what he wanted so she refused to give him the satisfaction.

To her relief he let go of her nipple and instead cupped her heavy breast, moulding and squeezing it in his big hand like it was made of playdough.

“I don’t know why Mick has singled you out, but he has. You aren’t to be treated like the other girls. You’re special to him, though fuck knows why. Still, at least you get to spend a few days with The Breaker.”

“Who, or what, is The Breaker?”

The man smiled nastily. “Every girl spends a few one-on-one days with him. He isn’t called The Breaker for nothing. He will break you down so you are a blank slate for The Factory to mould.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rohan Sanders was waiting for the latest to enter his lair. His lair was a torture chamber in the basement, the equipment in it capable of striking fear into the heart of even the most hardened masochist. Every conceivable torture device adorned the vast, high-ceilinged room, from racks to cattle prods to a genuine, medieval Iron Maiden. The entire back wall was filled with shelves that groaned with hospital saws and scalpels and hundreds of sharp tools. That was the ‘operating area’, complete with metal gurney with leather straps straight out of a Victorian mental asylum. Literally.

Rohan liked to think of the room as ‘his’, when in fact it was used for other purposes too. Mainly, it was used to film the snuff movies that The Factory specialised in.

What instrument of torture he used depended on the girl delivered to him. Some, like the girl due today, were not to be physically hurt. Some of them were delivered to him to be physically ‘broken’ to a lesser or larger degree. Maybe lose a leg here, or a hand there. Sometimes he was ordered to make a blind, deaf mute – the ultimate in submissive sex slaves.

And some came to him to die, off camera.

He leaned against the X-frame, suddenly weary. What specimen of female would walk down those basement stairs today? Maybe it would be one of the hapless women he had introduced to The Factory. Or maybe not. It hardly mattered. They were all basically the same. Unfortunate souls who, for whatever reason, had fallen onto life’s bad track.

Rohan was just going to help them along it a little further. Really he was doing them a favour, they would’ve found hell eventually, with or without his help. This one might be interesting though, according to the staff she was a natural submissive and that was rarer than a virgin in this day and age.

Rohan was good at his job. He was good at breaking women. He possessed just the right level of detachment to do what he did extremely well. He neither loved it, nor hated it. He just
did
it.

Well, okay, perhaps that was a little bit of a lie. Sometimes he did love it, women were shit. His mother was shit, making him do all those things with all those men.

Whatever. The pay was excellent. Plus he would undoubtedly be murdered if he resigned. He knew too much, there was no way that Mick would let him live.

But apparently this woman that was coming to him now was different. She was Mick’s special pet. Rohan was given specific instructions of what he could and couldn’t do to her. He wasn’t to fuck her for a start. This was most definitely a first for Rohan.

How did my life come to this? I’m not a bad person. At least, I never used to be. Not before my mum made me do those things…

Okay, so he admitted he had always lacked a certain empathy for his fellow man (or woman). But he had never actually
killed
anyone before Mick came into his life. He had just been a two-bit criminal, a thug with deceivingly boyish, innocent looks, looks that Mick had exploited and put to good use. The same looks that had made him very popular as a kid with his mum’s ‘friends’.

He sighed heavily. He was dwelling again, he had been doing that a lot since yesterday. Since
her.
Since the beautiful redhead called Hope Hill had climbed into his car, and his head.

There was just something about her. Something so knowing, yet so innocent
.

Rohan had developed a crush on a beautiful, mysterious stranger, which wasn’t like him at all. This was the closest he had come to feeling any kind of emotion for
years
. Maybe a large part of the attraction was sexual, but it was
more
than that. She had touched him emotionally in a way he didn’t think was possible. The only person Rohan usually cared about was himself.

I’m losing my mind, mooning over a complete stranger.

The image of her face burned bright in his mind surrounded by that flaming red hair. God, the way she had looked at him, the way she had seen past the crap and peered into his very soul. She was an angel, he was convinced of it.

I’m so sick of it all.
But he was stuck in the life that he had created.
No way out. Not for me, no siree.

Yes,
a little voice whispered from the darkest corner of his mind,
there
is
a way out
…

He fingered the grip of the handgun that was tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans.

A knock at the top of the thirteen stairs that led to the dungeon of hell snapped his attention back to reality.

And here she comes now,
he thought glumly.
My latest charge. At least I don’t have to kill this one
…

The door swung inwards and two figures, one large, one small, stood illuminated in the bright light of the hallway. The larger figure whom he recognised as one of the factory heavies, pushed the woman onto the top step and slammed the door behind her.

Turning his back on the newcomer to compose himself, he mentally prepared for his role of torturer and executioner.

“Walk down the stairs and do exactly as I say,” he said without turning round. “You belong to me, and to this room. You will not leave this room until I deem you ready for the next stage of your life.”

He said the words, but he didn’t mean them. Had he ever meant them? Perhaps. Once. But not anymore, not even close.

“Rohan?” said the female in a scared little voice from the top of the stairs. “Is that you?”

He never told any of the girls his name when he found them, and he spun round like he had been slapped.
That voice
…

And there she was.
Her
. It was impossible, yet there she stood, as naked as the day she was born. All he could do was stare up at her in wide-eyed disbelief, too shocked to move. Having her in the dungeon was the most perfect gift, yet the most terrible curse all at the same time, he thought his brain might explode with the magnitude of the situation he found himself in.

Mine, to do what I want with.

