A/N – I've tried to keep this within the current rating. If you think this is too graphic and I should up the rating please let me know and I will do. I should warn you; this chapter takes a definite turn for the adult. If sex (particularly non-con sex) offends you, look away now. Thanks!
I cannot comprehend what I have done. I look in confusion between them all; Effie, the peacekeeper, the hawkish woman. "Why?" I ask apprehensively. "Where?"
Effie seems to be refusing to make eye contact with me. "Peeta, darling, don't make this any more difficult than it already is."
"Make what more difficult? What have I done?"
Katniss has appeared by my side. "Where are you taking him?" she demands, her hand closing around my wrist.
Effie, still not looking at either of us directly waves her hand towards the strange woman. "Peeta, I'd like to introduce you to Briar Baxwall. She's a very influential lady and she'd like to get to know you better. Nothing to worry about."
"No," said Katniss. "He's not going anywhere."
I hear the click of a gun, and instinctively move in front of Katniss, protecting her. No one makes a move but it was a clear threat. The woman, Briar Baxwall, clears her throat and speaks in soft, girlish tone. "It would be a terrible shame, don't you think, if an accident were to befall anyone back in Twelve? Or if certain names appeared more than others in the reaping balls in the upcoming Quell?"
That is a threat I certainly cannot ignore. If I don't go with them the chances of someone I love being hurt are dramatically shortened. I couldn't live with such guilt. I grit my teeth and nod my head slightly.
"Well!" says Effie brightly, although the tone sounds entirely forced. "I don't think you need me anymore!" She hurries away, but throws a look over her shoulder that is something akin to….concern, perhaps? It can be hard to read her expressions under the thick layers of make up, but this is a look I've never seen on her before.
"I'm coming with you," says Katniss forcefully.
"I don't think that will be necessary!" giggles the woman. "This way, please, Peeta."
I turn to Katniss, hold her briefly and whisper to her that I will be OK. I don't know if I convince her, as I'm having a hard enough time convincing myself that this is the case. I release her from my embrace and cross the threshold of the doorway.
"I'm coming with you!" she repeats, louder than before and makes to follow me.
Briar Baxwall nods to the peacekeeper who advances on Katniss before either of us have time to react. He pushes her back inside her room and slams the door closed, holding it shut. "Don't make me request an armed guard down here!" he barks at her. Through the door as I hear her shouting, banging the door and trying to wrestle control of the door away from the brute. He produces a key from a side pocket and locks her door, sealing her inside. "Katniss!" I call out to her. "Katniss, stay calm! I'll come back, I promise!" The banging and shouting subside. "Promise?" comes her voice through the closed door. "Promise," I confirm.
Briar Baxwall appears highly amused by the whole scene. "How very touching!" she says, breathless and flushed with excitement. She steps closer to me and grips the top of my arm with surprising force. To prove how little choice I have in the matter I feel the barrel of the peacekeeper's gun push me between my shoulder blades.
"Where are we going?" I ask the woman.
She smiles an unreadable smile; it contains both amusement and something else, something akin to hunger. "Somewhere more comfortable."
I am shepherded outside towards a waiting hovercar. This is not one of those used in the Games or by the military. Personal use only. This woman must be incredibly rich. This fact does nothing to warm her to me. As soon as we step inside the hovercar takes off. "Where are we going?" I ask her again, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Just for a little ride around the city. Make yourself at home."
The hovercar's interior is incredibly plush and is split into two rooms; the main room which we are in, and an open door reveals a comfortable looking bedroom adjoining. A large window across one side of the hovercar shows a view of the city skyline. In this living area there are two sets of large squishy sofas set facing each other. She lounges across one and invites me to sit on the other. She claps her hands and a young girl, presumably an Avox, appears by her side. "Bring us wine," she commands. The girl bows her head and returns almost immediately bearing a tray with a bottle and two glasses, which she places on a small table next to Briar. She pours wine into both of the glasses. Briar takes a glass and sips at it, all the while her eyes upon me. She gestures to the other glass. My mouth and throat are dry but I politely decline. She takes another sip and says, "I wish for you to have a drink with me." Behind me I hear the peacekeeper shift slightly in the shadows. I understand the implication and take the other glass. The wine is smooth and sweet – not at all like the alcohol we generally get in District 12, which is more use as a disinfectant than as a drink. Briar is clearly a seasoned drinker as she has finished her drink before I have had more than a few small sips. She pours a second drink and says to me, "Stand up. Let me get a good look at you."
I rise slightly unsteadily to my feet and stand in front of her. I feel almost like I did a year ago, the first time I stood before my prep team as they studied me, but this is worse. This feels even more dangerous. Briar takes a long, slow sip of her wine, never taking her eyes off me. She licks her lips then says in a commanding tone, "Remove your shirt."
