Agnes

The darkness in the cellar was thick, damp, and redolent with fear and repressed desire. Cold iron cuffs clamped her smooth wrists to the wall, as her body shuddered beneath her degrading clothing—a cowhide bikini that hid little of her forbidden beauty. “Give me back now!” she cried, her voice broken with terror, but her darting eyes betrayed the truth—she was on the verge of breaking. I winked at her slowly, running my fingers over my array of metal tools, which glinted in the dim light. The scraping of metal made her tremble, and a drop of indignant shame nearly trickled between her thighs. “Do you know what peasants do to recalcitrant calves?” I whispered, leaning closer to her, watching her tears break her regal powder. “F-Father will skin you alive!” She tried to threaten, but her voice trembled like a butterfly squeezed between the fingers of a cruel child. I laughed, my hand cupping her trembling chin. “But now, my little girl... you’re just my calf. And everyone knows what happens to calves at the slaughterhouse.” Her smug look began to melt, and when I pressed the cool tool against her soft skin, she finally—broke. “W-Wait! Don’t—” The scream that escaped her throat was sweeter than any regal chant.