Author's Note: This chapter has a trigger warning for anyone who has been in an abusive relationship. Read at your own risk.
Also, I know that it doesn't seem particularly relevant to the fandom at the moment. There is little involvement of canon characters in this story. In the next few chapters, it will most definitely seem less like a random piece of non-relevant fiction.
She always did her best to be a good girl. Part of it was she didn't want to go back on the streets, but a larger part was her love for her master and her desire to please him. But today, something was difference. Everyone around could feel the uneasiness in the house, especially the young slave girl named Katya.
She was not sitting next to the door like she should've been when her master arrived home. She was curled in the pile of cloth that was her bed, sleeping. She was tired, which was unlike her, usually full of energy. Her master was not happy when he opened the door and didn't see the skinny brown-haired girl sitting, waiting for him. He rang the bell for her but she still remained in her sleeping place.
Again he rang the bell and this time she woke. But Katya was in a foul mood and rather than coming downstairs to greet her master, she stood at the top of the stairs and tossed a wadded-up ball of used underclothes at him before going back to her bed. At least, she started to go back to bed, but her master was quicker than she was and ran up the stairs after her.
He picked the girl up by her neck and slammed her into the wall, pressing the tip of the blade he always carried into her throat, drawing blood. Katya squirmed, whimpered, begged him to let her go, but he just tightened his grip on her neck. "Shut up, whore," he snarled at her, "you're my property, my slave. I can break you if I want to." He slammed the blade into the wall next to her, centimeters from her stomach, and let go of her neck, leaving her in a crumpled pile on the floor. "Put that away," he snapped, "and run me a bath." He turns and walks away, off to attend some sort of business.
Katya didn't stand up for a few minutes, but when she did she did her duties mechanically. She didn't know her master was watching her sadly, disappointed she'd broken. The girl put away her master's sword, lit the candles in the washroom, and filled the tub with hot water. It was too hot for someone to comfortably be in it – even her master – so she waited a little while to tell him it was ready.
In the meantime, she fell asleep.
At first, her master didn't notice how much time had passed since he'd told Katya to run the bath, but when it had taken more than twenty minutes, he knew something was … off. He went upstairs to the bathroom, where he found the little slave girl curled up in a pile of towels. The water was still warm, but he wasn't happy. He kicked the pile of towels and girl.
She screamed. "W-what did I do?" she mumbled when the pain in her side wore off enough. She rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep, and stood up.
Her master glared at her. "You should've fetched me when the bath was ready, slave," he growled. "Now go fetch the soap." As Katya left the room, her master stripped and slowly sat down in the bathtub. The young woman returned within a minute or so, her eyes on the ground, carrying the soaps like she'd been asked. She set them down on the edge of the tub and sat in her pile of towels, watching her master in a sad sort of way.
The dark-haired man waited a little while for his slave girl to start washing him before he prompted her. "Well, my pet, aren't you going to wash me?" he asked, smirking at her.
The girl blushed bright red. "I … n-no!" she squealed without thinking.
Her master looked at her for a second, then shook his head. "That was the wrong answer." He picked up a small candle, pushed the girl over, lifted her hair out of the way, and pressed the flame against the back of her neck.
She screamed. She screamed like she'd never screamed before. And he laughed. "Are you going to wash me now?" he asked, grinning. She nodded, crying soundlessly.
"I … I'm sorry, Master," she whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks. She picked up the sponge, poured the soap onto it, and began to rub it on her master's body mechanically, as if she wasn't real. When she'd washed his entire body and his hair, she sat back on her heels and looked at him for approval.
"Ah, ah, ah, you forgot something, slave," he said, a smirk in his voice and on his face. Katya's face became a mask of confusion, and her master reaches out toward her and traces his fingers over her lips. Her eyes widened.
"N-no, Master, please, I can't do that …" she whispered. Her master looked at her, then pointedly at another candle, and Katya knew what would happen if she didn't do as he said.
She leaned forward over the edge of the tub, opened and closed her mouth a few times before she was far enough over the edge to take the end of her master's cock in her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down, her fists balled up tight enough to leave bloody half-moons on her palms. But her gentle movements weren't enough for her master, and he grabbed her hair, forced her to take the entire length down her throat. She tried to pull away but he was too strong, and her master fucked her mouth until he came. Only then did he let go of her.
Katya looked at her master in horror. He was cruel, yes, but he'd never treated her like that. The girl turned to the side, curled over on herself, and threw up. Her master stood up and wrapped a towel around himself, looked at the sick girl in disgust, and walked out of the bathroom, tossing the words, "Clean that up, whore," over his shoulder. She did so, partly out of obedience and partly out of necessity, and curled up in her bed of cloth and cried herself to sleep.
She woke up screaming. She'd had a nightmare. She couldn't remember it exactly, but it was terrible and painful and made her want to die. Without thinking about the consequences, she ran to her master's bedroom.
She didn't bother to knock on the door, she just opened it and ran to her master and shook his shoulder. "Please wake up, Master, I had a bad dream," she whispered through tears. "Please…"
Her master did indeed wake up, and he was angry. "Why are you interrupting my sleep, little whore?" he asked, putting as much venom into the last word as possible, which made Katya realize her grave mistake.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Master!" she whispered, starting to cry. "I-I didn't mean to! I wasn't thinking! Please forgive me!" She pressed her head against his chest, tried to make herself seem weak, trying to appease her angered master.
He pushed her down on the bed, leaned over her. "You're really a stupid whore," he whispered, "and it won't be easy for you to earn my forgiveness. But I think I know a way…" He looked down at the large tent in his pajamas. Katya followed his gaze, and knew exactly what he meant.
In a sudden burst of strength, she pushed him off of her, and ran back to the room she slept in. "You'd better come back, little slave," he snarled, following her, walking in a dignified manner. When he arrived at her room, he picked her up by the hair, making her scream.
"Let go of me!" she screamed, trying to twist free. Her master threw her against the wall, glaring at her.
"Shut up, you stupid whore!" he yelled at her, pushing her down. She tried to scream, tried to get away, but he grabbed her throat with one hand and pushed up her dress with the other. Katya was crying now, shaking, as her master forced himself into her. She cried, begged her master to stop, but he wouldn't and it went on and on and wouldn't stop so she stopped crying and stopped begging and just pretended she wasn't real and he wasn't real and none of this was real.
It felt like hours, but finally he was done. She curled up on her side and cried until she fell asleep again. He looked at her, a flicker of sadness, of remorse, but then the hard mask of disgust buried that when she looked up at him again, her eyes full of tears. He shook his head and went back to his room, and Katya cried herself to sleep again.
A week passed before they had any more contact than passing in the halls. Katya was still in shock. Her master had used her before – that was what he'd bought such a pretty slave for – but it had never been like this. She had been mechanical since that night, her face expressionless, and she did nothing more than what she was told. She'd stopped eating, and spent all her free time alone, hiding, or walking alone in the halls.
They ran into each other in the upstairs hall. Katya was scratching at her hand hard enough to make it bleed, and her master was tying something to a chandelier. She looked at the floor when she saw him, trying not to give him any excuse to hurt her again.
He looked at the girl, the bloody-handed, puffy-eyed, broken little woman. He waited for her to raise her eyes, and when she did, he whispered, "I'm sorry. For everything. I love you." He threw the rope at her and pulled out his blade, slitting his throat.
Katya saw it in slow motion. She saw her master kill himself, saw him fall to the ground, saw his blood seep onto the floor. She ran to him, crying. "No, no, no, why did you do this, Master?" she whispered, ignoring the blood on the floor to lay down in his arms. He reached up weakly, touched her cheek. His hand dropped and Katya cried.