Ivy and Torque

Ivy hangs helpless in the dark room, ropes cutting into her wrists and ankles. Torque circles her. The cane cracks across her bare skin. She jerks hard against the ropes but bites her lip to keep quiet. Every time a cry slips out he grabs the hose and blasts her face with icy water, cutting off her air and sound at once. He lets her down just long enough to drag her across his lap. She’s already shaking. His fingers dig into her ribs and she starts laughing through clenched teeth. The laughter turns ragged. He pins her wrists behind her back and keeps tickling until tears streak her face. Then he wraps her tight in plastic, arms bound to her sides, legs pressed together. Only her face stays uncovered. He lifts her like a package and drops her straight into the full tub. Bubbles rush up around her wrapped body. He holds her under, counting the seconds while her chest heaves against the tight plastic, desperate for one breath she can’t reach.