Ashley's Tale Read online

  Ashley’s Tale

  By

  Mike Duke

  Copyright ©2015 by Mike Duke

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank everyone who has been of immense help to me in this process: my wife for supporting all my writing efforts, my friends who beta read this short novella and gave me their feedback in a very timely fashion and all my author friends on Facebook who have so kindly and freely offered advice. Thank you, everyone, sincerely. I intend this to be the first of many published works.

  “I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage.”

  - Friedrich Nietzsche

  The hand clamped over her mouth as she turned around, the other cupping the back of her head. The man pulled her in sharply, bending slightly to place his eyes just above hers, locking her in his stare.

  Everything came together in one overwhelming moment to infect Ashley with fear and establish the man’s dominance - vicelike pressure restraining her skull from any movement, proximity, and dead eyes staring down, holding hers captive. A car crash she never saw coming. That’s how it felt. Too much to process at once. System overload. But then he spoke and her bowels melted. She nearly pissed herself. His voice was barely more than a whisper but harsh and cold, gravelly and immensely malevolent. The intent of his words pierced and paralyzed her.

  “Don’t you fucking move a muscle or I’ll gut you right here. Do you understand?”

  Ashley’s eyes were blinds thrown wide, her pupils dilated from pure drops of terror. She nodded in the affirmative.

  “Not one sound. Not a peep. Or I’ll do far worse than rape you. You do understand.”

  It was a statement not a question but Ashley nodded again anyway. Her eyes blinked and tears began to stream down her face.

  “Tears are irrelevant. I will not relent. Turn them off and play the part I command. You will go where I say go, arm in arm…like lovers.” He smirked and chuckled lightly. “We’ll walk to your vehicle and I will drive. Yes?”

  She nodded once more, her body trembling uncontrollably. He removed the hand from her mouth and replaced it with a single finger.

  “No noise.”

  Before she could do anything he clinched a hand full of hair, pulled her in and kissed her, shoving his tongue deep inside to play about. Ashley instinctively pulled back but his grip was far too strong. All her limbs went weak and failed yet still he held her up. Sensing her stomach churn he pulled back, directing her head down, knees collapsing to the ground as she vomited.

  He brushed Ashley’s hair back from her face gently and held it.

  “Are you finished with your little spectacle of disgust?”

  Ashley shook her head, spat on the grass. “I don’t know…maybe.”

  “It profits nothing. That is simply your weakness on the ground. Leave it.”

  Still gripping a handful of hair he lifted up slowly, beckoning her to stand.

  “Now. Let’s go.”

  He released her hair and hooked his left arm under her right arm and began walking. Ashley followed, compliant, the proverbial sheep to the slaughter.

  His voice changed, softer but somehow sinister and he gestured with his free hand to express visually what he spoke. Someone looking on would think them a couple and that he was serenading her with poetry perhaps.

  “’Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky like a patient etherized upon a table; let us go through certain half-deserted streets…that follow like a tedious argument of insidious intent to lead you to an overwhelming question…Oh, do not ask, ‘What is it?’ Let us go and make our visit.’”

  They arrived at Ashley’s car as he finished quoting T. S. Elliot. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock passage skipped off her brain until he gave significant emphasis to the last two lines. A monstrous, playful emphasis.

  “Are you ready to make our visit Ashley?” He patted her hand.

  She stuttered, trepidation paralyzing her tongue, but managed to get a timid “Yes” out just before her brain asked the question – ‘how does he know my name?’

  “You fucking Collaborator,” he murmured.

  His left arm dropped out behind her, arcing up and then down like a scythe, the inner forearm striking the base of her skull.

  Ashley saw a bright light and then gladly let the darkness envelope her.

  *****

  Ashley woke on her side in the trunk of her car, restrained and with duct tape across her mouth. Her hands were cuffed behind her and her feet were shackled. Another pair of cuffs connected the two chains keeping her ankles cinched up near her buttocks. The vehicle drove for some time. She cried softly, helplessly.

  In the dark she felt small and young again, lost in the black beneath her covers, waiting to be someone’s play thing. The longer they drove the deeper her mind burrowed. She imagined the steps outside her door, the creaking of hinges and the weight of pressure on her bed. Her body had lain rigid, powerless to resist the sweaty palms caressing her face. The memories were poison, the kind that burns through a man’s guts in searing agony.

  Ashley screamed in desperation unable to envision that life anymore but was immediately jolted with electricity, her neck folding sideways, pulled by the seizing muscles. It was then she realized something was around her throat, dragging her back into the present completely.

  “He put a fucking Bark Collar on me?!?” Her mind screamed.

  Silently, she pleaded for her mother, for release, for the nightmare to stop, for mercy and a miracle from God – just like she pleaded long ago, only now she hoped it would be to some avail.

  She was still lost in desperate supplication when the vehicle turned, stopped and then began backing up for some distance. It halted again and she could hear some type of large bay door being raised with chains. Within a minute the car had been backed in and the door lowered.

