Mind Rape
Chapter 6: The Cottage
Charles led them around the main house and down a narrow, sunlit path lined with tall trees. A single porch light on the small cottage ahead was still on from the night before, glowing strangely out of place in the harsh daylight. The air was warm and still. The only sounds were the crunch of gravel under their feet and the women’s ragged breathing. Sophia’s exposed chest was painfully visible with every step, the angry red handprint stark against her pale skin under the noon sun.
Charles opened the cottage door and stepped aside.
“Enter.”
The women stepped inside.
The cottage was a purpose-built torture prison — soundproofed walls, steel bars on the windows, and a heavy steel door with double locks. It stood many yards from the main house on the vast inherited estate, with no neighbors for a kilometer in any direction. The air inside carried the sharp, artificial scent of bleach and pine cleaner, but underneath it lingered something darker — a faint metallic tang that turned the stomach. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting cold, unforgiving shadows across the bare concrete floor. A plain bed sat in the center of the room. In one corner were two simple chairs and a small table. Heavy chains hung from sturdy hooks on the left and right walls, with several flush-mounted hooks scattered across the floor. An open doorway led to a small bathroom containing only a sink and toilet.
Charles instructed them calmly, “Stand near the bed.”
Both women obeyed, trembling.
Charles turned, returned to the door, and clicked the first lock shut. The sound echoed sharply in the small room. He then turned the second lock; its heavier, more final click seemed to seal their fate. Both women turned their heads to watch, hearts hammering.
We’re really trapped now, Elena thought, the words ringing like a death knell in her mind.
This is it. No one’s coming, Sophia realized, terror tightening like a fist around her throat.
Charles walked back to the women. He approached Sophia first, grabbed her bare breast hard, and dragged her by it to the right wall. He pushed her back against the cold concrete, picked up the steel collar connected to the middle of the hanging chain, and snapped it around her neck with a loud click, forcing her to stand upright.
Charles turned to Elena.
Without warning he grabbed the front of her top and yanked it down hard over her still-taped hands, stripping it off completely. He then hooked his fingers under her bra, snapped the straps with a sharp tug, and pulled it down as well, leaving her bare from the waist up. He seized her left breast in a crushing grip and dragged her across the room by it, slamming her back against the opposite wall.
He didn’t chain her yet.
Instead, he squeezed as hard as he could.
Elena’s scream tore through the cottage — raw and shattering. “Please— stop! It hurts— oh God, please!”
Across the room, Sophia’s face crumpled. “Stop! Don’t hurt her!”
Charles ignored her. His fingers dug deeper, twisting slightly. Elena’s scream climbed higher, fresh pain exploding through her chest.
In the doorway, Camilla stood watching with quiet fascination, her head tilted slightly, eyes bright with interest.
Charles suddenly released Elena’s breast. Then his hand flew back and he began slapping her breasts hard — sharp, vicious strikes that echoed through the room. One after another, twenty times or more, the wet smacks landing on tender flesh. Elena screamed at the top of her lungs, her body jerking with every brutal slap.
When the slapping finally stopped, Charles grabbed both of Elena’s breasts again, squeezing with savage force. He looked straight at Sophia, his voice low and cold.
“Shut up.”
He kept squeezing, harder and harder, until Sophia’s voice broke off into helpless, choking sobs. Only then did he ease the pressure.
Elena sagged against the cold concrete, gasping and sobbing, tears pouring down her face. Her breasts were bright red and throbbing with pain.
Charles reached for the steel collar hanging from the chain on the wall. He snapped it around Elena’s neck with a loud, final click, locking her in place against the wall just like Sophia.
Only then did he step back, breathing steady, and look at them both with calm satisfaction.
“You two get comfortable,” he said quietly. “We’ll be back soon.”
Camilla moved to the door. Charles turned and stepped out. Camilla followed right behind, pulling the heavy steel door shut. The two locks clicked into place one after the other — first the lighter one, then the heavier, more final sound that seemed to seal the room completely.
The women were now left alone in the brightly lit room — bare-breasted, hands still taped behind their backs, steel collars locked around their necks, bodies trembling. They could only stand against their respective walls, forced to face each other across the bed. For a long moment the only sounds were their ragged breathing and quiet weeping.
Sophia’s voice finally broke the silence, small and shaking.
“Mom… I’m really scared.”
Elena’s eyes filled with fresh tears. Too terrified to risk making a sound, she mouthed the words slowly and clearly, her lips trembling: Me too…
The silent reply hung between them — raw, helpless, and heartbreaking. Mother and daughter could only stare at each other, both trapped in the same bright, merciless light, their shared terror the only thing they still had.