I fumble over the buttons but do as she says. Never have I felt so vulnerable as I do right now. I stand before her and shiver in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. This appears to amuse her. With a smirk on her face she makes a twirling motion with her finger. I turn around for her benefit. "Not bad," she says. "Nowhere near as beautiful as dear Finnick, of course, but, oh my… the prestige of you…."
The argument with the District Four escort and the other Capitol woman, Finnick Odair stood nearby looking miserable…. I'm missing some connection here… One answer springs to my mind but it is such a terrible, awful thought that I suppress it as soon as it appears.
Briar swiftly finishes her second glass of wine and stands before me. "Kiss me," she commands. It takes a moment for the words to register. The words she said are in such a strange conflict with the tone she used and the situation I'm in that I can't comprehend their meaning at first. "No," I reply in a disbelieving tone.
Once again I hear the rustle of the peacekeeper behind me. "I'm not asking you, Peeta. I'm telling you. And I'm losing my patience." Those strange, yellow eyes flash dangerously. I am unable to swallow. "But…. Katniss…." I say in a soft voice.
"She'll still be there when you get back." She takes a step towards me and places her clawed hands upon my chest. It takes every ounce of self control I possess not to push her away from me, but I fear the consequences of such an action would be disastrous. I cannot, however, repress the shudder that runs through me at her touch. This infuriates her further and she slaps me hard across my face. "Last chance, boy. You will do exactly what I say, when I say it, without question. Do I make myself clear?"
I am paralysed with a mixture of fear and humiliation and am unable to speak. I nod my head to show I have understood. "SPEAK!" she shouts at me. "Y-yes," I choke out. "Yes what?" "Yes, I understand." Her demeanour softens. "Good. Now kiss me."
I have no choice. I lean my head in towards hers and part my lips. She responds by digging her taloned nails into my chest and thrusting her tongue deep in to my mouth. I focus on the pain her nails are causing in my chest instead of the revolting sensation in my mouth, as it is far easier to understand and accept. She pulls away from me just long enough to instruct me to put my hands on her. I don't know where she wants me so I tentatively place my hands on her waist. This doesn't seem to anger her and she responds by pushing herself further in to my mouth.
She releases the pressure on my chest and her hands move down to the top of my trousers. I feel her start to undo them and in a panic I pull my head away and stutter, "I c-can't…" I see the fury in her build. I have to diffuse this. "I've not….done this before…. Me and Katniss, we are….saving ourselves. For our wedding. For each other."
She looks confused. "But Peeta… I've paid for you." She says this entirely matter-of-fact, as if this is the most reasonable thing in the world. "And besides," she snarls at me, "I told you to do everything I tell you. Without question and without exception. Now undress yourself. Immediately."
I am shaking again as I fumble with the buttons but I see no way out of this. Out of the window I catch a glimpse of the Capitol skyline as we float past, hundreds of feet in the air. The mute Avox girl has vanished, while the peacekeeper stands by, amused derision clearly etched on his face. I think of Katniss, waiting for me back in our rooms. How will I ever face her after this? Is she thinking of me? Is she still locked in her room, awaiting my return? What if she's in this same situation?
No. No, I must not think that way. I promised to always protect her, and the idea that there is something I cannot protect her from is beyond my comprehension.
I stand naked before this woman, Briar Baxwall, the most hated name I can currently think of. I burn with shame as her eyes roam over every part of my body. "Follow me," she says, as she leads me towards the bedroom.
Focus. One step at a time. Left foot forward. Right foot. Don't think about what's coming. One thing at a time. Focus.
I swallow down the bile that is threatening to rise up. The room she is leading me towards feels like a prison to me, one from which I will never escape. With each step towards it my legs feel heavier and heavier. "Close the door behind you," she instructs. I do as I am bid. "Unzip me." She turns her back on me and I clumsily find the zip on the back of her dress, shaking as I undo it. She is not wearing underwear.
Don't think about it. Just do what she says. This will be over soon. Just do what she says. Focus. One thing at a time. Don't think.
The words form a calming mantra in my head. They help me step outside of myself, so the events feel almost as though they are happening to someone else, and I'm just a passive, outside observer.
She lies down on the bed and orders me to touch her intimately. I don't know what women enjoy and can only guess that when I stroke between her legs I am pleasing her, as she moans and thrusts my fingers further into her. She orders me to go faster, then to go deeper and her moaning increases to an ecstatic pitch. I feel a warm wetness drip down onto my hands as she stiffens and cries out, and the bile threatens to rise in me again. I swallow it back down.
Focus. Don't think. Over soon. Don't think about it.
She reaches down to touch me. She whispers in my ear that she wants me inside of her and it becomes apparent very quickly that this is problematic. I can't imagine being less aroused than I am now. She licks my jaw line and tells me to wait. She rummages in a bedside drawer and takes out a vial of purple liquid which she instructs me to drink. My instincts scream at me to refuse, but I know what the price of refusal will be.
