Writing? Torture. Hotel? Trivago.

Dawn dared to smirk up at her handler. Unlike her, whose status as a pet was made clear by the collar around her neck, the man’s place as a servant of the vampires was simply marked by a subtle tattoo on his left wrist. Dawn often caught herself staring at it. It was near the only thing she could remember how to read. The words on the marking ran through her head like stampeding buffalo, only twice as loud.

‘Briar’

That was the name she heard called at him every other day, when the auction master came in to check on her ‘merchandise’, as she put it. Oh, how Dawn dreaded those days. Every single pet, chained and on their knees in the middle of their cells, right beside their handlers.

Fortunately, she’d made her rounds yesterday, allowing Dawn a brief respite from her suffering.

“Mutt, if I have to tell you to get up one more time-”

Dawn rolled her eyes as Briar’s harsh voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She remained kneeling on the bloodstained marble floor of the main room. Pets were rarely allowed in the main room, save for exclusive clients to take a close look at them. The only other exception was for discipline by the security guards, which Dawn had a healthy dose of.

“You can’t make me do jack shit, traitor.” Stare straight ahead, show no fear.

She grinned a little, only to receive a harsh kick to her back, and a sharp yank on her chain. Facing her tormentor, her grin only grew wider and more daring.

“That all you got?”

A sharp gasp of pain and shock found its way through Dawn’s lips as an object was pressed against her back. She held in a scream of agony as it remained there, unyielding. It was burning hot and ice cold at once, like the rain in summer.

Eventually, Briar removed the accursed item and held it in front of Dawn’s face. A rod of pure silver, given to the handlers to help keep werewolves under control. Other handlers were hesitant to use it, a tool that even their vampiric masters feared. Briar was not. He feared nothing, and if he did, it was well hidden.

The burn on Dawn’s back slowly began to heal itself, though nowhere near as fast as it would if she was in good health. She made a pitiful attempt to glare at Briar, only for her head to be forced back down as his grip on the silver implement of torture tightened just enough to be visible.

“Up.”

Dawn begrudgingly rose to her feet, her legs ready to give out under her as the pain in her upper back throbbed. So much for an easy day.

’Could’ve been worse,’ Dawn thought. ’Could’ve been the Lady…’

“Now what’s this?”

A feminine voice resounded through the room as the clicking of stiletto heels grew louded. Dawn’s eyes widened in terror as a woman approached her. Before her stood the auction master herself, in all of her horrifying glory. She stood over a foot taller than Dawn, looming over her like the hauntingly beautiful, merciless goddess she was.

She grinned, taking great pleasure in the werewolf’s obvious discomfort. A pale, slender hand laid on the back of Dawn’s neck, who stood perfectly still.

“Good girl,” she purred. The auction master affectionately stroked the werewolf’s dark brown hair, twirling it in her fingers and giving it a few gentle tugs. Her hand trailed down to Dawn’s back, directly onto the burn she’d been given by her handler. “Or perhaps not, hm?”  

A low growl was caught in Dawn’s throat, a mixture of pain and anger. The auction master gripped her chin, forcing her head upwards.

“Guards,” she spoke, in the cold, dangerous voice that Dawn had learned to fear. “I want twenty lashes for this one. Perhaps you’ll be able to beat the defiance out of her.”

“Wait, ma’am, please, I was just-” 

A slap to Dawn’s cheek silenced the werewolf, as the two guards that stood in her cell dragged her off to the main room. The last thing she saw before the doors closed was the dark, sadistic grin of the auction master.

The main room was precisely what one would’ve thought it to look like. The same polished marble floors as the rest of the auction house, with several expensive rugs and lavish furniture. Along the walls hung several ‘training implements’, as the auction master liked to call them. 

Dawn was shoved onto the floor by a guard, ignoring her loud cry as her knees hit the ground. She attempted to distract herself from the pain she knew was to come by counting the veins in the marble. It reminded her of the ancient Greek temples she’d read about so long ago. The auction master liked to play god, and every single guard and handler was her disciple.

The werewolf was so lost in her own thoughts and distractions, she was caught off guard by the first strike of the whip.

“Count them,” one of the guards told her, her voice dripping with disdain. Dawn knew these two by name. Both vampires, though not for very long. Human handlers, willing to betray their own kind in order to freely express their twisted, sadistic desires. 

Dawn’s silence was all the incentive the guards needed to amplify their torment. One of them kicked her in the stomach, knocking her onto her side.

“She told you to count them,” the male guard sneered. “Are you stupid or something? Count.” He loudly cracked the whip in the air for emphasis. When Dawn gave no response, the vampire growled and kicked her once more, sending her laying on her back. “These walls may be your prison, but they are our freedom to do to you as we please. And we have all the time in the world.”

Dawn breathed heavily. “And?” 

“And I think you need to be taught a lesson in respect.”

Before Dawn could process what was happening, she was being held up by a guard as one of her tormentors approached her with a blade. No matter how she thrashed around, the grip on her arms only tightened as the sharp object drew nearer. Rather than cutting her flesh, however, the guard went straight for her clothes. Dawn’s bloodstained white gown fell to the floor as she screamed and begged for mercy.

No, no, no, not like, this, oh god, please, not like this.

Dawn continued to plead for mercy that never came. The auction master’s self-centered paradise was a temple of it’s own misery and suffering, but there was nothing holy within these walls build from the tears of long lost innocence and abandoned hope. 

“Ready to count for us, mutt?” 

Dawn turned to the guards, looking up towards their hyena-like grins. The pair surrounded her like wolves to a wounded rabbit. She grinned right back.

“Never.”