#mothwingwritings

That was to say, until a certain bodyguard was hired as the family escort, specifically YOUR escort. You had heard he was an Alpha and were quite shocked that your father would allow such a person so close to you, especially with all his previous warnings. But as time passed and your curiosity grew, you would eventually introduce yourself to the man of your own accord, excited and nervous to see what manner of individual he truly was. At the time, you would have never ended up guessing that one meeting would end up turning your entire world on its head, bringing more joy to your life than you could have ever imagined.

You were smitten the moment your hands joined in the initial shake, taken in by his easy smile and sparkling eyes. He had respectfully kept his distance from you at your father’s request, but you could tell he was elated to finally speak with you, a small blush gracing his cheeks as soon as you said ‘hello’. He was a kindly man, mild mannered and soft spoken, but strong where it mattered and protective to a fault. Were it not for the unmistakable scent that exuded from him, you wouldn’t guess he was an Alpha at all, or at least he certainly didn’t fit the description of most of the Alpha’s your father warned you about-all full of machismo and brutality, ready at a moment’s notice to tear you apart to satisfy their own base urges.

This man was the opposite of that, and when you fell for him, you fell hard.

Years past in a whirlwind, from the initial awkward first dates, to buying your own place together, to his heartfelt proposal to you. Through it all he always remained respectful, giving you all the space and time you needed to adjust to your life with him, never pushing his boundaries or showing any untoward aggression or advances.  Because of this, even after spending years together, you were able to remain pure, saving yourself for the day the two of you would join as one, marking each other to truly solidify your union.

And so time marched on, moving so fast that on more than one occasion you wished you could stop the clock altogether, just to steal a few more moments with him.

But now, you would never enjoy his company ever again.

His corpse had been tossed aside, discarded several feet from where you lay. It was so bloodied and broken you could barely recognize it as human, let alone as someone you once loved. Your chest rose and fell with erratic breaths punctuated by fear, the desire welling inside of you momentarily quelled by this sudden nightmare.

Minutes ago he was atop you, peeling the clothing from your aching, hot body. Moving painfully slow, he took his time enjoying your first heat with him, no longer constrained by the suppressors you had taken your whole life. You were scared of the process, worried about losing control of yourself and becoming mindless, driven by only your base needs. Not to mention the pain it would entail, the endless torture of emptiness, and the desperation you would experience relying solely on him for release from your torment.

But he had been patient and understanding through the whole process, explaining how it would all go down and how he would help you through it, alleviating any rogue fears that still remained. He even went so far as to help you prepare your nest, purchasing you any and everything you may need to make it comforting and inviting for when the time finally arrived. Meticulously helping you arrange everything while gushing about how excited he was, how lucky he felt having you as his mate, the one he would be eternally bonded too. He seemed more into the prep work than even you did.

Now, the nest that was to be used to consummate your love was stained in crimson, his blood splashing across it in vibrant streaks the moment he was knocked off you, flung across the room like a rag doll. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the lifeless body that used to be your beloved. Everything that had made him shine had been stolen in the blink of an eye, leaving only a husk remaining.

Above him stood his murderer, Yujiro Hanma, looming with a bestial sort of feral energy as he stared at the carcass by his feet.  Before this moment, you had never interacted with the man they called ‘The Ogre’, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know all about him. It was hard not to-the strongest man in the world was a celebrity in his own right, renowned the world over for his ferocity and ruthless nature. He had started and ended wars by simply existing, going wherever he pleased and doing whatever he wanted because there was no one who could stop him. He ruled countries from the shadows, amassed wealth and respect from the most influential men in the world. Truly, he was not a person to be reckoned with.

All that aside, you knew him best as the man your father despised the most. A once respected comrade from your father’s military days, you were aware that Yujiro had done something unspeakable to your father in the past, therefore disgracing him from your entire family. Your father had always been an amicable and fair man, someone that you couldn’t imagine having any enemies (even with his military background), let alone ones that used to be dear friends. And while the mystery of what Yujiro may have done to your father to receive this treatment gnawed incessantly at your brain, you kept your questions to yourself, not wanting to open any old wounds that may hurt him in the process.

Now you wished you had pressed the issue more, maybe then you would have a clue as to why this mythical family villain had abruptly entered the scene, irrevocably changing your life in the process.

The slaughter happened so quickly that Yujiro didn’t even break a sweat. Not that he would have anyway-the differences in ability were clear as day, you didn’t need any fighting prowess to realize that. Your mate never stood a chance.

The ogre’s fiery hair danced wildly around his head like a halo as he turned his attention your way, his figure both terrifying and awe inspiring as he took his time stalking towards your vulnerable form. There was no need for him to rush- the power of his presence alone was enough to root you in place.

Splayed out in your nest, you were completely exposed. Your nude chest heaving as a thin layer of sweat coated you, anxiety and confusion mingling with the raging heat your body was going through. Even after watching the execution of your mate before your very eyes, your body was still yearning, causing a horrible, all-encompassing burning that scalded you from the inside out. It made you desperate for release as your mate was in the process of marking you, taking his time exploring the body of the woman with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life with before carrying out the duty.

And while his drawn out advance was driving you to the point of madness, amplifying the throbbing ache in your core with each teasing touch of his hands and sensual kiss of his lips, you knew the sluggish pace was for your benefit-to prepare you properly. It was your first time, the start of your forever with him. He wanted to make it special, for your pleasure to be immeasurable when he finally entered you, making you feel so good that when he bit down to mark you as his, the pain would be nothing in comparison, if felt at all. You had a life time of love ahead of you, but that was no excuse for him to give in to his desire and rush your first union.

But he was gone now, and his kindness had left you feverish and wanting-so desperately wanting- release. Craving your alpha, needing him so badly you could barely stand it, you writhed pathetically on the ground, whimpering in agony at the absence of fulfillment. Unable to control yourself, your hand traveled to your privates, tears flooding your eyes when stuffing your fingers deep inside of yourself only seemed to hurt you more. It was hollow and empty, not what you needed, not what you craved.

