The King’s Bitch

I remembered the day the jury had found me guilty, and how the breath had been expelled out of my lungs at the bang of the gavel. I’d felt alarmingly winded, so much so that I thought I’d never be able to draw the next breath. That I’d expire right there in the courtroom as the bailiff put the handcuffs on me. I experienced the same loss of breath now, that same winded feeling. My world teetered on the edge of a sharp blade. One misstep and I would half myself right down the middle. 

I gaped at Schneider, slack-jawed. I searched his eyes to see if he was really being serious, or to check he wasn’t under the influence. There was just no way he was being serious. But the King looked as serious as a heart attack, his gaze level with mine, unwavering.  

He really was offering to free me of the handcuffs and ‘protect’ me in return for… for… 

I recalled the hungry kiss he stole from my lips when we’d first met, and a hot liquid pooled in the pit of my stomach in reaction. It had been… quite something. 

So, he wanted more. Much more. 

At the realization, memories of my assault rose up my throat like bile, fresh and potent, suffocating me. I nearly hurled. Hideous flashbacks blindsided me, sending ice-cold chills up and down my spine. The thought of something like that, being forced to do something sexual against my will, crippled me. I couldn’t find my voice, but God knew I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself if he thought I’d ever agree to something like this. Never again would I allow myself to fall into the same trap and undergo the same terror and indignity. Never again would I blindly walk into a room without checking first. Never again would I trust anyone in this whole goddamn building. 

“Y-You…” I said breathlessly, searching for my voice and the right words to fling his way. 

Go fuck yourself! 

You’re out of your damned mind if you think I’ll agree to something like this! 

Are you insane?! 

I will never-

Schneider said in a voice so low, I barely heard him, “Play along.”

I blinked. “What?” 

Schneider glared at me. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed, and then looked around us to check if anyone had heard him. 

What the hell was he saying?! Had he gone mad? For all I knew, he had always been this demented. Schneider wasn’t just proving to be someone unpredictable; he was someone I didn’t really know aside from a few newspaper articles and our brief, often strange encounters.  

“Julian, I need you to play along with me,” he whispered close to my ear, blowing hot breath into my ear and making me shiver, and then he said loudly so that everyone else heard, “So, what will it be? Are you going to be my bitch?”

For some reason, this seemed to excite the prison population. The inmates hooted and hollered, shouting bawdy things that would make a sailor blush. 

“Yeah, make ‘em your bitch, Schneider!”

“Tap that ass!” 

“That’s a fine ass, indeed. I see why you want him.” 

“Hey, boss, can we have a taste?”

“Yeah, I want a taste of that fine white-collar ass! Feed him some of my blue-collar dick!” 

The cellblock exploded in thunderous laughter at the rebauld insinuation. 

Had I not been too shocked by Schneider’s ‘request’, I would have blushed crimson and melted into a puddle of shame right where I stood. 

My eyes narrowed on him in suspicion as my mind raced through what he’d just asked me to do. 

Play along, he’d said. Julian, I need you to play along with me.

Play along, like this was a game… or a ruse. But a ruse for what? To get me to safety? 

“You want to live long enough to appeal your sentence, don’t you? I’m trying to help you here.”

Oh, my God. 

It dawned on me then, and relief blossomed inside me like a white poppy. I exhaled a shuddering breath, the tension in my chest lessening somewhat. He was just pretending to make me his bitch in front of the guards! 

Still, the tension wasn’t completely gone. I had my doubts; it was only normal, logical even. It would be a mistake to trust an inmate blindly. Especially one as fearsome as Schneider. 

But an inmate as fearsome as Schneider could get any… um, bitch he wanted. At least half the inmates would probably be very willing. He wasn’t someone who needed to chase someone across an entire cellblock to get them to be their bitch. Hopefully, he really was doing this out of the kindness of his criminal heart, and not because he wanted something from me. 

For some reason, that didn’t accomplish much in the way of making me feel better about this ‘arrangement’. 

I searched his face for a sign that this was indeed a ruse, a ploy he’d assembled on the spot to ‘help’ me. My mind recalled every single one of our meetings. While he’d certainly seemed dangerous from the very first moment we met in the visitation room, I had to admit that none of that danger had been directed at me. 

“Why are you helping me?” I asked softly. 

Our eyes met briefly. “Cause I like you.” And then he winked at me. 

I ignored the strange tightening in my chest, attributing it to the residue tension in my body. 

“What’s it gonna be?” Schneider asked again, loudly. 

“Come on, little guy! Ain’t no one better than the King!”

“If you’re gonna be someone’s bitch, you might as well be the King’s.”

“Or you can be mine! I’ll take real good care of you.” 

“Shut up, Bob.” 

“I…” I looked around me, scanning the cruel, unforgiving faces of the guards surrounding us. They didn’t look all too happy about their hands being stilled, their twitching hands resting on their holstered tasers and batons. But somehow I instinctively knew that they would not touch anything of Schneider’s. They wouldn’t dare. So long as I was his pretend bitch, they’d leave me be. In fact, if the rumor was to be believed, no one in this prison would lay a hand on me either. It was the law here -probably the only law that was honored.  

And wasn’t that all I wanted?  

You want to live long enough to appeal your sentence, don’t you? I’m trying to help you here.

“I’ll be your bitch,” I said.  

Schneider’s eyes flashed, glowing brightly for a second. His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. 

My heart stuttered. 

The crowd cheered, as if this was a high school and I’d just agreed to go to Prom with the most loveable boy in school. The guards didn’t look pleased at all. They’d just lost their chance to get back at the man who killed their raping buddy. 

“Hold out your hands.” 

I did as Schneider told me to. He slipped the tiny metal key into the lock and twisted. As my shackles fell away, new ones rose to replace them. I was now the Royal Bitch. Pretend or otherwise, I would have to play the part convincingly.