~~~WARNING~WARNING~WARNING~~~

This chapter contains content that is NOT suitable for anyone under the age of 18, and contains content that may be disturbing to the readers! If you are faint hearted, grossed out easily, or an uber-feminist who will hunt me down for the use of FGM/FGC in this chapter, then DON'T READ IT!

~~~WARNING~WARNING~WARNING~~~

Painful Dreams

Tanya awoke, but did not stir. She should have forgotten everything; the night, the flowers, and being carted off by a complete stranger. She wished she could forget it now. Her mind had been clearer in those few moments then ever in her life. She could clearly make out the man's face, even in the darkness. He was close enough to her she thought he might kiss her. She could see every feature; his lips chiseled into one expression and even when he laughed he did not smile, his eyes were dark, almost entirely black with only a thin layer of brown between it and the white. His expression had been harsh, unforgiving, and familiar. Too familiar. She recognized his face now, as she thought back on it all. He had been there at the club, sitting in the front row. Not just tonight, but every night for the past few weeks. He was her stalker.

'Is it still tonight,' Tanya thought to herself. She remembered being carried, and then nothing. She had blacked out. But why? Nothing made sense. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid this dream sequence was real. So she lay there for hours, concentrating on keeping her breathing slow.

It was rough fingers caressing her lips that brought her focus back to reality. Did he know she was faking it? "Still alive, my love. Soon, when you wake… We will be together at last," he whispered to her 'sleeping' form. The hand left her face, but then retouched her skin just below the nape of her neck. Tanya suddenly realized that she had left the club with no top on. She shifted microscopically, and realized she now had less even then when she left. She had nothing covering her skin what so ever.

He had taken off her clothes? What else had he done while she was blacked out? So many questions. At some point she would have to stir, and face the answers to them. His hands moved slowly, methodically, down her neck. He caressed her breasts softly with his calloused hands. She couldn't help but shiver, and decided now would be the best time to "wake up." She moaned slightly, and shifted. His hand jerked away from her, and she heard his footsteps as he paced off.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was staring at a crudely lit white ceiling. The mattress she lay on was stiff, down feathers that had been compressed and hardened flat. As she shifted to sit up she heard chains rattling. Her eyes flew to the chains hanging off the cement wall, holding the frame of the bed off the ground. 'I guess hospital is eliminated,' she thought to herself. She finished sitting up, and turned to face the room.

A prison cell.

She thought she might cry suddenly. She was in jail? No, worse. The cell was surely no longer a part of any prison. The walls were crumbling, metal bars rusted. The lock chained to the doors was new. The bunk mates' bed had been torn down, and the chains had been lengthened, with hand cuff styled shackles on the end of them.

Adjusting something on the shackles, the man who had taken her here stood several feet away. She could make him out now. He was tall, and muscular. His appearance was quite bulky, but not over weight. It was all muscle. His top was off, and she could make out scars etched into his back. Four to five lines in each grouping drawn down; finger nail marks. Someone had clawed at his back hard enough to make him bleed, to leave a permanent scar. Each was spaced closely together, like the hands were quite small. A woman's hands perhaps? No. A girl. Several girls perhaps. Some of the markings matched, and others were tighter together, or spaced out more.

He stood, still holding the shackles in his hands. Instinctively, her arms wrapped over her chest and her legs pressed together tightly. He turned to her, the same dark expression she remembered from the night. She looked towards the door, but it was locked tightly. There was no point of running. He was surely stronger, and his long legs would cross the floor quicker than hers. Fear kept her in her place on the bed anyhow. She didn't think she could move.

"You look terrified, love." He whispered. His voice was low, but fierce. She could hear the malice in it. "Don't be scared, I won't hurt you." Her eyes were on the chains in his hands now. He followed her gaze, and his expression changed suddenly. He was grinning. He was at her side, and before she had time to process what was going on, he had the shackles tightened to her wrists. She yelped slightly, like a whipped pup, and tried to tug her hands free of the wrist links. The chains rattled around. They were already taught, only long enough to reach the bed, and maybe let her lay down there if she angled her arms correctly. She gave up, and looked up at the man still grinning before her.

"What do you want?" She managed, and her voice sounded off. Hoarse. She sounded like she had strep throat, but she felt fine. She cleared her throat softly.

"What do you mean? What do I want; you make it sound like I want to take something from you! I want to give you something instead; love."

"That's okay… I was happy before." Her voice sounded normal again, though it wavered slightly.

