The Caged Bird

[Desten DuPont]

She gasped when he suddenly spoke. The vampire had become good at allowing his voice to announce himself and not his steps, and Desten was lost in her own mind when he approached her. She was so tired, so utterly exhausted. Her wings drooped down around her like some sort of old blanket, and she looked up at him incoherently for a moment before his words fit themselves together.

"If you refuse, I will simply rip them off."

Desten lept up quickly, for her wings were a gamble even she was not willing to take. Without them she would be nothing; a purebred hawk without her wings was like a wolf without their nose or a raven without her eyes. Useless. They recessed back into her body, and she wavered for a moment, trying to stand very straight against the wall and be quiet.

Maybe if she were quiet, he wouldn't hit her with that whip. It... didn't seem appealing. Neither had the stake, but then again, he hadn't been telling her he'd clip her wings, either. She breathed very slowly, softly, as though she were trying to hide from him in plain sight.

[Stefan]

She'd taken a little longer to do as he'd said that he'd have liked, but he wouldn't complain.  She was tired and not used to such treatment, and he could see it in her mind the way things went together.  Threatening her wings worked, obviously.  "Very good.  You are only allowed to shift to your hawk form or demi form when I say you can, and any breaking of this rule will result in the loss of your wings.  Don't forget that, because I won't warn you again."

That being said, he was finished with the subject and ready to pick things up from where he'd left off.  "Now that you've had some sleep, let's pick up where we left off.  It is only polite to greet someone when they enter your company, so we'll try that again.  'Hello, Master' would be the appropriate greeting.  Try it," he ordered, showing a surprising level of patience.  She would get this right if he had to flay the skin from her bones this time around.

[Desten DuPont]

He said he'd rip them out. Desten believed him, with all her little rapidly beating heart. And it showed. He was one step closer to owning her, which was unfortunate for her. She looked down, and then away, and then back at him as he spoke. There was that 'Master' thing again.

The vampire had to have been inside her head at some point, because her shields were paper-thin and gone long before. She scanned her mind frantically for some good memory to hang on to, because she knew that things were about to hurt again. She couldn't find one. She had no good memories. None.

Her eyes dropped down, no longer that wild gold, but now just the usual glass-bottle green with tiny gold flecks in the iris. She didn't feel like greeting him. She didn't feel like talking. She didn't feel like anything.

She pretended she was somewhere else for a while. It would obviously not work out to her advantage.

[Stefan]

She'd be better off believing him, considering he hadn't yet bluffed, and he'd told her he wouldn't.  She needed to get used to the fact that he didn't lie over such things.  Her eyes shooting every other direction and the sound of her heart beating like a bird who'd been caught by the cat only made her more delicious, and he smiled when she remained silent for a few moments.  She was still refusing, which was both informative regarding her force of will, and rather foolish on her part.  He would just keep hurting her until she complied.  "Well, I have to warn you, little bird.  I'm trying to be patient with you, but even my patience will run short the way you're behaving.  Since you seem to be having such difficulty with this, we'll make sure you get plenty of practice.  From now on, I will greet you when I come in, and you will return with the appropriate greeting in response.  Repetition should help."

He released the snap holding the whip in place at his hip, and let it uncoil while he held it.  He wouldn't strike just yet.  "We'll start at the beginning.  Hello, Desten, I hope you slept well.  Now, your turn, and don't make me ask you again."

She was trying to hide in her mind, and he pushed past her already fading defenses to essentially jerk her back to the present.  He wasn't going to just let her escape to the back of her mind through this.  She would remain aware.

[Desten DuPont]

Desten was millions of miles away, when she felt invisible hands dragging her back into the present. She blinked, and the sky faded around her, leaving her standing in the dark of the cell, with that single, solitary light shining down on her like she was on stage.

She took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. It hurt somewhere in her chest that had not hurt before, something... not like heartbreak. Something else. She looked down at the ground. She couldn't make herself say it.

Tightly her hands twined within themselves behind her back, and she tried not to fidget. If she stood very still, maybe he'd just forget she was there. Maybe he'd grow bored of her and leave again. She felt the compulsion to look at him suddenly, and was caught all over again - this had been her main problem.

She felt no compulsion to speak, however. It would have been easy for him to influence her to say it, but to make her -want- to say it...

He'd have to kill her first, she decided.

