Warning, please read first: This is a story involving both sex slavery/abuse and the aftermath of someone who's experienced it. I mean no disrespect to those who are offended by/have experienced this, and have portrayed it as cleanly as possible. Please read at your own risk. Thanks :)
Chapter One
Descent
This was not what I'd wanted.
The hands that groped, searched, and found. The mouth that whispered dirty things in my ear, sucked on my lips and skin, burned words of despair into my mind. The people who did these things to me, who took what wasn't theirs to take, who used me day and night, whenever and wherever they pleased. They were my torturers, only it was a different kind of torture. And they knew this. And they loved it. They relished every second of my breaking, over and over again it would happen, with each new hand that caressed by lips, my cheek, the inside of my thigh-
When I'd made my birthday wish on the eve of my twentieth year, I had not expected nor thought anything past the fact that it was a silly tradition, something my family had always done before a birthday. 'Make a wish', my mother would say, 'before the moon has fully risen, make a wish for yourself'. A frivolous wish, one that, over time, I learned would never come true. As a young girl, I'd pleaded for ponies and princes, ribbons of silk and clothing fashioned from gold. And I received none of it. As I grew older, I began to wish for more practical things: a new hand-mirror, some extra money for cloth, to fashion a dress from- things that I knew I would one day likely receive without the help of some fraud wish. But on the eve of my twentieth birthday, something came over me, some inexplicable feeling. I wanted to go somewhere, anywhere. I couldn't bear thinking of living the rest of my pointless life in such a small, boring village. My brother had recently departed to the great city of Men, Gondor, on what he called an "adventure". And so that night, that is what I wished for. An adventure of my own. Imagine the great shock that came to me when my wish came true the next day. Or did it? When I'd wished for "adventure", being kidnapped was not what I'd had in mind.
His hands were everywhere on me. With one palm he covered my mouth, so that I could not make a noise, could not scream. The other hand he let dance along the side of my face, down my neck, lingering on my breasts before it continued its journey across my stomach. His fingers ghosted along my inner thighs and I wanted to die. My heart was beating so hard it hurt, it hurt so bad. Why was this happening? What- I had never done anything to deserve this! The hand over my mouth clamped down harder, cutting off my horrified cry as the hand caressing me was replaced with something else.
No.
Please no, don't do this to me.
The man laughs. I cry.
I was taken on my birthday, stolen from where I sat by the side of the road, picking berries from one of the many bushes that grew there. They were to be the topping to my cake that my mother had baked so lovingly. Now they rot on the side of the road, spilling from my overturned basket. There wasn't even much of a struggle, which I hate myself for. After years of wrestling with my brother, I couldn't even last five minutes with my assailants. There was three of them, I always tell myself, though it never makes me feel any better. I was hit over the head with something hard, and the next time I woke up, I was in a different world.
They are rough. Too rough. There will be bruises. I will hurt terribly tomorrow morning. I wish they'd stop. A long time ago I gave up begging, gave up pleading and crying. I think they liked it when I did that- begged and cried, I mean. At least now, with me being as silent as I possibly can manage, they won't succeed in making me grovel in the dirt like some animal. That is what I am after all, isn't it? Some animal, who is kept locked up and out of sight until it is needed. I want to cry out, to let them know how badly they are hurting me as they have their way, but that would only make things worse. No, I must stay silent, I must stay strong. But already my strength is waining. It's been weeks- how much longer will I be able to take this before there is nothing left but the shell of who I once was? The thought frightens me; is the reason I am up in the small hours before dawn. How long until I am no longer myself?
The men who have taken me are from the South, I can tell by their accents. Tall, heavily muscled, with stinking, tangled hair and rotting teeth, and undeniably evil. They don't even bother answering my questions, simply smack me several times to shut me up, then get in my face and tell me "how it's gonna go".
"We gon' take you, put your 'air up, maybe put you in a be'er dress, make you nice an' pre'y. Then a'fer that, it's to the 'ighest bidder you go. Sound righ' lass? Now no screamin', an' no fussin', or you'll 'ave us to answer too."
And even though I screamed and fought, I was easily overpowered. The first night I was sold to an older man, from some town by a lake. He was well dressed, and, mercifully, much cleaner than the others that were there to buy. But what consolation is that, when such a heavy price must be payed from me?
"Now girl, stop yer cryin'. I didn't pay for a waterfall, I payed for a virgin."
He was gruff; very cold hearted. I was destroyed that night, all for a mere seven gold coins.
The selling went on every night at dusk. I would be one of the last girls put up, since my inexperience made me the more valuable of the bunch. I had not thought that the second night could ever possibly be worse than the first. How sadly mistaken I can be at times.
I was not even five minutes alone in a room with the man who was to bed me when the door to the room came crashing down. At first I thought it was my papa, come to save the day. Then when I didn't recognize my father, I thought it was my brother. But fate can be icily cruel at times. Turns out, the man who had purchased my services, as the slave traders so artfully called it, had payed with coins of not gold, but dyed bronze. I was ripped from the bed, only to be thrown to the floor. My captor, in his anger, killed the man, before falling upon me. It was painful, the most painful thing I've ever experienced. Scars were left, both physical and mental, that will never heal.
Not ever.
Days faded to weeks, and weeks to months. I was kept in dirty room after dirty room, flitting from town to town, wherever my captors felt like taking me. Every night I cried, every dawn I told myself to stay strong, only to break down and end up begging any deity that cared to listen to just keep me sane. Keep me myself. My hair grew long and tangled, my face turned a shade darker from all the dirt caked into my skin- I only received a bath once or twice a month.
It hurt to move- to walk, to sit, to sleep. On the first day of the third month, I began to wish- how ironic- that I would be rescued somehow. By the end of the first week I changed tactics, wishing instead that I would die, peacefully, in my sleep. That was my greatest wish, one that I put all my soul into. And then that too changed. I cared not for where I died nor when, only that it would happen as soon as possible. The fates mocked me, granting none of these wishes, leaving me to become the shell I was destined to be.
And then, one night halfway into the fourth month... I wished again for something hopeful. It was pointless, really. After the man who'd bought my body- I refused to refer to it as "services"- had fallen asleep, and was snoring into his pillow, I lay awake, wincing as I shifted, staring out of the grimy window at the moon. It was rising in the cloudless sky, glowing down at me from far away, from freedom. How many times had I tried to escape (they locked the door, and were always watchful of the windows, I soon learned), and yet here was the moon, so close yet so far, mocking me with its liberty. I closed my eyes, and wished. Let me be free, free as the moon. Let me escape this hole of despair, and find a place of peace. All I wish for is peace, and warmth, and love. How I had taken it for granted in my past life. I fell asleep that night with a small hope in my heart, the first in many days, though I did not want to think of the ever nudging thought that even if I ever did get free, I would not be the same person. I was broken, fractured, and I wasn't too sure if I could be repaired.
This was all, of course, before I met him. Before he saved me from this wretched life, though at the time I was far more a shell than I'd thought, to realize what was in front of me. Or rather, who was in front of me.
This idea had been stuck in my head for the longest time. I really wanted to try something that isn't, y'know, all light and fluffy and omgeverythingisamazing. So let me know if you liked it, depending on people's reactions, I may decide just stick to my other fic for now. I plan to have the next chapter up by tomorrow at the latest, which will have tons of protectivesavior!Fili, promise :) Reviews are loved!
