Ashley's Tale Read online

  Without any warning he let the stick fly, cracking her in the ass. Ashley’s head snapped up and her whole body went rigid. Her face scrunched, screwing her eyes shut tight as she held her breath. The burn was immediate and overwhelming. She had gotten whipped as a child a few times but that didn’t hold a candle to this pain. A dark red line appeared along her naked flesh and the swelling wasn’t far behind.

  “Aaawww yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Unnhh! I need a beer!”

  He walked out of the room and returned seconds later cracking the cold one open and taking a sip. Ashley was focusing on breathing again, adrenaline and endorphins flooding her system from the pain.

  “Alright! Now we’re cooking with fire! Hold my beer and watch this, girl!” He put the beer in her right hand. “And take a sip if you like.”

  Immediately she thought “fuck you!” but then it occurred to her that anything that might help dull the coming pain was better than nothing and turned it up as best she could and guzzled. He waited for her to finish before letting the stick fly again. This time on her thigh. Ashley yelped and started to cry.

  “Bitch! You better not cry!” he shouted. “You hear me?”

  He shot around and knelt down in front of her, lifting her chin so she had to look him in the eye.

  “Don’t you dare scream or cry. You want to give me the satisfaction? Huh? You want to make me feel more powerful? Are you that frail? For Christ’s sake, at least hold out longer than two hits before you squeal like a fucking little pig. You’re weak and pathetic, Ashley.” He spat those two descriptive words at her, disgust filling his face. “But if you got a lick of spine in you that just might change.”

  Ashley’s face was horrified and confused. She wanted to weep and wail but she also had thought he would want her to do so and if she gave him what he wanted right away he might stop sooner than later. She braced herself to try and restrain her cries.

  He swung, landing on her ass again, perfectly in the same place as before. The pain doubled and she hollered reflexively, more tears escaping eyes that begged for pity in the mirror.

  “I said don’t cry! I promise you Ashley, I will NOT stop beating you as long as you are crying. Toughen up!”

  SMACK!

  The stick struck her in the back, directly over her ribcage. She couldn’t scream. It stole her breath. Paralyzed her lungs.

  The blows came more quickly now. Back, lower back, glutes, thighs. He mixed them up, sometimes doubled up, the light stick flickering out to smite Ashley’s tender skin. Welts were multiplying. Ashley never wept because she couldn’t breathe.

  And then suddenly it ended. Her chest heaved reflexively, struggling for air and dying to cry out, to weep and sob. Once she could breathe again she bit her lip and kept her mouth shut.

  “Alright Ashley. Well done. That was so much better. I’m actually proud of you, kid. You sucked it up and cowboyed up right well.”

  He walked over to a cabinet and retrieved something. When he returned she felt a wet cold drop on her skin. He started with her glutes and then methodically addressed every welt, rubbing in an aloe vera gel with pain reliever. At first it burned but then the topical analgesic started to kick in and Ashley began to find some relief. He put a thick gauze bandage over the welts on her butt and taped it in place. He took the shackles off her feet and pulled her pants the rest of the way off but repositioned her underwear along her hips so they would help hold the bandage still.

  He went to the cabinet again and returned with a hospital gown. After un-cuffing her hands he allowed her to stand up and he pulled her ruined shirt off. Ashley briefly met her own eyes in the mirror. She saw weakness but a seed of strength as well before averting her face. He moved in front of her and held the gown out for her arms to slide through. She did so and he proceeded to tie it behind her back then walked her over to the door she had not seen opened yet. He turned the knob and pushed the heavy metal door. It swung inward on reinforced hinges.

  “Go sit down while I get you something to eat,” he said kindly.

  Ashley shuffled in, taking small steps so as not to stretch or rub the skin too much and lowered herself onto the bed in a seated position. The room was not what she expected. A nice full size bed sat low to the ground up against one wall, box spring and mattress only, but made with silky sheets and a pretty comforter with large pink flowers. An additional blanket was folded on the bed.