Were you in your normal mindset, revulsion would have washed over you at your actions-the love of your life had just been slain and here you were making a sorry attempt at masturbation while his body lay decomposing beside you. What kind of woman does that? How could you live with yourself after this? How could you tell yourself you truly love him, when now that he’s gone the only feeling your addled brain can conjure is disappointment over the fact that you won’t get the fucking you have become so desperate for?

How had you become so disgusting? You lightly shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts of self-loathing. Perhaps the blame did not lie fully on your shoulders, but to another culprit, one who was stalking his way closer and closer to you with each passing moment, hunting you as a wolf does livestock.

In any other scenario, this heart-rending moment would have been enough to crack the shell of haze your heat had left you in, no matter how worked up you had become. But the man who was now standing above you, Yujiro Hanma, was dangerous in ways you hadn’t even begun to fathom. His smell of his musk was so overbearing you nearly choked on it, the lust it sent coursing through your body turning you into something unrecognizable. You honed in on Yujiros scent long before his arrival, at first mistaking it for your own mate’s scent that had been amplified by your combined heats. And while it disgusted you to admit it, this new, intoxicating scent excited you far more than your own lover’s ever had, turning your mind to mush the longer you inhaled its aroma.

Yujiro’s cruel eyes bore down upon you, a look of mild amusement displayed on his face as he took in your weakened state. The smirk he wore as he killed your lover began to grow, his lips spreading into a full on smile, baring his teeth in a look that could only be considered as malicious.

“Well what do we have here,” he leered, the mere sound of his husky voice enough to make you moan, “Feeling a bit neglected, are we?”

He bent down on his knee, kneeling beside you as his eyes flicked across your body. After a brief once over, his large hand reached out towards your head, thick fingers knotting themselves into a fist as they gripped your hair. Roughly he yanked you up, dangling you mere inches from his face as he continued to stare at you with his horrible, ravenous eyes.

You scrambled to get your bearings, perching yourself on your knees to help alleviate the pressure on your scalp. Positioned so closely to him, his pheromones became even more intense, slick starting to seep from inside you from the proximity alone. Bright red bloomed across your body, a mixture of extreme arousal and embarrassment, as you wriggled in his hold.

Yujiro scoffed, “Look at you, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already leaking,” He swiped his fingers briskly against your weeping pussy, making you cry out as he gathered the evidence of your intoxication on his hand. Holding the glistening fingers up to your face, his smile returned as he goaded you.  “Bet your little boyfriend lacked the power to make that happen, didn’t he?”

Any anger that may have welled inside you over the slight against your beloved was instantly quelled, eaten by the tumultuous feeling of frustration the situation ensnared you in. All you could do was stare at Yujiro with pleading eyes, any words you attempted to speak dying out the moment you tried to voice them, becoming little more than whiny, petulant mewlings. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create friction, you prayed he would show an ounce of mercy and grant you release soon, fretting over how much longer your body could handle waiting.

Yujiro sighed, chuckling softly under his breath, “Your father is a damned fool, you know that? I told that stubborn bastard that his cute little Omega daughter was meant to be mine, knew it the moment I saw you. I warned him that he could try and pair you off with some other lesser Alpha, but it would be a waste of time. You were fated to be mine- made to take my cock. Trying to make you anything other than my bitch was both asinine and disgraceful.”

He shot you another wicked smile, “Idiots like him may not realize what a fucking honor it is to be my cumdump, but surely you do, right sweetheart?”

You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his breath fanning your face while he stared down his nose at you, “Or maybe you don’t, given the situation I found you in. Looks like my ravenous little whore just couldn’t contain herself, could she?”

His lips curled into a snarl, his booming voice reverberating through your bones as he continued to address your misdemeanor. “Nesting with some weak piece of shit like that, have you no pride in yourself? I’m embarrassed you even gave him the time of day, let alone bared yourself to him. Who do you think you are, trying to fuck basic trash when you belong to me?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, he released his grip on your hair, shoving you roughly to the ground in the process. Hearing him move behind you, you attempted to push your feeble body into a sitting position, trying to reacclimate yourself. However before you could achieve this simple goal, his hand latched to the back of your head, shoving it down until it was smothered in the soft blankets beneath you. His free hand yanked your legs out from under you, pulling your ass up in the process. Though you couldn’t see him, the power radiating from him was immense, his aura so domineering you felt as if it alone was steadily crushing you. Were you in any sane frame of mind you would fear for your life, struggle and fight against the oppressive hardness that slotted itself against your dripping entrance.

But the slave you had become welcomed the intrusion, and as he tightened his hold on you, growling in your ear like the wild animal he had proved himself to be, you couldn’t stop your body from shuddering in anticipation of what was to come.

“It’s time for some corrective action.”

He entered you violently, his thick cock impossibly hot as he sheathed himself inside of you. The initial pain tore a scream from your throat, your vision dotting as you felt blood trail steadily down your shaking legs. He gave you no time to adjust, continuing his brutal assault as he pounded into you, uncaring of the damage he was inflicting upon you. The smack of his skin against your was punctuated by your cries, at first full of pain, but slowly morphing into expulsions of pleasure.

When the abruptness of his entrance fully subsided, you began to focus on the feel of him inside of you. Each slam of his hips ignited you, creating a feverish frenzy within that blocked out all other sensations and judgment. He filled you so completely, easily reaching all the spots that your fingers tried so desperately to reach just moments ago, satisfying all the areas that had been so urgently in need of attention with each stroke of his cock. You wanted more, needed more, moving in time with him as you chased after your pleasure. Wanton moans spilled from your lips, muffled by the bedding that was being shoved into your mouth with each thrust.

