3. Fae
FAE
Robyn sits behind me on the edge of the mattress and drags her fingers softly through my hair like she’s afraid I might shatter if she pulls too hard.
The first stroke catches on a knot and I inhale sharply before I can stop myself.
My scalp is tender in places I didn’t know could bruise.
There are small scabs near the base of my skull where Fisher’s fist twisted too tight too many times.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps.
“Don’t,” I whisper back.
The mattress beneath us dips in the middle so we naturally lean into each other and my ribs protest at the movement. My breathing feels like dragging air across splintered wood. But I don’t move away as her fingers continue their steady work.
“You used to hate when anyone touched your hair,” she says softly.
“I still do.”
“Liar.”
Another knot catches and she pauses, pressing her forehead between my shoulder blades like she’s bracing herself before she untangles it. The sharp stinging pain isn’t unwelcome though; it reminds me that we’re still fighting.
“I don’t want him to ruin us,” she whispers.
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
How do I know? Because men like Fisher only understand ownership not intimacy.
He thinks breaking a body breaks the spirit attached to it, but he never had mine.
Not when I was twelve and not now that I am twenty-one.
I refuse to allow his darkness to break me.
I swallow as I stare at the wall opposite us.
“Robyn.” Her fingers pause in my hair. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“Good,” I whisper, “because I have a plan.”
“What kind of plan?”
I breathe in deeply. To make this work, I need to give him something he’s desperate for.
I shift, turning just enough to see her from the corner of my eye.
She doesn’t know it but she’s the strength I’ll need for the coming days.
My ribs ache with every inhale and I have to swallow before I speak again.
My throat feels dry from more than thirst.
“The kind that can end this,” Robyn gulps as she looks at me. “Whatever happens next,” I continue, “you have to promise me you won’t look at me differently.”
“Fae…” I turn back to face the wall quickly, not ready to see that scared look on her face.
“Promise me,” my voice cracks. “It’s the only way to free us.”
“Is it… safe?”
“No,” an inappropriate giggle bubbles up my chest, “but neither is living like this.”
“I don’t want you to be more at risk.”
“And I don’t want to live like this anymore,” I snap, dragging in another breath to steady myself.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t snap, but Robyn…” I turn back to look at her as I cup her face in my hands. “This is the only way.”
Something in my voice makes her go still in a way she hasn’t since the first week I was brought here. Fear isn’t loud on Robyn. It looks like this. Her skin is cold under my touch and I hold her longer than necessary just to memorise the feel of her.
“You might look at me differently,” I whisper. “But remember I was trained for this.”
“Wait, Fae…” Her eyes widen at the implication before she’s cut off by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. The noise slices through the room and we both tense.
I detangle myself from her quickly as I hear the key jangling in the lock and quickly drop to my knees.
The impact explodes up through bone and into my spine as the concrete feels unforgiving against my skin.
The sudden movement blurs my vision as hunger and adrenaline collide, nearly pitching me forward, but I force myself upright.
My fingers find the hem of my white dress and I drag it over my head in a sharp motion.
I bow my head, straighten my back and place my hands on either thigh, posing in the perfect submissive position even as my body shakes in pain.
His onion stench fills the air as he takes a step into the room and the temperature shifts with him.
I hear other footsteps march past me toward the bed and Robyn yelps.
I grit my teeth at the sound of handcuffs clicking around her.
I have to gain his trust.
“Well,” Fisher says slowly. “Good girl.” I can hear the smile in his voice as I see him adjusting his cock out of the corner of my eye.
My stomach turns at his term of endearment, but I keep my breathing shallow and measured as he steps closer.
I bite my tongue as his fingers slide into my hair possessively.
My scalp burns but I force myself not to react.
If I flinch now, it ruins everything. He crouches slightly and tilts my chin upward with two fingers.
“Look at me,” he demands and I lift my eyes slowly.
Mustering up my training, I soften my eyes into something that looks dangerously close to surrender.
Fisher’s expression changes immediately.
There is a thick and greedy satisfaction to it.
The kind that comes from believing you have finally broken something that fought too long.
The room feels like it is holding its breath.
My pulse pounds so hard in my ears it drowns out everything else and I am acutely aware of how close he is.
Fisher licks his lips as his breathing comes out in shorter bursts.
I see the bulge against the zipper of his black suit trousers and I shiver in repulsion.
Fisher must mistake that for arousal. I can see the glee on his face as he runs his free hand down from my shoulder to my elbow, chasing the goose pimples, and I purposely squirm.
Let him misread these cues.
Let him think I want him.
My face changes as I lock eyes with him and lick my lips, glancing at his mouth before looking back again.
It was one of the first things I learnt in body language class.
It convinces men into thinking you want to kiss them, to submit.
They are fickle creatures, really. Only a man can beat you, make you bleed and still believe you want them with the right cues.
His hand travels back up from my elbow to my chest as he pinches my nipple.
Every part of my body wants to reject it but I don’t.
He’s not the first man to take from me and I doubt he will be the last. Instead of the cry I want to let out, I moan and his eyes shine with joy.
He moves over to the other one and does the same, harder this time as he twists it into a sharp point.
This time I let out a whimper. It’s not a sad whimper; it’s a needy one.
I hear Robyn shift behind me. A gentle reminder as to why I’m giving my body away like this and Fisher quickly let’s go of my body whilst I slump, pretending like I’m so upset he’s not following through.
“You’ll get it sweetheart,” he groans as he makes his way towards his belt.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
The zipper scratches as the teeth separate and his wrinkled dick plops out of his briefs.
