You can call me Spooky, 28-year-old ftm trans bisexual asshole. Welcome to my stories - No AI, All my mistakes, No Beta we die like Mrs Davis. This blog is a multiple-fandom fanfic now. Please explore and have fun. Must be 18+ to read! Mind the tags. This is all fiction, not condoning any of the darkfics or yandere themes. Be nice to each other. Don't yuck someones yum, and have a good read.
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I’ve been reading your entire works over the past month. Love them!
I just did a reread of “I am but a small creature”. While that level of age play is not something I would do in my personal life and was originally put off by, but your writing was so well done that it makes me see the appeal for others and I fully respect it. This also goes for FTM and the Alpha/Omega themes. I had never read anything relating to those subjects before. Thank you for showing the different kinks in your works. Gives people the chance to learn about kinks they didn’t know about before. My compliments to the chef!
My question in regard to Small Creature is about the time right before the beginning of the story. How do you imagine that moment where Agatha sees Bunny under the spell/hex for the first time? I always imagined that Agatha had to have seen her first before her and Rio made the plan to kidnap their sweet wife. What was her reaction?
I know it’s a little late in the story to bring that back up so I was just curious on what you imagined?
I must tackle such a giant compliment in parts. Here we go;
First off; this is all I have ever wanted while writing kink. Some of these kinks are stuff I don't want/practice. But I think that's not the point of writing. The point is that even if you don't see yourself in cgl, ftm, wlw, alpha omega dynamics, any of it - that you can still appreciate a story. That you can enjoy it even if it is not your yum. If I write well enough that you can enjoy something like Small Creatures (regardless of the kink bits you don't like). That is the best I can ever hope for.
2.) I've been holding back some more bdsm and age pl*y elements recently bc I was afraid of losing an audience. Sometimes the darkfics get so dark I lose some people, or the kink is too intense. But I think it's important to write everything. So you saying this reminds me of getting to be free to write whatever I want. So thank you.
3.) In my day to day life. I have a really hard time with compliments. I don't let them sink in. I respond to them on here because I like a conversation. I like to know what is wroking for this platform. But I have a hard time with receiving praise. It makes me feel undeserving. So when you compliment me with something that hits me in the chest so amazing like this^ I don't forget it. Thank you for writing it.
Thank you so much for your kindness even when I'm not sure if thank you can cut it.
Now let's talk about Small Creatures.
I wrote that fic when I was in a bad place. And it absolutely helped me figure out what I wanted to do next. I love it. Sometimes I'm afraid to touch it and ruin it. Which I think you can see by my long time of putting it in a hiatus. But I think about it. I've now written over 100 stories. But that one is close to hitting 60k. I think I need to get my hands in it agian, I've just been scared and overwhelmed.
I love questions about plots and storylines, I've had a few people ask if it was going a certain way or what is in store for the three of them. I love it, please don't hesitate to ask about it. I know on Tumblr it's not the story I'm known for, but on AO3 it's my most clicked on fic. It’s long and I love it.
I’ve been asked about doing prequals for the fic. Then in the 60's or meeting young in Salem. I'd love to which is why I am careful what I divulge. (I've had a friend on here plagiarize). But the first chapter mentions that Agatha and Rio so much as went shopping to prepare to kidnap Bunny again. This sends Bunny into a tailspin, at the idea they waited or didn't want her. We also have the later chapter with the Fleetwood Mac sweater, where Agatha mentions he breakdown over missing Bunny. Rio talks about it a little on how it was to wake up Agnes and then deal with the heartache of seeing Bunny not know them. I think a prequel chapter would be super fun as a break in the series. Obviously right now *SPOILERS* they’re pretty stuck in decisions and in geography on what to do next. But yeah there was a lot of anger for Agatha, being bested by Wanda in that way. Then losing Bunny wasn’t something she was ever willing to do. Bc Nicky doesn’t exist in this story, that’s really a lot of the anger and yearning Agatha has. But after centuries together, their little family isn’t something worthy of even the Darkhold. Idk if that answers your question enough? But that’s my thoughts. Thanks for writing in!
FBI Agent Rio Vidal / Detective Reader | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar💰 | Agatha + R + Rio MasterList | Read More MultiFandom Fanfics Here
Warnings : Agent Vidal is romantic / Past Agnes Relationships but not focus / Rio Vidal is Mourning her Mom / Rio is romancing you / Sickfic / You are getting over being sick / Rio needs you to be okay / 3k words / Love declarations / Yearning Core / White Kniight / Detective O'Connor Toxic Ex / Rio endgame / D3ad Parents Mourning / 18+
“Hola preciosa, te ves hermosa como siempre.” Agent Vidal flirts as the sound of your typewriter clicks. The noise is as obnoxious as the agent.
“Detective, bájese de mi escritorio.” You say back without looking up. But you're still as congested as hell. You rub another tissue against your nose, it’s chapped and pink.
“Why did you give Agent O’Connor a shot but you won’t even wish me a good morning?” Vidal questions, lowering her tone and bending in a little like you two were whispering secrets.
You look up now, damn her manipulation.
“Agent O’Connor and I aren’t together-”
“-Anymore, I know, she’s my partner.” Rio cringes, “Temporary babysitting.” The agent decides on instead, scratching her chin.
“Then why don’t you get the dirt from her? I’m working here.” You snip back, sending yourself into a coughing fit.
Wincing in pain when you were done, your whole body hurt.
“Muñeca, you need to go home, you’re sick.” Vidal says now, like a fox on a new hunt.
“Please go, I really don’t have the energy for whatever this game is today, okay?” You say, sniffling and typing once more. You just want quiet again.
A glass door opens and the chief falls across the room.
His voice is loud, i your teeth hurt.
“Vidal, get your ass in here!” His mustache moves like a catipiller on his lip, and the FBI agent doesn’t flinch, doesn’t twitch even an inch.
She’s here to liaison, chief isn’t her boss, in fact, she took dumps in the morning bigger than the man.
You’re almost impressed by her rude display.
Vidal continues to watch you ignoring her for a few minutes before reaching into her dress suit pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. It was embroidered with all kinds of flowers.
She lays it over your left hand and sighs.
“Mi amor, feel better.” She says and you wait until Vidal’s walked away to lift the handkerchief.
It’s gorgeous. If you had to guess, you’d say her mother made it for her. You don’t want to put your raw nose into such a piece of art. You fold it and set it in your pocket, sure that Agent Vidal didn’t mean to give you such a personal item.
Hours go by, Harkness comes by and harasses you a little, you aren’t interested in playing with your ex. It was old news. You’d left and you weren’t going back.
Harkness leaves and licks her wounds (with the alcohol in her desk no doubt).
You’re writing up a report and then you would have to go back down to the morgue.
All of this was taking too long, and you were so sick. All you wanted to do was pull the blinds closed and sleep on your sofa.
You had the smallest office in the whole precinct. You didn’t even have a computer yet, still using a typewriter to make your reports.
It was bullshit, but part of you wondered if it was because you were O’Connor’s ex that you were in police department exile.
Well to everyone but Agent Vidal.
By lunch time, you’d drawn the blinds and closed the door. The lights off, still, your headache only grew to monstrous levels.
You were delirious. The pain was only building. So you were sure you hadn’t missed the social cue from a certain FBI agent.
If she’d knocked, you didn’t hear it.
But there she was, walking into your office with a bag and a thermos.
You winced at the metal noise as the door shut, covering your face in your hands.
“Buenas traded hermosa,” Vidal whispered as to not hurt you.
You must have looked as good as you felt.
“What do you want?” You grumble, not understanding why the FBI agent would kick you while you were already down.
“I come bearing gifts, Ven a sentarte y a comer, comer.” Vidal speaks Spanish to you as if it were a language only you two speak. It’s somehow sweet when she does it. But you blame it on the sickness that you would ever think that.
You try to sit up at your desk, opening your eyes to see that Vidal is now in her white button-up and slacks. A few flyaway hairs fall from her normally perfect bun. Her button up jacket gone, she appears more human now, not so plastic.
Rio is unpacking a feast on your desk, but you are more intrested by her exhausted expression.
“How’s your case going?” You ask accidentally, forgetting you hate her.
Vidal takes this as an invitation to pull up a foldable chair and sit across from you.
“O’Connor keeps scaring our witness,” Vidal tells you while she pours two cups of soup and two teas.
The steam rising catches your eye, and your stomach grumbles.
“I’m not hungry.” It’s sort of a lie, you don’t want to do this. Not with Vidal.
“Come on, you’ll love it. Best Caldo de Res in fifty states. And the tea will help, I swear.” Vidal insists, and you reach forward and take the tea in the thermos first: accepting a tentative taste. The steam warms your face like a kiss, a sweet promise you’ll feel better again one day.
The first sip hits better than alcohol. It warms your whole body, and you sigh, leaning back. Cradling the cup like it’s your long-lost lover.
Vidal eyes you but doesn’t verbally celebrate her victory. She’s not that type, to enjoy being right with low blows and coarse conversation.
No, she’s got a bigger prize in her eyes, and so she speaks low.
“The perp has a strange boot impression. Can’t figure it out yet.” Vidal tells you as if she can distract you from hating her.
You swallow the tea, and Vidal watches the way your lips bend and curl.
The steam wafts in the low-lit office until you respond.
“You found the body in the East Wood?” You say, distracted by the puzzle. Unaware that Agent Vidal has pushed the soup closer to you, you pick it up with a metal spoon and gaze off into space.
“Yeah, right by the snow run off that meets the creek.” Vidal says, and you moan again at the first glance of soup. It’s garlic, it’s chicken, it’s nice and hot. You close your eyes in delight.
“Loggers use that trail, boots would be steel-toed. A few of them might even limp, working in logging their whole life. Injuries and a strange gait could change the boot print. They’d know those woods, too.” You supply and cup the side of the mug to swallow more broth.
Come to think of it, you’d not eaten for at least a day.
Agent Vidal, hummed at your advice, already thinking of the names of surrounding logging companies.
While she fills from both thermos in your mugs. Making sure you get it while it’s nice and hot.
You eat in mostly silence, Vidal occasionally tells you about the case. But mostly she just tries to distract you long enough to refill you on soup and tea.
An hour goes by and by the time Vidal packs up you are due down by the morgue.
“Let me walk with you, I gotta go that way anyway,” Vidal fibs, and you don’t fight her, full belly and sleepy. Happy for once.
The FBI agent didn’t need to go down to the morgue, but you didn’t need to know that.
Every day that week, Vidal brought you different soups and teas. Not asking, simply showing up in your office at lunch time with gentle conversation and kindness.
O’Connor and a few guys around noticed, not liking it. Making rude comments, grunting, and gossiping.
Agnes even tried to talk to you about it, but you didn’t pay her any mind. As the older, jealous cop raged on about how Vidal was not good for you. How would you need to see that, to see how good Agnes was instead?
“What do I need to do for you to take me back?” Agnes groaned annoyed at how long she’d been in the dog house.
“Get out.” You repeated, looking over your casenotes at the photos.
“You think sleeping with Vidal is going to make our relationship better?” Agnes spat, and you didn’t even look up. This was so toxic, so on brand.
“We’re not together, we’re over. Now leave my shitty little office.” You repeated monotone.
“You do this and I’ll hate you forever.” O’Connor growls out, baring her teeth at you.
Finally, your chin lifts to look at her.
“I can’t be the only thing you love about yourself anymore. Now please, go.”
Oh, how fun your morning coffee’s with ex had gone.
It was the same words over and over, and you had work to do. You’d wasted enough time with Agnes.
You and Vidal continued your dates; she’d stop by with another coffee or tea by 4. Anything to get another few moments with you.
Never asking, but not intruding either, a friendly face who just wanted to sit with you.
It wasn’t until the second week that you noticed your headache leaving and your cold sweats diminished.
Vidal brought in lunch again, and you eyed it.
“What restaurant do you go to for all these good soups?” You ask, and Vidal didn’t react immediately, opening the thermos like it was clockwork.
“Oh, one close to my house,” she shrugged it off. You smelled the lie instantly.
“The one near Jimmy's? The one with the red sign?” You ask, and Vidal nods absently, making sure not to spill as she pours.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Vidal answers, looking up, realizing that she’d been lazy on that one.
You give her a knowing smile.
There was something special about the bad fibs, instead of the liars you were used to.
“Vidal, where do you get the soup?” You repeat like a detective, and the agent sits across from you.
“Let a woman have her secrets.” The FBI agent teased, winking at you. She’d been doing that a lot recently, and you had to admit the mysterious agent was charming.
You cleared your throat awkwardly, picking up the teacup first.
“I um, I owe you-“
Vidal said, waiving a hand and swallowing the tea before stopping you.
“Don’t be.” Vidal brushes it off like it’s absolutely nothing.
“Oh, I almost forgot I have-“ you reach into your pocket to take out the handkerchief, you’d cleaned it and gone so far as to carefully iron it. Appreciating the beauty in such a piece.
Vidal shakes her head again.
“Keep it, I have more.” Another lie falls out, and you arch an eyebrow.
“You always lie like that?” You ask,, and it takes the FBI agent a moment to react.
“Lie?” The gorgeous woman almost squeaks.
“Yeah, you have a tell.” You laugh a little, your throat finally letting up with the delicious teas.
Vidal was happy to see the light coming back to your cheeks.
“I do not, Estás loco, cariño.” Vidal rattles off and you narrow your eyes. But the corner of your lips curls up.
Vidal likes it when you do this.
The sunlight hits through your tiny window, lighting up the steam from your mugs. It looks dramatic like Studio 50.
You have a contest of who can blink first. Neither of you budge, until Vial smirks.
“What is it?” She’s gotta know.
“Fat chance, I’m not telling you.” You scoff, laughing, only for Vidal to wiggle her eyebrows at you.
Making you blink first.
“Got you, you’re fibbing. Not a chance I have a tell, my facial features are stone cold to the bone.” Vidal answers making you giggle again. It turns into a few coughs and your coworker pushes the tea into your hand.
You are coughing to hard to thing of how her fingers linger against yours as she passes the mug.
You drink and try to catch you breath.
“You gone to a doctor yet?”
“It’s almost gone, just lingering cough.” You summarize, sipping the tea again greedily.
Sensing a tone change in the room, you look over the mug steam to see Vidal’s demeanor shift.
“You okay, Vidal?” You ask, unsure what’s happened.
The FBI agent leaned back in the metal folding chair.
“My mom died a few years back, lung cancer. It took her really fast, one day she was cooking, and then the next, it was a small cough.” She looks you in the eye with the saddest smile ever. You can see all that love stuck in Vidal’s chest as she told you this story.
“So small, just a cough, and then it just got worse. She made those handkerchiefs for me, a thing we could do with our hands while we waited for her to die.” Vidal took a sharp breath in, and you wanted to stop time.
To give this poor woman a minute back of the comfort she so freely gave to you.
You were mourning a woman you didn’t know, watching her daughter break open in front of you.
“They’re beautiful.” You whispered, it wasn’t enough. How could you say the right thing in this moment, though?
“Thanks, cariño,” Vidal didn’t let the tears fall, but you could see them threatening.
“I’m so sorry, Vidal.” You add, because it’s not enough.
“Call me Rio, will you?” The FBI agent shared the tenderness a second longer before you frowned.
“Did you just manipulate me into calling you by your first name?” You mostly joke, sitting back in your creaky office chair to match her body language.
“No, but I was hoping to ask you to dinner tonight?” Rio pivoted well, you had to admit. You think for a moment.
“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, and Rio leans forward in her chair again, elbows resting on your desk.
“I make a mean meal, as shown.” Rio nodded towards the empty thermos.
“I thought these came from a restaurant near you.” You narrow at her, folding your arms over the other against your chest.
“Eh, small falsehood. Besides, I cook better than anything in this town, my mom taught me every recipe.” The older woman told you, not giving up easily. Her lips move so smooth, you wonder what it would feel like to kiss them.
You couldn’t argue with that. Still, the real question kept bothering you.
“Is this some kind of bet or something?” You sniffle, hating how weak you sound. Tightening your arms over your chest like this won’t hurt as badly when Rio admits to it.
“What?” She says, instead, confused, not moving away.
