Romanowski and Rosemary

12. Blind slave

Coretta

"Priest," I uttered to my captor, "I- I'll serve you," I heaved a breath, my words repulsing me like never before. "J- Just don't take my eyes out." I craned back my neck a little to look up at his gaze, filled with exhilaration.

"Look at you," he chuckled, "Looking like such a nymph." He weaved a hand through my hair, the action feeling more painful than soothing.

"How can I expect that from a married woman..." My eyes widened when, steadily, he came to kneel before me, and shoved at my shoulders. So hard that my back hit the ground, but my scream couldn't be heard in the chaos of the blind slaves. In a room full of people, he took no time to climb over me.

The situation deported me to some deeper knowledge. I was too familiar with this.

AA: When Assailant is Above.

Defensive interlocking

Word winding

Interlocked leg dismantling

Elbow strike at neck baseline

As he stayed smirking down at me, discreetly I joined my legs, adjusting the kneecap and ankle interlock, and crossed my arms over my chest, gripping at my linen for firmness.

Protect your chest and core. Those are the prime places an assailant goes for.

My legs were joined so tightly, his hands won't be enough if he had the intention of opening them. I remembered the training sessions. Six straight years. During the last stage of my practice, my coaches, even though were gym trainers, couldn't open my legs.

Coretta, it'll need a sword to cut through that interlock you've made. Well done.

And Nael hadn't noticed it yet, which I was grateful for.

"Can you show how will you serve me?" he bent lower, whispering in my face.

"Sacred things like that aren't performed before everyone," I replied as his grin increased. Of course, he understood the innuendo, and that alone was doing him.

"Hah! I wonder if you even are a priestess..." He pushed a thumb at my lip, digging in his nail. "Or just a local prostitute from the Northern Islands. Didn't even hesitate to suggest such actions, huh?"

I really wanted to move to the third and fourth steps. That is to tackle him down and strike right between his collarbones. But I had to prolong step two, noticing the number of eyes that were on me. Given the type of sensitive and easily spooked woman I was, I would've been bawling my eyes out at the position I was in. Even self-defence alone isn't the key to these problems.

It was the aggressive nature of these men that we were familiarised with during our training.

Many girls know self-defence, but reportedly couldn't use these tactics witnessing the heinous aura of their molester. Heart ringing in ears, hands freezing, and mind going blank in utter dread were the key factors prior to an assault. And they trained us on that.

Which meant we didn't have sweet mentors who just used their arms, acting all gentle as we tackled them to the ground. They acted like a real molester: the aggression, hatred in their eyes, and the expression that delivered, the person in front of me wanted to ruin my life. That was the adrenaline rush they created within me and Cheryl before we could attack them.

And it was a reason Nael bending over me, in a room full of people, wasn't making me cry. Because at times, the department would bring in strange men, so vulgar-looking, one would think Nael to be a gentleman compared to them. And we needed to defend ourselves as they executed a true offender's action. Although it was safe and well-planned, I'd forgotten the number of times I cried in my home after those sessions were over. All of it had felt so real. And to know that some girls went through this ordeal, which was presented to me as a mock practice, would leave me sleepless for nights.