Even in the uncomfortable position he had locked you in, unable to breathe properly or escape from his grasp, all you could find yourself caring about was the alpha behind you and how he was making you feel- a strange sense of pride bubbled inside you the longer he went at you. The most powerful man in the world was doing little more than using you, and yet it was the fact that he chose you to begin with that filled you with flattery. A nobody like you being sought out by an alpha like him... Isn’t that what all Omegas dreamed of? To be desired by a dominant Alpha, having the honor of bringing them pleasure and receiving pleasure in turn, wasn’t that your only purpose, your reason for being?

You never dreamed you would feel that way before, but now you were finally starting to understand. The delirium of your desire had launched you into a state of inescapable euphoria, rebirthing you as nothing more than a shell of a woman who had finally realized her purpose, completely giving herself over to her unquenchable cravings while her Alpha’s assault molded her destiny.

Yujiro was a monster. Any man who did what they had done to the love of your life, any man whom your father had hated to the point of excommunication, any man who would violate you in such a way without so much as batting an eye, was an abomination-the remaining rational part of your mind understood this.

Yet as this demon, deserving of nothing but your scorn and hatred, spilled himself inside of you all you could feel was thankful. Thankful that the ungodly heat was starting to subside, happy that the pain the experience had brought you was alleviated, and blissed out over the feel of him nestled deeply inside of you, convulsing as the twitch of his cumming cock rained pleasure down upon you.

Finally, you felt complete.

After pumping you full of his hefty load, he hoisted you up in his arms, repositioning you so that you were facing him, straddling his lap. Gasping the moment you gained access to fresh air, a distressed groan croaked from your throat as his incisors latched to your neck, sinking deep into your scent gland. Your body shuddered at the sensation, fresh waves of pain and rapture coursing through you as he marked you decisively as his.

The cock that was still stuffed inside of you remained rigid, showing no signs of softening as your walls fluttered around it, the next round of your heat coming far sooner than you had anticipated. His hand wrapped securely around your throat, replacing where his lips had just been. He clamped down hard, pain pulsating from the open wound your scent gland had become, struggling once more to breath. His other hand grasped your hip, both limbs working in unison to bounce you on his dick-using you as if you were a human fleshlight.

Where had it all gone wrong? As of late, every creation he crafted was in your honor, your existence igniting his creativity like nothing else had before. You were his muse, his confidante, his treasured friend. Slowly yet surely, you were becoming his everything- the reason he was able to pull himself out of bed each morning and push through another day, even in moments when it felt like no one on the star particularly cared about his ideals and musings. Other than Meteion, only you always listened to him. Only you ever truly understood.

You were always so vibrant, so exceptionally smart and caring that he couldn’t help but be ensnared by your many charms. Your existence had become a truly irreplaceable part of not just his life, but the daily lives of just about everyone on Elpis. You always went above and beyond to help whoever and however you could, from electing to be a late night study buddy to a colleague in need, to helping pitch in to clean entire dormitories unprompted, you were always quick to step in and assist without seeking anything in return. Your mere presence was a ray of sunshine, and in the few short years since you had begun working at the testing grounds, you had become so dear to so many- Hermes most of all.

He never wanted you to doubt this importance either, so he would exceedingly dote on you, providing you with his ceaseless support in all of your endeavors. So fervid was his cheerleading that he had garnered quite a few reprimands for showing you ‘obvious favoritism’, all of which he disregarded as rubbish. Hermes only ever awarded you the praise you deserved.

There was no way you could misconstrue his ardent feelings of adoration towards you- so why? Why were you distancing yourself now, when weeks ago the two of you were so incredibly close?

He couldn’t quiet the whirring in his head, the nagging feeling that you were slipping away from him for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. Your avoidance had become so prevalent that even matters pertaining to work seemed to perturb you, should Hermes be involved. His ideas and creations, all of which you used to dote on and swoon over when presented to you, were now regarded with hesitation and suspicion, eyed with the slightest hint of scorn.

The praise that used to gush from your lips had trickled to a standstill, uplifting and thoughtful commentary about his creative process completely quelled. His work always used to easily net him your beaming smile, but now he was lucky if he even got a nod of approval, let alone verbal acquiescence.

Unwilling to accept such lackluster interaction he began to work overtime, churning out creations with gusto he never exhibited prior. Each of his new designs was more elaborate and charming than the next, causing confidence to swell in his chest as he watched their births. He was sure that one of them would be just what was needed to reignite your feelings for him, making a promise to himself that whichever creation yielded this desired result would be honored by him eternally. He’d even grant it the distinction of sharing your name, hopeful that the delight it brought others would be sure to become your delight as well.

He dutifully summoned you the moment a new creature was born, making sure your eyes were the first to witness the latest marvel. To say Hermes was eager to see your response was an understatement, he was downright giddy over the mere prospect of your joy, pacing back and forth as he listened for the sound of your footsteps outside his door. Driven by his thirst for your approval, he yearned for the sweet glimmer that would spark in your eyes whenever you were pleased by his creations, finding solace in this small token of your delight, especially when your lips didn’t form the words.

Yet even with all the extra effort he expended, his attempts achieved nothing. In fact all the excess work garnered the opposite effect of what he desired, pushing you further away as he floundered, desperate in his attempts  to reel you back in.

It surely wasn’t the quality or the quantity of his constructs that were driving you away, and he couldn’t imagine you had suddenly grown distasteful of his work as a whole. Even while dodging her creator, you still maintained frequent contact with Meteion, taking time out of your hectic day to play with your most favorite of his familiars. Your love for her had never dwindled, and neither had your passion for creation. No, the only logical conclusion he could come to after all this was that it was he himself that you had become averse to.

And that hurt him, deeply.

In fact, it hurt him so much that Meteion couldn’t help but be caught up in his anguish, writhing and moaning in a state of addled torment each time the thought of you flitted through his mind (which was to say, constantly). Seeing the suffering he endured mirrored onto her cherubic, kind face plunged him further into despair, very quickly turning the whole situation into something unbearable.