“You and Agnes are- whatever you two were and you work together. I’m her ex, is this some kind of a bet or a vendetta? What revenge or something?” You cringe at yourself, wincing at the idea of any of that.
Rio can’t believe this.
“Do you- what the hell? Is that why you’re in this tiny ask office? Are they, are they treating you different for-” Rio stands, the veins in her forearms flex and you actually fear her wrath for a moment.
“It’s fine, honestly I-”
“No, no it’s not. You believe that I’m asking you on a date to get back at Officer O’Connor, has that happened to you already?” Rio’s furious, in your defense, it’s the most white knight look you’ve ever discovered.
“Rio- it’s fine. I’m okay really it’s okay!” You exclaim but as Rio turns to walk out of your office to high tail it to your boss, to have his ass on a platter next you reach out and grab her by the arm.
Rio’s body relaxes an inch under your touch.
She’s still sizzling with outrage, but she doesn’t move, not while your touching her.
“I just need to earn my stripes, it’s alright. If you complain, it’ll only make it worse.” You try not to excuse the shitty treatment you are getting.
You’d broken up with Agnes, and she’d been trying to get back with you ever since, and this bullying was an all-time low.
“This isn’t right.” Rio seethed, and you weren’t immune to this display.
Your hand moved down to the agent's hand, and your fingers laced in hers.
Rio’s hand tightened in yours, squeezing as if to understand.
“What is?” You ask honestly. You worked in a police force as a detective for murders and sexual offenses, not a lot of happy endings here.
“That’s why you were so guarded, you thought I was nasty like them.” Rio’s voice lowered, finally understanding your hesitancy.
“I was, but that was like five thermos lunches ago. I will try not to punish you for the acts of others.” Your answer is gentle; you can’t believe how warm Rio’s hand is in yours.
“I’ll be patient,” Rio’s gaze moved down to where your hands were laced.
“Really?” You had never heard of such an offer. Your fingers are digging into her skin like you’re afraid she’ll change her mind on the spot.
“Yeah, you’re worth the wait.” Rio softly added, and you leaned your head against the back of her shoulder.
“Does this mean the restaurant with the red sign close down?” You flirt easily, enjoying the safety that Rio’s company engulfed you in.
The heat of her body as your forehead rested on her crisp white button-down, you could enjoy the outline of her muscles.
God you knew better than to to fall again.
But the intimacy in the way Rio cared for you, you’d dated emotionally stunted women for so long, you’d forgotten what it was liked to be wooed.
“I’ll make you soup every day, just promise me you’ll get that cough looked at?” Rio asked, a hesitancy, a fear that you won’t take care of yourself if she looks away.
“Promise.” You wrap another arm boldly around Rio’s middle. She leans into you further, letting a backwards hug turn into a longer hug. You could fall asleep upright with the agent like this. Who knew Rio was such a teddy bear?
“Any requests?” She asked, and you yawned against her. Rio was already listing all the different recipes in her head. Sure that one of the tea’s would finally rid you of your sickness. While she worried, you felt exhaustion gnawing at you.
“How good are you at being big spoon?”
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Dr Eva Stratt / FTM Reader | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Trans AU MasterList | Tip Jar💰
Warnings: Ftm Reader First Of the Month fic is late / Sailboat Love Confessions / boat of love / S_icide word mentioned but not done / Love Declaration / In memory of Grace / Two lovers at the end of the world au / Older Stratt Younger Reader / Sp_*ler for Life after Project Hail Mary / 2k words / 18+
“I feel like I have the right to ask, Dr. Stratt-”
“Eva, please, we are day drinking, alone in a sailboat, trying to stop global warming. Another impossible task, it’s just us and the ice. You might as well drop the pretense.” The famous scientist tells you as the two of you sit in your sweaters inside the galley of the ‘science expedition.’
“Eva,” you say it softer than intended. It’s not your fault; you had a crush on the scientist before spending 6 months alone on a boat. Now you were downright in love.
She pulls off her beanie as her careful hands hold a mug of what’s left of the black coffee. You’d taken to the tea, seeing as how coffee was the only thing that made Eva not eat you alive in the morning.
The older scientist nods.
“Eva, is this a suicide mission?” You say too quickly, and Eva just gives that sad half-grin. It’s so her, trademark by now. Like Eva’s full smile left with a spaceship.
The scientist doesn’t answer, the boat rocks back and forth, and you just sit in this uncomfortable silence.
It wasn’t the right wording.
Not with what the entire world knew Dr. Eva Stratt as Project Hail Mary. About how she saved the whole world.
Now here she was, years later, older, more lost than ever.
Hiding on a sailboat under an expedition that had no reason to work.
But that wasn’t why you’d used the term suicide mission.
You had to wondered, well, because she wasn’t going to accept a second person on this sailboat - and well, normally expeditions of science had teams…. Teams implying lots and lots of scientists.
And as the ship rocked back and forth and you stared into her tired eyes.
Well, you couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion. That if Dr. Stratt had come out here to…..
“Eva, is this your-your last mission?” You shake your head trying again.
Your not settled when Eva scofs and lets out a little laugh.
Yeah that didn’t bode well.
She sipped her coffee and then did a little shrug.
“God willing.” She said, both you didn’t feel like the inside joke was directed towards you.
You give a thin smile and try to deduce that one.
“You believe in God?” You try, and Eva doesn’t answer.
She was so hard to get to know, and fuck you’d followed her out here just to spend time with the impenetrable woman.
“Eva why am I here?” You ask again, and the scientist looks at you, really looks.
You’re wearing a beanie offcenter, your glasses hanging by your chin. A small scruffy man, wearing a yellow rain pants and an ugly sweater.
“Did you even want me here? I mean did I really win the grant to do this or are you? Am I here to assist in the end of the amazing Eva Stratt? After al you’ve been through I just-” You stop talking, hating the sound of your own uncertainty. You drop the glasses down on the table in a huff.
Proving yourself a flawed scientists, there was no facts to the feelings in your chest.
Dr. Stratt was old enough to be your mother, hell maybe even grandmother.
You watched Eva assessing you.
“I read thousands of dissertations from young budding scientists who wanted to stop global warming by coming out and taking samples of glaciers.” Eva answers in that autistic dry tone that makes you feel like she’s teaching you more than making conversation.
Your eyes fall down to the chipped red mugs resting on top of a large paper map with all it’s red lines and notes.
“Yes, yes I realize I got the best chance to research an-”
“No, you were the only young scientist who genuinely believed we could stop global warming.” Eva stopped you, and you let out a little breath, the window going towards the top deck fogged over from the heat inside.
Two scientists sailing to the end of the world, heating the galley up like some kind of sex scene.
You stared at Eva trying to discern, always wanting to understand her better.
“So I-”
“It is my last mission, yes, but not like you think. I know you started off with a hero worship. You idolised who I am in the science world. Then it grew from there.” Eva answers matter of fact.
Your face turns the shade of a red balloon, lost in you own embarrassment. Eva is not cruel however, no matter what people might say.
So she continues to speak clearly,
“You are correct in your assessment that the ghosts still haunt me.” Eva holds up her hand before you can speak again.
“I’m more than confident in the deiciosions I made. But I had a chance to love once, and… I did not allow it.”
Eva swallows and you are both staring at each other, the wood creaks in the ship, like it was all her ghosts moaning out. Telling Dr. Stratt to keep going, don’t stop now.
She looks towards a direction, as if a different solar system is giving her permission to try. To forgive. To move on. His words ringing ever persisstsant;
‘You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.’
Eva licks her lips and looks back at you. Not the scientist who coulddn’t fathom how love happens. But as a woman, who’s secluded herself for so long.
“I chose you, not because of the love you remind me of. I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t see him in you, that would not do either of you justice. I was prepared to sail this last time- alone. As I thought I so deserved. When an old friend told me of a young scientist who believed.” Eva holds back an emotion you didn’t know she could so freely reach.
You watch stunned as her eyes grow glassey, gazing at you far beyond any loved one ever had.
As if Eva can see you to your bones, everything you ever were, and all the things you would accomplish long after she was gone.
The hairs on your arms stood at attention, destiny coming to kiss you in real time. Sinking in far past the layers of winter outside this measly kitchenett.
Eva works her best to, for you, power through.
“I brought you here because I- I needed someone to sit with me over a map and a cup of coffee. I needed to believe humanity was worth it again. Seeing you taking samples of ice sure that you will save them. It reminds me…..”
Eva loses her voice and grows to stone again.
“I chose you. I would like to consummate this.” Eva says plainly and you cough on your own spit.
“What?”
“I see no reason to let this game drag on another six months. I had assumed by your nighttime activities and the way your eyes dilate when you see me that we were past these odd societal mating rituals.” Eva used the same tone she would while telling you to take the night shift in sailing.
“Eva?” You croak managing to stop the coughing fits, drinking the tea to help. Gulping down your own anxiety with it.
“I believe two souls in a boat could belong to one another, it’s not scientific, but maybe not all things are.” Eva chuckles like she’s a mad old woman who’s forgotten the laws of the universe.
“Eva,” your voice cracks again and you’re sweating now. You take off your beanie and the strands of hair are wet and stick to your forehead.
Eva tilts her head again and gives you a kind expression.
“Ah, you are a virgin.” Eva deduces from your discomfort.
You laugh uncomfortably, that was the least of your problems.
“Dr- Eva, I think I have to explain I-I mean I’d only ever been to two states. I’m not who you think I- I don’t.” You squeak, sure that you will die of mortification. You close your eyes tight and your chin drops to your chest.
“I had all of your medical records, backround checks, all of it before you came onboard.” Eva tells you and your head snaps back up, gaze shocked.
“So you know-this whole time you- you knew. You -you know? ” You are practically yelling it at her, but you just can’t believe it’s been six months and Eva hadn’t said a thing.
Her expression is blank, no malice, no anger. Eva has lived too much life to be deterred by simple things like the conversation of sex or gender. Much less sexuality, she’d only ever been attracted to four people. As a child the villain Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle. Mike Degrasse Tyson, for obvious reasons. A lost astronaut, and now a man who has sailed by her side faithfully for six months
Who made her coffee and knew better than to ask how she slept, for fear of her wrath. Who pointed out every star in the night sky and regained her with childish glee of stories.
“You-You still want to-“
“Seduce you?” Eva tried the words and you both attempted to decode that.
“Is that what we are calling it?” You smile now and it quells whatever small uncertainty Eva might have still had of your rejection.
“Consummating our mutual attraction and desire for companionship?” Eva attempts again and you scrunch your nose at that one.
“Too cold and clinical, something sweeter?” You ask and desire blooms for the llder woman.
“Making love.” She decides on, knowing logically what the two words meant. The root of them, the latin, the doctor could say the phrase in seventeen languages.
But saying them outloud to you now, Eva felt as though she must study more. Until her desire is matched right back;
“I think we can make that one work.” Your smile is blinding, it heats Eva up. She doesn't have time to explain the chemical reaction to herself.
You lean forward, Eva tentatively moves slower, but she goes halfway.
Your lips press together and it’s better than the baking soda reacting in a volcano diorama at a science fair.
It’s perfect math, it’s science evolving, it’s human in its raw form.
It’s reason to believe in something bigger again.
Eva kisses your lips harder, more sure now, not tentative. If this is her final mission then no rock must go unturned. Her scared aged hands cup the back of your head and she doesn’t let you go. Won’t ever let you go.
This must be why man made fire.
Eva would light up the skies as long as it gave you even a fraction of the warmth she felt in her chest for you.
Then you delivered the sweetest morsel back.
You moaned.
Oh what a moan, and Eva knew this would need further research. She nibbled on your bottom lip. As Eva had been desperately wanting to this whole time, watching as you abused the plump flesh while you typed. No Eva wanted to sink her teeth in, and sure enough -
You whined harder, longer, letting Eva lick the hurt.
Oh maybe Eva would never come back to humanity.
If she could crawl on top of you, move this small table, she’d find a home on your arms. Better than the stars above or the vastness of all the water on Earth.
Your tongue licks at hers and Eva wants to say ‘one small step for man-‘
Because now the old scientist is making noises, pornographic noises if need.
Damn it your tongue was warm and hot, and oh so worth the wait.
Your heads are hit, the lamp dangling above and it breaks your kiss, it should be awkward. But with both of your appetites now ablaze.
Nothing could be odd or weird between you two again.
“I apologize, if I ever was I don’t want to be for you- it is not ever my intention to be- cold…or clinical.” Eva says an inch from your face, a lifetime of being called a frigid bitch. Even as the most amazing scientist in the world, Eva just wanted to be loved back in this lifetime.
You cup her face, seeing the lines of age and sunspots from days of uncertainty.
“I don’t think you could be if you tried.” You giggle and Eva likes this noise, wants you to do it again. To laugh for her, to hold her face like this.
The light is circling making your two shadows dance along the cabin. From the light cast out, your silhouettes don’t look like ever before. For two is now one, practically heart shaped. The light isn’t sure where your lips start and her hold on your neck ends.
Eva releases you and you momentarily panic, as she comes around the tiny awkward table. Holding a hand out, you swallow thickly.
“To my final mission?” The scientist requests, and your warm hand finds her. Two travelers in the universe, ready for one last adventure, to be lost together.
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I'm pausing our regular scheduled fics until I feel better. Schedule will be wonky, I've been sick for a week and still working (masked) so this my contribution to writing SickFics. Also made a Sickfic/Hurt&Comfort MasterList if anyone else has a summer flu like me and wants to binge. I also super recommend my buddy's @anyshowwitharainbow sickfic Cooties. It's always my comfort read when I feel like this.
Sickfic + Hurt/Comfort \ Any physical hurt or sickness that falls upon reader. Multifandom Master List of SickFic and Hurt/Comfort Stories
Summer
Fever : OmegaVerse- Your suppressants don't work when you get the summer flu. Doctor Cassie has to come help. -The Pitt
Who Holds You When It Hurts? : Post op top surgery and all Cassie wants to do is take care of you. -The Pitt
Busy Woman : Sugar Mama Claire DeBella is having a hard time away from her bonded mate.
A Tiny Cough : Agent Rio Vidal hears you aren't feeling well. She takes it uppon herself to nurse you back to health, no matter what you want.
more coming soon...
Fall
𝖀.𝕱.𝕺 𝕺𝖗 𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌? :You get in trouble at a gas station and have to fight and protect Billy. Agatha is absolutely beyond angry at you for being so reckless, and you figure out just why Rio won't leave you and Aggie be.
Maya’s Bloody Sugar Baby : You make a mistake, not really reading the contract to understand what being Maya Mason's sugar baby means.
Maya's Juice Box Baby Maya may drink your blood, but that doesn't mean she wants any harm to come to her little one. Okay, maybe a little in the bedroom. But it doesn't matter how nicely you ask, she won't turn you into a vampire.
No Underwear on Halloween - Breeding + Fucking Machine + Degradation > Agatha needs you to rest, she doesn't care about a stupid holiday, she only wants to hold you. Sickfic!
more coming soon...
Winter
more coming soon...
Spring
Spring Flu or Death: Poll Winner - SickFic /Yearning Cassie Mckay Fanfic -The Pitt
Rate Your Pain: You check into the ER under your maiden name. And asked to rate your pain on a scale of 1-10. Cassie Mckay Fanfic -The Pitt
We're Her Family : You get drugged and beaten up and your family cannot regulate without you. Cassie Mckay Fanfic -The Pitt
You're A Baby Jane Doe : Protective Dana won't stand by and let you get hurt, nor can she be the one to hurt you. Dana Evans Fanfic - The Pitt
more coming soon...
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Alpha/Omega or Mating Fanfics / Multifandom / Pitt Fanfics / Agatha All Along Fics / Wanda Maximoff x Reader / Rio Vidal x Reader / The studio Maya Mason x Reader / wlw / SM_T / 18+
Heat Sick/ Suppresent Loss :
Fever : OmegaVerse- Your suppressants don't work when you get the summer flu. Cassie has to come help.
An Alpha Boss & A Card Game 50's Maya Mason is the biggest mob boss. But she could care less about the game now. All she wants is you, that sweet omega just out of her reach.
