I’m kicking around ideas for new stories, especially those important opening chapters. What will grab somebody’s attention, how to pitch it, how dark to go, how much story to reveal, and so on. I’m trying the jump right in and run with it approach for this idea and here at the WIP hop is a good place to throw it out there for viewing.
No clues to this one, except it is futuristic, in a fictional location and Ursa has run away, been arrested and being the rebellious type, has made matters worse for herself by fighting back.
They put something in her drink, which she’d been too thirsty to refuse, something that made her slumber in a dreamless sleep. When they shook her awake, her legs ached and her mind was muddled. It wasn’t until they reached the room at the end of the corridor did she fully wake up. The grating, made from dull metal was fixed to the far wall and in the four corners there were the restraints to which she’d be bound spread-eagled.
“No,” she murmured, horrified. The whip, a long slither of leather, hung from a hook. “You can’t do this.”
There were two men in the room with her and both chuckled. “Let’s get these clothes off, shall we.”
She felt faint, overwhelmed with despair. Why had she run away? Had things been that bad?
“Please. Don’t do this.”
They answered her by tearing at her clothes. Her skin goose bumped with cold and she tried to cover her breasts. Bared and shivering, she wondered if one last fight of her fists and teeth might at least make her feel better, even if they cost her more lashes. She didn’t want to give in to them.
“Up against the grating, spread yourself. You’d best be quick. The quicker the better, my advice.”
She screwed her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. Dammit it. She had been a champion wrestler in her teens. She could give it one last go before they forced her to comply.
The door swung open just before she let loose her clenched hand.
“Wait up.” The third man, another guard, waved at his colleagues. “She’s been claimed. He’s come for her.”
She froze to the spot, her stomach tightened into knots of twisted emotions: fear and relief. The former, she understand why that was present. The latter, confused her. Why did she want him to save her from the whipping when he would probably want to punish her himself. The obvious reason leapt out–if he spanked her, it would be justifiable, unlike this charade.
She turned to face the door, awaiting his arrival. For the first time, he would see her naked body.
Well, by tomorrow, I might have re-written it all…
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