Torture ((neko!Ben x Jeff x Liu))

2. Meeting

The room spun as Ben's vision cleared. For a while, it was hard to remember what had happened or where he was. He tried to move, but his wrists were tightly bound by stiff rope. Though he was still exhausted and hungry, something felt different. With a jolt, he realized that not only was he clean, but he was naked. His head jerked around to try and make out where he was. Ben was seated on a hard wooden floor in a small room lit by a dim lightbulb that dangled from the dark ceiling. The wooden room was windowless and basically empty aside from a small bed in the corner and an old wooden chair.

His panic returned with a chilling sensation as he remembered he'd been hunting in the woods when he was attacked and tied up. The realization sent cold fear through his limbs, and he knew now that he must be in horrible danger. Just as he moved to try and stand, the handle of the door twisted

Ben's heart thudded in his throat, and he couldn't control his unsteady breathing as the wooden door creaked open slowly.

Ben was frozen with terror as he stared, horrified, at what stood in the doorway.

A man dressed in black pants, heavy boots, and a bloodstained white hoodie stood tall and motionless before him. His hair was long and charcoal black, wild and thick around his neck and down his shoulders. His face was twisted in what looked like a huge smile sliced from the corners of his mouth. The ends of the cuts were hidden by his dark hair, and Ben wondered if the cuts stretched up to his ears. His flesh was patchy white, and almost all of his face and neck were covered in what looked like old burn scars. His eyes were wide and rimmed with black, and Ben realized with horror that the man had no eyelids at all. The eyes themselves were ice blue and stared right into him. His build was strong and lean compared to Ben's thin, frail body. As if appearance alone wasn't enough to terrify him, the man wielded a huge kitchen knife in his right hand, gripped by its thick black handle.

Ben was aware that he was so afraid now that he couldn't move or speak. Hot tears rolled down his face, and he didn't try to stop them as he stared back into the cold blue eyes from his own empty sockets. He felt so small. What could he do to defend himself when his body was completely exposed and his wrists bound? He didn't even try and plead for his life.

Then he thought, what would he have to go back to if he escaped? He couldn't even consider it freedom when he spent his time hiding away from the world and having to hunt mice for his best source of food.

Suddenly, Ben realized that he was beginning to accept his death. He wouldn't fight back like he had when he was just as helpless to his father all that time ago. This time, he would allow it, and, maybe afterward, he could finally find peace.

The corners of Ben's lips trembled and twisted into a smile, though the tears didn't slow. Maybe he would die for good this time.

Then the man walked away without even a word, leaving the door open. His footsteps were heavy as he stepped out of view, seeming to walk away to some other room.

Ben frowned suddenly, letting out a shaky breath. His ears lowered slowly.

What?

The footsteps returned eventually, and the man stepped into the room holding a thick piece of leather.

Instinctively, Ben cowered away further into the corner of the room where he sat, trying to cover himself with his quivering legs and tail in the process.

The man came closer until he stood in front of Ben and kneeled down before him.

Ben tensed, staring into the wide eyes. What's he going to do to me? I didn't see the knife when he came back in.

The piece of leather was raised and Ben could see now that it was a thick, black dog collar. His captor leaned in close enough for Ben to smell the heavy musk of pine and cigarette smoke. Though the man was on his knees, he loomed over Ben like a bear cornering prey in it's den. Thick strands of black hair draped in front of Ben's face as large hands slid slowly under his now clean hair as the collar was wrapped around his neck. The buckle clacked as it was tightened and clasped. Once the collar was on, the tall man stood and stepped away. Ben shuddered, his face burning hot with embarrassment and confusion. For a moment, he started to calm. Obviously, this man had lost it, but maybe Ben wasn't in as much danger as he'd thought.

Then his captor reached up behind Ben's head, where he pulled down a rope that was connected to the wall high above and tied it up to the loop in the collar, yanking it tight with rough hands. "What're you doing?" he dared to ask, voice hoarse and small. His eyes widened when the rope tightened to keep his head still, and then his left leg was pushed to the wall and held down hard at his knee so that his thigh was exposed. Ben struggled against the ties at his wrists, but every time he moved too much, he was choked by the collar.

The man reached into the dirty hoodie pocket and pulled out the knife that Ben had seen him hold before.

"What -" his shaky voice was cut short by a shrill scream as pain surged through his exposed thigh. He watched in horror as his inner thigh was sliced open by the sharp silver blade. "Stop!" he screeched, flailing his body uselessly. "Stop it!"

The pain continued, only worsening as the blade dragged along his soft skin, warm black liquid gushing and dripping from the wounds, his black blood spilling into a small pool below him. Every now and then, the knife would retract, only to begin its slow tearing at another space close to the last. Ben's vision faded in and out from the mingled shock and loss of blood. Maybe he'd die after all, even though it felt agonizingly slow. He finally stopped struggling after exhaustion won him over. His head hung limply around the collar and drool spilled from his panting lips. Every now and then, he'd gather enough strength to try and pull his leg free. Once, after a particularly violent tug, he had managed to free himself, though in the process ended up causing the knife to lodge itself deep into his leg and tear it's way down to his knee.

"Stupid fuck," growled a deep, husky voice, thick with annoyance.

It was the first time he'd heard the man's voice and, feeling a surge of rage, flung his good leg up to land a hard kick to the man's jaw. "Bastard!" he screamed, then hissed in a breath through clenched fangs.

The man hardly reacted to the kick, and flung himself forward to grab both Ben's ankles. He fought to hold both in one large hand and used his other to grab for the knife again.

"No!" Ben's scream was drawn out in a pleading screech. "No more! Please, no more!" he sobbed.

His cries were ignored and Ben stared helplessly with huge eyes as he watched the knife tip trace almost playfully down his chest and stomach. Breath coming out in short, shallow gasps, Ben leaned his head back and gasped, crying out again in pain when the blade began to cut through the same thigh once again.

Then, finally, it stopped. Dull pain throbbed through the fresh wounds, and Ben felt the man move away from him. He lay there, still bleeding, looking up at the man with the patchy white flesh with tired eyes. His clothes were drenched in glistening black blood, and Ben watched with a cold shiver while his captor lifted the bloody knife up and ran the blade down his tongue with a look of someone who was trying a food for the first time. Then he licked his lips, glanced back down at Ben with unreadable blue eyes, then left, closing the door behind him.

The torture had subsided, and the pain had numbed Ben's senses. He felt as though he had drifted in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours with the blood left to dry on it's own. Ben dizzily moved his head to look at his leg, afraid of the condition he'd see it in. The cuts were messy, like rows of deep claw marks. Just when he thought he'd pass out, eyes blinking slowly closed as he stared at his leg, Ben realized with a sinking feeling in his empty stomach that the cuts weren't just marks. It was a name. A deep gouge scored halfway through the name Jeff, marking the moment when he'd attempted to pull away, with the middle line of the uppercase 'E' crossing through the rest and stopping halfway down his knee. With a small spark of satisfaction at knowing he'd ruined Jeff's work, Ben finally felt himself fall into an uncomfortable sleep.