Blind.
Her eyes were closed and she could not force them open.
Deaf.
She could not hear her attacker moving closer.
Mute.
She could not scream.
Immobile.
She could not move.
She could feel. She could feel her attacker's hands brushing her face. Her attacker's tongue lapping gently at her jaw. Hands working at the buttons on her shirt. Breathing in her ear. She implored her body to cooperate; to see, to hear, to scream, to move. The hands moved to her arms…
…
Integra sat bolt upright, flinging her telephone to the floor as she swept her arms across her desk. The telephone smashed against the wall and clattered to the floor. Integra clutched her chest.
"Yes. Just a dream. Nothing to worry about." She played with the bandage on her neck and collected herself.
A knock at the door. "Sir Integra, are you alright? I heard a crash." Walter poked his head into Integra's office.
"Yes, Walter, I'm fine. I had a little start, that's all." She lit a cigar. "Thank you for your concern."
Walter ducked out graciously, withholding his questions, and when he was gone, Integra dropped her head into her hands, unaware of the eyes that watched her.
…
Blind.
Deaf.
Immobile.
This time, she could speak. She begged to be let go, to be unharmed. The hands would not listen. She felt a hand in her shirt, slipping off her sleeves. She felt a cold tongue on her chest, fought back revulsion. She tried to struggle. The hands moved to her hips…
…
Integra shook as she regained control of her heartbeat. She flashed back to the bubbancy's nefarious attempt to drain her blood. Her hands had been like ice, her tongue even worse. Integra found herself struggling not to vomit as she collected the papers that she had flung off the desk. Walter once again knocked, and was dismissed.
"Perhaps I should try sleeping in my bed tonight…" Integra staggered out of her office, eyes following her every move as she drifted back to sleep.
…
Blind.
Immobile.
She had the privilege of sound tonight. She could hear her attacker moving closer, could feel the hands worrying at the button on her pants. A tongue flicked out on her jaw and traced up to her ear. She could feel the breathing once again. She willed her eyes to work.
They opened as a voice asked…
"How does it feel to be in my control, Master?..."
…
And for the first time since she was a very little girl, Integra cried.