At his tipping point, he did the only thing he could think to do. He scooped the small girl up in his arms, bee lining it to your chambers. He cared not that it was the dead of night or that this could very well just add to your distaste for him. He just needed to see you- needed the balm only you could provide.

All it took was a glance at sickly, pale Meteion to turn your initially displeased scowl into a look of utter concern.  With the ravaged girl draped limply in Hermes arms, you ushered the two of them into your room without question. You guided him to your bed with a steady hand placed on the small of his back, throwing the sheets this way and that to make a proper area for her to lay.

How wonderful it felt, having you touch him again.

A myriad of rapid questions tumbled from your lips, all of which pertained to Meteion’s poor state and what possibly could have happened to cause it. It was obvious from your frantic expulsions that you were clueless of the inner turmoil that Hermes had been suffering, your mind unable to fathom what event could have transpired on this beautiful, peaceful star to cause such a sweet being as Meteion to go into such a tizzy.

Initially, Hermes felt nothing but immense irritation over your ignorance. After all that had occurred by your hand, all the avoidance and contempt you had been directing his way, how could you not understand? How could he not be affected by your actions? How could you not see how much both of them needed you just to function, and how your self-imposed detachment from him lead to this conclusion?

Through gritted teeth, he struggled to keep his composure as he relayed the truth.

This was all your fault.

Once he started speaking, he found himself unable to stop the vitriol that bubbled up from his throat, birthed of the immense torment he had suffered through. It was almost painful, watching the way your face contorted with each admission. Witnessing you experience the realization that YOU were the cause of such anguish was akin to watching as you took repeated blows to the face, striking you with such concentrated ferocity you found it hard to maintain your balance. As your legs buckled under the weight of your transgressions, Hermes offered himself for support, helping to steady you despite the potency of his words. It was a good thing he was there to catch you, as you would have surely crumbled were he not around to embrace you.

Even overcome with anger, he treasured your proximity, savoring the weight of you in his arms as he held you close for the first time in a long time.

The exchange brought an odd sense of peace to him, unloading his concerns upon you greatly diminishing the burden he had damn near been buried beneath. Though the news caused you visible grief he felt no pity for the dissonance he had planted in your heart. While unfortunate, the guilt you were experiencing was a pain you had inflicted upon yourself, any melancholy brought on by your actions was a burden you deserved to bare. He felt no remorse over his tirade, instead feeling a sense of accomplishment as his words broke you down, leaving you with no other choice than face the bitter subjugation of the truth, understanding in full how greatly you had wronged him.

The ends justified the means.

As fat tears rolled freely down your ruddied cheeks, he was taken with how stunning you looked in the moment. Watching as you were overcome by emotions was a beautiful thing to witness. From the tremble of your shoulders, to the shaking of your legs, an overwhelming feeling of catharsis and awe flooded him as you sobbed and apologized in his arms. Even at your lowest, you were still absolutely enchanting.

Finally he was getting through to you. Finally you understood your importance to him. Finally you were realizing your true role in Elpis, nay, on this entire star.

It was to be his. Your smile, your kindness, your thoughts, your wisdom, the warmth of your touch, the sigh from your lips, your ecstasy and your pain- it was all his, and he would no longer deny his right to claim what belonged to him.

Warmth blossomed in Hermes chest the longer you clung to him. He extolled gentle whispers of reassurance while his methodical hands rubbed circular patterns against your back, the motions soothing him more than they seemed to soothe you.  Regardless, peace and balance were slowly being restored, the effects of which were beginning to manifest in Meteion as well. No longer in the grips of despair, her breathing evened as she looked over towards the two of you embracing, the sparkle returning to her clear and hopeful eyes as she took in the sight with a smile.

“Oh? And who do we have here?”

The sudden recognition stopped you dead in your tracks. An unfamiliar voice rang through your ears, sounding like an alarm in your head. Confusion gave way to fear, causing a several second delay before you could force your slumped form to even glance up and acknowledge who the words had come from. A cold sweat began to coat your body, mirroring the perspiration of the water in your hand.

Obscured by several strands of messy hair, your eyes fell to the front door at the end of the hall, scanning the area where this mystery voice had come from. A few minutes ago you had thought you could make out Strade opening it, but since you had heard nothing further you figured he was just checking the mail or something and he would be back in within a matter of seconds (if he wasn’t already back inside, which is what spurred your hurried supply gathering to begin with).

So when your water bottle slipped from your hands and rolled out into the hall, you didn’t think twice before chasing after it. Despite how the hall seemed a bit brighter than normal and that a slight breeze accompanied that light, you never would have imagined collecting your fumbled bottle would lead you to a confrontation with a complete stranger.

There was a strict rule about keeping yourself hidden away in the house, out of sight and mind for any and all neighbors and passersby. Whether you meant to or not, you had just broken that cardinal rule and now had to deal with the fallout.

The front door was flung wide open, flooding your vision with a blinding ray of sunlight. You squinted as your eyes adjusted, honing in on two silhouettes that appeared in the doorway. One was undeniably Strade, while the other belonged to a slight elderly woman. As your eyes grew accustomed to the light, you noted she wore a surprised, albeit pleasant, expression on her aged face, denoting that she was just as shocked to see you as you her.

You slowly straightened your posture, crinkling the plastic bottle in a tightening grip as you pivoted your body to fully face both individuals. The woman took you in with a steady mix of confusion and amusement, no doubt hankering to know more about this new woman who had entered her midst. Strade, on the other hand…

When your eyes flicked to him you had to bite back the desire to instantly flee. Outwardly he had managed to keep his cool, his posture remaining lax as he faced you with a peaceful grin on his lips and a slight twinkle in his eye. To an outsider, his expression could easily be misconstrued as a look of amused fondness, as if seeing you show up randomly was natural and welcomed. But you knew Strade and his tells well enough to know just how much danger you were actually in. It was in the way he gripped the doorknob a smidge too tightly, found in the dangerous gleam that shone beneath the sparkle of his crinkled eyes, apparent in the imperceptible way he tapped his foot. He had made his displeasure of your arrival crystal clear, needing no further assurance of just how severely you had fucked up.

