((Apologies for being away so long. My real life kind of exploded and storytelling has fallen to the wayside. Thanks to some helpful prompting, here is an update, meager as it may be. My apologies about my extended absence, and full disclosure, I am unlikely to update in a timely fashion. My muse is currently locked in the basement for her own good, while I try and nurture myself and my family. I feed her on occasion. She won't die. She even has a little window. - Also, fair warning and disclosure I haven't watched even a single episode of this season yet. So this is all darkness from the recesses of my mind. From what I hear this season gives Rumpel some darkness which may explain the rise in traffic. So welcome to you dark and twisted types. You are among friends. As demonstrated by the very messed up chapter below.))
Belle woke with a start. It had been a fitful night with terrors that had pursued her to every corner of safety and sanity she had left. Her sheets were soaked from the sweating of her night terrors. Gulping for breath, her blue eyes wide as she looked around the room for the source of her instant waking and the terror that accompanied it. Finding herself quite alone, she took some deep breaths to calm herself. Rising to her feet a little shakily, and startling herself with her own reflection in the mirror. The shorn and uneven dark remains of her hair looked even more wild after a restless thrashing night.
Her hand moved to stroke over the sweaty ragged locks. Her brow furrowing at the stranger in the mirror, but instantly tensing when she heard footfalls in the hallway and the click of the lock turning in the door frame. Turning to look over to the door, and tensing when the Dark One entered the room. His shoulders were hunched and the look of determination and mania on his face did nothing to engender calm in her. She took a step backward, but only for a moment. Her eyes moving to his flicking wrist with the pointed finger indicating she was to move to the bed.
Weighing the risks and her options she gave a silent nod, and made her way to the bed, her limbs feeling wooden as she moved, her heart beginning to race. The realization that something worse then she had experienced so far was on the horizon drained the color from her face as she moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Watching him, wide eyed, looking very little like the pretty Princess who had arrived to tend his castle and resembling instead a terrified woman that could have been any number of unfortunates, they littered the countryside as common as dandelions in the meadow, the number of women who had been used and abused by men in positions of power.
His voice was crisp and commanding. "Where is the tool I left here?" His gaze moving from her to the bedside table. She let her eyes move toward the corner of the room where she had thrown the carved phallus. Ignoring the look of displeasure that contorted his features and instead focusing on her hands, that had gripped each other for comfort. Looking for all intents and purposes like she was praying, but she knew better. No whispered words would change the trajectory of this nightmare.
His boots thumped their way to the other side of the room, and he retrieved the thrown apparatus, and approached. Holding the leather satchel, and again opening it, and beginning to arrange the items on the table. Belle couldn't bring herself to raise her eyes to his preparations.
" You have a choice. "
Raising her eyes finally to his, a small flicker of hope igniting within her. Whispering softly. "A choice?"
Hands arranging the tools of his trade, he continued after a moment. "We can do this quickly, the way I would prefer, to ensure the best outcome. With this. " His hand lifted the carved walnut phallus and she shuddered.
"Or, I will take you. Neither way will be pleasurable for you, but the latter will take longer, and some of the ingredient could be spilled. "
Swallowing hard, she asked her voice a little shaky. "That is my choice? Master?" The title he had insisted she use dripping with sarcasm.
The Dark One's eyes narrowed and he advanced, the phallus in his left hand, and the right raised, and before she could blink he had slapped her full force with his open palm. She winced, tears instantly brimming in her eyes. Looking up to him, her gaze wounded.
Unyielding, he hissed. "Make your choice. " She blinked back her tears and pointed to his left hand, certain that he would hurt her either way, and she could convince herself she was still a virgin, after this assault. Though she knew deep down it was only delaying the inevitable, she could not allow herself to submit to him, to offer her virginity, though the alternative was equally as frightening.