  They had arrived.

  Dread excited Ashley’s heart to pound, a careening rhythm of war drums trembling in her ears, commanding her to run. Incapable of fleeing, panic twisted her guts till they squeezed the bile to near overflow, burning her throat as the noxious odor permeated her sinuses. She tried to control her gag reflex. If she puked now it could choke her to death. She forced herself to breathe through her nose slowly and expelled it slower, trying to think of some place peaceful and beautiful, with rolling waves and birds making song. The trunk opened and a tidal wave crushed her paradise vision.

  The man looked down on her, his body all shadow in the low light.

  “We’re here” he chimed happily then lifted her effortlessly from the trunk, throwing her over his shoulder where she writhed like a live pig on a spit, impotent to escape. He shut the trunk with his free hand then casually walked over to a wall where he flipped a switch. One light came on. Ashley’s eyes darted back and forth trying to take in every inch of space the light unveiled.

  There was her car and the bay door. Arcing her head upward she could tell that the ceiling was high and vaulted. As he walked further away from the entrance numerous tools and various shop equipment came into sight amongst the shadows. They went through a door, banging her head off the doorframe. He turned and flipped another switch.


  She could see a very polished concrete floor sloping down to a drain hole. Stainless counters lined two of the walls and shined immaculately. One contained a sink. There appeared to be sound proofing material covering the walls. He laid her down on the concrete floor. It was remarkably cold for early October. She scanned the rest of the room. Multiple metal cases were stacked in one corner near a door.

  It was then that she saw the fourth wall and her heart skipped a beat. It was covered with a huge mirror and a few feet away from it sat some contraption, bolted to the floor. It looked like a form of leather saddle but was turned sideways to the mirror. There were manacles on each side, apparently for both feet and hands.

  A shudder wracked Ashley’s body. The past seemed to pale in comparison to what she imagined was about to happen. He took the handcuffs off her wrists and the shackle chain then helped sit her up. She rubbed her wrists and looked up at him. This was the first time she had seen him fully in good light. He was tall with a large, chiseled, muscular build, a trimmed beard and black hair buzzed short. He had dark brown eyes and dark circles around them. His skin was weathered and scarred along one cheek. He wasn’t quite handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either. He was absolutely intent on her, though, she noticed. He stepped behind her and took the bark collar off.

  “Yelling, screaming, crying out…none of that shit will help.” He tapped the walls. “Soundproof…you understand?”

  Ashley looked up like a helpless lamb ready to be sheered by the shepherd and not a bleating noise make. She nodded, terrified to make him angry in any way. He tugged at the edges of the duct tape and slowly peeled it off.

  “Please don’t hurt me” she whispered, looking down as she said it. He chuckled.

  “Hurt? What is hurt? Words hurt the heart but not the flesh. You may punish the flesh but cannot always break the spirit. And if you heal up stronger than before is it really hurt? Scar tissue is stronger than regular skin. Broken bones that have mended are stronger. Broken hearts though, how many ever recover? So what is true hurt? That which breaks the spirit, pierces the heart and crushes both. That’s real hurt.”

  Ashley was confused. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But you will choose. Every step of the way you will choose.” He smiled at her, some kind of twisted warmth spreading across his face. Ashley reflexively recoiled noticeably but tried to minimize it at the last second.

  “It’s ok darling.” He caressed her face. “The weak will perish and the strong will thrive. Be strong.”

  He unlocked the shackles on her feet and removed them as well then plopped down on the floor in front of her, crossing his legs.

  “Stand up” he said.

  Ashley looked at him, her countenance full of apprehension.

  “Come on” he insisted, lifting both hands in a repetitive upwards motion.

  Ashley posted her hand on the floor and slowly moved her leg back behind her to a kneeling position then placed a hand on her knee to leverage herself up, a progressive climb to an erect back.

  “Turn around.” He gestured with his hand, finger pointing down tracing two circles in a row.

  Ashley obeyed. Slowly turning all the way until she faced him again.

  “Jump up and down.”

  She hesitated but wasn’t so self-conscious as to disobey. She jumped, just enough for her feet to leave the ground, but it still caused her breasts to heave and bounce.

  “Twirl like a dancer,” he said.

  Ashley felt ungainly. She had never been one to dance, despite her athletic frame and pretty face. She nearly stumbled as she tried to spin around the first time.

  “Again.”

  The second time was better but still not smooth. She faced him once more.

  “Hmmph.” He scooted off to the side so the saddle contraption was straight ahead. “Go to the saddle. Lay over it and place your hands in the manacles.”

  Pleasantries were over it seemed. Down to business. Ashley was consumed by a growing panic. She wanted to flee but knew she could not escape, knew to try would bring severe punishment she couldn’t even fathom. An acute dread gripped her. Frozen by the horrors to come and her inability to do anything helpful on her behalf she simply froze. Her brain could not command and her feet could not comply.

  His tone was sharp as he barked “Go!”

