♤Magical Entertainment♤《 Loki X OC 》

Chapter 8 ~ The Woman

Recap:

It's showtime.

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Why does it always have to hurt to wake up?

That had been the first thought in her head every morning for... She doesn't know how long. Everything hurts; her wrists after the cuffs, her back after the beatings, her neck after the collar, her knees after the concrete floor. She could go on but ignored the pain as usual. The young woman was on her knees, bent forward on a hard, cold concrete floor with her arms pulled straight back and up by heavy chains and thick cuffs connecting her to the ceiling. The only article of clothing she had was a thin dress that just barely covered her. That's how she sleeps every night and has been for some years now. She has grown used to it. It was the safest thing to do: keep her in a way that rendered her limbs lame even after releasing her. Loud banging on the other side of the door shook her awake. Chained woman groaned. She knows the routine. It was always the same.

"Awake," she called, voice a bit hoarse. The door opened, and her handler entered her cell, made his way over to her and, painfully slow, he undid her bounds. When he finally undid the last clasp, he changed them out for smaller handcuffs to keep her hands tied back. As usual, he tested the shock mechanism on her collar just to be safe. She didn't make a sound, as usual. He then took out a muzzle from his little bag, kneeled in front of her, and held it out in front of her face. Bright yellow eyes glared up at him, but she opened her mouth, and the mouthpiece was shoved in as the straps tightened around her jaw. Oh, how they loved to take precautions. The man yanked her to her feet, her arms and legs still half functional, and hauled the stumbling woman with him down the winding corridors toward her office. She didn't know her name. It was always ma'am or the matron, never a name, only a title. To be fair, she didn't know his name either. He was her handler, so it was sir or my handler and nothing else if she wished to go unscathed. Now that she thought about it, she barely knew her own name, before she had her title. How many of the other girls remembered theirs?

"Peitho." Her title was called, and she snapped out of her head. They had made it to her office, and now she stood in front of the matron of the Palace. She quickly looked down at the floor. The sentence that had been imprinted into her brain since she was a child flashed like a warning signal in her mind. Obedience will keep you safe.

"Are you done with your defiance?" The matron's voice was calm and smooth, but her tone was sharp. Was she still standing? She hadn't even realized. She dropped to her knees and kept her head hung low but received a shock through her collar for the mistake.

"Thank you, sir, ma'am," she muttered.

"That's better. Now, for tonight's show: It will be themed, and I have chosen a scene from the little mermaid for your performance inspiration. You're portraying Ursula and experiment 22 1B will be our Ariel. I will have the reference material and outfit sent to your room. Dismissed," and with that, she was hoisted to her feet and dragged to her prep room where she would get ready. The other girl would probably be dragged to that room as well. At least she had gotten the little mermaid, one of the few movies she had seen in her life and remembered. She wondered why they had chosen just that experiment, but she figured she would know soon enough.

Once they made it to her prep room, her handler opened the door and pushed her in before locking the door behind them. He undid her bounds one by one, and soon she was able to move freely again. The collar never left her neck, but other than that she was free. Once he was done, he left the room without a word and locked the door again behind him.

This. This was the best part of Peitho's day. Nothing restraining her physically, and nobody was present to watch her except for the cameras. This was as close to free as she got. She began moving her limbs around, trying to become mobile again after a cold night of restraint. Each time she moved, there was a satisfying pop in her joints. Once she could move properly again, she went into the small bathroom to take a shower and brush her teeth. When she was done, she walked out and found her plate of food and glass of water on the designated table standing off to the side: her only meal of the night. Next to the food was a tablet with her reference material for the evening. She sat down at the small table, eating her food, and looking through the clips, photos and paragraphs.