There is a sound, persistent and loud. It repeats several times in quick succession, then stops. A moment of silence follows, and Lenneth almost goes back to sleep. But the sound resumes, something pounding on wood. With the noise echoing in her ears, Lenneth gives in, allowing herself to be roused from her attempts at sleep. The familiar and hated canopy over her bed is the first thing she sees. A familiar sadness fills her, but she doesn't cry. There is no point to it, not when her emotions are such that crying is all she wants to do now.
The noise has stopped again, but Lenneth knows she hasn't imagined it. She struggles to sit up as best she can, but her movements are limited. The chains simply won't allow her to do more than shift about. Her arms are stretched up over her head, the chains around her wrists pulled tight so that she cannot move them. It has been that way since the day she had had enough. The day she had tried to kill her tormentor.
The need to cry intensifies as she remembers. Lenneth had been so close, the very chain that binds her now, used to snuff the life out of her captor. By all rights she should have succeeded. She should be free at this very moment. But fate had other plans, mocking her every attempt at gaining freedom.
Lenneth still remembers how the lightning had felt, the spell coursing through her. Knocking her off and away from Lezard. The pain didn't compare to the suffering he has caused her. The suffering he continues to delight in bestowing upon her. But she won't cry. She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of any more of her tears.
The sound has started again. She recognizes it now. That of a hammer pounding wood. He's repairing the door to her prison. The very door he had blown apart with his magic. Other repairs have been done to the room, the heavy bookcase's remains dismantled and removed. Lenneth is surprised he even allows any furniture to remain, it's not as though he has use for them other than the bed.
She HATED the bed. It was thing meant for comfort, but never had Lenneth truly relaxed in it. And all because of the things that were done on it. The things done to her daily and against her will. It was a symbol of her failings, mocking her over the attempts she had made at mounting a resistance.
It's been days now, or at least as much as she can guess of time's passage. She's been chained to the bed ever since Lezard had recovered from her last act of defiance. A defiance she fears will truly be her last, Lenneth thinking Lezard might never unchain her. She's already wilting from the strain, the stress the chains and lack of mobility put on her.
Right now, she would be grateful for the chance to sit up. Maybe even stand. Lenneth realizes she's taken for granted the little freedom she had had. Lenneth had thought her situation had been at it's worst, but now forced to lay in bed day in and day out? Lenneth now knew how wrong she had been!
She shifts on the bed, a futile testing of the chains. They won't budge, pulled tight against their limits to hold her arms still. Lenneth missies the simple things, such as the ability to brush back her hair, or scratch an itch. Or being able to sleep in a position other than on her back. Lenneth worries it will always be like this, wondering what if anything she can do to change her circumstance now. She worries she will beg. That she will say and do anything to get free of the chains. Just as Lenneth fears she has nothing left to offer Lezard, and all because he's taken so much from her already.
One last pounding of the hammer. But Lenneth won't be allowed to go back to sleep. Finished with his mundane task, Lezard is all too eager to engage her. She hears the ominous creak of the door, the shadows around the threshold revealing her captor to her. He is dressed down, shirt unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. He doesn't look at all mad about having to repair the door, but appearances can be deceiving. Lezard himself doesn't appear to be very much. Certainly he didn't seem the type of man one would fear, if judging by his outward appearance. But fear him he did, Lenneth unable to keep from flinching as he approached the side of the bed.
The curtains are tied back, allowing her a clear view of him. He is smiling, eyes intent on her. She's never liked being the center of his focus. Never liked when he smiles at her. That smile means trouble, and she has learned to be wary of it. To fear the nightmares it will bring her.
He's closer now, actually kneeling on the edge of the bed. His shirt's collar is open. She can see the ugly reminder of where the chain has left it's mark on him, a nasty ring of black and blue bruises. Lenneth wants to scream then, knowing by all rights Lezard SHOULD be dead. But he's not. Nor has his lust for her been destroyed. It's only a matter of time before he strikes. She knows from experience what the darkening of his eyes means for her.
Again she flinches, Lezard's hand reaching towards her. He doesn't even hesitate, bringing fingers to caress over her collar bone. The light touches almost start her shivering, Lenneth watching him with nervous eyes. She knows nothing will get him to stop. Neither begging, nor crying, or trying to reason with him. Because Lezard takes what he wants. Time and time again.
She's not wearing much. Just a thin shift that often times he pulls up when he wants her. It's obvious when his fingers touch the thin straps on her shoulders, that he wants more than to just expose her legs. Her whole body seems to jerk, Lezard viciously tearing the shift free of her body. The trembles begin for real, her skin breaking out into goose flesh.
