Six Months Free 5: Speaking Up
TW: Noncon kissing, noncon touch, post-punishment, punishment, conditioned whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, insectphobia, mentions of previous whump, references to past lab whump (I think that's it????? If I missed any let me know!!)
Note: In this chapter, Diana switches between referring to herself as Diana and EI427. They are the same person. If you haven't read previous chapters, EI427 was her 'name' at the institution where she was born and raised to be a living weapon!!!!
Damien had a Table Room, like the REIA did. This Table Room was messier than the REIA’s, but it still had a metal table in the center. There were counters and shelves with different bottles, shots, IVs, scalpels, and things EI427 had never been given the names for. EIs didn’t need to know the names of medical objects, after all. Damien had all of those things, but his Table Room was a little different. For example, in his Table Room, the entire back wall was covered with dead insects pinned in place. Each insect had a careful index card beneath it with neat, tiny print. She couldn’t read what it said from her spot on the table, though. His Table Room smelled like cigarette smoke. It also had strange green lighting instead of the too-bright lights of the REIA Table Room.
When Damien carried her into his Table Room, he set her on the metal table before going to the counter and lighting a cigarette. Only then did he begin to work. He wrapped her shattered foot in white gauze, then strapped a brace around it. He was talking while he did this, maybe, but Diana’s ears were ringing, and she couldn’t hear him. When he was finished, he slipped out of the room again.
At the REIA, when EI427 would be brought to the Table Room, it was for experiments and operations, and things that were always painful. So Diana was no stranger to pain. It was simply that over the last few months, she didn’t have anywhere near as much pain. Maybe that was why it hit her so hard. Because lying here, as she felt her body begin to tremble and her head swim, she knew she wasn’t responding well. The Academy trainers would have been disappointed.
The door swung open, and Damien returned with a hoodie and a water bottle. He took a drink before setting it down on a counter. Seeing the water made her lick her lips, though she knew better than to ask. She was just… So thirsty, and her stomach was cramping with hunger, but the thought of eating made her nauseous. Pain did that to you, as EI427 had learned while in training.
He stepped towards her. She was still shaking, goosebumps on her skin, and she tried to stop but she couldn’t. The metal table creaked as Damien sat beside her. “Here, try to sit up now, love.”
Her head spun as Damien’s hand settled on her back, guiding her actions. But she did as told. She was a good girl. She knew how to be a good girl. Her limbs robotically moved as Damien directed. He pulled the sweater over her head. It was warm. Soft. A light gray, with black swirls on it. When she looked down to study the fabric, her icy eyes widened. The swirls were moving. It was covered with ants.
“Good job. That’s better, isn’t it?” Damien cooed, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her neck.
Her trembling intensified, and she could only be grateful as Damien let her fall back against the table’s surface. It was cold. Hard. Her head thudded on the metal. But if she looked at the hoodie any longer, she was going to be sick. Don’t look at the sweater. At least if she didn’t, Diana could pretend her skin was crawling with fear rather than literal bugs. She squeezed her eyes shut against the green-tinted light overhead. There were probably bugs in the lightbulbs, too. They were everywhere. Everywhere, every….
Something caressed her jaw. More bugs? God, make it stop, make it—
The table creaked. She forced herself to look up.
Damien was crouched over her, his knees straddling her hips. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. Her powers were blocked again, and his face was unreadable, but… But Damien was smiling down at her. The sensation on her jaw returned, and she realized it wasn’t bugs. It was Damien’s thumb. Caressing her jaw, tracing up until it drew across her lips.
Despite herself, Diana recoiled. Her shoulders hunched together as she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Immediately, the ants shifted to climb over her forearms like they were a new skyscraper to explore. Stop, stop, stop….
Say something, Diana. Fucking say something!
“You’ve been so good for me, Diana,” Damien sighed, his thumb exploring the curve of her lips. Her eyes burned with unshed tears as the tip of his finger slid into her mouth. “I know that pain seems like punishment to you. After everything you’ve been through… It makes sense. I understand, baby. But I want you to know this isn’t punishment. You just don’t know what’s good for you yet.”
His nail scraped against her teeth. Diana’s breath hitched, and she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut again as she tried to curl in on herself. But her mummified foot shifted on the table, and it shot fire up her leg, and she couldn’t help a small cry as she froze again.
Where could she go? She could try to avoid Damien touching her, but she was stuck beneath him on a table. In his territory. Even if somehow Diana could walk, his creatures would be upon her in seconds.
Say something. Speak, just… Just say you’re tired. It was true. She was tired, beyond exhausted, but dammit, she couldn’t force her mouth to work yet. She tucked her chin against her chest and lifted her shoulders, as if that could somehow shield her.
The weight of Hive’s body settled on her hips as he sat on her. Ants crawled up the sweater; she could feel them on the back of her neck, and she couldn’t breathe. Maybe Diana was imagining it.
“Diana,” Hive sighed, and he was disappointed. It was in his voice. Sad and disappointed, his hand settled on her shoulder. His other hand fisted in her hair, forcing her to look at him.
Her eyes stayed tightly squeezed shut. It was all too much. Couldn’t he just… Just leave her alone, please? Diana just… Just needed to be left alone, needed to sleep and breathe and not feel him touching her, he was touching her, and the bugs were on her and….
