Page 21 of Armon's Revenge

More noises continued from directly above me before they reverberated from the stairway. This was no time to give up and let Armon win. I continued my desperate attempt to find a room and ran around a turn that revealed more doors. To my relief, the knob on the first one turned. I rushed into the room that was backlit with red. Instead of a bed, there was a small sofa that faced a thick beam that had extensions like a cross. A quick scan revealed window-less walls.

Fuck no!

I wouldn’t let Armon find me in here and attach me to that torture device. What sick fucking game was he—or whoever this yacht belonged to—playing at for this room to be at the standby? I needed to find my way up and overboard—preferably to the motorboat.

I sped out, catching sight of an open door further down the hall. The blue-lit room had a very visible cage beneath a large bed that had vertical bars with circular openings sized for wrists and a head. No chance in hell would I let him find me in there.

I studied both directions of the thin passage. Why had everything gone so fucking silent? I knew there were at least eight people who worked with Armon on this boat.

"Sweet One," Armon called.

I froze in place at his humored tone. With a slow turn, I looked behind me. “Looking for somewhere to play?” The words came from a speaker in the ceiling. At the end of the hall, a red light glowed on a small camera.

“Take your time and pick a room to spend the evening in… oh now, don't look at me like that. Everyone who came on-board to purchase women taken from my country were interrupted before rooms were soiled,” he said. “Hmmm…aside from a few at the level you're on. My guys have become acquainted with how to use some of the machines and furniture on the guests in those rooms.”

A long silence.

I only glared at that red dot, wishing the sadistic bastard had been nothing more than a nightmare, but he wasn't. He was very, very real.

"Oh, and Sweet…" Delight danced with his words.

"Fuck. You!"

A brief quiet rattled my nerves before he spoke. "That does happen to be the purpose of these sort of elitist party vessels. Well, not all entertainers are necessarily so willing and eager to fuck as you are."

These games were over. I marched straight back up the stairs to the dining area and furiously searched for a knife. I’d gut him.

"I had anything you might use as a weapon removed. You know how turned on I get, and with your time of the month—"

I grabbed a chair and attempted to throw it at the camera, except it was so heavy I could hardly lift it. I screamed, "I. Hate. You!"

"Sweet One…" he chided. The sound of his voice over the speaker grated at my ears. “You need to pick a room before I pick one for you.”

I hadn't even realized I was crying until it became painful to breathe. If he thought I had any intention of going to one of those torture cells to wait for him, he’d learn otherwise. I would never willingly be used in such a way. I didn't want any part of this. He'd taken everything from me.

And Katya? It was fairly evident she hadn't been some innocent butterfly that got captured while outside. The bitch had probably been doing something that deserved a death sentence if she'd been a man. My brother gave her the punishment she probably deserved for violent crimes.

If there was one place I'd find a weapon, then it would be on the lower level where they victimized the innocent people. I went down the silent stairs and past the rooms I had already seen that were designed for humiliation.

I opened another, but it had a soft amber glow with a small pool. I didn't want to know what the various hooks were for that hung from the walls and ceiling. Or whether or not captives were held under the water as a sick pleasure to watch.

"Sweet," Armon called, warning to his tone. "The rooms you want to choose from are up the stairs." He'd made sure I had absolutely nothing to lose, so why should I care about warnings? What did he think would work as punishment?

I only needed to find a weapon to use on him. More resolved than ever, I continued further.

"Sweet!"

A chill trailed my spine when I decided to reach out to a wider door than the others at the end of the hall. That's where something big would be. It was where he didn’t want me to go.

"I've warned you against helping my enemies," he growled into the speaker.

Good! he was pissed off again. I preferred him as his true self full of rage, and hopefully irrational.

The cold handle clicked when I turned it. Only darkness peered back at me, so I slapped around for a switch on the wall. When it clicked on, there was a blue-green glow that swayed like water. The entire wall ahead of me was a giant mirror, making the area feel even more eerie.

The illumination quickly turned terrifying when the contents of the massive room could be seen. This larger room had been designed for medieval torture. I was certain the people currently bound in here understood that well. Especially the man in the wooden pillory. He had to be around my father's age. I fidgeted with the cruel torture device for a while, twisting a rod that locked the upper and lower bars in place.

“New plan,” Armon said. “Every special item you touch in there is something you want used on you.” His arrogance oozed out of the speaker.