“This is (Name),” Strade’s response was effortless, his face and demeanor completely devoid of any hints of worry, “Don’t be shy, come introduce yourself!”

You saw him fiddle with something in his pocket, no doubt the controls to the large, overbearing collar that hugged your neck like a noose. He gave a quick jerk of his head, alerting that it was alright to come towards him.

After several slow, shaky steps, you arrived at his side. Standing at the cusp of the doorway, the sun was so bright it was nearly blinding. You basked in its glow, feeling refreshed the moment the warm rays and fresh breeze came in contact with your skin. You took a deep, shuddering breath as you stared up into the impossibly blue sky. Fat, fluffy clouds meandered by, carried ever so slowly by a gentle breeze.

For a moment, you felt the sweet embrace of freedom.

“Oh my, Sweetheart you look awful!”

A concerned voice brought you crashing back to reality, a cold dread clawing its way back inside you. You looked towards the woman who could now clearly see you in all your glory- open wounds, old scars, fat bruises, thick collar, everything. The horror in her eyes reflected her inner emotions, a deep frown highlighting her pity and concern.

Though her reaction was to be expected, it terrified you. Strade’s meticulously kept secret was being laid bare and that couldn’t mean anything good for either yourself or the woman that discovered you.

“Impressive, isn’t she?”

You both whipped your head towards Strade, responding to his nonchalance with puzzled stares. Strade chuckled in response, “(Name) here is a stage actress by trade, and recently has been dabbling in her own makeup and special effects. It all looks pretty convincing, doesn’t it?”

A wave of relief washed over the woman at his on the spot explanation, “Dear me, you almost gave me a heart attack! It certainly fooled me!” She turned her attention back your way, staring with squinted eyes at the marks that littered your form, taking them in with a newfound appreciation. “It’s strange to compliment something so garish, but it is quite impressive that it looks so realistic. You did a great job, sweetie.”’

Your body slightly jerked as Strade’s hand clasped on your shoulder, giving a squeeze. You didn’t have to look at his face to realize he was no doubt pleased by the sick, fallacious compliment he had just second hand received.

“T-thank you,” you took the initiative, figuring it was best to act on your own then wait for Strade to prompt you. The more convincing this all looked the better. “I have been practicing a lot so I am glad they look so… natural.”

You choked on the word, disgusted by your own insinuation. Natural- Is that what this had all become?

“Well, you sure fooled these old eyes,” the kindly woman laughed so deeply it shook her frame, “But even with all the makeup it’s easy to tell you are quite lovely,”  a knowing smirk crossed her wrinkled lips as her eyes darted to Strade, “Am I right in saying you’ve finally found yourself someone special, Strade?”

It took all you had not to wretch on the spot, disgust gripping you so violently it was a miracle you were able to keep your expression neutral at her insinuation.

“Ahhh, ya caught me!” Strade laughed, slinging his arm around your shoulders, jostling you a bit in the process. “I was planning on introducing her a little later, but no time like the present, eh? (Name), this is Mrs. Schmidt, my next door neighbor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, giving a small nod. You didn’t want to attempt a hand shake, worried that your grasp would be far too sweaty and quivery for someone who didn’t actively fear for their life simply by being in their ‘boyfriends’ presence.

“Well it is very nice to meet you too miss (Name). It warms my heart to know Strade has such a pretty young lady to keep him company, we’ve been worried he’d be a lonely bachelor for life!”

She gave a tinkling laugh and you forced yourself to respond in kind. You realized her suggestive prodding and compliments on your looks were just her attempting to be polite and chummy, but you couldn’t help but find the interaction exceptionally grating. You knew you looked exactly how you felt, chewed up, spit out, dragged to hell and back again. No amount of flowery praise could ever convince you otherwise. That, coupled with the cutesy way she interacted with Strade had you considering slamming the door in her face, effectively ending this surreal hell even if it meant willingly barricading yourself inside to be alone with Strade again.

“You know, we were all trying to marry off our neighborhoods most eligible bachelor,” she mused, reaching over to lightly touch Strade’s arm. The familiarity made your hair stand on end. To think someone could so casually touch him, staring up at him with such soft reverence, made you want to gouge your own eyes out to not have to witness the blind adoration a moment longer.

“Ah come on now, I’m not that hopeless!” You felt his laugh as he clutched you to his side, reverberating through you as he tightened his grasp. Without the threat of the collar, was he worried you would bolt? “I mean, I found (Name) right? I was just waiting for the right person!”

“Well she sure is lucky,” the old woman directed her focus back towards you “I’ve been his neighbor going on five years now and I can’t tell you how many times he has helped us out. In fact, just last week we were having issues with that old hunk of junk we call a car and it seemed that no matter what shop we took it to, it wasn’t getting fixed. We were about to scrap the thing when Strade came over and took a look at it, found the problem, and fixed it up good as new! It runs better now than it has in years, and Strade wouldn’t even accept payment! He just took a cold beer and went on his merry way.”

A wave of nausea washed over you as she continued to animatedly speak, a shine in her eye as she droned on and on about how much she adored the monster beside you. As she droned on, an intrusive thought began to creep in your head. What would she do if she knew the truth, you wondered? If she was made privy to the fact that the same hands that fixed her car have choked you, stabbed you, and beat you to the point of near death multiple times, how would she respond? If the man she idolized was laid bare before her, how vastly would her opinion of him change? Would she even believe it? Would she try and help you, or would she continue to live in her happy bubble of ignorance?

“And it’s not just us either, the whole neighborhood adores him! I don’t think there’s a person on this street this man hasn’t helped. He’s a true angel!”

An angel. This mass murderer, this menace to society, this cold blooded killer, was her angel.

Quivering with tremors, your body began to tense up. Whether from disgust, anger, or fear you were uncertain, but the uncanny nature of this entire instance was making your skin crawl and you desperately wanted to retreat back in the house and curl up in some shadowy corner, far removed from the situation.

