I was laying, fully drugged on the bottom of the damn cage, my skin was intact, and I could feel jelly in my mind. I was healing, but I was spent, so much so even. Three weeks of grueling fighting, using up my resources, and somehow this was too familiar to that session in the hospital. Using up my resources like this, my mind just started to accept that this was one side of Damon. Very nasty side, an evil one, and there is no hope of getting rid of this.
He whispered into my ear, "Good girl. Acceptance is key, so you can learn to be a good wife to me into the future, you see, if you only had let me have Sark, kill him, I would not come after you, you see word no or someone telling me what to do is something that really riles me up, so you better learn but then again, I am a damn good teacher."
His voice was soft and enjoyable as he waited for what was about to happen. Wet dog stank. He took a bottle of coke and made me drink it, so I would have a little more oomph for his sessions. His grips were again clinical. not friendly, or caring, but fully emotionless. He did not see me as a wife but as the victim, a toy to be used and abused.
After he had made me drink that bottle, he stroked me for a while and said, "I think you're getting pretty well healed, but we've got a drive, so I will put a little backup on you again."
He rose up and walked away. The heavy door banged as he exited and I tried to move, but he restrained me, not letting me move much. I lay there, helpless. Healing, but somehow I knew that my healed state of being would be not so long. He had again pretty nasty plan in his mind. I could see it. Thank god there was no Mimosa inside me that he could abuse too.
Sometime later, footsteps echoing in this cellar signaled his return. The heavy door creaked open, and he came carrying a sports bag with him. He came to the cage and started to take off my clothes. Soon enough, he had me stripped naked and got this sports bag that he had brought with him, where he took some kind of suit. He felt me over, grunted, satisfied as I was healed.
He put it next to me and said, "This is the latest in smart technology. This suit, well, it's designed for paralyzed people, so it helps them to move. It has electric sensors that tell the muscles to move, but I've modified this suit so that I control all your muscles. You can't move a muscle in this suit because I've programmed it to take control of your muscles and ask me what do we do next. You feel this, baby?"
He opened the suit fully. There were zippers and straps. It was just one monumental piece of cloth, but in the dim light of the cellar; I did not see that so well. It was black, some sort of neoprene or something. He opened my restraints as He lifted me on the suit, and I felt thousands of tiny needles pierce my skin and go into my muscles. I could feel needles in my back, too. But Damon was first focused on my feet. Suit had socks too, so it went to my toes as well.
The suit was first put on from the feet up. Its inner surface was full of thin and quite long, strong needles, and Damon resolutely pressed them into my muscles and said, "Look, the paraplegic doesn't feel anything. That's why these needles. It doesn't hurt them; it just helps them walk, but you, my love, feel it."
And he was fucking pleased about it. I tried to squirm or move as he pressed thousands of those needles into my muscles. The mechanism of the suit was simple. Needles would give electric impulses to muscles that moved. There were a lot of needles and since those paraplegics would not feel a thing, it was good for them, but I could feel, and this was not gonna be painless.
He pressed suit on me, pulling the zippers and securing the straps as he moved up to my body, putting a suit on me. My movement stopped because it was way too painful when all those thousands of needles sank deep into my muscles and hurt every time I tried to move myself. So staying still was the most painless option. As he had put the suit fully on me, he pressed a remote control, and I felt an electric current take control of every muscle in my body.
The suit came up my neck and even my fingers and I tried to breathe, but my breathing muscles did not work. Fine, we can do without that, too. He picked me up in his arms and carried me into the car.
He put me in the back seat with the seat belts and said, "We have a pretty pleasant drive ahead of us and then a flight, but don't worry, you'll get some rest. I won't let you be conscious all the time. You're still sedated enough to be harmless, but I'll watch you constantly, baby; don't doubt it."
He drove for hours, and I tried to look at the scenery, but the windows of the car were very dark, and he had somehow darkened them so that I couldn't see through. I tried to keep my mind sharp, trying to fight the drug, the suit. Then he kept adding more and more electricity to the suit, and I started to hurt more and more.
I soon couldn't concentrate as I closed my eyes and tried to escape the pain. The agony was overwhelming as the intensity of that current increased. There was not much time for me to try to get my mind to work at all as I tried to withstand this assault on my body.
Damon said from the front seat as he stopped the car, "Oh baby, we're already at the airport. Good, we're on our way. You get some rest on the plane, at least some of it. I might start a little pre-treatment while I'm there, but don't worry, this is enjoyable, at least for me and baby, you will soon learn that your job is providing me enjoyment if you have upset me first. You owe me this. You will learn soon enough, my wife, once I get my treatments on you properly working."
He carried me onto the plane, and there was a stretcher with spiked shackles. I kept my eyes open as he had put the current a little less so I could see all of this properly. It seemed that this was part of his enjoyment, to present me to my future and even this plane, almost mini shed, or what the hell he was doing to me.
I had the constant metal feeling, those metals had been shoved into me for three weeks so they worked and good too, boosting my metabolism, making my healing less fast, making me more prone to drugs, and not letting me chop them up so well.