  The walls were covered with posters and magazine fold outs of women….women fighters, some real, some fictional. Cynthia Rothrock movie posters, Kathy Long in kickboxing attire and Ronda Rousey holding her belt were front and center but there were others as well. Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, an old Red Sonja poster and signed pictures of Lucy Lawless as Xena Warrior Princess. There were also several pages from martial arts magazines showing sequences of self-defense moves being performed by women against larger males.

  On a dresser were several books stacked together, amongst them: The Gift of Fear, Sun Tzu’s the Art of War, Miyamoto Musashi’s Book of Five Rings, and a biography of Joan of Arc. The man entered the room wheeling in a little table with food on it and pushed it up to her, the roller legs straddling her own. There was hot soup, a spoon and napkins along with a large glass of water. Off to the side was a single pill.

  “The pill is for pain and to help you sleep. Eat. Tomorrow you will choose again.”

  He closed the door before she could say anything else. She heard multiple clicks as deadbolts slid in place and padlocks were closed, the sound of his feet on concrete and another door close. Then all was silence. She sipped the soup at first. It was delicious. It took her stomach time to settle but before long she was able to eat it all. She debated with herself over the pill but the pain was too bad. She finally took it then snuggled in under the covers and thought of her mother until she cried herself to sleep quietly.

  *****

  Ashley opened her eyes slowly, hoping the nightmare was just that, but it was not her bed, not her pillow beneath her head and not her decorations on the wall. She turned over and immediately started violently. The man sat across the room in a chair, watching her quietly as he sipped coffee.

  “Fuck!” she spat and scurried to a seated position, back to the wall, covers pulled up to her neck. Her body shouted back at the startled movement, every welt and battered muscle highly discontent.

  “Good morning.” He took another sip then pushed the table over. “Peanut butter, honey and toast plus coffee and a pain pill. You need food but nothing heavy. We have much to do today.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked timidly while grabbing the coffee first.

  “Let me explain.” He spoke clearly and deliberately, pausing where appropriate for emphasis and giving Ashley time to follow his logic.

  “I am a man of, what shall we say, unique desires. I live for the hunt, for competition. Stalking you and catching you was much more enjoyable than beating you last night. But even that took little effort because of how weak and oblivious you are. I abhor weakness but abusing or killing the weak is no sport. Ease disgusts me just as much as weakness. If something is to be of any value it must require skill and discipline. But,” and he held up one finger, “last night was necessary…for you to know my intent, my commitment to this process.”

  Ashley’s head was spinning trying to understand.

  “What process?” she asked warily, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “The process of preparation. Of instilling a will to survive and fight in you and then putting it to the test…against me.” He smiled wryly.

  Ashley sat dumbfounded. “Against you? How the hell could I ever stop you? You’re literally twice my size or more.”

  The man chuckled then lifted his hand palm up and swept it across the room, indicating all the posters and pictures on the wall.

  “There are ways. Every human being has vulnerabilities.” He indicated each one with his free hand as he listed them. “Eyes. Larynx. Knees. Base of Skull. Even a smaller opponent can overcome with fury, violence of action and attacking what is vulnerable. But even better…” He reached behind his back and withdrew a large knife and set it on her table, paused and looked her in the eye as he slid it towards her then pulled his hand away and set back in the chair.

  Ashley stared at it. “I don’t know how to use that” she said bluntly.

  The man laughed loudly.

  “Grip it firmly, preferably with the blade pointing down. Stab vital areas. Throat. Heart. Descending Aorta. Femorals. Subclavian. Lungs. Liver. Kidneys.” He indicated each one in succession. “Stab repeatedly till they die. How complicated is that?” He paused, sipped his coffee and stared at her, the question still poised by his expression. “This is the most fundamental use of the blade,” he continued, “but there is a finer skill to be had as well. Or perhaps a garrote to choke your opponent with.” He pulled out a long piece of 550 cord tied to two metal carabiners, gripped one in each hand and demonstrated wrapping it around an imaginary neck and cinching it up tightly.