You cursed yourself for dropping the bottle and ultimately subjugating yourself to this woman before you and the eerie words the continued to spew from her lips, fueling the revulsion that wracked your gut. The realization that the man who mercilessly assaulted you day after day, spiriting you away from all you ever loved and knew to be kept as his personal ‘pet’ and punching bag, was the block’s own personal hero, hit you like a ton of bricks. Since you had been imprisoned you held on to the secret hope that someone was on to him, that maybe a local neighborhood hero would one day report him and the police would storm the place, ultimately saving you from your nightmare. Now it was abundantly clear that was just a pipedream and an incredibly stupid and naïve one at that.

After being subjugated to this cruel revelation you decided that if Strade didn’t kill you, maybe you would just give up and find a way to do the job yourself. Was the tiny amount of hope you clung to worth it? Would you ever make it out of this alive?

Strade chortled sheepishly beside you, “Please, you give me too much credit! I just like to tinker and have a bad habit of sticking my nose in other people’s business, as (Name) can probably attest to.” He shook you back to reality, bringing the attention back to you, “Speaking of, we interrupted you didn’t we? You can get back to work if you need to, sweetheart.”

The neighbor seemed to pick up on the hint, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced down at her wrist watch.  “Oh my, look at that! The time just slipped away from me! I am so sorry to keep you, especially when you are in the middle of something important.”

“I-it’s OK,” finding your voice once more, you regarded her with an uneasy smile, “It was nice to take a little break from it all, and it was nice to meet you too.”

It wasn’t a lie. Despite the immobilizing anxiety, offensive annoyances, and ever present fear that was weighing you down the entire conversation, this chance meeting was like finding an air pocket in a sinking submarine. It rejuvenated you in a sense, treating you to a taste of ordinary life. You didn’t know what was going to come after this moment. Whether you would survive the pending punishments you were sure to receive or if you would ever see this woman again after Strade shut the door was anyone’s guess. But those worries were for the future, for now, you basked in the brief normalcy of it all, relishing the feeling of almost freedom that was only a few taunting steps away.

“I would say I’d love to see your creative project once it’s done, but it looks like it may be a little much for me. “ She giggled airily, giving you a kind smile, “But regardless, I hope it is a success! I don’t know how it couldn’t be, what with all the love and effort you have clearly put into it!”

“Yes, you can really see the passion reflected in her work,” Strade remarked jovially, making you cringe, “Seeing her like this really inspires me to work my hardest too.”

He smiled down at you, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned over your shoulder, “She’s really helped teach me that all the time and energy you pour into your work and hobbies is well worth the reward.”

This time, you were unable to stop the shudder his words elicited.

“Well, this pesky lady won’t take up anymore of your evening,” she started to turn away, giving a small wave as she did so, “It’s always a pleasure Strade, and it was very nice to meet you (Name)! I look forward to seeing you more in the future!”

Time seemed to slow as you felt Strade leave your side, offering his support to her as she hobbled her way down the stairs. It all felt unreal watching the two-the cheery expression that lit up Strade’s face, the pleasant aura that surrounded the woman he spoke to, the smile that you had forced upon your face as you waved her goodbye.

The sluggish, serene nature of it all made it feel like you were caught in a dream, one that would very shortly turn into a nightmare.

After Strade had made sure she was secure, he made his way back up the stairs, giving her one more cursory wave before shutting the door and bolting it closed. He pressed his face against the peephole, placing his hands on either side of the door frame in a white knuckled grip. For several drawn out seconds he watched what you assumed was his neighbor making her way back to her house, tapping his foot impatiently until he had confirmed she was back inside of her home.

Strade took a step back, slapping a hand over his eyes. He massaged them a bit before slowly dragging his palm down the length of his face. Releasing a groan of irritation, he slammed his fist down hard against the front door, rattling it against the wooden frame. It rattled you as well, fully drawing your attention back to your impending doom.

 “Scheisse,” he grumbled after a lengthy sigh, shaking his head derisively, “That old bitch just HAD to come at the most inopportune time, didn’t she? Even after I told her to not come over unannounced, she waltzes over here like she fucking owns the place! What a pain in my fucking ass.”

Now that Mrs. Schmidt was out of the picture, you felt her absence profoundly. Without her obtrusion barring its closure, the door was once more locked tight, effectively cutting you off from the fresh air and sunshine you were relishing moments prior. The outside world that had been dangled before you was gone nearly the moment you experienced it. Gloom replaced azure skies, your pending punishment looming like a dark cloud as you were once more reminded that while in his grasp, you were nothing more than a caged animal.

The future you had avoided thinking about had become the present- all that was left was to face Strade. How would he deal with you for causing such an inconvenience? What fresh hell awaited you now that you were alone?

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

The apology came as a jittery squeak, choppy breathing bouncing the words that tumbled from your pouty lips, “I’m so sorry Strade, I-I should have been paying more attention! If I didn’t drop that bottle, if I would have kept a better grip on the stupid thing, she never would have seen me. I am so, so sorry! This was a dumb, stupid mistake and it will never happen again! I won’t go in the kitchen or near the door at all, I’ll stay away from windows and I’ll peek to make sure no one is outside when I move around the house. I’ll be more careful, I promise! I’m sorry… Please…”

At some point during your babbling, you had started to cry. Your voice becoming such a blubbery, quavering mess that your words were now a slurry of unintelligible noises, the message you were trying to relay just barely recognizable over the sobbing. Tears stained your vision, making the world appear as wavering as your body felt, like any moment you would topple over and never stand up again.

In attempt to compose yourself, you moved to hastily wipe the tears from your eyes. Desperately rubbing away the signs of your outburst, Strade’s large hand landed atop your head. Curling his fingers into your hair, you flinched at the sensation, stiffening as you braced yourself for the inevitable pain that was to follow.