Elevator Stopped : You quit, and your boss follows you into the elevator to stop you.But gets more than she bargained for. Agatha/Reader
Coming Home After A Full Moon - Animal Play + Orgy + Hair Pulling > Going to a werewolf dating party is really just going to a big orgy. You were tired of waiting for your mate, and you'd given up. Until fate kicked open your door, in the 5'5 glory of Carla Dunkler. > Werewolf Reader [Carla Dunkler/Reader]
A Mobster's Actus Reus : 1950's Mob Boss Rio Vidal stops by your store everyday, not for the coffee. Or the murder weapons she must purchase, but for your sweet smell.
Mating :
A Witch With a Yellow Dog : Last you remember you were chained up for the full moon. Knowing full well as a werewolf your best case at not killing someone was to be shackled. Little did you know that Agatha was going beyond the bindings, she was ready to mark her territory. > Non Con - Dead Dove - Dark Fic
Commercial Break : Wanda A/ Reader O - In The Hex - Accidental Pheromone Mating!Your pheramones break through the grey monotone sitcom, causing the Scarlet Witch to take a quick commercial break. - Wanda/Reader
Mason's Guard Dog -Sensory Dep + Electricity > You and Maya fall in love at first sight, and she prides herself on collaring you as her guard dog. But is it more than just a game? Werewolf AU / Maya Mason /Reader
Live-in Bull - Lingerie + Cuckholdry + Sex Robot > You and Claire have been closeted for so long, but Claire can't take one more minute of you being away. Especially now that you have gotten her pregnant with your third. [Claire/Reader/Devon*cuckhold]]
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Doctor Cassie McKay Alpha / Sick Doctor Reader Omega | The Pitt MasterList | |AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar
Warning : Alpha Cassie / C_uming in scrubs / No Pen*tration / Sleepy Sm_t / Sick Fic / I have a fever too lol / 2k words / Oneshot Ficlet / scenting / Self Restraint In an Omega Alpha Fic / Sh0ts in B_m / H_mping / Possesive K*nk / True Mates / Cassie Jacket Appreciation Post / Gold Chain is King / M0mmy Kink /18+
“What’s with yous? You're slower than Santos.” Dana grumbled and you tried not to vomit. Her perfume smells mixed with nicotine way more intensely this morning.
Everyone was over on their hours, sitting at the nurses' stations to chart. You’d abused this moment as the night crew had already taken over the patients. Just trying to breathe, only to hide a wheeze. You’d made it through your shift; that was all that mattered. But you never should have sat here, with all the people who cared about you able to see you like this.
“Hey!” Santos exclaimed as she was falling asleep, charting. Whittaker’s head flipped up as he’d fallen asleep on the computer again.
“I just need some more caffeine, I’m fine.” You grumbled, feeling as though your body was being pulled down. Perhal and Princess shared a look but walked off towards their nurse handoff.
Dana lingered, observing how you were perspiring through your scrubs. The charge nurse tried to put a hand on your sweaty forehead but you dodged her, causing Robby to look away from the screen to eye what was happening. Moving his glasses down his nose to take in the odd behavior.
“What’s going on?” He asked, finally lifting the glasses off his face, meaning this problem was big enough for him to pocket them.
“Kids sweaty and lethargic.” Dana answered not turning to talk to him. The two working like the parents of all these wayward doctors.
“I’m fine.” You insist, palming the stethoscope thrown over your neck and standing to leave.
“You’re normally the energizer bunny.” Whittaker piped in, as Santos took this time to close her eyes now.
That’s when you smelled the doctor behind you you’d been most antsy around all day.
“That’s an understatement.” Doctor McKay added to the conversation, and you took a not-so-subtle step back.
“Ya know I think I just need some sleep, I’ll feel better tomorrow.” You pivoted on your heels, the fever making your head pound annoyingy.
Your body was sticky and uncomfortable. The cold sweats mixed with your temp just kept climbing.
You just wanted to go to sleep.
Cassie’s eyes narrowed at you.
The two of you had only ever been work buddies, with her clear empathy, and your non-stop energy. It was an easy workplace friendship.
But neither of you had broken that line and actually hung out outside of work.
That was on purpose.
Cassie made your stomach flip-flop lately, and you didn’t need the distraction.
You’d just gotten your official doctor badge, you didn’t need to, Merideth Grey, in this situation.
Workplace romances were meant for TV, not real life.
But no one had ever tempted you like Doctor Cassie McKay.
Fuck those hands, her jaw line, that laugh, her scratchy voice. And you were sure that gold chain was on this earth to make you wet on shift.
And it wasn’t just physical, you wanted to be apart of Cassie’s life.
When Harrison came in because Mckay’s ex was a douchebag, the sweet kid was on you your whole shift.
‘What’s your favorite video game?’ ‘Why did you become a doctor?’ ‘Can you make me another balloon animal from the gloves?’ ‘Do you live alone?’ ‘What’s your zodiac sign? My best friend is Tarus, are you a Tarus?’
And you thought Harrison was adorable, so you hung out with him as much as possible. Letting him eat your special secret snack pile. But that didn’t mean you were ready to be a parent.
Fuck you couldn’t keep your house plants alive.
You weren’t meant to be anyones anything.
But while you saw Cassie’s concern, in that maternal sexy gentle way. You hated that you’d be going home to a room for rent and a cold bed.
“I’m good, I promise. I just need a rest.” You tried again, hoping that sound better, more confident.
Cassie opened her mouth to reject such a claim but you were already walking away.
Ignoring the way the whole Pitt watched you disappear.
You’d finally clocked out, changed into something less sweaty and gross. You hated how the fabric stuck to you, how the air on your skin made you ache even more.
You couldn’t put on enough deodarent, you just smelled different. Musky like a B.O but more sickly sweet, your headache only worsened with the change in office lighting over the locker room.
You’d gotten yourself all ready to go, which had taken longer than usual when you decided you needed to sit down for a minute.
The sound of people coming in and slamming that metal locker closed was defining.
So you slunk with your back out, toward your buddy Doctor Ellis favorite spot. It was private, if not sad that in this society you needed a room like this.
But the best part, the lights were out and the curtains drawn, peace.
You took off your bag and climbed ontop of the clean bed, head hitting the crunchy pillow case. The steril sheet felt like drinking hand sanitizer but you didn’t care.
It was quiet finally, it was dark, and you were alone.
Your converse are still on, but you don’t have the umph to do a thing about it.
Your eyes close and you finally feel a bit of peace.
As your body sweats, and the nightmares tear at your mind, you shiver. Teeth chattering in your sleep, body cramping up.
You're discombobulated, awake enough to know you aren’t at home, but too sleepy to actually get up or understand what’s happening.
The door opens and closes and you immediately moan as the smell enters the room.
What was that?
A clean scent, like the best cozy sweater, and sweet vanilla and sugar, freshly baked cookies. God it was intoxicating, and was it - pine? Earthy and comforting down to your soul.
A blanket was set ontop of you and you jerked at the sensation.
“Too scratchy.” You groan, unsure of who you are speaking to, but in your fever-riddled brain, you don’t care
The sound of clothes moving, and then a cotton dark jacket is draped over your damp shoulders, and you moan.
That’s it.
“Sweet girl, I’m going to give you a shot, okay? It’s okay, you’re safe. I think you’ve got a flu. When you get the summer flu, your suppressant don’t work.” The calming voice of your favorite doctor tells you and you just humm.
“It hurts.” You murmur pathetically, your legs curled in against your butt so you be covered by the jacket as much as possible.
You aren’t thinking clearly as your greedy fingers clutch the jacket to your nose.
You nuzzle into it like a cat, like an omega, like someone nesting.
You keep your face in the armpit of the sweater as if it’s an oxygen mask. The doctor puts a temp gun in your ear, it clicks and it’s removed, only for the alpha to grumble;
“Oh babygirl, you poor thing.” The words only make you try to make your body smaller.
“I’ve already got the shot, I-I’m going to push your shorts down just a little, so I can put it-uh against your- uh intermascular. Sweetheart please stop making that noise, this is already hard enough.” The alpha corrects you, and you whimper again.
Your body is moved rather rougher now, like the woman is trying her best not to push inside of you and knot you on the spot. Your shorts are pulled down past what is needed, your underwear goes the same. Your buttcheek is shown the open air and you both moan in unision.
You’d made slick, and it was now shining as it rolled over your pussy lips, dribbling down.
You heard Cassie swallow.
Now your mind was sure it was Cassie, that smell, those calloused strong hands, her gentleness.
Fuck that was your alpha right there.
“I-I’ll get a-” But Cassie couldn’t finish the sentence, the alpha part of her couldn’t let anyone in here. With you? Like this?
Fuck that.
Her trembling hands steadied as she gave you the shot fast, expertly, plugning it into your muscle and then pulling it out.
She threw the needle in the sharps container, stepping away for a moment to try to stop her own erection.
But the smell of you was thick in the small exam room.
You curled onto your stomach with the sweatshirt and let one of the shirt sleeves move between your legs, you hump it.
You groan frustrated but delighted that Cassie’s scent was infact on your clit now.
McKay was on the bed in an instant, huffing and puffing like some big bad wolf.
Her cock pushing against her scrub bottoms like it would blow your house down.
“Babby I-I gotta pull your pants up.” Cassie insisted, hating herself for reacting this way. She was a god damn doctor, she’d seen plenty of omegas in delirium.
But this was different; her whole being screamed, MATE.
“Mommy, please.” You gasp, and the doctor’s arms and legs were on the sides of you, trapping you like a cage underneath her.
The nickname caused her hips to buck up, soiling the scrub bottoms prematurely.
Fuck that was the first shot of cum Cassie had done in her pants since high school.
You just looked and smelled that good.
You tried to lift your butt up to meet her meaty dick, but Cassie pushed your body down.
“We can’t do this now, shhhhhh,” Cassie explained, letting her body collapse on top of yours.
The two of you begin to purr at the content. It wasn’t enough; it wasn’t skin on skin, but your fever was radiating to the alpha.
“I’ve got you gorgeous.” Cassie comforted over and over, as if that mantra was enough. But her cock fell between your ass cheeks and the two of you could have gone mad. The thin clothing the only barrier between mating.
Your body convulses with pain and needs knocking into one another over and over.
You shiver and Cassie places her lips on your neck and you go slack, no humping or misbehaving. Your mind re-wiring to submit, Cassie (with more self restraint than she ever had) didn’t bite. Just kissed, your mind going blank, your shoulders fell, and your eyes closed once more.
“Sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning I promise.” Cassie insisted, not lifting her body off of you.
Ready to protect you from anyone else for the entire night, a good alpha.
Harrison was at Chad’s; there was no reason to go home. Cassie would behave, would keep you pinned and keep everyone out.
Your mouth fell open as you let a little snore out.
Making McKay relax too, eyes closing as her lips stayed on your pulse point. A hound dog stuck on a scent, unyielding. Cassie was practically drooling with the desire to bite you, sink her canines in, and make you hers forever.
But you had to choose her, Cassie needed it more than anything.
Your horny slumber wasn’t enough.
Your body ache is finally leaving from the weight of the doctor, sleeping never felt this good.
You and Cassie slept on the bed for the whole night shift. Dana told Abbot about the shot and the locked door.
He winked in understanding, it wasn’t the first time two co-workers figured out they were true mates. It wouldn’t be the last.
Every now and then, he had a beta cheek to make sure you both were still sleeping, but besides that left you alone.
You had the best of dreams, with your fever breaking, and your nose still buried in Cassie’s jacket. Her scent surrounds you, her body better than any stuffed bear to snuggle. Your breathing matched, in and out, a perfect synchronization of your hearts.
You had no idea the dreams of an alpha jerking off between your ass cheeks were real. Or how her knott throbbed until the early hours of the morning.
You orgasmed in your sleep, oblivious to the effects of the alpha smothering you in you. Cassie licked your neck until it was red and raw, promising that when you woke.
She’d do more than stop your fever.
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DarkFic Claire DeBella/Reader/Maya Mason| | Catch Up Here Series MasterList | Claire + Reader MasterList| AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Maya + Reader MasterList | Tip Jar💰
Chapter 5 warnings: Dead Dove Don't Eat / Darkfic / Claire/Reader/Maya / Diagnosed Psychopaths / Kidnapping/ Drugging / NON C0N / Sexual As$ault / Manipulation / Stockholm Syndrome / S3XUAL aB_SE / Mommy Kink / Kidnapping / Daddy Kink / Sexual Humiliation / Time Manipulation/ Claire is rich and crazy / Past Trauma Helps Claire Manipulate / Non Con Filming /Sex Tape and Blackmail / Fisting / Mean Claire Kink / UNRELIABLE NARRATOR / Fetish Sexual Slavery / Claire is Smart Don't Forget it /VICTIM BLAMING NOT SANE/ Dog Maya / Non Con Pet Play / Maya is in trouble / Cattle Pr0d/ 18+
“Tell me you hate her! YOU CAN’T STAND THAT CUNT. Say you love Daddy! ONLY ME, ONLY EVER ME.” Maya yelled as she fucked your cunt bare. Her cock sliding in and out. You've lost count of how many hours this had gone.
You’d miscalculated.
Pissed Maya off to the extreme.
After the bath, the shaving, she’d grown enraged by all your prodding. Your plan backfiring, turn the two against each other. It seemed so simple, Maya and Claire were both so jealous. If you’d gotten Maya to break, she’d get you out, get you safe.
Nope.
Now here you were, bruised and banged up, raw. With Maya endless rage fucking. She was obsessively emptying her seed over and over.
Her cock must be on fire by now. How had it not gone down? What had she taken?
Your arms were held behind your back, as she fucked you into the floor harder and harder.
Your knees were bleeding on the nice carpet.
You’d stopped yelling for Maya a while ago. Unsure on where all this aggression had come from.
You simply stared into space as she raped you harder. You hated how it felt like a baptism. How every now and then you feel yourself gush again from her words and cock pounding to your g-spot.
This was an odd time to consider how Maya’s dick and Claire's were different.
You felt like your womb knew that too. Every vein, the tip weeping, you knew both. An imprint inside of your cunt, they’d spent so much time inside, they were a part of your own organs now.
Was that sweet or disgusting?
“Cum again, one more time, come on, one more time for Daddy. Be Daddy’s girl!” Maya shouted as she dug into your sweet flesh with her nails. Her cock on a warpath.
Even as Maya was losing her mind inside of you, you weren’t mad at her. Which was insane, but something about all this anger - made you realize how you had in fact thought Maya was a smaller monster.
“Daddy’s gonna breed you, fucking Hell. Fuck Claire, Mommy can’ do this! Not like this, god, I’m dripping out of you. Hold it inside, don’t waste it, babygirl.” Maya shouted as she lost herself. Covered in sweat and coursing with adrenaline.
Her veins popping out of her neck, forehead, and arms. Face a dark red, you could picture it.
A puddle on the perfect carpet of not just your blood, but shared sex, semen, and body fluids.
Your nipples were sore as you pushed into the carpet, but you’d been trying to figure out the soft in between of dissociation and peace.
This was a false prison that didn’t keep you safe, but you were sure Maya eventually had to stop.
She had to.
“Daddy’s pretty girl, gonna marry you - Mama can’t stop us-uh-uh.” Maya said, not losing her speed.
Snot fell down your nose, and you blinked.
Were you hallucinating that?
No, you knew those beige colored heels anywhere, the polite end of her cream skirt.
Maya must not have been aware of the intrusion, but the sound of the cattle prod hitting her neck was familiar.
That zap, the smell of flesh, you’d almost forgotten your friend, the cattle prod.
“FUCK YOU YOU RATCHED BITCH -GOD1” Maya’s body spasmed, and Claire must have zapped her two more times and pushed her backwards with it because she fell back. As opposed to on top of you.
“You stupid cuck.” Claire spat as she pushed the caddle prod to the inside of Daddy’s thigh. Not on her sack, but close enough that Maya writhed and screamed and flipped onto her stomach.
“You ruined my meeting. You can’t do anything right.”
The sound of the prod was deafening.
You blinked and drooled, and your right foot twitched, but you didn’t run or help.
Who would you have helped?
Claire had give you such a clear clue, and you’d ignored it.
‘“You’ll find that being attracted to psychopaths-’
You’d ignored the god damn subtext, two psychopaths. Plural.