No. Mine to set free.

For endless seconds their eyes locked until at last Rohan broke the spell. “Come down the stairs.”

Usually, they were sobbing by now but Hope Hill was dry-eyed, and staring right at him. She looked as confused and scared as he felt. His heart was tripping like a teenager as a hazy plan hatched in his mind.

Try as he might, it was difficult to keep his eyes off her body as she descended the stairs. Her tits were big and luscious, heavy on her slim frame.

No plastic there,
he thought, imagining how soft they would feel in his hands, how they would yield and dent to the tune of numerous torture devices.

A clear image of the blueish purple they would turn if a tourniquet was applied to them leapt into his mind. He pushed away the thought. It was
in bad taste
.

What was this newfound emotion he was experiencing? Could it be
respect
? He almost smiled at that; wonders would never cease.

As she neared him he gazed into the deep blue of her eyes. She was trembling, whether from fear or cold, he didn’t know.

“I’m going to help you, but we have to act together, as a team. We’re going to get out of here. Here,” he said, pulling the blue, non-descript jumper over his head, revealing a plain black t-shirt. “Put this on.”

When she pulled on the jumper he instantly mourned the loss of the sight of her tits and almost snatched it back. She wasn’t much shorter than him so the bottom of her arse cheeks and vagina poked out beneath. Her bald pussy, framed by the hem of the jumper was in danger of muddying his thoughts.

No, you’re going to rescue her, remember?

“Why are you helping me?” she asked.

He wrenched his gaze upwards. “Let’s just say you came along at just the right time. This is no life, and I’ve had enough. I said there was hope for yet, Hope Hill. We’re going to get out of here, tonight.”

“Why tonight? Why can’t we just go now?”

“Because the place is busy right now. Clients are in and out, picking girls. Girls are up there, being trained.
Mick
is there. Normally, I would torture you all day, then either sleep down here with you or crash in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I
never
leave the basement when a girl is first delivered to me.”

“This is your job? You torture people? But you look so…”

“Sweet? Innocent? Boyish? Mick gets off on that. The guys upstairs, the heavies, they have the best look for the snuff films. And they double up as bouncers too, if there’s any trouble on the shopfront, so to speak. But me looking the way I do, being the person I am, I can really get inside a girl’s head and mess her up. I can change her perception of the world, of everything she thought she knew. Give me any girl, and I can break her…”

I’m gabbling,
he thought, shutting his mouth.

“What about me?”

“We have to go through the motions. Someone comes down every hour or so and checks up on us. I have to
pretend
to torture you.”

It suddenly occurred to him that far from providing comfort, he was scaring the shit out of her. She was edging away from him, her eyes impossibly large in the face drained of colour. This wasn’t going according to plan
at all
. Normally, if a girl backed away from him he would have given her a good poke with a cattle-prod before shackling her up, usually to the X-frame for starters. But he didn’t want to do that, not to her.

“Come on, Hope, don’t fuck this up for us. We have to work together, you have to trust me.”

“No.”

A flash of frustrated anger twisted in his guts. He had hurt a lot of girls in the past, and he had done so willingly. Just because he loved this one, it didn’t mean that the beast inside him was fully dead.

Love her? Do I? Could I?

In that moment, he realised with utmost certainty that he was in love. As crazy as it was, he was madly, passionately in love with this beautiful woman. He would die for her if need be. But first, he had to get her to cooperate and they didn’t have time to piss around. He had only given her the jumper as a temporary loan, as a gesture of goodwill on his part but now it was time to take it back.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she said, taking another step backwards.

“I am not going to hurt you, not if you give me back my jumper and get yourself over to the X-frame.”

She stopped edging backwards, her eyes darting nervously from side to side.

“What’s an X-frame?”

Sighing with relief at her decision to comply, he flicked his head over to the apparatus against the wall of the dungeon. Her gaze settled on it, and there was no mistaking the way her entire body stiffened in terror.

He appraised the thing with fresh eyes, in an empathetic way that was totally alien to him. He supposed it would look terrifying to someone who had never seen one before. It was a large metal cross, around eight foot in height and four foot across, nailed in place to the stone wall. There were movable handcuffs attached to points high up and low down on the ‘X’. A leather strap at the centre was designed to hold the victim in place at the waist so they didn’t buck when they were being whipped, torqued, or worse.

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’ll be as gentle as possible…”

She took his hand, closing the gap between them. Sudden pain exploded in his groin and he doubled over, winded. His vision dimmed, flecked with shooting stars.

Bitch fucking kneed me,
he thought incredulously.

Dimly, he was aware of her continued presence at his side, of her hands groping his waist.

His senses sharpened.
She’s going for the gun
...

He acted at the speed of light, suddenly righting himself and grabbing her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back in the most basic of Judo moves. She squealed and arched her back.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” he asked, ignoring the vicious, throbbing ache in his balls. “I’m trying to
help
you.”

He marched her over to the X-frame, his heart temporarily hardened to her pleas for mercy. Roughly, he shoved her face first against the stone wall above the middle of the X.

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he hissed into her ear, his hand pinning her down by the scruff of her neck. Are you going to behave yourself now, or what?”

Y..y..yes,” she sobbed.

He relinquished his grip slightly. “Good.”

Roughly, he turned her round and slammed her back against the X, hard enough to wind her.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, don’t make me do it.”

If you didn’t want to hurt her, then why did that feel so good?