Giving a pleased nod, Rumpelstiltsken went immediately to work. An incantation and a delicate wave of his cursed and darkened hand left her bereft of her clothing once more. Usually when he undressed her, he took pleasure in touching her and tormenting her, seeming to especially enjoy illiciting a physical response from her. Gone were all of those niceties, as he firmly pushed her back on the bed, and moved his hands to adjust her legs hoe he wanted them. Making her put her feet on the bed, and part her thighs so he could see what he was doing.
Glancing away from him and what was going she blinked back tears. Trying to take some deep breaths to calm herself. It was clear that he would be wasting no time, and this was in no way how she had hoped to spend her morning. Having hoped that the brightness of the day would help dispel the darkness he had displayed the previous night, but the stars were not aligned in her favor.
"You must do your best not to move, or there will be consequences." He warned. Her hand immediately went to the apple of her cheek where he had slapped her, a bruise all ready beginning to form. She gave a little nod, to show she had understood his instruction, and would do her best to obey.
Frowning, he shook his head a little. "No, it is better not to risk you thrashing around." Digging deeper into his satchel and pulling forth a dusky purple liquid. Swirling the contents around before uncorking it. "Open your mouth."
When she paused, and didn't instantly obey his hand went to her jaw, pushing forward with painful force before she finally opened her mouth, and he held her mouth in place as he poured the mauve liquid into her mouth.
Within moments before his explanation even began, she was feeling the effect of the potion. Her limbs going limp, completely emotionally and mentally aware of her surroundings but unable to move physically beyond that of shallow breathing. Her heart even slowing from the effect, despite her abject terror of what was to come next.
"You will slowly begin to lose the ability to move your arms and legs. You won't need to move much, anyhow." She winced as a sharp pain arose on the tender flesh of her inner thigh. "I'm pinching, to demonstrate that you will still feel everything. " Tears spilled forth from her eyes as she closed them and took as deep of a breath as the magic now coursing through her veins would allow. She had hoped perhaps he would spare her the pain of what was to come next, at least the physical portion, but it was clear that was not to be.
Using his magic to again position her how he wanted, he murmured. "It's time."
Unable to raise her neck to see what was happening, all she could make out was the top of his head, and suddenly a piercing, terrible pain. A scream escaping her lips. Nothing he had subjected her to so far had fully prepared her for the pain involved. The tender touches and kisses, or even the more forceful attentions he had given her in the past perhaps would have softened the experience, readied her body more, but there was nothing yielding about the wooden phallus that stole her maidenhood.
Through the haze of pain, she marveled at the concept that all of her value as a Princess had been annihilated with one motion. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she was vaguely aware of him using magical and medical means to collect her virgin blood. Though he had only referred to it as an ingredient. The absurdity of that striking her, as she struggled to breathe her way through the pain and the enormity of what had been taken, and what it meant.
Within minutes he had finished gathering what he needed. Covering her with a blanket. "The extraction was successful." She watched him through the haze of her tears as he moved to set the phial complete with her blood in it in a secure compartment of his satchel. The blood stained phallus following into the satchel, and after he had buckled it closed he moved back to her. His hands moving to smooth the blanket over her body. Almost reverentially. As if she were a sacred object, instead of a woman that he had just violated.
Bending down he placed a single kiss on her forehead before heading to the door. Pausing there, his only words of advice "Try and sleep." before he disappeared into the hallway. Still, though she was immobilized by magic, the lock clicked.
Left alone, she stared at the top of the canopied bed, and at the tapestries. Fascinated by the wrinkles and color differentiations of the crushed velvet. Unable after long to distract herself with anything else, unable to turn her head, she began to cry. Softly, and quietly to herself, she didn't want him to hear the results of his action, knowing part of him would only smile at what he had done, and she was worried what the action would do to the part of him that had shown her tenderness and kindness, and when she was done crying for herself she began to cry for him, unable even to curl up into a ball, or wipe her own tears.
Helpless, and broken she wept until she could no longer. Sleep refused to claim her, and she lay alone in the silence of her isolation, the quiet rain, and dark skies outside her window reflecting her despair.