You licked your dry cracked lips as Maya writhed in pain and Claire, still in her meeting business dress - electecuted her over and over again.
What you didn’t see as you laid on your stomach, with your face smushed into the carpet, facing the door.
Was Maya was still ejaculating, it must have been excruciating. But something about Claire torturing her was really working.
Or perhaps her body was just so spent from fucking you that this was the last bit of seed her body would ever produce.
You forget to breathe, sort of enjoying the lightheadedness as Maya orgasmed and screamed, " Sorry, Mommy.’
It was a long while later that you felt a wetness on your face.
“Wake up.”
The voice is clipped, but it stirs you from your sleep.
You groaned, but didn’t move too much.
Your body felt like it was held down by rocks. Not a chance in the world of getting up.
You make a questioning groaning noise.
A wet washcloth rubs at your face again, you flinch now.
“Expecting Maya? Hmm? Or is that how you say hi to me now?” The joke fell flat; obviously, Claire wasn’t happy.
You open one eye, and your captor sees how bloodshot it is.
She pushed a straw into your mouth.
“Drink.” Your politician instructs, and you taste blood in your mouth. Trying to lick your lips, you feel how dehydrated you truly are.
“Stop being difficult, drink.” Claire’s got zero warmth, and you don’t want to have her break like Maya did. So you sip, it’s pediliate and you gag at it’s flavor.
Your stomach is sour and everything hurts.
“Stop that, drink slow.” Claire instructed and you swallow whatever bile was trying to come up.
“You just had to play with Daddy, couldn’t just behave for a little while. I’m trying to run the free world, and I have to see you playing with her? The stupid cuck snapped, bet you didn’t think that through huh? No don’t fall asleep.”
Claire sighs, disappointed in everyone.
You take another sip, and this time you try to down the whole thing. Your body recognizes it as a liquid.
“I said slowly, don’t start-” Claire grinds out, and you blink up at her before losing the plot once more.
A shout comes from the other room, but your eyes roll back in your head. Hearing Claire’s anger roar once more.
“God damn it Maya.”
When you wake again, your sitting up, in the TV room. In a very beige robe, which is confusing. Seeing as how you hadn’t worn clothes in so long, it was warm and nice.
You try to move your arms to rub at your tired eyes, only to notice that your wrists are bound to the chair, the soft kind they do in psyche wards.
Huh.
You hear the TV, and grimace at the light, CNN blasts, and you immediately recognize Claire. Oh, and the beige skirt end, yeah, you’d seen that, you think.
You try to twist, noticing that you're definitely on pain meds, every sensation is dull, every movement takes more work.
You try to swallow dry, looking to your left, there’s an IV bag and a line into your arm.
Of course, Governor DeBella had some kind of doctor on call for her house pets.
“Baby?” A voice cracks, pathetically, and you try to turn towards the voice.
It’s Maya, but she’s uh - in what looks like a large dog crate?
“Fuck, I’m so, so, so, so, so, sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.” Maya babbled over and over again.
You saw her naked, only in her designer stockings and thong, a large chain around her neck with a lock, a zap collar, in a black animal crate. It’s bars are tight and the padlock is thick and unmovable.
The great Marketing head of Continental Studios wasn’t even able to sit up, only lay on her stomach or on all fours.
You see her, makeup smeared, cock in a black cage.
Her cock was looking in need of medical attention, weeping and hard in her confinement.
Claire must have given her a little blue pill as part of her punishment.
“Baby, I can’t tell you enough -I’d never hurt you - just got so upset and you said that stuff, and I’m- I fucked up, baby. I’m so sorry-I love you-I.” Maya was falling all over her apologies.
Your head felt heavy as your neck tried to prop you up.
You eyed her and laughed, drugged and sore.
You let out a full belly laugh.
“Shhh, hey hey- What’s going on? No I love you please talk to me! I’m your Daddy, right? I fuck up sometimes!” Maya is yelling at you and it’s just so on brand. Have you ever loved anyone normal?
You just kept laughing, it probably wasn’t funny.
I mean - you before being abused on a rooftop party and then sent to a police station, kidnapped out of a town car, and held captive in a lavish politician's home as a sex slave. To mentally break and emotionally manipulate like a toy turned to a stepford wife situation, before all of that. You’d probably feel awful seeing even your most toxic ex, who you didn’t love nearly as much as Maya, in a cage.
But one's sense of humor changes around psychopaths.
You laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more.
Maya stopped apologizing and just seemed to watch, horrified at the final straw breaking in your mental stability.
The look on her face only made you laugh some more.
Until finally you calmed yourself, lasting with only a few hiccups.
“God, I hope there’s morphine in this.” You finally admit to looking up at the IV bag.
“My love, do you know where you are? Boo, can you answer me?” Maya asked like perhaps you’d forgotten the situation.
“Governor turned one day President Claire DeBella personal prison. Only I got a bigger suite than you it seems.” You giggle and gasp out of breath.
“You thought I was stupid.” Maya groaned, her hands turning to fists as she leaned on them.
“I loved you.” You say instead, staring ahead. Not missing how Mayas head spun in shock at you.
“Not enough to marry me, enough to toy with me. Even after I tried to save you, you still manipulated- stop it.” Maya insists, but you're laughing again.
Your elbow itched but your wrists are bound too tight for you to so much as fidget.
“Sorry, I was just lost in how you're still the victim in this. Please go on, I’m the whore who wouldn’t settle down. Your the victim with a ring and a video camera. I’m so sorry I tried to see if you’d fight back. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that you were a monster too. I mean, after all this, I should have, you were so busy playing Daddy, I guess I just figured you were less of a threat. Easier to break, but here you are-“ you turn to look at your ex.
Unblinking, unfeeling, a fine look in your eye.
So much for the plan.
You weren’t such a smart bird after all.
Maya looks positively gutted by your words.
“- I think you're in more trouble than you realize. You played too hard with Mommy’s property. Seems like the dynamic has changed? Or are you such a bad dog you can’t smell when you're in your own shit?” You say plainly, no longer putting in any niceties. Not interested in catching flies with honey anymore.
“I love you,” Maya says more to the ground than to you. The seems of her fancy stockings have a run, her thong dirty with cum sticks to her.
“You and Claire don’t know how to do that.” You answer back, letting your head lull to the side, exhausted.
Staring at the TV as Claire’s press conference played, you read the captains. Seems she did use your insight after all. Not just giving you a little enrichment puzzle like a child, Claire liked your intellect enough to use it.
“You don’t believe that,” Maya whispers so brokenly, but you’re past feeling sorry for her.
You watch the reporter asking Claire questions, watch how her eyes don’t track. How well she masks, greenlighting as a human, a kind being.
Someone who goes to PTA meetings, has cute kids, a politician of the people.
God what kind of kids did she have? Wherever they were out there in some prestigious prep school of Hogwarts. Were they little killers too?
You ignore Maya, but she keeps speaking to you.
“If we didn’t love you, you wouldn’t be here. What do you call all of this? Claire and I love you. We’re just….different.” She tracks what you're watching, then scoffs.
“I know you must somehow, deep down, know that this, that- I didn’t mean to. I snapped. I lost my- I think I just…I’ve never loved like this and, and sometimes I get mixed up. This isn’t coming out right.”
Maya tries to explain, but it just sounds like she’s spiraling. A kid reasoning with herself about killing the family pet, just to see what it would do.
You watch them talk on the screen, their lips moving, perfectly touched up, airbrushed, and their wardrobes. You used to know film, really understand the business.
That all felt like a lifetime ago now.
The time you were head of the studio, that was a different person.
What with Claire and Maya fucking with you by telling you how much time had passed?
Who had lied?
Had you even been in the basement for a month? Two months? Six months? It was all part of the game.
Claire had explained it and you’d been too cock drunk to really get it.
They were breaking you.
That’s two Claire, one for Maya, and zero for you. The game wasn’t looking good.
You’d played the wrong card.
You bite your bottom lip, savoring the blood that gushes.
Reminiscing on your past mistakes.
How quickly you humped and begged, had fallen in love with your beast. Just like the stupid cartoon.
“I think she’ll tire of you long before she does me.” You interject, and Maya settles in the dog crate.
You smirk and look at her with enough spite to make the room drop a degree.
Something in you was sure that Claire was watching, that your descent into madness was making her so very proud.
It made your heart fill at the very idea, making Mommy proud.
You try not to look up at the camera, swiveling to get a better look at you.
The IV bag drips, and you feel a new sickness cover your bones.
Unsure what stage of Stockholm you're in, but you feel a new adrenaline coursing through you.
You bear your teeth at your lover;
“I have to say, you look damn good in cage Daddy.”
DarkFic Claire DeBella/Reader/Maya Mason| | Catch Up Here Series MasterList | Claire + Reader MasterList| AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Maya + Reader MasterList | Tip Jar💰
To understand the ease in which you fell into Stockholm Syndrome, you must first understand the cage.
Warnings : DARK FIC /Sexual Assault / Manipulation / Stockholm Syndrome / SEXUAL ABUSE / Mommy Kink / Kidnapping / Absuse / Knives and sharp object warning / Blood / Starvation Techniques / Sexual Humiliation / Reward System is fucked / Time Manipulation/ Dead Dove Don't Eat / Claire is rich and crazy / Past Trauma Helps Claire Manipulate R / Fisting / Squirting / Kink Shaming Kink / Mean Claire Kink / UNRELIABLE NARRATOR / Fetish Sexual Slavery / Claire is Smart Don't Forget it /VICTIM BLAMING NOT SANE/ 18+
Chapter 1: I don't wanna be loved, I just wanna get fucked I don't wanna get hurt, I just wanna get some So use your hands to touch my body Use your words to say you want me
Chapter 2: I been trying not to go off the deep end I don't think you wanna give me a reason
Chapter 3: We'll never get free, lamb to the slaughter What you gon' do when there's blood in the water?
Chapter 4 : I Found Myself In Wonderland, Is it real? Is it pretend?
REPOSTINGS MY Originally a Requested story** Posted on My Old Blog @transboyswitchytales This is the New Blood In the Water Master List* ~ Catch Up chapter 1 and 2 Below ~ 16,766 Words
Chapter 1
Requested :hey! can i rq dark Claire Debella x reader pls? Reader is part of the group of friends but she arrived after Andy's so Miles invites her to the meetings of the whole group. Claire is obsessed with Reader from the first moment - despite being married. Perhaps the one who ends up being the murderer is Claire who felt threatened because Duke found out about her dealings with Miles and also wanted to blackmail Claire. Reader doesn't know who to trust ^^
You didn’t mean to be a part of this terrible group. Miles and Lionel had roped you into this stupid group of ‘disruptors.’ You wish you could have stopped yourself now, gone back in time and stopped it all.
You’d seen the media coverage of Andy, and you knew they were dangerous.
Lionel took his shirt off and dove into the pool. It had a red light in it and it reminded you of what you were to this group of sharks.
You were blood in the water.
You turned to look over your shoulder, a new habit with this group. And Miles smirked and waved as Whiskey in her bikini fawned over him.
You heard Birdie laughing from behind the bar as Peg tried to tell her she wasn’t a bartender, and ‘it showed she’d never worked a real job a day in her life’. But Birdie just continued to blend together her ‘new’ cocktail.
Peg eyed you and pushed another beer into your hands in a friendly manner, before walking back inside. You knew Peg wasn’t really neutral territory. She was one of them, even if it made her feel better to pretend she wasn’t.
Huh, much like you were doing right now.
Miles had rented out this penthouse with the rooftop bar and pool. He’d given you all less than a day's notice, not wonderful for any of you. But your little ‘get-togethers’ weren’t really optional attendance. He had an axe ready to fall on any of you, if you weren’t fun and shiny anymore.
And now here you were drinking an hipster IPA on a Thursday on top of a skyscraper, being blackmailed by a billionaire.
Your phone vibrated, and you didn’t check it this time.
You worked in Hollywood at Continental Studiosand were on-again off off-again dating Maya Mason. (You were the one who kept breaking up with her. And she was the one who wouldn’t stop pursuing you. It was a mess). She’d recently proposed and the ring sat in your purse. Your life wasn’t just a mess, it was a dumpster fire.
Birdie drank out of the blender and grimaced at her jungle juice concoction.
You weren’t meant to be here. You just couldn’t stress that enough.
But you were continuously checking your phone as a distraction. You’d been texting Patty, not Maya. Because Maya was demanding you go to her house and fuck her. She’d sent photos and very rude text. It was all very Thursday for your life in L.A.
You turn your body away from Birdie again and you took another sip of your cold beer. That’s when you felt a hand on your arm, and you turned. It was definitely not Birdie, you knew that.
Your eyes meet blue ones and you weren’t expecting that.
“Governor.” You said surprised she’d come over and talked to you. You’d always liked the Governor of Connecticut. Even before you knew she was part of this terrible group.
Now you couldn’t quite decide what was between you and the politician.
Claire texts you, often, and long, lengthy texts. She was funny and so extremely smart. Maya had at one point stolen your phone, guessing your code, and read through your messages. Maya was so pissed she threw a vase through her sliding glass door. Always the most jealous lover on the planet.
“Please, sweetie, after all this time, you can call me Claire.” She said, giving you a bashful smile.
It was an act. All of it was performative, you knew.
This was always a bit confusing for you. Claire was supposedly a straight liberal politician with a few kids and a moron husband. Yet, she texted you like a woman who wanted to be in a U-Haul lesbian relationship.
And you knew realistically that she was flirting, even though you’d sworn she was married and not interested (to Maya).
But here you were once again seeing her blush and gently touch you, and you just couldn’t figure out her endgame. Did she want a fuck, did she want to go to Costco and have you domesticated?
“How are the kids? How’s Devon? Is he here?” You knew the answer to the last bit.
You say it anyway as though you are reminding her you know she isn’t single. Claire bristles just a little, and you wonder if it was too strong.
“He’s with Lionel doing coke in the bathroom. I believe the Molly didn’t kick in fast enough for them.” She says and then takes a sip of her white wine.
“You have to be joking.” Your jaw drops. You shouldn’t be surprised because coke is like putting sugar in your coffee in Hollywood. But you can’t believe Claire is being so disinterested in her partner doing it.
Claire eyes you and then laughs cooly.
“He’s not my problem, dear. He and I have an understanding. I don’t get upset about his addiction to being pegged by sex workers in the garage when the kids are asleep. And he keeps as far away from me as possible.” She said and her teeth are showing and you aren’t sure what the fuck you just stepped into.
“You sound like you need something stronger to drink.” You tease, and your phone vibrates Claire's eyes it.
“How’d you get that in here?” DeBella doesn’t look upset, just intrigued.
“Oh, I put it in my bra and wore a push-up so that Miles wouldn’t think to look there. I gave him an old phone. I’m waiting for a producer to let me know how the wrap-up of a film is doing.” You cringe, and Claire pulls the stool out, and she gestures for you to sit with her. You do, and she takes the one next to you. But she puts her heel on your sea,t and her bare thigh is warm against yours. You are both wearing shorter cocktail dresses. You’d all been at a club for the last six hours. You’d hoped that would have been enough, but evidently Miles wanted to have a ‘sleepover.’
You pulled the phone out of your bra and put it on the table knowing none of the men were paying attention because Whiskey just took her swimsuit off and was in the pool. So Duke and Miles were in the pool naked too.
You and Claire turned when you heard her scream for Birdie to get in. Before Claire made a disgusted noise and you turned back to her.
“Not really your scene, is it, Governor?”
Claire eyed you like it was a threat, and she leaned in and you she got so close to you, for a second, you thought she’d kiss you. But instead, she moved a fallen stray hair out of your face before curling it around your ear. Your breath hitched and she smiled like she’d won. You weren’t sure if you liked it.
Claire was gorgeous because look at her. But you weren’t interested in getting involved in her shit storm of a life.
“It’s Claire, you can say it. Say it a lot in fact.” She smiled and you wondered if you had a bad picker. Maya was cocky as fuck and Claire seemed like a nice housewife with how she dressed. But her manicured stiletto sharp nails told you it was a facade. She was using it to make people comfortable.
Your phone lit up on the bar and it was Maya’s called ID. The picture she’d put in her phone of herself and her barebreasts came up.
Claire turned to see it and her jaw clenched.