  The edge in his voice broke the paralysis. She did not want to anger him further and invoke a greater wrath and misery than he already had prepared. Obeisance was her only hope of making it out alive.

  She took the first step, her feet heavy as if gravity had multiplied, but she managed to keep putting one in front of the other. The sight of her face in the mirror was unbearable and caused her to keep her eyes downcast. She arrived, leaned over the smooth, worn leather and observed the manacles dangling beneath her. She had to lean further over the top to reach them, leaving her buttocks at what she believed would be the man’s hip level. She grabbed the manacles and fastened them onto her wrists one at a time, locking them in place. Then she closed her eyes and waited, trying not to throw up again.

  The man got up and walked over, pulled a pin and raised a small platform for her knees to rest on then strapped her ankles down. Though her hands could move slightly the ankles were completely restrained, unable to budge at all.

  “Ok, Ashley. It’s time to choose.” He leaned against the crotch of her pants with his own and bent over her back, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back to bring her ear to his lips. She inadvertently caught a glimpse of her face, the stretched neck and hairline, the palpable fear…the absolute weakness. She had seen that look once in her dresser mirror on a younger face.

  “Choose what?” she breathed heavily, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to cry. Her whole body shivered.

  “Do you want me to love you…” he released her hair and moved away, letting his hand caress her glutes, then picked up a light stick and thumped it in his hand once, “or beat you?” He paused for several seconds letting the weight of the moment settle fully on her. She just cried quietly and shook her head, unconsciously denying the reality of the moment.

  “Well, sweet thing, what’s it gonna be? We may have all day and night but damn if I’m gonna waste my time twiddling my thumbs.”

  Still no response. He slammed the stick down on the concrete floor in front of her face, just missing her head, and a resounding THWACK echoed through the room. Ashley jumped as much as her body could move.

  “Come on now girl! If you don’t pick one then I’ll have to…and I know what I would like to do.” He moved behind her again, balanced the stick across her lower back and softly gripped her waist, bumping her crotch with his own. “Come on, you’ve been a good girl just like this before…for Uncle Tim.”

  Ashley’s head reflexively turned to look towards him as best she could. “How do you know about that?” she exclaimed, pleading for an answer to this insanity.

  “Aw, shucks, girl. I don’t pick my women willy nilly. I do my homework. I have criteria! Preferences.” The man snickered lightly.

  “Uncle Tim really fucked your head up good didn’t he? How many nights did he come in your room and tell you ‘shhhh’ and promised you it was the right way for you to show your love for him? How many times did that sick bastard damage you physically, mentally and emotionally? Did he threaten to hurt you or hurt your family? In all those years did he ever beat you? Did you ever try to tell yourself that you liked it just to help you feel in control or did it just make you feel violated, weak and helpless and cause you to live every day of your god damned miserable life in dread from then to now?”

  The longer his monologue carried on the more violent Ashley’s weeping sobs grew till, finally, when he paused, she could take it no more.

  “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!?!?” she screamed.

  “Is that what you asked ol Uncle Tim? Does the why even matter? I am the mighty one here. You are the weak one. I can do as I please and there is none
who can tell me nay. I revel in your lamentations and get high on the power imbalance I hold over you. There is nothing you can say that holds authority over my strength or excuses your weakness.“

  Ashley’s mouth hung in shock. She didn’t know how to respond to this absurdity.

  “Alright. Enough monologuing,” he said, his tone impatient. “Pick your poison. The rod of flesh…or the rod of wood?”

  “Damn you!” She screamed. “Why?!? Why are you doing this to me you sick fuck?!?” She shook the whole saddle with a convulsive flurry of jerking movements pulling against her bonds, while in her mind pulling against Uncle Tim’s grip pinning her arms to the bed as she struggled.

  “Well, I guess it’ll be the rod of flesh then…” He unzipped his pants quickly, the noise like an arrow through her liver, debilitating. She instantly hyperventilated and shouted out.

  “NO! NO! For the love of God just beat me! Please! Please don’t rape me! Please don’t rape me. I can’t go through that again. Please. Please don’t.” She dropped her head in defeat and just continued to say “please” quietly. The man waited for what felt like an eternity and then she heard the zipper again, returning to its closed position.

  “OK then. You made a choice. Spare the soul and punish the body!” he exclaimed, like some southern preacher trying to rile the audience up. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  He picked the stick up, hefted it then let it sing through the air a couple of times before pulling a pocket knife and proceeding to cut the back of her shirt open and let it fall off to each side. He put the blade away and pulled Ashley’s pants and panties down around her knees. The whole time he talked, telling her what to expect.

  “This stick won’t break anything where I’m going to hit you. But it’s going to burn like hell itself. Gonna look like a demon’s been clawing at you when I’m done. But flesh heals. Always remember that. Your flesh can heal up from almost anything that doesn’t kill ya flat out. Remember that. And remember, this was your choice. Own it. Now,” he paused briefly. “Let’s get this party started.”