He put me in spiked restraints and then started to take the suit off me, always securing the limb he was taking off, and eventually, I was restrained in several places on my legs and arms. There was a belt across my hips and under my breasts, and my head was tied in place. He sat on the bench, and I knew the plane was already in the air. Then he went to the bag, took several bags of IV fluids, and started hanging them on hooks in the plane's ceiling. Some of them were again those murky liquids that he loved to pour inside me.
He said, "Yes, I've got you, baby, and I've got you completely under control. It is time to further my little experiment with you, too. Gotta remember that one, too. "
He cannulated me and dripped the first bag at full speed. At the same time, he took some grease and almost a paintbrush and started to brush it on my skin. I felt my skin begin to itch and tingle, and the burn came. This was some herbal stuff, and it felt pretty fucking nasty as he had brushed both my legs with it. I was breathing harder, and I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead.
He said, "It is damn to know you so intimately, about that what is really harmful to you, and what causes what, so I have an excellent selection of not-so-nice herbs at my disposal. This is just Vaseline, where I have crushed several common herbs from the yard that Bran's house. He really doesn't maintain his lawn, so I have nice little herbal treatment for you done."
Then he took over and started putting the clingfilm on my feet so that the grease or whatever herbal paste was right, tightly in contact with the skin of my feet, and the heat of my skin seemed to intensify the burn even more.
Then he came up to me and said, " Don't your feet already feel like they've been, how shall I put it, treated? Don't worry, baby. When all those drugs have worn off, you'll be so out of it you won't be able to tell where it hurts the most anymore. Then, at that point, you won't believe the feeling of power it gives when I make you lose consciousness of the pain; it's such a suitable reward you won't believe it."
He looked at me like I was just a piece of meat, meant for his entertainment and nothing more. At that point, I decided I would try to stay awake and not give him all the pleasure of passing out from the fucking pain. I am not going to give in any more pleasure if I can help it. Let's be strong, strong, invincible fleas, then. I'm fine with that. I have no problem with it.
I can do this. Pain is just for tolerating, and I am not that weak, not this time. Somehow, I found more of my rage. I let it seep into my mind. I made it grow, fueling it but secretly, letting part of it be in its well and grow there so I would have someday little backup power if I needed it. I put there also my feelings, knowing that they would make my rage grow and get stronger. Again, a backup plan.
That is nothing then. Next, Damon started to install electrodes on my stomach and ribs.
They went from my hips up to my neck, as far back as he could reach, and said, "This is a different kind of electric current now. This is quite random and not so controlled as in that suit here is such a random order that as soon as I put this on, the electricity can come to one or eleven buttons at the same time, and it then varies in power and intensity that someone may cause injury, let's see if you can stay awake, as you probably already know the first effects of my drugs. That's why it was important to do the rage discharge because then it's so much easier to medicate you. To get that damn pesky rage out of the way, so to speak."
I could feel the sedative in my head, but it was still mild. Damon changed the next bag to a drip full. It was a pale blue. There was always one murky bag dripping too, but these damn drugs he put a drip full on, so they were right about flooding in my veins.
He put my hands in some sleeves, they reached all the way to my shoulders to my fingers as there were gloves too in these, and said, "Don't worry baby, they won't crush you yet, they're working your muscles, they're a bit like an over-enthusiastic massager, just the muscles are getting a kick now, it's not the bones yet, it's the shed, baby."
Then he put it all on. My legs were already on fire from the herb mixture, and the electricity that started randomly pounding my body was with pain and those damn drugs, too. The sleeves started to tear and mash my muscles mercilessly, and I knew that all this stress was again eating away at my resources as much as possible. My fingers were in treatment, too.
He kept changing the bag, sitting next to me and stroking, wiping the sweat from my forehead now and then, and sitting and enjoying. I don't know how long the flight was, but the pain just got worse, and I tried to stay conscious the whole time even though I knew that if I gave in a little, I'd pass out pretty soon, but I didn't want to give Damon any more reason to be satisfied. I decided at that point to fight every fucking time with everything I had. Everything. I took out a little more of my rage, just a hint of it, so I could cope even a little longer.
I had no idea if was I always awake or not, but I fought, stayed, and felt the pain, not letting in, not giving in, fighting everything that I had, and trying to endure, minute after minute, knowing that I am not giving him the satisfaction, not at all.
Then I felt him start to take the clingfilm off my legs and wipe them off. He was very pleased when I cried out in pain. And only then did he turn off the electricity. I had smelled my burning flesh for a long time. I knew it when some electrodes hit so hard I was burned. I screamed as hard as I could and somehow I realized just how much worse these sessions had become over the years. No more mere rib crushing and stabber. Not at all. And how much worse they could evolve into. I had no idea. My mind could not fathom that much anymore. The pain was just too much.
He ripped the electrodes from my skin, and I held on consciously. I wasn't quite sure where I was and why I was hurting so badly, but I knew. I just knew that I was fully conscious. He finally removed the goddamn sleeves that had bruised my arms beyond use, and when I looked to my side, I saw my arms were black and bruised. My fingers as well. I could not even move them much at all. The pain was too much.
He said as he wrapped me in a blanket. "Oh, Mimi, you are so much more resilient after that bunker session. Wasn't it fun to see how much it made you stronger? You'll find over the years, my dear, as I strengthen you, that this is a benefit job."
I did not answer that taunt of his. The blanket around me was rough and itchy and he carried me like I was a log or roll of carpet. Not a living being.