A smile that sparcled like ice, a touch as gentlty as heaven. Who could have known he had such indescribably
sickening fantasies. he sat and watched with a meniacle smile while they tore out her hair and ripped chunks
from her flesh, as she struggled to relieve herself from their grip. As the girl screamed and cried, he could not
help but let out a satisfied moan. The body lay quivering on the floor, praying for death, for an end to this excruciating
pain. The creaters fled at the sight of him, whimpering, affraid. Surely, he had must have no compassion to just
sit there and watch. What was it he wanted to do with her almost lifeless body. Sudden warmth of dark, heavy
velvet wrapped around her bruised and shreaded body. The sound of horses hooves, yet all she could see was
the blood and blackness from behind her beaten eyes. Her body relaxed as she prayed for this to be the end.
But she was far from it.
The overpowering smell of vanilla clung to the air like a child to it's mother. Agonising pain rippled across
her skin making her want to scream out. But she couldn't. She couldn't do anything at all.The girl had been bound
and suspended between the floor and ceiling. The room was very dimly lit with small candles placed around the
edges, which was where she assumed the scent came from. Eyes gradually beggining to grow accustomed to
the poor lighting, she realised she was not alone. Figures chained and tied up in a variety of different ways, except
for one. Sitting by and old school desk was her origional rescuer, not to be her second torturer. She had barely
recovered from her first attack yet felt ready to face her next. The only thought surfacing told her it would all be over
soon. The intimidating figure approached her almost cautiously, examining her. Without flinching she looked into his
heartless eyes as he plunged the first of pany needles into her flesh. suddenly, the rippling pain began to subside,
her eyes no longer stung, her body stopped aching, her mind faded into shadow. yet it was still not her time to die.
Waking again in a dimly lit room with her hands tied, only no longer above her head. She was free to move
at last. Exploring her skin, the woulds had all been very carefuly and accurately attended to. Confused, she examined
the clothing on the bed next to her. A note asking for the privelage of her company for dinner. She didn't understand,
did he want to kill her or romance her. A black lace skirt and top, accentuated by the satin corset which made her
gasp as she tried to fully tighten it. Finally clothed she now had to decide if it were more wise to run or accept the
gentlemans offer and find out what it was he realy wanted with her. Directly outside the door to her room ran a curved
flight of stairs accompanied my more small candles. Through the door at the bottom was a glorious dining room
with a large fireplace and dozens of paintings of what appeared to be her idea of russia.