Title: Torture

Series: L&L Fantasy Ball Party

Author: Connor

Rated: R

 

* * * * * * * * *

S’a good thing ‘m always ready for a party. The gang at Vamps’ ‘ad put t’gether a shindig, an’ we were all invited, th’whole lot o’us. I think th’last gatherin’ that we ‘ad was m’birthday. It’d been pretty quiet ever since. Was glad t’go an’ attend another soiree. Looked pretty standard as far as attire, nothing out o’th’ordinary. Th’ordinary for me woulda been somethin’ along th’lines of m’professor’s clothing. All proper n’ put together.

‘ell most days, if I was able t’get one leg on after th’other, was a bloody victory. Nevermind gettin’ th’right boots on. ‘ad checked with Precious and Tal, their fam was already on their way, which meant we were runnin’ late.

In m’torn jeans, ‘eld t’gether with long safety pins, tucked into knee high stormtrooper shitkickers, I walk down to th’door o’the bedroom. ‘ad seen One sneak outta it just moments before. A knowin’ smile ‘ad passed our lips as ‘e slid back to th’Castle. Judgin’ from ‘er non-verbal reaction, ‘e ‘ad prob’ly sprung somethin’ on ‘er. Goody.

CLICK.

“OI!” I rattle th’knob, ”Cor, open th’bloody door.”

Th’mesh on m’torso slips and slides across m’skin easily. Decided t’jus’ be comfortable t’nite. Needin’ t’ meet th’new kids on th’block, an’ I’d rather share a tall one with ‘em, rather than worryin’ what bit o’clothin’ was not in th’right spot. Well…. Wouldn’t give a toss anyways, but there are times that I like lookin’ decent.

“COR!”

“No.”

I blink. Usually I don’t get a definitive like that. Brow furrowin’, I try an’ figure out what’s th’deal. ‘e wouldn’t make ‘er upset, like cryin’ type upset, ‘e’d never tell ‘er she was wearin’ somethin’ that was not for ‘er. Wonder what’s crawled up ‘er butt? ‘Er voice is strange, there’s no pain, but no pleasure either. It’s jus’ even. Scarily even.

“You still gonna go?”

“Yes.”

M’eyebrows raise. Huh. Wasn’t expectin’ that. Locked doors usually mean go away. Guess this time, s’ jus’ gonna be a matter o’time til she comes out. Bangin’ on th’door is NOT gonna ‘elp anythin’, I ‘ad learned that th’ard way. So, I back off an’ ‘ead for the kitchen, there’s a rum bottle with m’name on it. With any luck, she’d be ready in two drinks. If I get to three, I’ll be well on m’way to slovenly….. that might not be such a bad idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m not sure I can do this.

Surprise, pet… I got what we talked about…

Fidgeting doesn’t help. Sitting still doesn’t help. How am I supposed to be social, and meet the new our new friends if I can only breathe? Wait, breathing isn’t a good idea either!!!

Promise me…

How can I not? I can deny my mates nothing. I have tried, it never ever works. I always break. So why even bother trying to put up a fight? But this time…. I can barely move, and not because of the clothing, or lack thereof. Walking to the door to try and answer it when Con starts banging, I almost crumble to my knees.

“….open th’bloody door.”

I can’t. I can’t even reach the knob.

“You still gonna go?”

I nod, but he can’t hear that. I manage to answer with what little breath I have in my body. Focusing, I straighten, the vinyl crinkling and stretching as I move. With a quick check of my hair and makeup, I try and ignore the outfit. The vinyl halter leaves little to the imagination, but the skirt attached leaves little but skin. A drape over my behind and down the front is all that covers me. The panels are connected by buckled straps over my hips and thighs about four inches apart. It’s the only thing keeping me from flapping in the breeze. Add the boots, and I’m a pretty goth package. At least I know I can walk in the goth footwear.

It’s the movement of my body that might kill me.

He thinks he’s so slick, I bet he’s chuckling right now, so full of himself. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, once again, either is going to cripple me. How did I get myself into this? Better still, how the HELL will I get myself out?

Don’t fret, I’ll find you, vixen….no worries about that…

Bloody bastard. Right bloody bastard.