Focus. One thing at a time. All you have to do is drink. That's all. Just one thing at a time.
The effect the vial of liquid has on me is almost instantaneous. I am betrayed by my own body. She pushes me back on the bed and lies down next to me, lightly running her fingers up and down my body.
Don't think about it. This isn't you. You're safe, this isn't you. Don't think.
"Am I really your first?" she purrs in my ear. I nod abruptly but cannot trust myself to speak. "I was bitterly disappointed when I was told Finnick had been double booked. Turns out you were quite the bargain. I've not taken a tribute's virginity before."
Don't think. She's talking about someone else. You'll wake up soon, safe and sound. This isn't you.
I close my eyes as I feel her weight settle upon me. She takes me in one of her hands as a guide, and slowly lowers herself onto me. She settles herself for a moment then begins to rock her hips back and forth. Sometimes she leans forward and forces wet kisses along my neck, sometimes she scratches down my chest with her sharp claws or uses them to dig in to my side. I am certain she has drawn blood. This was not how I had pictured my first time. I try to imagine how it should have been as a distraction, Katniss and I, in love, back home, in our bed, in our home that we shared together….
No! Don't! Don't cheapen her!
The small part of my mind not overcome with fear and disgust is right. I cannot imagine Katniss while this is happening. I don't ever want to associate her, on any level, with this.
I open my eyes and see Briar Baxwall writhing on top of me. I cannot look at her without feeling nausea and close my eyes once again. She grabs one of my hands and holds it over her right breast, forcing me to touch her once more. She squeezes my hand and moves it over her body, encouraging me to do the same.
It's ok. Breathe. Don't think about it.
Only…. It is becoming harder to not think about it. Harder to ignore what is happening. Under the layers of shame, of humiliation, of sheer disgust, I feel a new sensation. Dammit. It feels good. I don't want it to feel good but it does. A logical part of my brain reminds me it's just a biological reaction and not a slur on my character, but I hate myself that this feels good. Oh god this feels really fucking good... She's warm, and wet, and tight around me and every movement feels so damn good and my breathing is becoming faster and I put my hands on her thighs and her bum and I pull her down further on to me and I want to go deeper and deeper and…
Her sharp nails pierce my chest and I gasp in pain, "Don't you dare even think about climaxing until I give you permission!"
The spell is broken. I am utterly ashamed at myself for getting so close to losing control. My heart is beating rapidly and my breathing is laboured but at least I am still in control.
Briar shifts her position on top of me. She pulls both my hands above my head and pins them there with one hand. She shifts her legs so she is lying flat on top of me and forces her tongue back inside my mouth. Her free hand is getting more and more violent, scratching and clawing at me, and when she's not trying to suffocate me with her tongue she's biting my ear, my neck, my shoulders. She's moaning and whispering my name. She shifts her weight again to sit up and she leans further back, holding on to my legs to support herself. She rocks faster and faster, and moments later she is screaming my name. She collapses on top of me, a shaking, sweating heap.
I lie perfectly still under her, hoping beyond hope that I will be dismissed and taken back, that this ordeal is at an end. I wonder how many injuries she has given me with those pointed golden nails. "Hold me," she whispers. I wrap my arms around her so that we are a grotesque parody of genuine lovers.
Focus. Nearly over. You'll soon be home. Soon be safe. Just keep playing along for now.
Playing along… Is this how Katniss feels whenever I kiss her? That I am forcing myself upon her, an unwelcome presence in her life? I cannot bear the thought, but what if there is truth to it? Do I disgust her? Does her skin crawl when I touch her? Does she fight the waves of nausea as we kiss?
I have to leave; the walls are closing in on me but I am so incredibly fearful to do anything without permission. Briar stirs slightly and rolls off to the side. "Go and get the rest of the wine," she commands. I sit up and look for something to preserve my modesty; although the Avox girl and peacekeeper have already seen me naked, I am still erect and have no wish for them to see me this way. Briar smirks in amusement. "Do not cover yourself. Get the wine now."
My humiliation is pretty much complete. I take a deep breath and open the door, and head straight for the half empty bottle and glasses, returning just seconds later. I pour both of us a glass handing one to her, and finishing mine in a single large gulp. The wine has an immediate soporific effect on me, and I pour another. Perhaps this was why Haymitch turned to alcohol? I can easily understand why.
Briar sips her wine all the while drinking me in with her eyes. "I expect I will see you again, Peeta." I down my second glass but say nothing. "Do not insult me, Peeta. I will see you again."
I force a smile and say, "Of course," although inside I am screaming at the horrifying injustice and pray that she changes her mind about me. I remember seeing Finnick Odair earlier, I remember his parade of wealthy lovers in the Capitol…. Will I be shaped in to another version of him? Not if I can help it. Not if I can turn myself into Haymitch first. I spend the rest of the night drinking the wine that Briar offers me, until the world crumbles to a beautiful oblivion and I am aware of nothing more.