“Friend of yours?” She asked, and you laughed and ignored the call.
You had to remember that Claire had been friends with Andy. You knew she wasn’t a kind suburban mom. Even if they dressed her in tan and cream.
You’d bet she owned more sex toys than you.
Claire’s hand fell on your bare knee.
“Governor, don’t you think your husband might dislike you touching me like this?” You said, and it sounded prudish, but really it was you gauging her. It was a test and she saw it as such.
“Devon’s just sad he’s not here to watch, honey.”
Well, that was telling. You gulped, oh fuck.
Miles was naked and pulled himself out of the pool. His somewhat bent to the left cock coming in full display. You tried to not think of the word ‘half chub.’ Claire didn’t seem worried, you remembered that she worked in D.C. This was not the first unwanted cock she’d have to put on a brave face for.
You worked in the movies, it wasn’t that you hadn’t seen people you didn’t want to see naked. It was that this was the man blackmailing you. And he was such a fucking loser.
He came around the bar and asked what you two wanted to drink.
You got a call from Patty, and Claire put a hand over your cell. She put it under her thigh before Miles could catch it.
You gaped at her, and she winked at you.
Oh great, one more debt you couldn’t pay off.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom, whatever you make, Miles, I’ll drink.” You grabbed your beer and raised it to him, knowing that’s what he wanted.
You downed the rest of it, and you felt both of them staring at your throat and cleavage. Before you finished it, and put it down a little too hard on the glass bar.
You turned around and walked into the penthouse. You saw Devon and Lionel had bought porn for the huge flat screen. The two of them were making obscene noises and pointing at the screen.
Moaning was on the surround sound, and you cringed. You’d watched porn, you didn’t think that was what was gross.
You just thought it was pretty foul for two coked-out men to order it at a penthouse with a bunch of people who didn’t consent to watching it.
They didn’t notice you and you turned to one of the smaller baths. Opening it and closing it you noticed there was no lock, great.
You went pee quickly and washed your hands. You grabbed one of the towels and pushed it under the faucet and then against your neck. It was so humid this summer, but the heat from this hotel felt extra sticky. Like this many sinners together created their own type of sweltering heat wave.
You moved out of the bathroom and back to the living room and now Lionel was unconscious and Devon was openly masturbating. He noticed you this time though, and he smiled and winked.
Yeah you definitely preferred his wife winking at you. When he did it, it looked like he was constipated. You weren’t sticking around for his orgasm face. That’s for sure.
You didn’t stay anything to him as he fisted his dick, Devon opened his mouth to talk to you.
You walked out into the terrace to find Birdie and Whiskey naked and dancing. You felt like you could definitely confirm that Birdie had work done now.
Duke and Miles were chugging something, and Claire’s heels clicked as she walked over to you. She turned her head to see Devon before grimacing and handing you a glass.
“What am I about to drink?” You asked, and Claire raised an eyebrow. You sniffed it, and it smelled wrong, so obviously Miles made it.
“Do you care?” She asked, and Whiskey went over to the outside sound system and changed the song.
Claire did belong here. It was clear as she pressured the drink into you.
“Dance! Lesbians are so in right now!” Birdie yelled at you and Claire.
You looked at Whiskey and saw that her nose was bleeding a little from the coke.
Claire didn’t let you dwell on her well-being.
She grinned at you, hoping you’d see it as a dare, probably. You couldn’t say no, not if Miles wanted it. And you wondered if Claire was enjoying that. Wow, what a politician.
You downed the drink and coughed twice before Claire downed her own drink, eyes never leaving yours. She didn’t cough like you, you blamed it on the age difference. Whatever was in the Connecticut water must have grown this brunette into a killer.
You both set your cups down on the floor and walked over to the naked group dancing.
The song started to blast on the speakers, and you felt it hit. Something was in your drink? Was it the mix of dark liquors? Something wasn’t right. You’d been roofied, you didn’t think that was this, right?
You didn’t have time to show fear about it. Claire pulled your arm so that you two were close. Whiskey was dancing with Birdie and Miles. The three of them were kissing. But just as you turned to look over at Duke, who had pulled out a bong and was lighting it now. Claire grabbed your chin and put her hands on your hips to make you dance closer, grind against her now.
I don't wanna be loved, I just wanna get fucked
I don't wanna get hurt, I just wanna get some
So use your hands to touch my body
Use your words to say you want me
Claire’s dress rode up, and her bare thigh slipped between your thighs, and you wrapped your arms around her neck. Duke being an absolute child; wolf whistled and you didn’t know if it was you two or the other threesome happening. But Claire’s thigh is now high enough to press against your panties.
You wish you weren’t wet. You really did.
Claire didn’t need another invite, and she kissed you hard. All the oxygen left your body as she pushed her tongue inside your mouth. Her hands grabbing your ass and making you grind against her now.
Her perfume was expensive, and the little lipstick left on her lips was now on yours. God, it was humid and suffocating, and her hands were aggressive.
Don't know your name, but I follow you blindly
Little liquor and chase, and you look shiny
Three drinks in and I'm wasted
Double that and I'm naked
And I don't even know what your face says
But let's face it
You finally break the kiss to breathe, and you feel dizzy. But Claire somehow is perfectly fine, as she grabs the zipper of your dress and rids you of your little bit of material. You look down to see it pool to the ground and Claire keeps one hand on your ass and one finds it’s way to your breast. She’s rough, no kind touches, no learning your body. She wants to leave bruises. And from the way she was touching you, she would.
You've got a body and you like me
On my knees, I'm Aphrodite
Call me dirty, say it nicely
Just don't ever call me wifey
'Cause you know
Know I don't
You jolt as hot water splashes against you, Miles had pushed both Birdie and Whiskey back into the hot tub. He’s throwing his head back with that snotty laugh.
Claire wrapped her arms tight around your naked waist as she bites your neck like a vampire. You looked over her shoulder to see the four people in the hot tub.
Duke half danced into the hot water and you saw way too much of his hairy ass.
Miles was quick to bring Whiskey onto his dick, she took him like a pro. She did a reverse cowgirl move as she watched Duke. Birdie invaded Miles mouth with her tongue. Obviously not their first time being intimate.
You however weren’t comfy, being pushed against the outdoor longue furniture.
“Claire?” You whispered but Claire didn’t stop. Her hand cupped your sex and you felt embaressed at her moan at how soaked you were.
Miles eyed you two but he went back to Birdie.
“Claire.” You say a little harder this time and DeBella moves to look into your eyes but her manicured nails are scratching at your clit through your lacey panties.
“What is it baby?” She says confidently and you wish she’d not chosen something so intimate for this.
You wanted to fuck Claire, you coulnd’t lie. You were angry at Maya and Claire was a catch. Not to mention that you were curious what it was like. You didn’t like whatever was put in your drink…but you were horny and…this wasn’t the worst thing to happen, right?
“Are we really going to do this in front of them?” You asked instead of all the other thoughts you were having.
“It’s ok sweetheart, they’re busy doing their own thing.” Claire told you and moved back to kissing your neck and you sorta felt like this was a bad idea. But Whiskey was moaning really loudly now and Claire groaned in frustration.
The Governor hated Whiskey and this would for sure throw her off her game. You thought Claire would take you to one of the bedrooms. But she gazed over at the hot tub.
Miles met her eyes and the two seemed to agree on something.
That was creepy for you to watch. What the fuck was going on?
Miles motioned for Duke and Birdie was kissing his neck and then biting his nipples. Duke moved forward and pushed his mamoth of a dick inot Whiskeys mouth to shut her up.
Claire pushed her dress off and you licked your lips. Oh fuck she was gorgeous. This wasn’t fair.
She unclasped her bra and kicked her thong off so fast. Then she was straddling your hips. You were flat on your back on the stupid white outdoor cushions. You’d never fucked a Governor…And you’d for sure never fucked ontop of pool furniture.
But whatever you were on it was making you hot and in need of..god you needed someone to fuck you. Your brain was getting foggy and Claire’s hair fell around your face as she kissed you hard.
Your hands found her breasts and she moaned and it gave you permission to whimper for her in return. Claire ran her wet pussy against your panties and you felt the moisture and the heat.
“You like that sweetie? Where do you need me? Tell me what you need.”
“Claire they can hear-” You say and you know this is a bad idea in front of Miles. You don’t wanna talk dirty in front of them.
“Let them hear, you are mine. Your gonna sound so pretty with my fist inside you.”
You gulped and Claire licked your bottom lip like she was an apex predator.
“You’ve never been fisted have you, Hollywood?”
You shook your head to answer. No, you’d been offered of course but the idea never sounded good..not until now.
“You can take my fist, don’t look so scared. You want to be good for me don’t you?”
You whimper and gasp as Claire lifts off you and you miss the weight of her. But Claire is pulling your panties down and she sniffs them. Oh fuck, what did they put in the water of Conneticut?
She threw them and sank to her knees for you.
You’d assumed that Claire would be a pillow princess fem who wanted a lesbian expereince that she didn’t get in college. But that was not what was happening.
Claire used one hand to hold your tummy down and the other opened your lips so that she could suck your cunt. You screamed and your knees widened and you humped at her face.
You’d been eaten out by Maya plenty. But Claire had a different approach than your ex. She didn’t tease, she owned you right away.
Your head is getting foggy and you feel dizzy and Claire puts two fingers inside and you hear the noises your pussy makes.
You can also hear Whiskey gagging on Duke. They must have taken a little helper because neither of them stopped. And Birdie was whining as Miles fingered her under the hot water. You heard them all moaning but you honestly weren’t interested.
Not when your eyes went back down to Claire feasting on your cunt.
Your first orgasm was shamefully fast. You grabbed Claire’s perfect hair and screamed as you ejaculated a little into her mouth. When your first orgasm finally stopped you gasped and Claire didn’t wait.
Straddling your thighs she put four fingers inside you.
“Oh FUCK!” You try to squirm away and she uses her free hand on your throat.
“No, no, you can’t run from me. Relax your cunt and take me.” She instructs and it’s not exactly kind and it makes you wetter, she looks down finding your secret and smirks.
“You like that baby? You don’t want me to be nice to you? I’ve been so obsessed with you since Miles brought you in. It was my idea you know.”
You gasp in horror. But Claire squeezes your throat harder than safe and you can’t breathe, can’t respond.
“I paid to get the sex tape. When I saw you I knew, I had to have you. I promised Miles he could watch baby. But it was my idea to blackmail you. I couldn’t stand the idea that you’d not want to be underneath me. But here you are, sopping wet cunt and you are letting me fuck you. So it all worked out the way I planned. You don’t mind now do you?”
You couldn’t breathe and she released a little and you coughed and gagged.
“C-Claire p-” You say and you aren’t sure if you are begging for her to keep going or get off you and never speak to you again.
She blackmailed you with a sex tape! And something about that was making you….wetter? God you needed therapy.
Claire smiled looking down at your pussy.
“Just need the thumb, and then I’ll be right in your womb. Right where I belong. No one’s ever gonna fuck you like this, but then again no one will ever fuck you but me again. Sweetie what a tight cunt you have. Not anymore though, you're mine now little bitch. You’ll be such a pretty whore for me. You won’t need anything again. You’ll be naked in my townhouse ready to be railed. By the end of my press tour I’ll have you taking both of my fists.”
Your body responded too quickly as her thumb pushed inside your hole. You felt her fist pressing against all your walls. It hurt, it burned, it was the best you’d ever felt. God help you.
You should tell her to stop. This was not ok. But your toes curled.
She spit on your face and you flinched feeling it. It sat there as a reminder of what Claire thought of you.
“You need to be put in your place, don’t you? I watched the full tape, you don’t want to be respected. That’s fine, I tried to be nice and text you. Start a nice affair, but no. Now I’ll treat you like a whore.”
Claire worked her fist over and over moving against all your walls. It felt like an alien was inside of you trying to push out. You grabbed her arms and she slapped you across the face.
“Say thank you, Hollywood. Thank you for bringing me into the billionaire club. Thank you for using my tight stupid hole. Thank you for spitting on me, I’m worthless without you Claire.”
You didn’t know you’d started to cry but you had. Your body was starting to feel weightless and you weren’t sure if it was drugs or shock.
Yet you still didn’t fight back, god you wished you weren’t so set on chasing this orgasm high. Claire was all red flags and you were ignoring them all.
But your face fell to the side and you saw Duke watching and Miles too. Oh shit you had an audience. They were practically panting with their tongues out. The girls were too fucked up to notice you and Claire thankfully.
Claire slapped both your tits and you cried out and looked back at her.
“Don’t look at them, look at me. I’m the one with a fist inside you. Look at the person who’s going to own this cunt for the rest of your life. Don’t worry about the boys, they’ve just never seen anyone be fucked into a state of pathetic.”
You cried and Claire leaned down and you flinched as she licked your tears. You felt a pressure, kinda like you needed to pee and then it came out.
You squirted and it hit Claire’s body fast and hard and you orgasmed again. That’s when the name slipped out.
“Mommy no!!” You bit your lip to stop the feeling of your pussy being a super soaker. But Claire found your cervix and used it like Rocky. It hurt, god it hurt, and you can’t stop cumming.
Until she slows her movement and you are wheezing, you need your inhaler, almost that fucking type of wheezing.
Your eyes glaze and you are in shock. But your mouth opens as Claire grabs your face hard.
“What did you just call me? Oh this is perfect. You slut, did you say Mommy? You are fucked up. Is that what you said? You want me to be your Mama? Is that it? Wanna suck on my tits too? You needed this, you don’t want to make decisions anymore. You need Mommy to do it for you then? Oh sweetheart, you are precious.” Claire makes fun of you, and you aren’t sure what twilight zone you are in.
But Claire starts to move her fist again and you black out.
You remember bits. Claire’s cunt rubbing against your face. You remember a finger in your ass. You remember laughing and then…nothing.
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
That was ten hours ago.
Now you were sitting at the god damn police station. You’d been interograted for the past two hours.
Miles, Duke and Devon were found dead.
Which was insane since you were pretty sure at some point they ejaculated on your naked body while Claire fucked you. And now they were in a morgue.
You were wearing a police shirt and gym shorts a nice officer had found for you. You refused to do a rape kit, because no one had ejaculated inside you…You thought? …And it just felt like it would make more problems for you later.
Part of your mind shouted at you to tell the officers that Claire killed them all.
But you couldn’t. You knew that the police, even if you told the truth, they couldn’t get the Governor. And they certainly couldn’t protect you from her.
No, Claire probably had the chief of police on her payroll.
You told the cops it was a party. You didn’t do drugs, first lie. What was insane is how creative Claire was. Because there were drugs all over that pent house. Yet the police couldn’t find any. You’d found out after you told them ‘no drugs were there.’
You swore you were awake the whole time, second lie. You had snapshots of the evening. You remembered many earth shattering orgasm. You remembered Claire being violent with Devon.
You remembered Miles begging for mercy. But it was alll just kinda bits of a story you can’t place. Miles had joked about giving you a golden shower…and Claire had taken her sharp nail and taken out his eye. You remember that…
The police asked if there was sex at the party. You tried not to laugh.
You told them there was no sex. But they had a ‘source’ that someone tried to rape you. You couldn’t breathe and then they said it was Miles. And that he tried to get Duke in on it.
So you lied again. You protected Claire..
Three lies you couldn’t take back.
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.
The police told you that Whiskey said there were cameras and yet…no one could find the footage. You tried not to laugh in the officers face. That was on brand. Of course you were in another sex tape.
You were going to call your therapist the second you got home. You may go into hiding.
But as you sat in the precinct you saw the muted TV.
What was truly insane, after all this, is that the media coverage in the events. While you sat waiting for an uber. After hours of telling them you didn’t know anything.
You saw Claire on TV.
Claire’s media team was making this into a circus of lies. It was almost. A symphony of bullshit really.
They said that Miles Bron attempted to hurt you, and that Claire fought him. That she was in critical condition at the hospital. And you were putting the pieces together of the night, and you knew that was bullshit.
CNN showed people were tweeting wishing the Govener of Connecticut a fast recovery. They were saying she was a true ‘American Hero’. People said that they didn’t like her before, but now they wanted her to run for President.
President.
