Plaything

Mia huddles in the dark dungeon, chained to the floor, praying he won't find her. But The Pope drags her into the light by the chain, inch by inch, no rush. Each new position locks her down tighter, takes away another inch of give. The pain builds slow and steady, the kind you can't brace for. She begs, her voice cracking, but nothing stops him. He keeps going until she's wrecked, trembling, and done, until her body remembers exactly who broke her.