Any moment he’d clench his fist, latching onto your tresses in a death grip before roughly jerking you to the ground.  Your tormentor would then drag you down to the basement, amped up and ready to do god knows what to you to alleviate his tension and punish your transgressions. These very well could be your last few minutes alive, all because of one stupid mistake. Your breathing became even more erratic as his hand lingered, the anxiety of it all so overwhelming that your vision began to spot. Darkness was quickly consuming you, your heart pounding so violently in your chest you wondered if it would give out before Strade even had his chance to destroy you.

“Hey now, it’s not your fault that old bird doesn’t know how to mind her own goddamn business!”

In stark contrast to what you were expecting, Strade chuckled blithely. Instead of grabbing a hold of you, his hand began to rub your head, tousling your hair playfully. Confusion kept you planted firmly in place as you hesitantly looked up at Strade’s face, finding no trace of the immense anger you expected in his expression. If anything, seeing your response seemed to melt his mild annoyance, replacing it with a look of mirthful amusement while he scrubbed at your head like a dog.

“It’s fucking obnoxious though, isn’t it? How one person can come over and mess up your entire day?”

Doing your best to ignore his leering smile, he continued to speak, “That woman just doesn’t know how to shut up, if I let her flap her mouth too much the whole goddamn neighborhood will be up my ass about this. I guess I’m just lucky that she’s old as sin and starting to lose it, if she harps about you too much I can brush it off as signs of onset dementia. Should be easy enough to get people to believe, and besides that, at her age she’s knocking at deaths door so I probably won’t have to worry about her for all that much longer anyway.”

As he guffawed at his own cruel flippancy, you found little assurance in his callous words.  Shivering slightly, you had a hard time convincing your brain that you had made it out of the woods, that all was forgiven and soon to be forgotten. He felt you shiver beneath his hand, garnering his attention. He shot you a bemused glance, “What’s the matter, (Name)? I thought mein Mädchen would be thrilled to be off the hook right now, but are you actually disappointed? If you really want, I can conjure up some disciplinary action right now-“

“No,” you cut him off, desperation flooding your voice, “thank you Strade. Truly, thank you for understanding, and I promise it won’t happen again!”

Strade shot you a brief smile before releasing a breathy sigh, his hand falling limply from your head to rest on his hip. His eyes darted back to his neighbor’s house, a pensive frown forming on his lips.

“With all that said, I should probably still have a backup plan in place to cover my bases. Now that the neighborhood has a new darling to gossip about, we can’t just pretend like she doesn’t exist.” his eyes traveled back your way, causing unease to blossom in your chest, “I wonder what the story should be. We could ‘break up’ I suppose, but I feel like that would cause a shit show in its own way…”

His voice trailed off as he mulled it over, a spark coming across his features when a new idea donned on him.

“Or maybe… Maybe you could make the rare appearance every now and again, at one of our block parties or a cook out or something?”

Your brain struggled to process what he was saying, his suggestion so outlandish you were sure you had hallucinated him speaking it. “… What?”

His piercing eyes stayed locked on your petrified state, wearing an indecipherable expression as he mulled over his words. Without his typical cheekiness padding the suggestion, you couldn’t easily decipher if this was another sadistic attempt at feeding you false hope or something he was actually considering. To add to the uncertainty, you also couldn’t decide which option would be better for you in the long run. The suggested intimacy of posing as his public girlfriend made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t deny the joy rising within you at the thought of getting out of this house and being around other people. The idea of interacting with the outside world was too tantalizing to ignore, and you found yourself fixating on it the longer the quandary persisted. Would it be worth it, you wondered? Could this be your opportunity finally, after so much abuse, to find a little reprieve?

Excitement surged inside of you, your heart fluttering in your chest. Hope. For once in a very long time, you began to feel tangibly hopeful.

After several long seconds of silence, Strade’s face bloomed into a huge grin. He snickered as he closed his eyes, cocking his head to the side as if he had just witnessed you doing something he found truly adorable.

“I’m joking (Name), no need to look so distraught!” His smile grew as he gave you another firm pat on the head, “Didn’t get your hopes up, did I? Sorry, but it would require a lot of training to get you to the point where I could trust you not to cause problems in public, and as much as I would love to devote the time to that intensive training, there are just too many outliers that pose major problems for our current arrangement.”

He leaned forward, encroaching on your personal space so that he could look you directly in the eye. He cinched his brow, a look of mock sympathy displayed on his features as he cooed at you condescendingly, “You understand, right mein Schatz?”

Unsure of how else to respond, you gave a quick nod to confirm that you at least heard his words. Your brain felt like soup asyour new found hope fizzled and died, just as it seemed prone to do. All the flip flopping, uncertainty, and dread of the last fifteen minutes left your mind muddled and hazy, exhaustion creeping over you from the mental and emotional gymnastics. At this point, you weren’t even sure any of what had occurred in the past twenty minutes was even real so much as it was just some weird, unfortunate hallucination your mind conjured to further torment you.

“Good girl!” He gave your cheek a few light smacks to punctuate his compliment, before straightening himself to his full height, stretching as he did so. “You catch on quick (Name), it’s one of the things I really like about you. Thanks for seeing things from my perspective!”

Giving a slight sigh of relief, you figured this would mark the end of the conversation. He’d tell you to step back from the door, turn your collar back on, and go about doing whatever the hell he was about to do, leaving you in relative peace.

But as his beady eyes continued to linger on you, you couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. They trailed the length of your body, methodically taking in every inch of you with a gaze so intense it nearly burned. You desperately wanted to shrink in on yourself and cover yourself in any way you could, hide away to escape the assault of his stare. Though you were fully clothed, his attention made you feel naked, exposed and bare as he openly ogled you. If there was one thing you had learned while being trapped with Strade, it was that his undivided attention was never a good thing.

“Maybe it’s conceited to say” he positioned himself so that his body was facing yours, taking a step to close the small gap of distance that separated you, “but it really is nice work. What I have done to you, that is.”

