Page 8 of Shame
“You’re not like him.”
The giant gives me an unreadable look, then he motions for me to get up.
CHAPTER FOUR
Carmen
When Ivan pulls open a drawer and brings out a pair of handcuffs and a choker made of leather, with a ring and a chain, I know my nightmares have just begun. What kind of a man is Salvatore, who keeps things like this in his very office, nearby, probably among his most important documents? Such fucked up priorities.
“Give me your hands.”
I hold them out for him, in front of me and a shudder runs through me as the cold metal tightens around my wrists.
“What’s going to happen to me?” My voice quavers, and I hate it. I’m already beat, bleeding, trembling. What more can they pull out of me?
“Hold up your hair.”
I raise my arms to try but can’t reach properly. “I’m cuffed,” I grit out.
“Solve it. You’re gonna be in much more strained situations soon.”
My heart leaps to my throat. Digging my teeth into my lower lip to keep it from trembling, I raise my clasped hands above my head and collect my hair, strand by strand. Finally I have freed my neck.
“See? It wasn’t so hard, was it?” Ivan puts the choker around my neck, the chain falling cold and heavy between my breasts. When he closes it, I feel more trapped than ever before.
“What are you doing? What’s gonna happen?”
“I won’t do anything. And you should ask yourself what’s not going to happen. You’re here to serve. You should understand by now.”
I shake as he grabs the chain and leads me through the room, to a door I haven’t noticed before. My thighs are slick and I’m cold. A scent of delicious cooking reaches my nose and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. My stomach was in knots, and I just wasn’t hungry. Now that comes back with a vengeance.
We walk through a corridor, past several sets of closed doors, then another corridor, the scent of food getting stronger.
Ivan opens a door, ushers me inside a small storage room, around me anonymous boxes on shelves, connects the chain to a sturdy iron ring in the wall and secures it with a padlock. He pockets the key and gives me a once-over.
“Make yourself comfortable, Miss Moreno. You’ll be here for a while.”
“Wait, what?”
Ivan closes the door behind him and leaves me in darkness.
“Asshole!” I scream, and try to wrap my arms around me, yet again realizing they’re cuffed. I kneel and sit back on my heels, the hard floor soon uncomfortable to my knees. Shifting, I sit on my ass instead, gasping as my tender skin connects with the rough surface.
I don’t know how much time passes. A sliver of light shines under the door. Shadows move outside, quick steps approach and fade, people talk, scents of food get stronger and then weaker. I’m cold, and numb but I don’t cry. Why would I cry? Right now there’s even a little peace. If I squint.
I tense when one of the shadows stops outside and the door is pulled open. A man I haven’t seen before unlocks the padlock, unhooks the chain and motions for me to follow. I’m stiff from being still for so long and stumble ungracefully behind him.
We’re walking toward the end of the corridor, approaching a heavy wooden door. From behind it, sounds of laughter, clinking, scrapes and slams get increasingly louder. As do the butterflies in my stomach. I know I must look terrible. I’m naked, my hips and thighs are bruised, and I bet my butt looks even worse. My makeup is of course ruined from all the crying, and my hair a nest.
The man holding my chain pushes open the door and I’m overwhelmed by the noise, the fog from cigars, the rancid smell of drunkenness. A long, wide table stands in the center of a large, bright room, blindingly lit, surrounded by men of all ages, all with leering eyes and hardened features, all of them pinning me with their gazes. For a moment it goes silent, then begins the hooting and the comments.
“Fucking fine piece of meat!”
“Luci, you did her good.”
“Motherfucking saint of whores.”
“Finally, some entertainment.”