Psycho bitches had great asses because I was an idiot falling back into old habits.

  In the days before my wife, I’d had a string of short relationships. I only say 'short' because slightly more than half lasted at least 2 days. This isn't counting the occasional one-nighters that came with the territory of work. You would be amazed at how a smile and a little bit of cash can get you a comfy bed to crash in, and since you were already there, an opportunistic girl might provide a little more, for a ‘fee,’ of course. And as always, ‘no questions asked.’

  To the current predicament, I had lied about redheads. Redheads, especially feisty ones, could, and would always, be a weakness of mine. Something about Mercy was particularly alluring. I could see us walking hand in hand on a beach somewhere. Her hair was down, cascading across her tanned skin in a backless white sundress.

  When I was thinking about how the dress would look on the floor, I was reminded of where I was, what was going on, and most importantly, what part Mercy was playing in it when I woke back up.

  I was still in my actual cell. This one had all the small details that Mercy’s illusory one lacked. This helped cement that she was an ‘Outworlder’ like me. Her powers were growing and not completely honed yet. Or she could be as young as she looked. Either way, the lingering desire represented by the dream remained.

  Like a good torturer, she kept me waiting. Like an experienced one, she didn’t keep me waiting long.

  She returned either later that day or early that morning. I still had not made my clock. However, judging by the faint whiff of coffee in the air, it was morning, or she was a night owl.

  In her shadow was the ever-present Boylan, looking angrier than last time.

  I stood as she approached, and the overgrown rump roast took his spot near the shadows.

  “Good morning, captive! Are we ready for today’s fresh round of hell?” She beamed.

  I sighed, “Of course, Mistress. This worthless shell is ready for whatever delights you care to present.”

  I replied with as much deadpan as possible.

  “It’s no fun unless you play.” She pouted in a not-Vex-like way.

  “I’m not going to play your games, Mercy. Do your worst. It will hurt. You will do more. It will hurt. Boylan will help. I will hurt. But in the end, I won’t break, and you will leave empty-handed. So, let’s get on with it so I can get back to figuring out how I will escape. And Napping.” I wasn’t really done, but I wanted to go up the ante. While I may not have anything pressing, torture gets boring over time.

  “Fine…I was hoping for an interesting day, but I’ll opt for a quick one.” Her nonchalance was actually more damaging than anything. It was like we were two teenagers flirting in the classroom. This was the torturer equivalent of ‘Whatever…it’s not like I think you are cute or anything.’

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  “Boylan…Beat him until he passes out.”

  “What if I kill him, Mistress?”

  “You won’t,” she said as she departed the room.

  My cage door opened, and the Bull stepped in, cracking his knuckles in a Hollywood fashion.

  He beat me, and I passed out from the pain or a concussion.

  The process continued for several weeks—a regular pattern of apathy and beatings. Half the time, Mercy didn’t even show up; it was just me and the cowboy.

  My new body was far more resilient than my human one. I should have died a few times over by now. With my senses muted, I couldn’t tell if there was healing magic in the cell, the collar, or if a healer showed up while I was out.

  I got my answer after the third week of beatings. It was well after Boylan lost his enthusiasm. He would hit me once or twice, and I would crumple. Sometimes, he would stand there for an hour or so and then walk out.

  Today, he walked in with Mercy and Healer Ker’n.

  The gnoll looked much the same as last time.

  “Ker’n, please fix him fully this time. I want to see his face again, in one piece.”

  “As you wish.” She replied and began casting her spells. I could tell she was casting. My senses had been getting stronger as I worked through the puzzle of runes around my neck. I wasn’t close to breaking it, much unlocking it, but I was beginning to push past it. It was similar to how I beat the common one Shy’rone had used, but this one was far more complex.

  I stood up as I felt my flesh knit back together, and even the old, half-healed injuries faded. I gave the healer a slight bow.

  “Thank you, Mistress Ker’n. For this, and I assume many other healings.”

  She was not amused nor pleased by my praise. She looked at me like the horse manure she had stepped in had thanked her for moving it from the road. She gave a silent half-snarl and excited the room with a swish of robes.

  “Your charming personality is why I had to instruct her to heal you. She was supposed to do it each time!” Mercy intoned her voice to carry out the door.

  The distant crashing of something that sounded expensive demonstrated that her statement found its intended target.

  She turned back to me.

  "She seems angry.”

  “You are a human; healing you is beneath her. Even I have difficulty when the need arises, despite being the Emir’s favorite—or perhaps because of it. It's no matter because today we move on to the next phase of You.”

  “Oh, joy. What fresh horror do you have in store?”

  “For the time being? Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I asked, slightly concerned.

  “Yes, I can admit when I am beaten. Pain does not affect you. It appears the witch was right. Truly, you are a monster.”

  “He who fights with monsters should tread carefully lest he become one,” I replied sagely.

  “True. So, for you, my dear monster, I will bring in the monster herself. I ride in the morning for my mentor, the Mistress Shira.”

  “M’lady? Truly you jest?” Boylan spoke from his place. He was clearly shaken at the mention of Shira.

  “I do not, Boyl. The Emir was displeased with my progress and sent for her. He informed me of this, amongst other failures, the past few evenings.” A small shudder passed through her body as she spoke the last part.

  “No…I am sorry, Lady Mercy. I have failed you, and I should have beaten him harder.” His concern was clear, followed by intense anger in my direction.

  “It is no matter. It was likely to have made little difference. Shiva will break him, and his worth will determine how many evenings I will need to cover her fee.” She said with resignation.

  I didn’t need to be a genius or a son-of-a-bitch to get the undercurrent. After all the pain she had caused, I should have been happy that she was getting what she deserved. I wasn’t. I was furious. Maybe it was the one last line that even I wouldn’t cross or the twisted attraction to the redhead. Something inside of me was breaking, and it took all I could to keep it in.

  As Mercy turned to leave and disappear for who knows how long, I still wanted one parting shot. A little bit of mindfuckery to last me. Especially if I wanted to escape and kill the Emir before she returned with something I couldn’t resist.

  “Hey, Merc, before you go, do you own a white sundress?”

  She answered with a coy smile over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

  “Of course.”