"Liar! I watched you. You were sad. I could see it in your eyes every time you danced. You don't have to dance anymore though, love. That is why I chose you. To free you."

She couldn't think of how to respond to that, and stayed quiet. This was his idea of freedom? Chaining her up, in a cell, with a single 'bed' and a toilet in the corner. Some sick joke this all was. And why should she accept this all so easily? Any normal person would put up a fight, would try to escape. No, none of this was normal. And it hit her. 'I'm dreaming!' she thought. She had passed over the idea before, but it seemed to fit. An odd dream, nightmare even. But, surely a nightmare at least. The last thing she remembered for sure before this was being dizzy, and a man carrying her. Maybe to the hospital, or somewhere safe. She had seen the man's face, and that was surely why she dreamt it now.

She stared at him, her face contorted into a frown, her eyes wide but not entirely fearful. "Speak!" he demanded. She shook her head. "You should be grateful; I saved your miserable life!" He raised his voice more, even more menacing now.

"When I wake up from this, I will thank you. When this odd nightmare ends." She said it matter-of-factly. He stared at her, his expression changing momentarily to confusion.

Then suddenly he smirked, and moved closer to her till he was inches away from her face. She back up against the wall, and turned her face away from his. Dream or not, she didn't want him to kiss her. Without a word, he reached to a pouch on his belt, and withdrew a large buck knife.

She lurched off the bed with a terrified scream, dodged around him and raced toward the iron doors. She didn't know why, if she were sticking to the dream theory. Still, it seemed instinct. She made it just before the gates, before the chains on her wrists caught and she fell over, with the force the shackles had when she ran. She lay stunned on the cold cement floor, feeling the cold on every surface of her bare backside, unable to move her arms with the shackles chained to her wrists pulling them taught above her head. It hurt; she felt the pain of the cement hitting her. You couldn't feel pain in dreams.

Before she could register that he had moved, he was at her side. He pushed her legs apart quickly, and then knelt on her knees so she could not bend her legs to stand up. She started to scream, and wriggle beneath him. "GET OFF!" She shouted, and tried to knock him from her knees. He pulled her slightly forward, tightening the binds around her. With the knife in one hand, he reached his other hand between her open legs and pinched her clitoris between his fingers.

Her screams turned to shrieks, and she tried to buck harder against him to knock him off, but to no avail. The tension on her was incredible. Her eyes were wild with terror and fear. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She screamed. He didn't answer, and she spat at him, hitting his face, but he ignored it. He paid no attention to her at all, and without a word he raised the knife, and pulled hard on her clitoris. She gasped and closed her eyes tight.

"You aren't dreaming, are you?" He laughed as he brought the knife down to her, and in one slice cut off the top layer of skin on the clitoris. The shriek of pain she let out was blood curdling, and went on for several moments until her voice ran hoarse from the tears. She hadn't even known she was crying till then. She gasped for air, but it came in ragged and awkward. Her eyes began to swim and cloud over, and through the searing hot pain she welcomed the darkness. He stood up, and she watched him, through her blurring vision, towering over her with blood down his chest. Free of him, she began to writhe in the pain, her body contorting awkwardly. He tossed aside the knife, and the sound it made as it clattered to the ground seemed amplified in her head.

When would the pain end, she wondered in misery? When would she finally black out!

He unfasined his pants and stepped out of them. His boxers were bulging outwards. Her pain was his little blue pill. He pushed the boxers off as well, and kicked them onto his pants. She looked up at him, still writhing on the floor in agony. 'Are you serious?' She groaned to herself. She rolled to one side, and vomited. He pulled her back to the position he had her for the surgery, taught and unable to move much. He knelt over her again, farther up her body this time, and she could feel his stiff dick rubbing against her skin. As he pressed it against her still bleeding clit, the pain surged back through her body, and she finally blacked out.

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A/N: Yeah, it got more graphic. Thanks to my reviewers, hope this chapter didn't scare you off. It is a horror after all. And it's longer! … Is that a good thing in this case?

At any rate, here are some definitions.

FGM= Female Genital Mutilation

FGC=Female Genital Cutting

The terms are used to describe a practice in cultures when they essentially circumcise a girl, for cleansing. It also happens to make sex and any contact down there painful. It's to make sex hurt, to prevent women from finding ANY pleasure in the act.

Disturbing thing is it's still practiced in places like Africa, or the Middle East.

So yeah, you read, now Review!