Chapter 10 – The Price of Success
Part 3: Happy Birthday to Me
Part 3 of Chapter 10 contains material that may not be suitable for all readers.
Ienarath continued about her business over the following weeks. With the other women gone the Keep seemed a little colder somehow. It was something she’d have to get used to, though, since, as she found out from Mikal, they would gone for several more weeks. However, having the quarters to herself was nice.
“Oh! Sifkni, you startled me,” Ienarath exclaimed one evening while in her quarters, her back turned as she was putting away some books. Then she noticed Fellgrim was with him, and in the background, hanging out by the door, was Rolgbi. Beginning to feel a bit uneasy, she continued, “Um, gentlemen. How can I help you?”
Fellgrim and Sifkni looked at each other and smiled, “funny you should ask,” answered Fellgrim, and then, in one practiced motion, Fellgrim and Sifkni swooped in on her while Rolgbi locked the door and cast a spell to muffle any sound from escaping.
The two men each grabbed an arm, spun Ienarath around, and slammed her face first against a nearby wall. As she attempted to catch her breath from the blow, Rolgbi ran over and quickly stuffed a rag in her mouth from behind, after which he then bound her hands as the other two held them behind her back.
Once bound, Fellgrim and Sifkni turned her around again, this time pushing her into a low bookcase that stood at the foot of a nearby bed. As she hit the top edge of it she buckled forward. Rolgbi quickly grabbed her and forced her shoulders down. Held fast by Rolgbi, Fellgrim pinned one leg against the bookcase with his own, while Sifkni did the same with the other leg.
“So, you want to know what you can do, do you?” Snarled Fellgrim. “How about not taking credit for everything *we’ve* taught you? Or is it too late for that?”
“I think so, Fellgrim,” replied Sifkni, “and I don’t think she quite understands.”
“Then we’ll need to explain it to her,” answered Fellgrim.
Fellgrim then pulled up Ienarath’s robe, wrenching it over the small of her back. Rolgbi, having moved onto the bed in front of her, reached over and grabbed the hem and held it while at the same time he placed most of his weight on top of her, grinding his elbow into her back as he did. Sifkni then tore her undergarments off. Giggling, Rolgbi watched as Fellgrim and Sifkni took turns slapping her backside. They held nothing back and hit her as hard as they could. Each slap sent a wave of pain through her and left her more red than the one before. After several minutes of beating her like this, Fellgrim and Sifkni grabbed her legs and threw her over the bookcase so that she somersaulted over and landed on her back. Ienarath heaved in agony as her own weight came down upon her bound arms.
The men then tore open her robes and pulled off her remaining undergarments. She struggled to get up but was backhanded by Sifkni. The blow split her lip and sent her back onto the bed. The three men then took turns violating her as the other two held her down, slapping her across the face or choking her to near unconsciousness whenever she began to struggle. At some point, Ienarath didn’t know exactly when, the gag had been taken out by one of the two men holding her down as the third ravaged her body.
Like some sick game, the men rotated around her until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they stopped. As they adjusted their robes in preparation to leave they continued to push, slap, kick, and beat her, spitting on her as they did so. When they eventually left, their laughter could be heard echoing throughout the halls. Behind them they left Ienarath in a heap on the bed, panting and gasping for air.
Her backside was raw to point of bleeding; her face stung and was swollen; her neck had finger-shaped bruises as did her breasts, which also bore bite marks. Covered in spit and other bodily fluids, Ienarath lay motionless begging for the searing pain in her loins to stop. After twenty minutes, she finally mustered up the strength to move and was able to free herself from the bonds and then roll herself off the bed. She hit the floor hard, having little strength to break the fall. With great effort, she pushed herself up and crawled to a nearby basket where she began to vomit. She continued vomiting until her stomach ached and her heaves produced nothing. Then, thoroughly exhausted, unable to even wipe the sick from her face, Ienarath passed out.
When she came to, she was uncertain of the time, or even what day it was. She slowly rose to her feet and gingerly put on a clean robe. Her body ached as if she had fallen down ten flights of stairs and was then pushed off a cliff. Dried blood covered her groin while vomit and other fluids had crusted onto her face and chest, matting her hair in the process. In a daze, Ienarath slowly made her way to the bathing room. As it turned out, only a few hours had passed and it was very early in the morning. Much to her relief she made her way through the Keep without encountering anyone.
The bathing room was nothing more than a small cavern where an underground spring opened up creating a small pool before draining off into the unknown. She removed her robe and slowly stepped in. The water was cold but felt good on her aching body. As her body became numb from the cold water, she gently washed herself, examining her wounds as she did. Fortunately, the damage wasn’t as bad as she had thought and would heal OK without intervention, but she took the healing draught she had brought with anyway.
Although the potion wasn't very strong and wouldn’t completely heal the deep wounds inside of her, it did take away the pain, it also brought down the swelling and removed the bruises. She gently felt her lip. It was still a little tender, but like the other areas, it was vastly improved by the potion. After cleaning up and dressing, Ienarath made to leave, but suddenly paused, and then sat down on a nearby bench thinking. With a look of sudden realization, she sat up straight. She sat there for a moment as her thoughts continued to race, and then, with a cold laugh, she muttered to herself, “It is, isn’t it? Hmpf,” she scoffed, a look of amused disbelief on her face. Her smile quickly faded, however, as she sat there.
And then, as her voice crackled, she whispered, “Happy Birthday, sweetie.”
At that moment the reality of the attack finally caught up with her and with trembling hands she covered her face and began to weep.
This part of the story was intended to show the act of rape for what it really is; a violent act of domination and control. Chapter 7 also contained situations that alluded to (potential) rape and trafficking. These are happening and not just in some dark 3rd world country, but all across the globe. For more information, the following sites have a lot of excellent information.