CNN and Fox both had photos of Claire being carted into the hospital. She released a statement, which was amazing since she was in ‘critical condition.’
Claire told them you two were always so close. And that she’d do anything for you.
Well the last part wasn’t a lie. She’d killed people.
What was super curious is that no drugs were found in all three men’s system. How’d she do that?
It was a big story. Birdie already tweeted her support of Claire, completely backing her story. Explaining how Miles was behind her bad business deals. Peg must have thought that one up. You wondered where she’d gone for the night. Maybe she knew what Claire would do? She did hand you a beer, did that have something in it too?
You were deep in thought and you turned to see Lionel sit down and he was on his phone.
Lionel was sitting in the police station across from you. Not looking at you, acting like you were strangers.
He wouldn’t talk to you, acknowledge you. He looked scared of you actually.
You wondered what he knew? What he remembered?
You didn’t have your shoes, everything was put into evidence. You’d asked the police for your phone and they’d handed you the burner. The one you’d given Miles at the start of the party. You didn’t correct them, just took the burner. You’d used it to order the Uber.
It dinged and you walked out eyeing Lionel before pushing the doors open.
Stepping out of the police station in socks and gross clothes the camera’s went off so fast. You couldn’t wait to see those photos, god.
But a big man in sunglasses opened the door and you couldn’t believe it, maybe the studio sent a car? You don’t have time to question it, too many cameras and shouting people.
“Did Claire tell you Bron left her his fortune?”
“Did you know Whiskey is getting her own TV deal?”
“Claire says she can’t wait to see you once she gets out of the hospital! Is it love?”
They shout as you make the split decision getting into the car. The door closes and you gawk at the companion of your fancy car.
To your utter surprise Maya smiled at you and you laughed and lunged across the seat to hug her.
“MAYA!” You are so relieved.
“It’s ok sweetie, I came as fast as I heard. It’s all going to be ok now, I’m here.” Maya holds you close to her and you start to lose it. Finally safe with someone who loves you.
“It’s on every news station. Maya my career is ruined.” You cried in your ex’s expensive clothes. Her perfume meeting your senses and calming you. The cold chains around her neck such a different feeling than her warm body engulfing you in safety.
But it only lasted a second before another body spoke in the car.
“Mommy wouldn’t let that happen.”
You heard the voice but you couldn’t believe it, you released Maya who kept her hands on your hips as you turned to see Claire. She looked absolutely fucking perfect, not a scratch. Her lipstick was definitely blood red, not a hair out of place.
So not in the hospital at all. Another pretty lie.
“Claire?” You said scared and hurt you grabbed for the car door to get out and no surprise it didnt’ budge. You were trapped.
“That’s no way to greet your Mommy. I flew Daddy out and everything. How are you feeling, still sore from my fist? Do you even remember all the things I did to you?” Claire teased and you moved out of Maya’s grasp who tried to grab at you.
You sat on the seat next to Claire, but as far against the door as you could.
“You planned this. All of this? You framed Miles and…You killed all three of them. How could you?” You were saying the words but every fiber in your body was like bambi.
You wanted to break the glass window and flee like a deer. Because these two were headlights.
Claire’s legs were crossed as she sat like a queen on the leather seats. Her black stiletto heel in the air. She had your phone in one hand and was toying with the electronic just to get under your skin.
“I was hoping for a kiss hello.”
Your eyes budged out.
Maya kept her gaze on you and you couldn’t believe it. Claire licked her lips before answering.
“Storytime then? I met your Daddy at a big party. At first I was going to have her killed. Especially when I found out you two were together. Well until you were breaking up every weekend. But Mrs. Mason and I bonded over a mutual interest, you. Maya helped me get the sex tape, we made a deal. It was all rather easy. I had originally planned to just kill my stupid husband. No need for the divorce. I was going to say he tried to rape you. Then I’d scare Miles, get the tape back and blackmail him with the pent house video…. But then things changed…Miles and Duke got a little too horny. It’s amazing what a little pinch in their drink does. Plus I crushed up some of Devon’s old Viagra, men are just so predictable. I was fine with them watching, but they touched you. And that’s when it all went south, you don’t remember sweetheart?” Claire laughed at the end realizing you didn’t know everything that happened.
You turned to look at your ex horrified. You knew that the disruptors were capable of slimey things, but not this.
You didn’t realize Claire was a psycho until now. But Maya had been so sweet at the beginning.
“Maya what the fuck! You gave the sex tape to her! You said you loved me!” You snapped and yelled at her in disgust. But Maya didn’t flinch, no shame. In fact she looked a little more sure of herself now. Like this was the right team to be on, that she’d put her chips on the right spot to win, win you.
“You should have accepted the marriage proposal. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn. You ignored my advances and you ignored her proposal. We weren’t going to be ignored anymore.” Claire answered for Maya and you grimaced. All of it was just too perfect for Governor DeBella.
“You have the videos of the night. Of you fisting me and you killing them..” You were going to puke. Claire brought your phone up to her lips and you saw her pretending to hide the giant grin. But then she threw the phone to Maya who caught it. And she laughed openly.
They were enjoying this.
You were in the car with the actual Devil.
“Of course I do. I’ll play it for you when we get home. I especially like the part where you beg for me to fuck you with my fist again. You opened your mouth for me to spit in. You didn’t even care that Duke's corpse was next to you.”
You gagged but held it down. Not giving her the satisfaction.
“So what’s your big plan now Governor?”
Claire’s face turned dangerous, her heel moved so that it came inbetween your legs. You had more fear coursing through you than ever before. As her shoe pressed against your gym-short covered crotch.
“I’m going to defang you baby. You are going to stay in my townhouse with Maya. We are going to fuck that independent streak out of you. A good dose of Stockholm Syndrome for your system. You are going to take a leave of absence from work, of course. When I decide you aren’t going to make a fuss, and not a moment before. I’ll bring you home to my kids. You are getting domesticated honey. Maya will move in, and we’ll be a big happy family. But first I’m going to spend the next six months to a year fucking the thoughts out of your head.”
Your mouth went dry. You looked from Claire to Maya. They were actually serious.
“People will-” you said in disbelief.
“Who? You think Lionel is going to help you now? I’m twice as scary as Miles ever was.” She smiled and you swore she wasn’t human.
“Matt and Pat-” you looked at Maya in complete horror.
Maya shook her head, you realized they were a perfect fucking team. Maya would handle the work stuff and Claire would fund your captivity.
You’d be their sex toy.
Claire’s shoe pressed harder against your pussy and you were really trapped.
Miles blackmail was now in hindsight, a slightly uncomfortable situation.
Nothing compared to Claire’s hell scape of a playground.
You’d been blood in the water before, sure. But you thought you’d known the biggest predator in the tank. Miles was supposed to be the big bad shark. You’d been so very wrong. He was a minnow in comparison to the teeth you were seeing on Claire.
“I feel like you are far too smart for me to have to explain this. But I have two sex tapes and I’ve killed for you already. So maybe you shouldn’t test Mommy.” Claire taunted and you stared at her deranged blue eyes and wondered how she could do this. How anyone could think this plan up.
But you lunged forward for Maya, to grab your cell phone out her hands. But Maya was faster as she threw it towards Claire who made a giddy noise of enjoyment and then Maya grabbed your throat and kissed you. You tried to push away and Maya threw you down onto the car’s leather seat. Claire moved to grab your arms and pin them over your head.
You kick and scream.
“Daddy was so sad before, you’ll be good for Maya now won’t you? You’ll listen to Mommy and Daddy.”
You screamed louder for ‘help’ hoping the driver of the car would help you.
“You can scream and cry all you need. I’ll have a full security team where I’m going to keep you. You go ahead and try to run, I think Daddy likes it.” Claire laughs and Maya moves down to the gross gym shorts and she yanks them off your body and starts kissing your pubic hair. But you try to kick her and Maya bites your thigh really hard and you wail.
“Daddy’s hungry baby, don’t fight it! Or do, it was so fun to see you last night. You make such needy noises for me.” Claire laughs and you can’t believe what is happening. As Maya’s mouth falls on your sore pussy Claire leans down to whisper’
“Welcome home baby.”
Chapter 2 Requested :
TUMBLR Anon :
Reader is also smart so how about using the only tool she has, herself. Maybe Reader is trying to dismantle the alliance between Claire and Maya. Reader takes advantage of her moments alone with Maya to 'show' her affection and SLOWLY insinuate that it would be better if it was just the two of them (Maya and Reader). Knowing Maya's personality and the temptation of having Reader for herself; Reader convinces Maya to escape. Maya can arrange everything so that they flee without raising suspicions and go far away.
To understand the ease in which you fell into Stockholm Syndrome, you must first understand the cage.
Your cage was that of a five-million-dollar mansion somewhere in Connecticut.
Doesn’t sound like a bad life, some might say.
You had a library fit for any Pintrest bitches vision board, the mansion was set with fourteen rooms, a four car garage, the master had a rain shower and a jet tub, fixed with a walk in closet bigger than any apartment you’d ever lived in. The oak floors were heated, and every appliance was smarter than a fifth grader.
The second floor theater room housed a thirty thousand dollar projector and surround sound, the game room homed a pool table, two offices had mahogany bar’s in the corners. These walls, if the could talk, could indict a politician and make the catholic church release a statement of apology.
It was a velvet cage really.
You had a fourty foot, heated pool with gorgeous lights, and a hot tub that should be used to shoot porn in.
The backyard was a designers wet dream, outdoor fireplace, an outside TV, fully stocked bar, and kitchen.
This big of a house of course had staff, as rich people tend to acquire.
Money and power seemed to get you things, things everyday people didn’t think possible.
It also bought silence, but more on that later.
They came in every Tuesday between two pm and left before seven.
They were like good little workers, the mice in Cinderella is an accurate way to describe this team.
The house was cleaned pristine in that time, and food was restocked in the fridge. Pool didn’t have a single leaf, snacks stocked in Theater room.
Not a spec of dust on any surface, books re-organized.
Creepy really…
Anyone would love the sound of this house.
But this was not a house, this was not your home.
This was your cage.
Now, you are a smart person, both street smart and book smart.
You had a high IQ.
You had a fancy job in L.A, you made movies…at least you used to.
You used to….well, do a lot of things. Like have big parties, a mansion, a fucking retirement plan and a life.
That was before, all of that was before.
Your grandmother had a bird when you went to boarding school, you stayed with her for a month before you left. And that damn bird never shut up, it clanged against it’s cage like it was insane. Life inside the cage was worse than anything out of it.
The author of Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury, once said;
“Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.”
You understood now why that bird broke his neck on the bars of the cage.
And you understood that you were smarter than that fucking bird.
You had reached a new level of insanity, and it was maddening.
But you were locked in.
The house was a cage, and you were fucking insane.
Claire put cameras in every inch of the house.
She put you in the basement for the first month.
You screamed day and night for the first two days. You think it was two days, time was getting strange quickly.
You heard them cleaning upstairs, and they never even checked to what the sound of that poor bitch downstairs was.
Money and power made the common people scared.
Maya was instructed by Claire to not speak to you, and she listened for the first three weeks.
Which was crazy, you’d never seen Maya be quiet.
But she brought you food, and she locked the door.
You threw things, you smashed mirrors and tried to make weapons. You tried to break the small window only to find it had bars on the outside.
A large man with shades came in with Maya.
He had a very rude electric friend.
You learned from pain and violence what Maya and Claire wanted.
Because Mr. Men in Black used a cattle prod to electrocute you into submission.
You had a mean streak it turned out, and you tried to ignore the voltages running through your body.
But as the first month came to a close.
You fucking missed conversation.
You hated to fucking admitt it.
But you wanted to go upstairs so badly.
And you started to look forward to seeing Maya bringing you food.
They must have done their research on Stockhome Syndrome.
Because you were having a hard time fighting now, a month and no one came for you. No police or FBI? How was that possible?
Your basement had a bed, a bathroom (with a broken mirror), one window that was now fixed and clouded over, and that was it.
And you were so fucking bored.
You’d thoguht they would come in and sexually assault you every day.
You thought you’d get to bite and punch and fight.
But Claire DeBella was smart, and she did exactly what she’d promised in the car that day.
She was breaking you.
You missed the conversation more than you thought possible.
They’d given you no TV, nothing to write with, no books, nothing for stimulation.
So it was on a regular boring ass day of you laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling that a click of the door made you jump.
This wasn’t Maya’s normal time at all.
And the giant guy with shades didn’t walk in.
Governor Claire DeBella did, in her heels and nice dress pants and dress shirt.
She smiled at you, and you thought about trying to hurt her.
But you stopped, and that pissed you off so much. However, you’d learned through pain, through a caddle prod to the stomach and limbs over and over, that fighting would not work.
So you needed to be a smarter bird.
“Hi.” Your voice cracked, you’d only yelled at Maya and begged, pleaded, and cried.
Conversation was new for you.
Claire stopped at the bottom of the stairs and eyed you curiously before she gestured to the spot at the end of your bed.
You nodded and scooted to crisscross your legs on the mattress. Claire kicked off her heels under your bed and then sat on the mattress next to you.
You didn’t let your eyes travel down to the heels, you knew they could be used as a weapon, but you also knew you didn’t want to be alone another minute.
Perhaps you were insane, now.
This was Stockholm syndrome, and it only took a month, strange.
“You seem to be in good spirits today.” Claire mused at you not attacking her and not yelling.
“You haven’t come to see me yet.” You decide on that instead. You wondered if they’d defanged you now.
Claire smiles sadly for a second and then looks around your basement.
“Would you have wanted me to?”
“I..I don’t know.” You can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. Claire thinks about your phrase, and she seems to be debating something.
“Do you know where you are?” She says, and it doesn’t sound condescending like you thought it might.
“Connecticut, your home?”
“That’s right,” Claire says, and she looks towards the stairs. “You know how long you’ve been in here?”
“A month.” You say, and you wonder if she’s doing some kind of cognitive test on you, to see if you are still with it. Claire shakes her head.
“No, Honey, you’ve been in here for two months now.”
You try not to panic at that fact, and you wonder if she’s lying to freak you out. But you can’t figure out if a month or two months in here really matter in the grand scheme of things. You weren’t getting out, and no one was looking for you. So, what did time really matter now?
“Claire?” You ask and she waits for you. “Why am I down here?”
“I wanted you to get out all of your anger in here. But when you decided to accept your new life, I was going to start giving you things again.”
“Things?” You say, and it sounds more excited than you want it to, and Claire notices.
“Yeah, sweetheart, if you can behave, no more mirror knives, escape attempts, and throwing food. We won’t need the cattle prod and quarantine. I’ll give you full use of the house, and you can swim and read. You can watch movies again.” Claire says, and her tone is gentle, and you perk up at the idea of movies.
You think Claire and Maya must have spoken, she just hit your currency. You’d get to watch movies again. You looked down at your lap.
“What would I need to do…to get those things?” You feel like a traitor to yourself, but you were ready to do anything to get some kind of mental stimulation.
Claire turns her hand over and waits, but the message is clear: she wanted you to reach out to her. She wanted you to decide to touch her, and if you didn’t, you didn’t know what would happen. But you had bruises that made your guess of pain pretty clear.
However, it was interesting that Claire was making you decide, like she wanted your surrender.
And you hated her.
And you hated yourself.
Because you reached out slowly and put your hand in hers. Claire softly moved your palm up in her own and used her left hand to trace the new scars from the first week. From the broken glass and mirror in your hand.
Her eyes were fixated on the scars, and you wondered what your monster was thinking.
“If you can prove that you can be a good girl,” Claire says and you shiver, and her mouth twitches in enjoyment at your response. You don’t know why you shiver, but your body does it anyway.
“How?” You press and you don’t know why Claire’s touch is so good.
But you haven’t been touched in…two months was it? Was this you being touch starved?
What was happening?
“As of Today, I’ll start allowing you more things, and if you can follow the rules. If you can behave, I’ll give you more. Mommy wants you to succeed.” Claire says, and she guages you reaction.
The memory of that night at the penthouse comes back in flashes now.
“Mommy no!!” You bit your lip to stop the feeling of your pussy being a super soaker. But Claire found your cervix and used it like Rocky. It hurt, god it hurt, and you can’t stop cumming.
