Page 105 of Scorching Sienna

He leads me out of the room, the fresh air and change in scent welcome. It also tips my upset stomach over the edge as I throw up on the cold concrete floor.

Damon rubs my back, holding the hair from my ponytail back as he waits for me to compose myself. When I right myself, Gavin approaches a bottle of water in one hand and a file in the other.

“Here, drink this,” he says, handing me the bottle while he hands Damon the file.

I thank him and take a sip while Damon flips through the documents in the folder, his body tensing at what he sees. I don’t even ask. I just wait until he is finished before he closes the file and then guides us out of the passage and back into the large space with the shipping container. Gavin walks beside Damon, their hushed conversation making my stomach turn again. There was more. I could feel it.

Instead of heading toward the exit, we walk toward the container and the open doors on our opposite side.

We stop just before the gaping entrance.

“When we went to Lowrens' house, we found a room. One designed just for you. It has been replicated here for another purpose. For revenge. One that you can choose to witness.”

I nod, not sure how to answer this without knowing what is in there.

I have no expectation, but when we round the corner, what this is is nothing I could have conjured up in my imagination.

In the center is a large metal bed-like contraption, but it lacks the warmth and comfort the word bed denotes. It has stirrups with foot and hand straps. It is angled upwards, and in front of the other end is a very large cream dildo strapped to a machine bolted into the ground.

I step into the container, my eyes wide as my gaze flits from one torture device to another. There are various collars, some with double-edged spikes and others with tiny needles along the underside. Some even look like the ones you would put on a dog, sending electricity through the body.

At the back of the container is another large device, which straps attached to a board in the shape of a human body. This one can rotate in different directions, spinning whoever was on it in various directions. By the looks of it, you could also keep a person upside down by using a latch on the underside to secure the position. Something on the table next to this contraption catches my eye, and when I approach it, Damon joins me there.

I pick up a glass bottle, the creamy white substance inside moving as I do. Is it some sort of lubrication gel?

“What is it?”

“Semen.” I place it carefully with the rest and take a step backward. It is lubrication, just not the one I was thinking of. There must be about ten eight-ounce glass jars here.

“They were kept chilled.” Damon picks up a sizeable bulbous pump, the phallus shape of them already alluding to their use.

“You fill these up and then insert it into the vagina. Using the machine to turn you upside down so it doesn’t runout,” he says, pointing to the contraption behind me.

I’ve been so caught up in my emotions that it is only now, as I look at Damon, that I truly see the rage he is trying to keep a tight reign on. His other hand is fisted, and his jaw ticks with restraint. His eyes are also almost black. The frame of his body is rigid. Granite. He is a pressure cooker waiting to explode. And after seeing this, I don’t blame him. This room was designed for me and intended for more of what he had given me in Lady Chatman's bathroom.

“You are not his first. Gavin stumbled across a case from seven years ago. A woman was found badly beaten, her throat cut, and left for dead in a secluded part of the forest. Somehow, her jugular vein was missed, and after lying there for three hours using her panties the attacker shoved in her mouth as a bandage for her neck, she crawled onto a walking path. A hiker found her. She was in the ICU for months, and they thought she would never speak again. But a few months later, she was able to tell the police about her ordeal.” My eyes drift to the folder in his hand containing the information he is relaying.

“She describes a room like that. She even describes glass jars filled with semen similar to this. She was kept for a year, and when she couldn’t conceive, he decided to kill her. They never caught her attacker, but here is a sketch.”

He pulls out a paper and there, staring back at me, is Lowrens. He is plain-looking, but that might be the problem. He could be mistaken for any number of people. But now that I have seen him, the resemblance is spot on. Especially his eyes. His victim managed to depict them in the same way I remember them from the bathroom.

“She is probably not his first.”

I hand him the picture and then look around the room again as the scope of his intentions really sinks in. I was going to be a prisoner, used for sex and bred, maybe even murdered.

“I’m sorry, but it's time.”

Lowrens is dragged in, the look of shock on his face priceless.

Damon points to the weird bed-like contraption. His guards drag him over to it, laying him face down before strapping his hands and feet.

Damon walks over to the collars and grabs one with a double-edged spike. When he turns, and Lowrens sees it, he shakes his head vigorously, his eyes pleading. But no one here will answer with mercy. He has shown none to the people he has done bad things to.

With the help of one of Damon's guards, the collar is strapped around Lowrens’ neck, and only now do I realize how horrific it really is. It is a torture tool used to keep your face angled up. If you didn’t, the double-pronged sharp points dug into the skin under your chin or on the upper sternum.

Pushing the bed forward, I could now see the complete picture as Lowrens' face is brought closer to the cock attached to the machine just in front of it. Without the tape, his mouth would be at the right angle for penetration. Depending on where the bed was positioned, the depth could vary. Especially if there was penetration from the back and the bed slid forward.

I think of the girl who went through this, and I cannot feel sorry for this monster.

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