A Glass Of Crimson Souls

15) submission to life

The door creaked slowly open, allowing a yellow stream of artificial light to shine into the room along with a brief breath of fresh air. She squinted and stirred, trying to move away from the uncomfortable brightness. The chains clinked and her body felt like it was burning from the minimal energy it expended to merely twist away. She stopped, breathing shallowly, unable to move any further, so painful it was to try.

"How are we feeling?" said Orochimaru's voice, his tone unctuous.

Her mouth tasted of rust, salty saliva, and dried blood; she tried to speak but found that her throat was too dry, and she was reduced to a hacking cough, with each cough sending an entire vibration of pain down to her abdomen. She heard Orochimaru chuckle faintly.

"Dear, dear," he said, "you're quite a sight. I suppose leaving a beautiful woman like yourself in a room of ravenous men for a week is a bad idea…or, perhaps not. Kabuto says you've been quite obedient lately."

The light darkened and she could see a pair of feet in front of her. She'd been flitting in a state of semi-consciousness for the last God-knew-how-many-hours she'd been left alone; she wanted nothing more than to black out there and then. She had been violated in every way possible; the memories of the rapes were fresh and all-consuming, and she could not fully pass out for fear of reliving it again in her sleep, of feeling too many hands on her and what it meant to be victimized by a pack of rabid dogs. She had been penetrated so many times that every orifice in her body ached and bled; she could still hear their leering voices, taking dibs on the next round, could still feel them inside of her—sick bastards, every single one of them—

"Did you perhaps enjoy it?" continued Orochimaru. "Did you find your place as a whore…pleasant?"

She managed to force her vocal chords to work.

"…Fuck you…"

He chuckled again, but this time it wasn't without vehemence, and the next thing she knew was an excruciating pain in her stomach as she was sent flying against the prison wall, the contact sending a fresh wave of pain down her spine. She hit the floor but was hardly given a second's worth of respite before the next kick; she felt like a soccer ball behind pelted around the dungeon, each kick growing more vicious as Orochimaru's frustration began to surface.

"Ungrateful bitch," he snarled. "I saved you from death, you whore—I've pardoned you multiple times in light of your talent and your bloodline, and this is what I get! Betrayal and nonsense—if it weren't for your blood, I would tear you apart, limb from limb—"

"Orochimaru-sama," came Kabuto's voice, "you're going to kill her at this rate."

Her vision was blackening. There had to be a limit to the amount of pain she could feel…she couldn't stand it…her body hurt so badly…

"I have half-mind to do so," Orochimaru snapped. "Utterly worthless—your blood won't heal my arms—"

She wouldn't have laughed if she could've helped it, but she couldn't. A raking laughter seized her, causing her stomach to hurt all the more—after that last week, she had been vaguely frightened of getting pregnant, but with the amount of physical abuse she'd been subjected to, she could barely support her own life, much less someone else's. The more pain she felt, the harder she laughed, and she couldn't stop herself from spitting out.

"What did I tell you? My blood won't work! Did you drink it? Inject it? Did your organs rupture? Are you in even more pain now—" She broke off, laughing, her body twitching on the ground like a fish out of water as Orochimaru continued to kick her as if whipping a dog into place—what the fuck had she been thinking—was Itachi really worth this—