  “Or a bow and arrow or gun to maintain distance and safety while you kill. Killing is a thinking man’s game. The brutish know nothing beyond the simplicity that works on the weak and unprepared. You must first learn the will to live, which means the will to kill and then you must understand that the will to prepare to kill is even more important to survival.” He stood up. “Now eat that sandwich and get dressed.” He indicated a stack of clothes on a dresser. “I will provide this light breakfast each day for training but you must acquire all else yourself.”

  He stepped forward and grabbed the knife and returned it to its sheath, shaking his head as he walked out. “I’m disappointed in you Ashley,” he called over his shoulder. “I hoped you would attack me with it. In due time, perhaps.”

  Ashley looked at the sandwich and clothes. Her head spun and her body ached but she wasn’t dead yet. “The living always have a chance the dead never get.” The thought popped into her head out of nowhere. She had read something somewhere that basically said that she thought.

  *****

  Ashley walked out of her living quarters after using the attached bathroom and stood in front of the wall size mirror, assessing herself. Her figure was lean and fit, curvaceous in the right places, even showing through the sweat pants and pullover hoodie she wore. Long dark brown hair was tangled slightly but she took the brush he left for her and worked through it quickly. It was an oddly plain brush she thought. Apparently made from one solid piece of black plastic with plain black bristles. It didn’t look like a normal woman’s brush.

  Her skin was spotless, lips naturally pinkish and her lashes long. She hardly wore make up at all. A soft face with a mousy nose and mouth and doe eyes made her a natural beauty. None of the welts were visible, she noted. She tucked the brush in the large hoodie pocket and shifted back and forth feeling the shoes out he gave her then stretched a little, trying to get her body to agree with movement. Finally, she turned and walked cautiously towards the bay area, the door already propped open, awaiting her.

  She stepped out into the large space, able to see far more than last night. There were a couple of cars in different states of repair, equipment and machines with unknown functions to her but, most surprising an octagonal cage, maybe 15 feet across, with a matted floor. A gated entrance sat wide open, inviting her to enter. The man stood within, leaning on the far side.

  “Come in. Time for your first lesson.”

  Ashley proceeded to the gate, hesitated at the entrance, looking in and assessing the thick chain linked wire wrapping the metal framework.

  “Come on” he waved her in. “Don’t be scared to learn.”

  She stepped inside and walked to the middle.

  “Attack me.” He said, stepping away from the cage. “Like you want to kill me.”

  She stood there, looking him over. He was mere feet away, feet spread shoulder width, hands at his waist, thumbs tucked in his beltline. She stared at his crotch momentarily then launched a kick at it as if she were kicking a soccer ball back in her youth. He dropped an arm down, intercepting the kick and scooping it off to the side. It left her off balance and vulnerable.

  “Good. But don’t stare at the target. You told me where you would attack. Look me in the eye and do it.”

  Ashley stared him in the eye and after several seconds of waiting launched another kick at his groin but with the other leg. He only had time to jam it with his arm but not deflect it. She was left balanced and squared up to him but she retreated. Her shin smarted a little bit from the contact with his ulna. It had been years since she had played soccer and her body was fully conditioned to bone on bone contact, but she hadn’t lost all that toughness.

  “Better. But the groin is a distraction, not the kill. You gotta follow up. You must never stop till you have finished your opponent. Deceive him at the onset, then attack with the fury of a wild beast, yet also employing a cunning intellect.”

  The last attack felt good. Ashley was starting to feel the aggression grow inside her. All the frustration over the last several hours building to a head.

  “How am I supposed to do that?” She inquired.

  “You must make them think one thing while you do another. Get them to buy into…”

  Ashley inched her way a little closer as he began talking then suddenly launched her foot forward as fast as she could, cleanly striking him in the groin. She immediately went for his eyes with both hands clasping his temples, thumbs digging for his eyes.