Until she slows her movement and you are wheezing, you need your inhaler, almost that fucking type of wheezing.
Your eyes glaze and you are in shock. But your mouth opens as Claire grabs your face hard.
“What did you just call me? Oh this is perfect. You slut, did you say Mommy? You are fucked up. Is that what you said? You want me to be your Mama? Is that it? Wanna suck on my tits too? You needed this, you don’t want to make decisions anymore. You need Mommy to do it for you then? Oh sweetheart, you are precious.”
You want to pull your hand away now.
But you don’t, you need to know what it will take to go upstairs.
“I’ll be good.” You say even as your mouth feels dry and acidic.
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
It started that week, you didn’t see Maya.
Claire brought her work to the mansion you figured. Because she spent so much time with you. It started in the basement, Claire started small she brought you a book.
You thanked her, until you saw what it was.
She’d brought you a smutty romance book with stockholm syndrome, and a domme who spanks and sexually humilates the younger woman.
You didn’t care, you just wanted to read. It felt good to read. So Claire sat with you in the basement.
She ate meals with you.
It was another two days later and she brought you a newspaper and you read that thing five times that day. It was just nice to know what was happening.
But Claire DeBella fucking knew what she was doing. She was making you trust her, need her. She was the hand that fed you, and she could take all of it away.
But you were careful with your words, you spoke to Claire and answered all her questions, but you made sure not to let your temper ever show.
At the start of the second week Claire walked downstairs in her big plush robe and a cup of coffe and you all but drooled at the smell of the coffee.
“Maya didn’t give you coffee huh baby?” Claire smirks at your face, it borderlines aroused at the drink.
“Never, I used to get these Cinnamon Dolce Lattes.”
You didn’t mean to tell her that, but you noticed that was happening more recently. You were hungry for conversation, and your captor was the only one here.
“Hmm, you do have a sweet tooth. I’m more of an almond milk latte girl. Though I do love a shaken espresso. Before I was a politician, I’d have an espresso martini at a bar.” Claire mused, and you realized….she wanted to talk to you. What the fuck was this.
“Do you have an espresso machine?” You bit your tongue, angry at yourself for asking.
“I do, it’s upstairs. Would you like to try it?” Claire lays down the offer and waits, taking a sip of her drink.
Like a person puts a mouse trap, she laid the cheese, and you, you stupid fucking rat. You walked right into it.
You nodded, and Claire turned around and walked up the stairs, and you slowly stalked behind her until you got to the steps and you stopped.
You’d been shocked once for crowding Maya by the door, and now you were nervous for the possability of pain. Claire looks behind her like she was listening for your footsteps to stop.
“Darling, I’m inviting you upstairs. You don’t need to be afraid.” Governor tells you, and you wonder if she hears how hilarious that is. But you step up the stairs slowly and she keeps the basement door open for you.
You were in shock for the first few hours of being upstairs.
But you saw the cameras and you saw the giant fence outside, it had to be at least twelve feet along the property. And you even saw a man in the far distance, he had a machine gun strapped to his chest and a big vest.
You weren’t free, just in a more plush cage.
Claire came up behind you, and you froze, but she didn’t touch you.
“How’s the coffee?” Claire says, and you wonder if what she’s really saying is: ‘do you see them? Do you see the guards? You wanna run? You want to go back down to the basement?’
Be smart prey damn it.
“Really good, thank you, Claire.” You say and Claire humms like you’ve chosen right. You try not to let your hands shake as you bring the hot liquid up to your mouth.
The next two weeks Claire would make you sleep downstairs, but bring you up to spend the day and the evening upstairs.
Until the third week when you were in the theater room, your favorite room of Claire’s.
She’d let you choose the movie, which was interesting. You didn’t know psychologically if she just wanted to ease you in, make you forget that you were being held prisoner.
But sometimes you noticed you weren’t afraid of Claire.
That was wrong, that was stupid of you.
Stupid prey.
But it happened, and you had to admit it to yourself at least.
It wasn’t until you had picked Beauty and the Beast that you realized.
You’d picked a story that had Stockholm syndrome in it. You picked it, not Claire, and she didn’t even say anything as you watched it.
But Claire watched you, and you yawned and closed your eyes.
When you woke up, things changed.
You don’t know how you ended up lying against Claire’s chest as she played with your hair. But you thought for a second you were sleeping on Maya, and you were back at your house in L.A. That was wrong, this was wrong, the perfume was different, and the feeling was different.
And your eyes shot open and Claire was rolling her ankles on the sofa. She’d put on CNN now and you were snoozing against her body.
You couldn’t breathe.
This was wrong.
Run away, hide, fucking fight asshole.
You were being fucking domestic.
You were getting fucking domesticated by your abuser!
You jumped off of Claire in horror.
And Claire didn’t even seem offended.
“Oh sweetheart, you were doing so well too. You melted into me.”
“You are a fucking monster.”
Claire laughed and then mutted the TV, like this was way better than politics on the evening news.
“Baby girl, you get to decide how this goes. Not me and not Daddy. So if you want to ruin tonight, that’s fine. But eventually, that little voice that tells you to hate me, you won’t hear it anymore.” The Governor’s voice was so condescending.
You eyed the door and jumped over the sofa and threw it open and ran up the stairs. You ran up two floors until you got to where you’d remembered the front door. Your mind told you to stop, but the fight in you demanded this.
Just as you got to the foyer.
Mr. Cattle Prod came into view. Her was sitting on a chair with a long sub sandwich about to take a bite.
“No! NO! NO! NO!” You shout louder and louder when you see him, he sighs like he doesn’t like this either.
You spent the next two days downstairs, alone, no Claire, no Maya, no movies, no upstairs, no dirty book.
You cried and cried and cried. You didn’t get food, and you didn’t really care about that. You missed Claire, and that was what made you so fucking angry.
On the third day of being alone, around the afternoon Claire came back downstairs.
She was in home clothes, jeans and a button down white loose shirt, and she walked down slowly until she found you laying on the food.
“Shall we try again? Do you think you can behave today for Mommy?” Claire asked and you nodded and wiped at your tears. Claire nodded towards the bed and you scrambled to sit on it.
“What would you like to do today?” Claire asks and you bite your lip wondering if she’s being mean.
But Claire hadn’t been unkind yet, in fact, she’d been downright gentle with you. The beatings only ever came from the man with his shades. Claire always granted you things.
“Can….Can I have coffee?” You ask, having suffered a caffeine headache from the lack of coffee for the past two days. “And breakfast?”
“Those are two very easy things I can do. And I will, but think bigger baby.” Claire said and she cocked her head to the side.
“Can I go…outside? To um..to swim?” You scrambled, you hadn’t been outside in so long.
“You may, but you have to do something for me first.” Claire said and you didn’t even care what it was, you thought.
So you waited for her to say it.
“Take off your shirt honey.” Claire said and you hesitate and she smiles, and it’s dangerous.
But you don’t want to be alone today.
So you take off your baggy white t shirt. You didn’t get bra’s. You figured a long time ago it was because of the wire, aka a weapon.
Claire eyed your breasts but didn’t touch, didn’t say anything.
“Now the pants.” Claire said in an even tone, leaving no emotions for you to latch onto.
You stand off the bed and drop your jeans and she eyes the underwear and arches an eyebrow.
You take them off without her asking and she seems to like that.
“Now let’s go upstairs baby.”
You spend the day naked, and you find you don’t fucking care like you thought you would. Like you once would have. Claire let’s you eat seconds and thirds of breakfast, and she opens the slider, and you get your first breath of fresh air in forever.
Claire lays by the poolside and sits on her phone, with her designer sunglasses pulled on.
And you swim, and you forget for a minute who she is and where you are. It feels so good to swim, you don’t care that you are naked. No one is around but Claire.
The ring of her phone cuts through your gentle mind fog, and she answers it.
And you think to yourself ‘scream and yell, tell them you are being held captive.’ But you remember your quarantine, your solitude, and you bite your lip.
You keep quiet.
Silent for Mommy.
You hate yourself for this.
But you know Claire is watching you, fascinated, entertained even by your submission. You can’t see her eyes, but you feel them on you.
You try to remember who you are.
Who you were.
And that you were not on a holiday at the pool.
You were a prisoner.
You sink to the bottom of the pool and scream, knowing no one will hear you.
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You aren’t sure how long Claire keeps this up…Time is strange.. but you get to swim in the afternoon sun. She makes you big salads for lunch.
You watch movies after dinner.
You go back to the basement for bed.
You wake up in the morning to coffee agan.
But now, you do all of this, very, very naked.
It is like you must give up something to earn a place at Claire’s table.
And you don’t care about the clothes, so it doesn’t feel bad.
But one day you are watching a movie and Claire is reading a book, and she reaches out and touches your head.
You freeze, wondering if you are about to be hurt or abused further.
But she plays your hair, scratches your scalp, and reads, like you are her house pet.
You wonder if you are her pet now.
That’s how it starts, months into captivity, Claire gently plays with your hair.
And you get used to it quickly.
You come to expect it even.
One day you sit on the sofa and grab the remote to flick through her extensive movie collection and she doesn’t touch you.
You drop your arm with the remote and turn to Claire. Who is reading, or pretending to, you aren’t sure.
“Claire?” You ask and she puts her finger on the page to mark where she was reading but looks up with her glasses and makes an acknowledging noise in her throat.
“Did I break a rule?”
Claire looks confused, or she acts well, and she shuts the book now, you have her attention. You just can’t figure her out.
“I don’t know, Honey, did you?” Claire challenges like she’s speaking to a wayward little thing. And you look around, no cattle prod, no clothes, still upstairs, what was wrong? Something is missing.
“Did I do something wrong, or behave badly?” You ask and you feel strange, like your mind isn’t working like it used to.
“Baby, what is wrong?” Claire tries again, and you wonder if she’s planned this, but you can’t stop mid-play, the show must go on. And you weren’t sure what part you were playing anymore.
“You aren’t…” You realize now why you feel strange.
Claire wasn’t touching you.
How long had you been leaning into her touch? How long had she been doing this?
Now that you thought of it, it wasn’t just the TV times she’d touch you. No she combed your hair in the morning while you drank coffee. And she..she rubbed your back as she helped you climb into the basement at night. She tucked you into the covers…oh fuck she kissed your forehead as you fell asleep.
When had this started? You thought it was just the sofa thing…But Claire went as far as hugging you as she wrapped the towel around you after the pool.
You hadn’t even said anything.
Where was your fight?
You blinked at her now, feeling dumb.
“Can you ask for what you need baby?” Claire said and you realized, you were in the ring with someone far more sophisticated than you’d given credit for.
“No, I um..I think I don’t feel good.” You grip your stomach and lie, Claire takes a moment, a moment to silently communicate with you. She doesn’t buy it, but she waits a second, lets you sweat. Before she pretends with you.
“Oh baby, you swam for a long time. All that time in the sun.”
You remember her putting the sunblock on your skin now, she rubbed you everywhere to get it in. You didn’t even fight her.
“Can I..I mean can I go lay down?”
You need to hide.
“Sure.” Claire nods and stands and you follow her, but she doesn’t turn towards the hall that leads to the basement. She turns instead to go up the stairs, and you are super confused but you follow.
Claire leads you up multiple floors and then down another hall to the master bedroom.
You stop as she opens the door.
It was beige and whites and looked like it was an expensive spa, weekend getaway, plush bedroom.
This was Claire’s master bedroom.
Probably the one she’d shared with Devon, ya know, her dead husband. The one she killed. This god damn monster, a preditor.
You stop before entering and Claire walks in like she has a zillion other times.
The governor goes to the bed and pulls back the plush comforter; she’s got a bunch of giant soft pillows, and the sheets probably cost more than you made in every job through college.
You hold your breath as she makes a show of pulling back the side of the bed for you.
You realize, she’s put you on the other side. Devon's side, actually if we wanted to bring up that guilt. The dead husband's guilt you carried, because this maniac killed people for you.
Claire lets you stand there and decide how your night will go.
She clicks the remote by her bedside and the shades drop.
Now the room is completely dark.
You wonder if this is how it feels to be prey in the woods at night, everything is cold, everything is still, and in the dark your nightmare waits.
“Did you still want to lay down?” Claire asks and you do now. Because your knees feel like they may give.
You pad over to the side of the bed she’s holding the blankets to.
You crawl in and she doesn’t kiss your head, and you don’t know why that worries you.
You figure this must happen in abusive situations. You fear the lack of kiss just like you’d fear the hit. But you also want the kiss, you want to know you are safe. That you won’t be electrocuted and thrown in solitude again.
Claire walks around the bed and you are not sure this is real, she’s going to leave you alone in her room?
“Have a good sleep Sweetheart,” Claire says and closes the door, you wait to hear a lock click, and it doesn’t.
What a beautiful trap she’s laid out.
But you won’t fall into it.
Now, when the bed feels cool, the sheets are so soft, and the pillow so inviting.
You close your eyes and drift into dreams.
You visit your old life in dreams, a dream with Maya and the beach.
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When you wake you hear typing, and you open your eyes to see Claire with her hair up in a clip as she types on her laptop.
You blink a few times and Claire must have some strange link to you, because she notices immediately.
“Morning sleepy head.”
“What time is it?” You yawn and stretch and feel more rested than you have in forever.
“A little after two, you slept the morning away,” Claire says like you two are on vacation and she let her lover have a lie in.
“You working?” You ask and you don’t know why but Claire doesn’t flinch at your comment at all. When had you been allowed to ask her things?
“Yeah, I’m trying to get people to listen to this new legislation, but your generation won’t even read it. Wanna help Mommy?” Claire offers and your eyes grow wide at the idea of a problem to solve. You get excited, and Claire easily gives you notes on her speech.
After a while you feel like you are working again, it’s so nice.
“Seems a little stiff.” You say as she hands you her coffee and you drink it. You don’t notice how it has cinnamon, your favorite in it now.
“Should Mommy be offended?” Claire teases with a grin and you laugh.
Claire can’t stop her surprise now, you actually laughed. You hadn’t done that in front of her since before she took you.
But you laugh and it feels so fucking good.
“Sorry, no, you shouldn’t. You should however, be using Twitter, or whatever they call it now. Because, as you blamed my generation for not listening, you should be making the effort to get my generation to listen to you. When I saw you on CNN, you were cut throat, that’s why I wanted you to be elected in the first place. Young women want to hear your opinion, but they don’t always want to find it. You have to make it more readily available.” You ramble and then sip the coffee, satisfied with the taste.
Claire stares at you for a moment.
You wonder if you are being too comfortable in her presence now, perhaps you should stop. Oh shit you were going to be in trouble again.
Stupid little prey.
“I pay my staff a great deal of money, and no one has even mentioned this to me. You may have just upped my ratings.” Claire gives you the compliment and it makes your insides shine; you feel it all over. “And don’t do that,” Claire sternly adds and your smile drops and you are confused again.
“I’m sorry what did-”
“No, don’t apologize for your ideas. Don’t apologize for laughing or having fun. You don’t need to apologize here.” Claire isn’t looking at you and she slips her glasses back on and opens up her email to talk to her so called ‘media team.’
You sit amazed that Claire is feeling so…much like a….partner, or even a friend?
Stockholm Syndrome, you remind yourself.
Not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not our fault.
But after that day, you sleep next to Claire.
In fact you hadn’t been down in the basement in a while now.
You walk around the house freely, you are still terrified of the man with the shades but he nods his version of ‘good morning’ to you. And you do the same.
Claire works with her laptop, and you stop thinking about how to steal it to get a message out.
You don’t notice the cameras that follow your every movement as you walk the mansion to get to the library alone. You just grab a book and head back to Claire’s office to sit on her chair.
You don’t remember the last time you wore clothes and you don’t remember caring.
It feels….normal now?
So one night you get into bed and fall asleep as Claire reads, and you easily fall asleep. Just like so many nights now beside her.
And you dream;
You dream of the night. With Miles Bron on a rooftop.
Except this time it’s different.
You are in the bedroom this time, and Claire touches your face.
“You want to cum for Mommy baby?” Claire asks and you nodd and she pulls you down onto her strap on. And you moan and beg her.
“Please Mommy, I need it so bad. Mommy please, Claire fuck I need you inside of me.” You pant and beg.