“Diana,” he repeated, his voice sharper this time. He gripped her hair tighter, until her scalp burned, and she kept her eyes squeezed shut.
She needed to look at him. She was supposed to look at him; that’s clearly what he wanted, wasn’t it? But why didn’t he say so? Tell her what she was supposed to do, he should tell her, cause Diana wanted to be a good girl, but the hand on her shoulder was moving now. It was soft. Featherlight as it drifted lower, to where her arms were crossed over her chest. He tried to peel her arms away, and she didn’t want them to move; she didn’t want him to touch her, but her limbs obeyed Hive’s unspoken command.
Fingers squeezed her breast through the ant-covered sweater. “Look at me,” he breathed, and her eyes opened at the command just as he leaned forward to press his lips against hers.
Ice filled her veins. The hand in her hair softened, still holding her in place, but not quite as painfully. He was kissing her. He was…. His tongue probed her lips, and without thinking, Diana opened.
She was a good girl. She knew how to be a good girl, and he wanted her mouth open, so she opened her mouth.
And then Damien was kissing her harder, his tongue sliding in her mouth, and then he was biting her lip, and it was all sharp and teeth and claiming…. Yes, claiming. That’s what it was. And she was frozen, paralyzed, as he was kissing her and his hand was on her chest, sliding under the sweater, groping her breasts. Damien sighed against her mouth. His hips began to rock back and forth, grinding against her….
It was too much. She wasn’t meant to do this, it… It didn’t feel right; it felt wrong. The realization clicked into place. Wrong. This was wrong. She didn’t want to do this; it was wrong.
Diana jerked her head back and shoved at his chest with both hands. She was panting, eyes wide, and spit covered her mouth, and she immediately began to swipe at her lips in disgust. “No. No, Damien.”
He was still straddling her, and she couldn’t go far. Her foot made sure of that. But Diana pushed herself to a sitting position despite the throbbing pain in her leg and head, her heart racing. Damien said he wasn’t her new handler. If he wasn’t a handler…. She could say no.
Right? No one had kissed her before. Handlers didn’t do that, but… But she was supposed to listen, but it felt wrong. She didn’t want him to touch her like that.
His dark eyes flashed as he climbed off her trembling form. For a moment, silence hung between them. The tension was sharp enough to cut with a knife. Then, just like that, it snapped. Damien was shaking his head as he knelt beside the metal table, his hand immediately stroking her hair. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, baby… I shouldn’t have done that so quickly,” he soothed.
Her eyes widened. She squirmed slightly, but his hand moved with her, incessantly petting her. “It isn’t your fault. You still haven’t been away from them for very long… You don’t know how to accept love, poor thing. I need to be more patient. It isn’t your fault.”
Skin crawling. Panting. Trembling.
Bugs buzzing. Ants crawling over her.
Moths fluttered around Damien’s head. Damien leaned closer, nuzzling against her neck and planting soft kisses on her collarbone. The moths followed him. Two landed on her face.
Diana shook her head, and he didn’t move. She whimpered, and he didn’t stop. Stop. She wanted him away, she hurt, she was tired, he was touching her, and it was wrong.
“No!” Diana said again, and this time, it was a scream. She shoved him as hard as she could, and he stumbled back, finally releasing her. His hands were off. His hands were off of her. “No, don’t touch me! I want-I want you to leave me alone!”
The understanding and devotion vanished from his face in an instant. Fury contorted his features.
Her heart raced. Mistake. This had been a mistake. Damien lied…. He was like the REIA. Like her handlers. It didn’t matter what she wanted, even though it should have mattered. She was supposed to be like a person. She was supposed to be a person. That’s what she learned after she fled the REIA. That’s why she escaped, why she tried to be free.
“You want to be left alone, baby?” Damien said lowly, cocking his head to the side. He flicked his wrist, and the ants that coated the sweater and her skin all crawled off at once in a swarm. Every insect in the room followed. The moths, the spiders, the fireflies buzzing around the ceiling. “Did they break you that much? You’d rather be alone?” His voice broke on the last word, before hardening again. A hand stretched out towards the open door. “Fine. I’m not the villain here, Diana. I will give you what you want.”
Three giant wasps came flying in. They were the genetically engineered ones—twice the normal size, with inflated, green-striped abdomens. The wasps that drained her powers away. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she was left silent again. Voice fleeing her because good girls don’t beg.
Good girls accept their punishment.
With a crook of his finger, the wasps flew towards Diana. They landed on her shattered foot. Just the slight pressure of their tiny bodies made spots swim in her vision, and Diana shoved her fist in her mouth. Don’t scream. Good girls don’t scream, good girls don’t scream… The insects moved, probing between the wrapping until they found bare skin.
Their stingers pierced her skin, one after the other. She bit down hard on her hand as she fell onto the table again, back arching, a silent scream begging to escape. Her vision turned black. Nausea churned in her gut, and she was going to throw up, she was going to throw up.
Damien’s hand gently stroked her sweat-slicked forehead. “I’ll leave you alone now, love. You don’t see it now… But this isn’t a punishment. This is for your own good.”
A strangled sob escaped her as she writhed on the table. She couldn’t breathe, and the door slammed shut. The click of a lock followed.
Even the quiet hum of the insects was gone. They had left with Hive. The only sound in the dim room was her own pants and sobs.
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