His voice was low and rumbling, an edge to it that hinted at something you didn’t want to ruminate on. Unable to stand the intensity any longer, you folded your arms across your chest, hunching your shoulders to conceal yourself the best you could. It was a weak defense, but the only one you had.

Strade’s hands shot out like whips, grabbing hold of each of your arms in a unyielding grip. Yanking them away from your chest, he tugged you roughly towards him, spinning you around so that your back was flush against his chest and stomach. Once in place, he took hold of your arms once more, pushing them up so that they were in front of your face.

“Keep them there.”

Warm breath tickled your ear as he loomed over your shoulder, his cheek pressed flush against your head as he gave his command. He slowly released his hold on your arms, his hands hovering for a moment, testing the waters to see if you would continue to obey. Without his support the limbs shook violently, but you dared not move them.

As you kept your arms in place, Strade languidly dragged his fingers down their length, sighing wistfully as they traced over the scars that littered them.  Admiring his own handiwork, you felt his breathing growing labored. Your body moved in time with each rise and fall of his chest as he remained plastered behind you, his course fingers gingerly ghosting the length of your arms at a hypnotizingly steady pace.

He remained this way for several minutes, unspeaking as his fingers danced over the past wounds he had inflicted upon you. The gentleness of his touch was shocking, eliciting goosebumps in the wake of his caress. In an attempt to calm yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut. If you could focus on only the sensation of his touch it was easier to pretend it was not his arms you were nestled in, that it was not his calloused fingers tracing you so delicately. If you could not see him, if you could will his presence away, you could curb some of the self-loathing you felt in admitting that this exceptionally rare moment of tenderness felt good.

Once he was satisfied with surveying your arms, his hands trailed to your shoulders. Balling into fists, he took a shuddering breath as he latched on to the fabric of your shirt, using his grip on you to drag you farther into the house. “I want to see more, “he growled behind you, his composure slipping as you awkwardly stumbled backwards, “I want to make more.”

The moment you reached the living room he shoved you to the ground, ordering you to stay still while he made a hurried side trip into the kitchen. Though your panicked brain screamed at you to run, your body refused to budge, the sheer terror this new turn of events caused paralyzing you, halting any form of action.

It wasn’t long before Strade returned to the room, massive kitchen knife in hand as he stalked towards you. He wasted no time in mounting you, straddling your stomach between thick, muscled legs. With his weight upon you, cinched between his thighs, there was no hope of escape. Even if your numb limbs finally decided to listen to you and take action, it was far too late to escape. Whimpers creaked from your throat as he took hold of the collar of your shirt, placing the sharp edge of the knife against the fabric as he began to cut.

“You really are a good girl, (Name),” he panted over you, his knife nicking your skin as it erratically sawed through your shirt and bra, causing sharp, pained gasps to be squeezed from your throat. Strade’s smile grew with each sound you made, the excitement of it all driving him into a frenzy. “You’ve done everything I’ve ever asked, listen to everything I say. But you’re problem is that you’re just too irresistible, mein schatz. Es macht mich wahnsinnig.”

With your top now completely shredded you started to squirm, softly pleading for him to let you go as you maneuvered your body in any way that may loosen his hold on you. Tears stung your eyes as he clamped his legs tighter, your act of resistance causing a growing bulge to press uncomfortably into your stomach.

“Making a man lose his composure like this is enough to warrant a punishment in and of itself,” he released a shaky sigh as he pointed the tip of his knife over your exposed chest, pressing down until it had pierced your skin. Crying out, you wrapped your hands around his and began to pull, tugging as hard as you could in an effort to try and pull the blade from your body. But he was far stronger, and it seemed that the more you struggled against him, the deeper he plunged his blade.

“Aw come on now, don’t be like that,” he mocked, his voice dripping in lust, “I just want to play around a little bit, but you’re making it really hard not to lose control (Name).”

He abruptly pulled back, wresting his knife wielding hand from your grasp to raise it higher in the air. As he reared back, your arms folded across your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself. Scrunched up as much as you could, your arms and hands guarded your face and chest as you waited, bracing for impact. And instant later you felt a rush by your head, followed directly by a searing pain that emanated from your shoulder. Your wide eyes flicked over to see the thick knife stabbed into the plush carpet, inches from your head. The blade had ripped into you on the way down, tearing into the flesh and muscle of your upper arm. You screamed as blood flowed from the deep gash, seeping into the carpet beneath you.

“Uh oh,” Strade’s sing-song voice called above you, “That’s probably gonna leave a stain, huh? That’s why I do this kind of shit in the basement. It’s much easier to clean up my little ‘projects’ down there!”

He gave a throaty laugh as he ripped the knife from the carpet, the violent withdrawal of the blade sending a fresh wave of agony through you. You flinched as Strade clasped his hand over the open wound, whimpering loudly as he applied pressure. It may have been an attempt at quelling the blood flow, but as you felt him jab his fingers deeper into the wound, it became clear he was deriving immense enjoyment from the act, grinning from ear to ear as you winced at the stinging sensation.

“Hey now, don’t be too upset! This sort of thing happens during the creative process, right? Things get messy, it’s the price you pay for creating works of art,” your blood ran cold as his beastial eyes bore down on you, the rest of his face offputtingly serene as his wide grin continued to spread, “And YOU may just be my magnum opus! It’s such a treat having you as my own little personal canvas~”

Releasing your shoulder, he moved once more to grasp his knife with his bloody hand. He licked a stray drop that began to creep down his wrist, shuddering in pleasure as he tasted you, taking in your horror and butchery with great fervor. With a flick of his wrist, the blade slid across your chest, leaving an angry trail of crimson in its wake. You screamed once more as blood poured from the pulsating wound, streaming down your chest until it washed your breasts in gore. Strade groaned at the sight. Driven by his craving for carnage, he readied his blade once more, a crazed smile on his face as he gleefully considered his next move.