[Stefan]

Quite frankly, he was impressed with her stubbornness, but part of him said that it was merely that she'd forgotten the pain he could, and would, cause her.  He wouldn't kill her, not like she would prefer, but instead he'd make her stay aware of it all.  He wouldn't let her rest until he got what he wanted, and he wasn't going to use vampire tricks to get those words out of her.  No, she would say them of her own free will, because she wanted him to stop hurting her.  It was almost amusing the way she'd told herself this would all work, but he wasn't quite willing to fit into that as she wanted him to.  Her thoughts didn't fail to interest him, though.

"I won't be killing you, Desten.  You will not only remain alive, but awake and aware, until I decide that I'm satisfied.  The more difficult you make this, the more agony you will endure until you are allowed to rest.  Remember that, and remember what I asked of you."  He wouldn't be stopping for anything short of obedience, and then she'd have to deal with the fact that she'd required so much effort to 'convince'.  Not that he wouldn't enjoy it, of course.

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and forced her to her knees hard enough that it HAD to have been excruciating on her kneecaps, but that wasn't the most of it.  He circled around her again as he examined her form, and he stopped behind her to almost gently brush her hair over her shoulders and off of her back.  The whip might cut some of it, and he didn't want it anymore damaged that was necessary.  One step back from her body, and he flicked the whip up to crack it in midair for the psychological value, and then flicked it right back down to crack once more against her back.  

He only gave her a moment for that to sink in, for the full realization to hit her, before he struck again for a longer, deeper stroke.  A real slice that went right through the cloth of her shirt instead of just stinging.  He'd see how long this lasted.

[Desten DuPont]

Desten inhaled sharply as her knees made contact with the ground. Oh my but that HURT, that hurt more than the thing in her leg did! It was a pain that reverberated all through her nerves, and she bit down so hard she made her teeth hurt. She bit back a scream, though; oh no, she wouldn't scream for him.

And then he started whipping her. It was... like fire. Like someone poured lighter fluid on her and just thrown a match. Her knees, throat, leg - none of it was even remotely comparable to this. Her entire body spasmed as she struggled to keep from crying, trying to tense herself for the hits. They weren't rhythmic, though - he'd stop for a second and hit her again, harder, and she just couldn't seem to anticipate them.

"STOP!" she finally screamed. "PLEASE!" She didn't have anything left. She'd lasted for hours, perhaps even days. She sank into the ground as he paused, no doubt knowing what was about to happen.

Covering her face, she shook her head, jerking as her hair slid across the wide open wounds on her back. Muscle tissue was exposed, and thank God he'd told her to put her wings away, for they would have been rendered utterly useless after that.

"Master, please, please don't hit me anymore," she said softly.

[Stefan]

She'd honestly lasted longer than he'd expected for her, but she was still not conditioned to handle this.  It was only a matter of time before she cracked, and he once again moved gently and carefully to push her hair back over her shoulders and off of her back.  "That's so much better, Desten," he told her, his demeanor more friendly for a moment, to show her that not everything had to hurt.  He'd been making it a point to use her name often, to get her used to hearing it from him.  He was her world now.

"Are you going to behave now?" he asked, reaching down to tilt her head up from under the chin.  It could be such a romantic gesture on his part, and such a vulnerable position for her should he decide to hurt her.  "Are you mine, Desten?"

[Desten DuPont]

She shuddered as he brushed her hair away from her cuts, spasming every few seconds as her body tried to cope with what had just happened. She didn't think these were going to heal, not for a while. There was such a heavy feeling in her body, like she was sinking into something, maybe tar, or worse. She couldn't explain it, none of it made sense.

She looked up at him, all dirty and pale, and nodded, unable to find her voice for a moment. She knew, though, he demanded an answer - and not a gesture, a real answer. No matter how much it hurt, she had to do it, because if she didn't...

"Yes," she said. It came out in a strange squeak, and she swallowed and tried again.

"Yes, Master. I'm yours."

She felt her heart break, but... it didn't seem to matter. As long as he stopped, it didn't really matter.

[Stefan]

She'd gotten what she wanted for the moment, and he'd stopped hurting her.  This was a definite step in the right direction, but he knew it wasn't the end.  She still had a lot of work ahead of her, but he would reward her for this if she continued to behave well.  

"Very, very good, Desten.  You're being a very good pet.  And now that you're being so good, I'd like to see those beautiful wings of yours again.  Show them to me," he told her, his tone once again in that friendly, almost soothing place.  He knew it would hurt for her to show him her demi form now, but he wanted to know if she'd do it.  She would hurt either way, but it was the choice that mattered.  Would she choose to obey him and be in pain, or refuse him and have him hurt her again?

