Continuing the Dog story.
Chapter 7 The Wrack
Good luck has never been my friend
I've always been the fool
Please don't follow shadows of mine
'Cause the time is running out for me
I walk in the path of a misfits blood
No compass can stare my way
No light at the end of the tunnel
And time is running out for me
--Follow Me, Pain
I dropped down into the sand. She continued to stare at me, glancing a few times at the male Dog. The male smiled, baring his fangs. Both of them looked up suddenly. I turned my head.
Two men in suits stood at the rail, arms folded behind their backs. One had white hair, a faded suit, and wrinkled face. The other was a dark suited, brown haired, younger version of the other.
"What's going on here?" the young man demanded. The old one just looked stern. The young man looked at the male Dog. He went off to the side of the ring. The man snapped his fingers. Three girls moved up to the rail. All wore identically-shaped onepiece short sleeved outfits with visors over their eyes. The girl in the lead had on aqua and brown hair, the girl on her right orange and white hair, the girl on her left black hair and pink. The man looked at the brown haired girl, pointing to Gypsy. "Put her in the Wrack." He and the old man turned and walked off. "And, please, be as harsh as you can about it. Our guests are paying, after all."
I jumped as the girls in orange and pink grabbed my arms and jumped back to the seat I'd vacated. I struggled, kicking the one as the other tied me to the chair. The girl in aqua turned her head to look down at Gypsy. She glared back. The girl disappeared. I looked down at the ring.
Gypsy was doubled over, the girl's knee in her gut. She wobbled as the girl lowered her knee. Then the girl spun, slamming her leg into her side. She flew to the side, crashing into the sand and tossing up a cloud as she began to topple and roll.
The cloud settled. She was facedown in a heap, one arm bent in front of her head, the other flat next to her side underside up. Her legs lay out to the side. Her hair was over her bent arm and back, dusted with sand. Slowly, her arms began to move, dragging in the sand as she pushed upward, levering up off her stomach. Her hair fell down, veiling her face. The men in the crowd murmured, pointing to the screen where they could see her breasts hanging behind her hair.
The girl in aqua looked at the girl in pink and jerked her head toward Gypsy. The girl disappeared, standing next to Gypsy and putting her foot between her shoulders. She pressed down steadily, forcing Gypsy down again. Then slid her foot under her, turning her over. The girl shifted her footing, standing over her and watching as she gasped. She smirked as Gypsy opened her eyes slightly.
"Look at you." She reached down, running her fingers heavily over the already bruising areas and grinning as she saw Gypsy flinch. "You're bruised already. Your body's weakened." She sighed, reaching down and grasping her by the breasts. "This'll be so boring." She lifted. Gypsy gave a weak groan as she hung, feet a few inches off the ground.
A little blood pooled from the bite marks. The girl held her there, listening as the groans softened into pants and drawn out gasps. She looked around Gypsy's dangling form to the aqua girl. "She's almost finished." She let go. Gypsy let out a long breath, head drooping.
She was on her feet, but just barely. The aqua girl stood behind her.
"You're weak," she stated. "Say it." Gypsy was silent. She looked at the girl next to me. "Say it. One of us is still with the girl."
"I'm...weak." Gypsy's voice was a dry, breathy rasp.
"Your body is weak."
"My body...is weak."
"You're beaten."
"I...am beaten." The girl in front of her reached out, pushing with a finger. She fell back slowly, landing across the aqua girl's shoulder. The girl turned, wrapping her arm over Gypsy's legs. The men cheered as the girl walked across the ring, the screen showing once more a view of her hanging front.
Halfway across the ring she paused. She shifted her arm, shrugging Gypsy so she lay on her back across her shoulders. The other girl moved over to them, shackling her wrists and ankles. The aqua girl slid her arm around a leg and arm, resting her arms on the thin loops and continued walking. Three-fourths of the way she lifted Gypsy and turned her, carrying her over her head like a trophy, hands between her breasts and legs.
She stopped. Long chains descended. The remaining girl went to them; she and the girl in pink attached the chains to the shackles on her arms. They picked up more from the floor and attached them to her legs.
She was moved upward, hung there as the male came up to meet her on a platform. He aligned himself and proceeded.
He finished and stood, Gypsy slung on her belly over his shoulder. They were lowered to the floor. He walked toward the door, Gypsy sliding off to lie spread eagle on th sand. The sand began to slide, the floor tilting.
The sand piled up against her, turning her on her side. The sand covered her as she slid, disappearing with a distant splash. The floor moved aside. Water was were it had been, mounds of sand everywhere. She lay on top of the curve of one mound, facedown for the final time that night.
The screen shifted, showing from the mound. Her hand lax, face hidden, hair wet. The camera began to move, lifting up behind her head. The voice came on, smooth and satisfied: "Unconscious. Perfect." The view moved down her hair splayed back, over her butt, down her slightly parted legs.
The mounds and water moved, the entire wall an open pannel. The pannel closed as the water drained. The audience stood and walked out.
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