  He almost looked startled. Soaking the groin kick with little affect he closed his eyes instinctively as she clawed for them and immediately grabbed both her wrists, pushing her hands away from his face and laughing.

  “Good! Good!” he shouted. “That’s what I want to see. Fire! Wrath!”

  Ashley struggled to pull her hands away but he held tight. She launched a knee towards his groin but he deflected it with his own knee coming across. She tried with the other knee and he jammed it as well.

  “Good. And against an untrained man that would probably have worked. But you must be better than that to present me with a challenge. You must be able to negate my strength. I must not be allowed to hold you and control your movements. Circle your right hand up and over my wrist.” She did so. “See how I can’t hold on? Now, circle it under and then over the top…Same effect though in a different way.”

  He grabbed her wrists again. “Now. Free both your hands!” Ashley twisted and circled her hands under and over, breaking free and immediately going for his eyes again. He shrugged his shoulder and ducked away, deflecting her hands away from his face then stepped in and used his whole body to knock her back. She stumbled but regained her footing.

  “Very good! Now let’s begin teaching you all the tricky ways to keep someone from holding onto your arms.”

  They spent hours training intensely. First the grab counters, then basic striking. He taught her to strike the throat with a “C” hand, letting her practice on his forearm. Elbows she practiced on his chest and then his forearms. Forearm hammers and clothesline techniques that would target the base of the skull she delivered to his chest and upper arms. Finger Jabs to the eyes were lightning fast and he slipped his head off line as she did so. Low line straight kicks meant to hyperextend the knees he had her practice on the cage itself.

  He taught her how to generate power: stepping into her strikes, driving through with her hips, raising and lowering her center as necessary and pulling people into her strikes. She took to it well. Ashley’s muscles were naturally fast twitch and her movements came with greater speed and force once she learned a technique.

  At last they took a break. Her body was sore and stiff but she knew staying active would keep it far less so than if she just sat down and did nothing. She hydrated again and kept stretching while she waited for the next lesson.

  The man was a mystery. She wanted to ask him how he could invest so much time in teaching her only to want to hurt her. But she knew he would not answer or he would say something as simple as “because I can” she thought. She looked up from stretching and was surprised to see what he was doing. He was lifting a pig carcass up on a chain hoist, its hind legs spread with a hook through the hollow skin between bone and tendon on each side, a solid piece of steel connecting the two hooks preventing it from spinning wildly. The dead creature was hairy and large but not the size of hogs she had seen on a farm as a girl during a field trip.

  “What’s that for?” she asked cautiously.

  “You must learn to kill with the blade. This is the first lesson. Come here.”

  He waved her over. She stood and closed the distance. He held the knife in his hand, the blade facing down, ice pick grip. It was large, maybe 12” overall. The blade was fat in the middle and tapered spear-like to the point. Both edges were sharp. He demonstrated as he spoke.

  “Grip the handle firmly and place your thumb over the top of it as a cap to help prevent it from sliding if you hit bone or something else hard. Hide the blade along your arm and behind your leg, arm at your side, body bladed back if you need to deceive someone. If you are hiding in wait or sneaking up on them you can hold it near your jaw line, point facing forward, ready to stab. When you stab, stab fast and hard, let the blade bury into the body up to your hand. “

  There was a thud as his hand hit the ribcage but the blade didn’t really make a sound.

  “Pull it out and repeat till they stop fighting and stop breathing. If you are stabbing the gut you can go very fast.” He changed targets and sped up. “But if you are stabbing through the rib cage be a little more deliberate in targeting so you don’t lose your blade skipping off a bone or withdrawing it on a bad angle.” He slowed the pace down and made sure it went in and came out without hurrying too much.

  “Once inside the body you can also shove and jerk the handle back and forth to shift the blade around inside and cause even more damage. This is especially useful after stabbing the heart. Or, once you stab you can grab it with both hands and rip down using the backside edge to rip through the flesh and manipulate your target.” He paused for a moment and looked at her. “Your turn.” He laid the blade down on a table and stepped several feet away.