Monday, June 13, 2011

Chapter 40

Oct. 27 – 1:00am

            Time passed strangely in the dark, cold cell; Erik couldn’t be certain if he’d been there hours or days. His arms were stretched above him by shackles that were suspended from the ceiling. His shirt and weapons had long been removed, as well as his belt and shoe laces; anything he could possibly use as a weapon. Since Christine had learned from him, trained with him, she knew where to find even the best concealed weapons. Her lover and master torturer had wanted to leave the mask on the prisoner; however, Christine removed it and showed him the needle-like razor that was skillfully hidden in the lining. For the first time since he’d known her, Erik felt nothing when she shuddered at his unmasked face. She could no longer hold a place in a heart filled with Alexandra’s passion and love. He found it ironic that the moment he had something to live for was when he stood his best chance of dying. He’d known the moment he walked through the opera house doors that he’d not leave unless it was in a body bag. His only regret was not telling Alexandra how much she meant to him. When he closed his eyes, he could block out the pain, the cold and see nothing but her red hair spread in beautiful contrast across his black satin pillowcase. The sting of the whip became her nails as they scraped up his back in ecstasy. The taunting words of his once-angel from having seen those marks faded into Alexandra’s pleasure filled moans. Unaware he’d whispered her name; he was jolted back to the present when a bucket of salt water was poured down his back. His memories were replaced by cold, ice blue eyes that hid a demon inside the body of an angel.
            “Oh, Erik, you really should get your mind out of your trousers. I’m sure she was a good enough fuck but you know I could please you so much better.” Christine trailed her fingers down his bare chest wet with water, sweat, and blood. Leaning forward, she trailed her tongue over a scar to flick one of his nipples hardened by the cold. When his only response was to attempt to dodge her touch, she slapped him hard and growled. “I will have you again, Erik Devereaux. Before this is all over, you will be mine once more.”
            Hanging loosely from the shackles to preserve his strength, Erik finally focused his gaze on his tormentor and smirked. Letting his golden eyes drift slowly down her body then back again, his face revealed his utter disinterest in anything she had to offer. Watching the fury build in her eyes was worth the crack of the whip across his back. Incensed, Christine grabbed a steel pipe and swung it like a baseball bat right into his stomach. The air exploded from his lungs and a large welt was already rising at the point of impact. But still, he remained silent. Holding his gaze with a smirk of her own, his former lover motioned to his tormentor. Immediately, he felt something hot approaching his lacerated skin and braced for the pain. It took all he had not to scream when the red-hot poker was laid flat across his back, cauterizing the whip marks and searing his skin. Only her eager smile stopped the sound in his throat; he’d be damned if he gave her the satisfaction.
            “I can see your tolerance for pain hasn’t lessened, maestro,” Christine purred in his ear. Laying her hand across the whipped and burned flesh on his back, she laid her head on his shoulder like a lover. “I suppose you are trying to be noble. You always were the one hindered by morals.” Pulling a remote control from her pocket, she turned on a hidden monitor showing the interior of a pitch black cell. Another button switched the camera to night-vision and, in the shades of green, Erik could make out the shivering form of Alexandra. “She’s been ill recently has she not? Official word is the flu but we know better don’t we, my love?” Leaning closer until her lips brushed his ear, she whispered softly, “I know who shot your little whore, Erik. If I tell you, will you be a good boy?”
            His golden eyes never strayed from the monitor. In some distant part of his brain, he noticed that she was wearing his shirt and thought she looked far better in it than he ever had. From what he could see in the poor quality of the camera, it was all she was wearing and it did little to stave off the cold seeping from the cement floor and into her bones. Not trusting Christine in the least, Erik nevertheless gritted through his teeth, “Who?”
            “Now, now, you know that’s not how we play that game.” Moving around to stand in front of him once more, she smiled as she grabbed him through his trousers, gripping painfully when he tried to move away.
            “What do you want, Ms. Daae?” Erik was thankful for the cold and the pain for he’d never forgive himself if he responded to her unwanted touch. Laughing, she stepped back and began unbuttoning her shirt.
            “You know what I want,” the shirt was tossed aside followed by her shoes and pants. Standing before him in only her lacy underwear, she slowly advanced on him and pressed her body to his. “You know you want me; you’ve always wanted me. Forget the whore, Erik, and stay here with me. What was it you said once? Share with me one love, one lifetime? I can’t offer you love but I can offer you a lifetime of pleasure.”
            Staring down at her nearly naked form, Erik felt nothing but disgust. He could tell how aroused she was and he knew it wasn’t because of him. Christine had fallen in love with power and that was what had her panting like a dog in heat. “And what of your little boy toy? Won’t he object?” He deliberately put all the disdain he felt for the boy in his voice knowing he would hear.
            “You mean Raoul?” Her angelic laughter echoed in the hellish room. “Oh no, love. You see, once I have you, I’ll give your little whore to him. He’s been fascinated by her for a while, you know.”
            White hot fury exploded in his brain. Holding onto the chains of his shackles, Erik lifted himself up enough to wrap his legs around Christine’s lovely neck. Exhausted and in severe pain, Erik still had enough strength left to snap her neck with the proper leverage. Unfortunately, his torturer was still nearby. Suddenly, the biting hooks of a taser sank into his back and the jolts of electricity caused him to loosen his grip enough for her to twist free. Humiliated by his continued rejection, Christine grabbed her clothes and stormed out of the cell. The chuckle from behind him was cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins. As the man began to circle him to plan his next strike, Erik finally saw the one who’d dished out so much pain. 
            “Raoul de Chagny, I presume?”

No comments:

Post a Comment