He's still smiling. Lezard approves of her fear now. It makes him feel safe, secure against any attacks Lenneth might attempt to do had her hands been free. She doesn't know if the fear is enough to keep her behaving forever. Her desperation to get away through any means possible might be as strong as the fear. She's running out of options though. If Lenneth can't kill herself, or kill Lezard, what is left but to die at his hands? And yet she doesn't know what could be the final push that would make him end this misery. Not when he still hasn't lost interest in her, even after all that has happened. It makes Lenneth think he is truly insane, wanting a woman who hates him so. A woman that would try to kill him, and had almost succeeded in the act.
The look in his eyes is as familiar as unwanted, an unwavering heat. And Lenneth is the focus, that which he needs in this moment. Once Lenneth might have been hypnotized by his intensity, now she can only swallow back her sobs. She almost chokes when he kisses her, his hands burying themselves into her unbound hair. She can feel his fingers rubbing against her scalp, their grip turning possessive. She has no where to go, no way to fight, and still Lezard holds her to him. Drinking down her strangled sounds, her fitful cries as he thrusts his tongue into her mouth forcefully.
She wants to bite him. She SHOULD bite him. But Lenneth is fearful over what will be taken from her next, holding out hope that he will one day free her from the chains. She endures his kiss, endures his attempts to engage her into moving her tongue with his. Lezard doesn't ever lose his patience, not even growling in frustration as Lenneth resists participating as best she can. She bravely tries to hold out, but Lezard is determined. He'll suffocate her with his kiss, let her fall unconscious rather than NOT respond to him. And she can hold out for only so long.
Lezard actually purrs at the first responding brush of her tongue. His aggression mounts, Lezard kissing Lenneth harder. Those gripping fingers stay on her scalp, Lezard lowering himself on top of her. It is strange to feel his clothing against her naked skin, the stiff fabric of his shirt abrading her nipples. He moves purposefully against her, rubbing over Lenneth's body with his.
Her whole body reacts in hated longing. She might not want him, but her body? It doesn't care what Lenneth wants. It remembers his touch. Remembers the physical pleasure he can give her. And traitorously it starts to prepare her for his possession. All because his touch transformed her into a different person, into a lusty woman whose body heard the calls of his, and responded.
It is a small miracle that he's never chained her legs. She wants to kick out now, and at the shifting of her body, he moves. He deliberately places a knee between her legs, letting it rub over her groin. Lenneth holds herself still, for to move would be a betrayal of herself. His hands leave her hair, going to her hips now. He moves Lenneth for her, forcing her to rub harder against his knee, dampening the fabric with her body's arousal. Her cheeks burn with humiliation, Lezard letting out a breathy, excited laugh in response. He's so smug it hurts, the man confidant over his victory over her body.
Lenneth tries to fight it, but her body's been too conditioned. It wants the pleasure, craves it, and ultimately? It takes it. Just as Lezard takes her, sliding inside her before she's fully stopped climaxing. She can do nothing but watch, seeing how he moves, and how he stares at her all the while. He barely speaks, and when Lezard does, it's to utter one phrase alone.
"Mine."
Just hearing that word makes Lenneth recoil. The truth in that word burns. She is his. Has been his for months now. And the part of her Lenneth screams at in an attempt to drown out? That part knows she will be his forever.
To Be Continued...
Michelle
Phoenix Blade, why thank you! I'm very happy to hear that someone likes the series so much. :D Especially after the evening I just had. X_X So it cheers me up greatly. Ah, chapter 12...well for the longest time I wasn't sure it was smart to continue. I thought maybe I'd leave it a choose your own ending as to whether or not he survived the choking, so everyone could be happy. But I often thought about this series, and how I wanted to continue it...also. haven't posted it here yet, but I wrote the first chapter of what could be the long version/novelization of the Dark Drabble series. I mean this series, I just dumped the readers right into the middle of everything with no explanation how he caught her...just that she had been his prisoner already for a while. Course I'm not sure if I should post The Caged Bird. Lezard ending up being creepy, but almost a different creepy from how he is in this fic in chapter one alone. That's what I say it's sorta is, sorta isn;t Dark Drabble the novel. Cause it might veer off and be it's own story. I'm fidning botht the shorts and the longer versions both freeing and limiting. So we'll see how The Caged Bird develops. I'm hoping to post it maybe this weekend, depending on if I can write chapter two to my satisfaction.
B Oots, um okay!
Anonymous, thank you! I'm glad to read how much you enjoyed the series so far. Thanks for writing!