Weirdly, the three years of training that has bought me to this point were once something I was ashamed of.
Now, it’s what I’m bargaining my life with.
Without guidance, I open my mouth, stick my tongue out and watch with a sick satisfaction as he falls right into my trap.
Today’s the foundation.
He may have had weeks where he thought he was breaking me, but I was playing a game from the moment I stepped into this hell.
Fisher shoves his cock aggressively in my mouth. His hips nearly push me off my knees, and I wince at the ache in my body. He grabs my hair and I moan around his girth like I’m not trying to swallow my own vomit.
“Fuck, like that little girl,” he groans over me as he keeps thrusting. “Your throat is so tight, it’s like I’m fucking you when you’re thirteen all over again.”
Looking up, I lock eyes with him as the nausea swells in my stomach harder this time. Sweat drips off his forehead as his face turns bright red. His dick is so deep in my throat it cuts of my oxygen and my vision blurs as my nose runs.
It’s a test.
I can see it from a mile away. Will I fight or will I give in?
The truth is, I was always going to fight.
He just has no idea what war I’m playing.
I count to ten as I gently move my hand to massage his disgusting ballsack.
I know he’s nearly done when I feel the head of his cock swell in my throat.
“Swallow it little girl, swallow it all,” he says through gritted teeth.
Fisher grunts as his cum shoots out of him.
His whole body shudders and I try to swallow quickly to hide the taste but even the feel of it makes nausea rise up and I gag on the tip of his dick.
He pulls out and my body folds in on itself.
Air scrapes down my throat in jagged pulls, like my lungs have forgotten how to work.
Black dots burst behind my eyes, and I sway where I kneel as I focus on a damp patch on the floor in front of me.
Every muscle in my back screams at me to turn around, to check on Robyn, but I don’t. I can’t draw attention to her. When my breathing evens out enough to fake composure, Fisher’s fingers slide into my hair. For anyone else, it might look gentle. Protective, even. But I know what it is…a leash.
“That was such a good little girl, Fae. I’m proud of you.”
“T… th… thank you,” the words snag on my tongue. My voice trembles so violently that it barely sounds like mine, and the way his shoulders loosen tells me he loves that.
“You will get a reward later. Maybe, you can teach Robyn how to behave… what do you say?”
“Y… yes,” I nod quickly, forcing brightness and obedience into my expression even as bile continues to rise in the back of my throat.
“Aww, my sweet little girl. Stand up.”
My legs don’t want to cooperate. They feel like they belong to someone else as I shake uncontrollably.
I push up anyway. Pins and needles explode through my calves as blood rushes back into starved muscles, and I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
The room tilts but I keep my head bowed, with my eyes fixed on the filthy floor.
His onion-stale breath wraps around me as he leans close and I stop breathing entirely.
“Go and unlock Robyn for me. Show me you’re on my side. Can you do that?”
“Ye… yes.”
“Mmm. I think you should call me daddy, don’t you? I do take care of you after all.”
“Okay… daddy,” the word curdles in my mouth at the implication.
I’m not one to kink shame and to be honest if Roman told me to call him that I wouldn’t protest. No, it’s not the word so much as the person.
A man who watches his own daughter get raped whilst he gets turned on.
A man who enjoys young children. The whole thing is another layer of perversion that will make his death that much sweeter.
“Well done, little girl. Off you go.”
I turn around as his hand cracks against my arse and the sting blooms as it radiates outward in sharp pulses.
It feels like a swarm of sparks under my skin, fireflies trapped and furious.
I force my spine straight as I brace myself for Robyn’s disappointed glare.
But to my shock, there’s only understanding.
A key is pressed into my palm, and my fingers shake as I unlock her restraints.
I don’t linger. I hand the key back and return to my place with my head bowed.
Fisher fingers clamp around my chin, forcing my face up as he bends and presses his mouth to mine.
It’s brief before he strokes my head like a dog.
“See you soon,” he whispers and then takes a step back. “Let’s go,” he barks and my stomach lurches as I watch them move towards the exit.
I can’t move.
It’s as if my body has been wielded to the ground as my eyes stay fixed on his back. It isn’t until I hear the lock turn on the door that something snaps in me, and then I run.
I barely make it to the toilet before my body folds over itself and my stomach convulses.
Acid burns my throat, my nose, and my eyes as vomit mixed with his semen expels out of me.
Every heave makes my ribs ache. My hands tremble so violently that I have to brace them against the wall.
A touch grazes my shoulder and I flinch hard enough to nearly fall before I realise it’s Robyn.
“You didn’t need to do that,” she whispers, pulling my hair back from my face.
I spit into the toilet bowl, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My body feels hollowed out as a chill spreads over me despite the sweat clinging to my spine and I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor.
“I did,” my voice is hoarse and scraped raw. “But angel, that was just the start. I need to build his trust. Piece by piece.” I lift my eyes to hers, forcing strength into them even as I want to splinter. “As soon as he gets confident, he will get careless.”
I lean my head back against the wall, breathing through the aftershocks still rolling through me. “And carelessness kills. One day, he’ll come in alone. He won’t think he needs anyone else.” I hold her eyes until she understands. “When he does… get ready to run.”
I don’t say the rest out loud. I don’t tell her that every time he touches me, I’m memorising it. My body might shake, I might gag, I might bow my head and call him whatever twisted name he wants to hear. But none of that is surrender.
It’s strategy.
Fisher may believe he is training a pet, but even the best family dog can bite.