Tears poured down her ravaged face, but it made no difference. There was no mercy here.
Her captor had beaten her savagely, to the point of unconsciousness, before suddenly relenting. Madelaine remained tied to her chair, naked, bruised and shivering, but her captor had loosened the bonds to one of her wrists, bringing her free hand up to rest on a small table he’d pushed next to her. Her eyes were glued to the hideous cleaver that lay on the battered surface close by, but he seemed momentarily to have forgotten about it. He seemed much more interested in her.
He held her hand in his, seemingly delighted to see that it was shaking.
‘Are you scared, Madelaine?’
Madelaine made a strange noise – half sob, half affirmation.
‘You should be.’
She could see his stained teeth break into a smile, even as another sob crept from her.
‘Let’s play a game,’ he continued brightly.
‘I don’t want to …’
‘Normally I start with the tongue, but today I’ll make an exception.’
‘Please don’t hurt me.’
But he ignored her, continuing to cradle her hand, running his finger over her thumb.
‘This little piggy went to market …’
He slid on to her index finger.
‘This little piggy stayed at home …’
‘No …’
‘This little piggy had roast beef …’
‘Please … no …’ she gasped, louder this time.
‘And this little piggy had none …’
He passed from her fourth to her pinkie finger.
‘And this little piggy went wee, wee, wee, all the way home.’
Still clutching her pinkie, he reached for the cleaver. Madelaine screamed – long, loud, terrified – but he seemed not to hear her. Placing the blade on the base of her finger, he took aim, lifted the cleaver, then brought it back down sharply. Madelaine erupted – her keening howls masking the soft ‘plump’ as her severed finger hit the plastic sheeting beneath.
A moment’s dull shock, then a savage flame of agony. The pain was unbearable and for a moment Madelaine lost consciousness, blacking out briefly before sliding hideously back into the present. Now she started to babble, pleading with her captor for mercy, invoking everything she held dear, but that only seemed to excite him further. To her utter horror, she saw the makings of an erection in the taut groin of his boiler suit.
Madelaine screamed once more, screamed till her lungs burned. She felt dizzy, numb – she was assailed by the deepest despair and prayed that her heart would give out, that she would escape this awful nightmare. But her captor wouldn’t allow it, slapping her hard to stop her shrieking. This silenced her momentarily, but before long she was spluttering and growling out her anguish and fury. Such was the agony that it was impossible to keep quiet, she desperately needed some kind of release. But none was forthcoming.
‘Now then, Madelaine …’ Her captor was purring now, taking her bloody hand firmly in his grip once more. ‘Are you ready to play again?’