He was quite alright with either.

[Desten DuPont]

Desten lowered her head, still shaking profusely and twitching every other second. Now he wanted to see her wings? They were the only thing she had left that was still beautiful, so why would he not want to see them? Her logic was so... backwards. But, yet, he had asked, and without thinking for a moment, she let them slip out.

When they spread, it was an amazing amount of pain - not like before, but this pain came from within as her back -split-. She gasped and grabbed for his hand, but suddenly became afraid he'd hit her again, and so recoiled instinctively, and fell on her side. She rolled off of her wing, and turned quickly before twitching in pain, to brush it off.

Her wings were beautiful. He said so. She mustn't let them get dirty. She scrambled now, to clean them, furiously, and then... she tried to stand. One hand grabbed the bars as she pulled herself up. She'd never fathomed it took that many back muscles to move as it did, but oh, the pain spread through her body so badly her knees quaked and gave. She smacked the ground just as hard as she had when he pushed her, and it took every ounce of sanity to keep her feathers from touching the disgusting, bloody floor.

She would NOT let them be soiled. Master would not LIKE it.

[Stefan]

Perfection.

He read her thoughts through it all, and he was delighted.  So long as she could keep this attitude, she could leave the dungeon, which was his personal preference.  He didn't want to be too impatient and rush it, though.  Too much privilege too soon could ruin their progress.  He'd noted how she'd grabbed for him in her sudden pain, and that was a good reaction, but the fact that she'd caught herself and not touched him because she didn't have permission was just as good.  She'd reacted wonderfully.

"Yes, they're very beautiful.  My pretty little bird.  Are you hungry?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.  Of course she was.  

Have a bed made up with black sheets and set out a tray of fresh fruit and bread, with water, he shot at one of his slaves, a middle-aged blonde woman he'd had in his possession for years.

He coiled his whip back up and returned it to its place at his hip so that he could reach a hand out to her.  He wouldn't carry her up to a room, but he would help her.  She would do the rest herself.  "Come with me, Desten.  You've behaved nicely, so I have a warm, soft bed and some food waiting for you upstairs."

[Desten DuPont]

Desten couldn't process much of what he was saying - in truth, she thought she might vomit she was in so much pain. She stood again, grabbing the bars tightly as she supressed an angry growl - not at him, at herself. She couldn't... couldn't stand upright. Her wings were so heavy on her back, and the wounds were still bleeding - not gushing, but there was a nice trail.

When she was done what whatever the hell she was doing, she took a few deep breaths, and reached for his hand. She -willed- herself not to fall. She'd never had her wings hurt so much before, but it literally felt like someone was taking a hot poker and prying those slash marks open more. She couldn't help but inhale sharply and twitch as they walked, though otherwise she was dead silent. She pressed her lips firmly together and told herself that she would not scream, that she would not make a sound.

If it weren't for Stefan's hold on her head, she would have fallen backwards down the stairs due to loss of perception about a dozen or so times, but when she would start to sway, she would -force- her wings up, however small the movement was, to counterbalance herself. She did not want to rely on this man to get her up there; he was her Master, not her damned valet. She should be good enough to do this on her own.

When they reached the top step, Desten felt another stronger wave of nausea overtake her, and she swayed backwards into the bannister. He still would not let her head go, though, and so what should have been blissful unconsciousness was now a horrible reality. It didn't matter what they had for her in that room he lead her into, she couldn't appreciate any of it. She was in too much pain.

[Stefan]

She was doing marvelously, but it as obvious she would need sleep before she could eat.  That was fine.  

Put the fruit back for the time being.  She'll eat later, he informed the slave, well aware that Desten would make it as far as the bedroom before he'd let her mind go and lose her to unconsciousness.  She would make it as far as the bedroom, though.  He was ensuring it, and she was determined.  He was quite impressed.  She wasn't quite as useless as Vanille had said she was.

He opened the door for her when they reached it, letting her in first, and led her to the bed immediately.  He helped her in, considering her injuries, and assisted her in settling on her stomach to rest.  She had done well, so he wouldn't deny her help.  It would be if she woke up and refused him once more that he would have to start again.  It was really in her best interests that her opinion didn't change.

"Sleep well, Desten," he told her, and he released her mind.

((Continued [a href=\'http://midnightmayhem.ourdarkarts.net/index.php?showtopic=731\' target=\'_top\']here[/a].))