Nowhere

Chapter 1-2

When next Matthew opened his eyes, it was in a bleak room of stone. To his left, on the wall, there was a row of small, glassless windows about half a metre in height and so narrow, only a small child could hope to fit through. Pale sunlight streamed in, yet it barely illuminated more than half the area. The rest of the room, the part he could see, appeared just as stark. No paintings, no furnishings other than the bed he lay on and not even a door, although he assumed there had to be one somewhere.

As his senses returned he realised his hands had been tethered behind his back. Craning his neck, he could see they had been chained to a ring in the wall about a metre from where his head rested on a shapeless pillow. His first instinct was to struggle. Only then did he see that his ankles had been manacled and chained to the bedposts. He struggled despite the iron, throwing his body about on the thin mattress and tugging at the restraints until he was beaded with sweat and the ligaments in his neck, tested to their limits, began to throb.

“I wouldn’t waste my time.”

The voice halted Matthew’s efforts. His eyes darted about the dark spaces beside his bed and found movement. He stared into the darkness.

“Who’s there? Where am I? What are you doing to me?”

He pulled at the chains once more.

“So many questions,” replied the voice.

Matthew squinted, but could still see nothing except the riot of shadows that swathed a good half of the room.

“Come out where I can see you,” demanded Matthew.

There was a whisper, a quiet exhalation, and a tall, muscular figure moved out from the sanctuary of the shadows. As he stepped further into the light, Matthew could see the man was wearing a pair of studded, black, leather forearm guards, a black leather mask which hid his eyes, and a pair of large, sturdy black leather boots. His body was muscular in the manner of a prize body builder and his c**k, uncut and thick although flaccid, hung over the lowest set of shaven balls Matthew had ever seen.

“Where am I?” Matthew asked again.

“You are nowhere.”

Matthew felt his heart beat a little quicker. He glanced about the room. “But…” He was obviously somewhere. He swallowed hard to lubricate his mouth. “How did I get here?”

“You should know. We found you at the gates.”

Matthew frowned. For a moment he closed his eyes to concentrate better. How could he have arrived here on his own when he didn’t even know where ‘here’ was? He’d been in the forest. Running. He’d fallen.

“But where am I? I must be somewhere.”

The man took a step forward until his over-sized c**k was inches from Matthew’s face.

“You won’t find it on any map,” he said, his voice deep and menacing. “But you found it nevertheless.”

Matthew struggled against the chains once again, then relented.

“Then if you won’t tell me where I am, tell me who you are? What’s your name?”

“My name’s Kell.”

“And how long am I to be chained up like this, Kell?”

Kell reached down and twisted one of Matthew’s n*****s.

Matthew jerked himself away as best he could.

“Until I’m told to release you. The Master doesn’t take kindly to trespassers.”

“I wasn’t trespassing,” said Matthew. “I don’t even know how I got here. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

“But Matthew, isn’t being here preferable to being dead?”

“How did you…?” He was going to ask Kell how he knew he was planning to kill himself when he realised he’d been addressed by name. “…know my name?”

“There are very few secrets here,” Kell replied before turning and walking back towards the shadows.

“Hey wait! Come back.”

Matthew heard the creaking of a door and a soft click as it was pulled shut. Only seconds into the silence Matthew realised his bladder was demanding to be emptied. He began shouting and pulling once again at the chains, but Kell had gone. It was abundantly clear he’d just have to hold on for as long as he could and hope his jailor returned before it was too late