You wake up with a jolt.
Claire turns on the side lamp, and she grabs your arms to help calm you.
“Honey?” She asks, confused at how you are losing your mind.
“I had a dream..I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You panic even more now.
Unsure what is worse, the dream, or your reality.
“It’s ok, I heard you calling my name. You sure you are ok?” Claire asks, and she pushes your hair out of your face and you lean into her now. You put your head on her shoulder and you rest it there and she rubs the back of your arms up and down lightly. Not moving for more, and not moving for less.
“Why don’t you touch me?” You ask, and you don’t know if you are still dreaming. Why are you doing this? Why are you shaking?
“I’m touching you right now pudd’n what do you mean?” Claire says and her voice is deep with sleep and it sounds like when she was aroused and fisting you.
You pull back, and you feel frustration clear through your whole body.
“You said that day in the car…You said..” You felt tears falling and Claire’s face changed.
She looked dangerous now. Different than before by so much.
“Say it, what did Mommy say that day in the car, can you remember?” Claire brushed your tears away from your face.
“You said…You said you’d fuck that independent streak out of me…”
Claire nodded and it was such a weird contrast to the sweet woman she’d been to you.
“What else did Mommy say? Can you remember for me?”
Claire acts like you are stupid.
You sob now and hiccup and you remember. But you can’t say it and you shake your head. Claire cups your face and brushes stray tears away like it’s her job.
“I told you i’d give you a good dose of Stockholm Syndrome for your system. You worked so hard, you fought so hard in the beginning. But it weighs on you, that kind of loneliness. I know, because you did that to me. You did all of this. You made me do this baby. So you needed to be punished, you were alone, but Mommy was watching from those cameras. I waited, and I was so patient. But you needed me to be patient, and I will be. But that’s all before, what happened tonight. You broke your streak, baby girl, tell Mama why?”
Claire looks excited, like she used to look on the news before she told some stupid Republican they were wrong.
You look down at your lap and you feel no fear at her words. It was just the truth, so why weren’t you mad.
“Focus baby, answer my question. You were thrashing back and forth in your sleep. You said my name, can you remember what your dream was honey?” Claire asked and your face turned beat red.
You were moaning Claire..You were moaning ‘Mommy.’ Claire seemed to be satisfied that you figured it out, because she’d been watching the whole thing, she knew.
God she was really something else, the manipulation on top of manipulation. You couldn’t figure her out, not even for a second.
“You made a little mess on my sheets huh, sweetie, you’ve been here six months now. Just like I guessed it, huh? And you haven’t touched yourself once. That’s a long time to ignore the need, isn’t it?” Claire’s voice was doing things to you, and you nodded and licked your lips.
This was so fucked up.
Fight, run, fucking hide!
“You were moaning Claire and Mommy. You say it so pretty baby. You were surprised when I didn’t fuck you. But I played the long game, see I don’t want you as some sex toy in my basement. I want you as a wife. I want you to stand on the podium next to me. And the only way that’s gonna happen, is if Mommy is patient.”
Claire lays out the first part of her plan like she’s talking to some lower life form, like you are stupid and she is the teacher.
You gasp and hiccup and cry like a dumb child. A child who stuck their hand in the aquarium and got bit, and then all the adults thought the kid was stupid. You were being so stupid. Your instincts told you to stop, but your mind was no longer your own. Claire had tattooed your skull with her initials, and now you were no longer in control.
“Claire, this is wrong.” You whimper and her thumb brushes against your cheekbone and you lean further into it. Her hold is everything to you.
“I know you say that, but your body likes this. You practically purr when I touch you now. And even in your dreams, you want this. So why don’t you ask? Have I not been fair, have I not given you choices?” The Governor starts to get a little heated. Like you were the problem.
You were prey, you were shark food. You were the dumb bird, fuck FUCK!
Be smarter than this. You begged yourself to be smarter than this.
“Claire this is wrong, I can’t do this.” You say, but your voice sounds sad and Claire sighs and releases you.
Like you ruined it, like you ruined her fun.
“Ok.” She looks disappointed but releases you.
“Ok?” You say completely confused and she moves to the light and flicks it off.
“Then let’s get some sleep.” Claire says and you lay back down and she does the same. Not touching you at all.
You sit there in the silence, and your thighs press together and you wonder how the fuck you got here.
How did you get here?
If there was a god, did she hate you?
Your body wouldn’t let you sleep now, you had to cum. You needed to masturbate. But Claire would for sure feel the bed move, and you knew you were never quiet when you came.
You shifted until you lay on your stomach.
You bit your lip to not moan at the feeling of your clit throbbing as you pressed yourself tighter.
Claire’s voice slices through the night, like the fear you have in your bones.
“I’ve found that lying on my stomach never helped settle the ache, is it the same for you dear?” Claire asked, and you whimper at her words.
Her mothering, commanding, powerful voice shatters your resolve to not lightly hump the bed.
Something about her stupid voice just turned you on. Call it your shitty upbringing or your need for older women to be cruel to you. You’d begged Maya to slap you in bed. You taught your women how you liked to be demeaned humiliated.
Claire didn’t need you to teach her, and that was horrible.
And you just remembered the rooftop with her fist and you were so empty now.
“Claire, I need to…can I…” You knew she wouldn’t let you run to the bathroom and fix this, and you weren’t sure what to ask for.
“You need to masturbate, is that it?” Claire’s voice was mocking.
“Yes please.” You whisper like you are trying to get one over on yourself, maybe you won’t hear it.
“Then do it.” Claire says, and you can’t believe it, but you don’t ask questions.
In the dark of her white room, your hands go under your body and you put your face in the pillow and moan as your fingers meet wetness. You grind down on your fingers for a few minutes in the silence.
Except the sound of the wet noises, they fill the air.
“Claire…” You whimper after a few moments, realizing you can’t cum like this.
“Say it.” Claire's voice is venomous, and you should be afraid but you aren’t.
“Mommy….can I have your help?” You say, and Claire turns and flicks on the light and throws the blanket back. She sits on her heels now.
“Lay back, open your legs nice and wide,” Claire tells you and you flip onto your butt now and put your legs open for her to watch.
Like she’s the director and you are the porn star.
“Small circles, we aren’t in a rush. It’s just you and me gorgeous.” Claire tells you and you start slower, as if you’ve never touched yourself before. Like this body Claire knew, and you didn’t. Because she was playing you like an instrument and you were tone deaf it seemed.
Claire watched your face and body move like she was starving for every moment of it.
“You got this wet from a dream, baby? That’s so embarrassing. Your pussy is so wet, so swollen from the dream. You needy little thing.” It’s not even as mean as she’s been. But you get wetter anyway.
You whimper and nod, but you need more. And Claire knows that.
“You liked me being sweet these last few months don’t you?
You nodd and rub your clit harder and Claire tut’s you and you slow.
“But you don’t like nice in bed do you?”
The silent voice is louder now, Claire’s not safe, Claire’s not consensual, Claire’s not sane. This is not a place for your fetishes and desires to be known. Claire is poisoned and you could not do this.
You shake your head, no you don’t.
Claire tilts her head to the side and some of her hair falls.
She’s a goddess.
“You like it mean, just like Mommy.” The white of your captor’s eyes shine in the dark room. She’s crazy. You were insane for playing with her.
“I do, just like Mommy.” You moan at the end as you give her back the nickname. The secret kink you didn’t want to share.
“So, how mean do you need me tonight? You want that fake sweet governor? You want the domestic cunt who sits and plays with your hair?”
Her face doesn’t emote.
You think Claire must be a psychopath; she must be, to have such different reactions. Looks and moods you could never track, no matter how you tried.
But you’d give this woman all she wanted, if you could just cum.
You shake your head, you don’t want nice or sweet.
“No, thats right you need the woman who assaulted you on the rooftop don’t you? It’s been so freaky for you, seeing me so nice. And you were waiting for me to make good on my promise. You were waiting for me to fuck you this whole time.”
Claire’s voice is dark, deep, but steady. Like she could say the worst, most deprived thing to you and not blink, blush, or feel any sort of shame.
Claire was sick.
She could play whatever part and role she wanted. And you were powerless to figure her out, to say the right thing, to do the right things.
You were just along for your Governor’s ride.
You nod and whimper as you touch yourself. Your pussy is desperate, and you are too wet to get the right traction.
Your abuser's voice got darker, a little richer in her anger.
“And you are wet and needy, your slick is ruining my fucking sheets. And I’m not even touching you. I haven’t fucking touched you, do you realize that? And this is how you act. Like a fucked bitch in heat in front of me. You know I used to masturbate to you lying there in that basement, and now here you are masturbating in my bed. The big, bad, scary kidnapper, the one who stole you from your perfect little life. The one who killed for you. And you are a whimpering mess for me.”
You humped your hand trying to chase your orgasm.
You can barely see her face in the night lamp glow, illuminating her from behind, but she’s having fun. You blink a few times to focus on her face, try to see Claire.
She’s sick, she’s getting pleasure from you breaking.
“Stick your tongue out. Do you remember when I spit on you? You fucking liked it. You liked my fist. Do you remember my fist? Of course you do, because your hole is gaping open for me, trying to get anything. But I still haven’t touched you. Do you realize how mine you are, if you do this you have to give up this facade that you don’t want me. That you don’t need Mama’s touch.”
Each word hits your skin like a million little needles.
You hate how you moan and chase each word like it’s a drug, and you need a high.
You sob and stick your tongue out, and try to finger yourself but Claire stops you.
“No, that’s not for you to touch. Now I want you to tell me the truth. That sex tape, why did you like it?”
You were worried about this, this was something you had hoped she wouldn’t bring up.
“Please, Claire…..no.”
You didn’t have a safe word, and it seemed she liked you saying ‘no.’ If only for a moment.
“It’s just you and me, and perhaps my own video footage of this moment for Maya. But Daddy already knows, I want you to say it to Mommy. Because you are gonna be Mommy's girl, not Daddy’s, after all.”
You hope Maya isn’t watching, but the idea that she is makes you gasp and your hips pick up.
You secretly missed Maya. You were so angry at her for doing this. But you missed how she fucked you, how she humiliated you. You missed date nights and talking about work. Fuck that woman. But Maya knew this secret, and you wondered if she’d told Claire. Or if Claire could just sniff out secrets. Perhaps that’s why she was such a good politician.
“I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.” You whimper lamely.
Claire sighs loudly, like you are getting on her nerves. Perhaps she didn’t like a brat after all.
“You don’t say it, you don’t get to cum. And it’s been so long hasn’t it?”
Fuck it, you were already dead. No one was coming to save you. You were here to bargain with the devil herself. What was the harm anymore?
So you let it go:
“I liked it because I didn’t have a say. I liked the horrible things they called me. It made me wet. I don’t want control.” You shout it into the night, into the millionaire's, well billionaires' (after getting Miles' money) bedroom.
Claire laughs at you and you hate how much you like being made fun of. You ache for more.
“That's my sweet girl. That's why you belong to Mommy. Why I picked you. You don’t want control. You don’t even know how long you’ve stayed here anymore. You crawled into my bed like a little kitten. Now you are fucking yourself in front of me like a good girl.”
You moan louder and Claire smiles.
Something about her owning you made you feel safe. How wrong was that? That you felt like nothing bad could happen as long as Claire held you. You tried to remember that you weren’t her lover. You were her prisoner.
DeBella’s canines shine in the light.
She keeps speaking, like she’s enchanting you, like she’s a snake tamer. And you don’t know why, but you can’t fight it.
“You love that, you love being a good girl. Well if you were a good girl. You would admit it to me now.”
You feel a game coming on, a new one for Claire. You understand now, and you say it. Your nails dig into your soft, intimate flesh. It hurts, it all hurts.
“I want you to be mean to me.” You admit it, your voice is raw and cracks.
Claire doesn’t seem satisfied anymore. So she continues.
“You like this life. The one I made for you.” She challenges.
“I like this life.” You don’t know who is speaking inside of you, but it comes out your mouth.
“You like being mine.” Claire doesn’t blink.
“I do.” You gasp, and you aren’t sure if it’s from masturbating.
You wonder if this is what hypnosis was like.
“You don’t even notice you are naked in a dirty politician's bed, begging to be fucked like a fucking whore. You missed me, baby.” Claire tells you these things like facts. And your clit pulses at her voice. You have no self respect.
“I did MAMA PLEASE LET ME CUM!” You shout and angrily hump your hand for no release.
“Slap your cunt, hard,” Claire says like she’s telling someone how she wants her coffee, no interest in her voice. It makes you scream out.
You move your hand away from your cunt, and you slap it hard. The sound echoes in her bedroom.
“What do you need, your fingers not doing it for baby?” Claire taunts and you almost wonder if she’s done something to your body. Or your mind? Why can’t you make yourself cum.
You knew.
You needed Mommy.
“I NEED YOUR FINGERS!”” You scream, and Claire thinks about it for a minute. And you think she’s bluffing, but she isn’t.
“Not yet,” Claire says, keeping her hands to her sides. Not touching you, not helping you. And you go mad with need. You start to babble like you have no sense of self anymore.
“Please, please, please. I’M A WHORE! I’m your whore and I want you to hurt me. I want you to make it hurt, I want you to ruin me. I want to be bruised and fucked every second. Please, I’m yours I’ll make your babies and I’ll wear what you want. I’ll go where you want and do whatever you want! Just fuck me!”
Claire likes that and she licks her bottom lip watching your body writhe in the bed.
“You are a fucking slut. Turn to your right, and smile. You are on video baby. I’m live streaming this.” Claire said, and you came just like Claire knew you would.
That’s how you lost your mind.
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You begged for the next four days for Claire to touch you. And she refused to touch your pussy.
She made you do all kinds of things.
You only walked around on your hands and knees for an entire day.
She spoon fed you her leftovers and put her feet on your naked back as she typed on her computer.
Claire was breaking you beyond belief.
She made you sit on the bathroom floor as she used her own vibrator in the shower and came. But you couldn’t see her, and you couldn’t do anything.
Claire even made you hump your own hand while she took business calls.
You were a sex fiend; you were gone.
No mind left, no sense of pride.
And finally, you were on your hands and knees with your fingers on your clit and she was sitting in her bedroom on her armchair drinking a scotch and watching the show. You weren’t allowed to ever fuck your hole, Claire made sure you never touched there.
You screamed into the bed and sobbed.
You cried for a really long time, and you felt like you were being tortured worse than in the basement.
You wanted Claire, you don’t remember what healthy love was.
But you knew you wanted nothing more than Claire.
You thought to the penthouse with desire now.
Your mind was sick.
And your vagina was raw from trying to masturbate and nothing working.
“PLEASE MAMA I NEED YOU! I LOVE YOU DON’T IGNORE ME ANYMORE!” You scream and the sound of Claire’s drink hitting the side table was so loud and you didn’t even notice as you cried into the bed with your ass in the air.
But Claire gently flipped you onto your back. Like the broken little thing you were.
“What did you say baby?” She asked and her face looked completely stunned and you didn’t know why. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand.
Your body so sore.
“I..I need you?”
“No sweetie, not that, after that. What did you tell me?”
“Don’t ignore me?” You tried again, and Claire chuckled at that demand but she continued.
She seemed so soft now.
“Before that, right inbetween those two.”
“I love you?” You say, and the words feel strange in your mouth but you blink at Claire through wet lashes. “I love you.” You say more confidently now and Claire’s smile is so big you think it must hurt.
She grabs your knees and pulls you flat and her mouth goes right to your pussy.
You cum in two seconds from her mouth, and then she doesn’t stop for two hours. And you are sobbing and writhing under her telling her how much you love Claire DeBella.
That’s how you fell in love with your monster.
How you begged for her fist, her mouth, her kisses, her cruel words.
Unsure how long it has been. How long life has looked this way…But after you had taken a fist and two fingers.. you were laughing and naked at the kitchen island and Claire was laughing with you. It was romantic and sweet and you were so happy. She was spoon feeding you yogurt and you were telling her about a L.A nightmare press thing. And you were breaking an NDA like it was nothing. Telling secrets like you were telling teenage girl rumors. And Claire was paying attention, and somewhere inside you knew she’d use this.
But you were Claire’s weapon now. You were her partner, her lover, her’s to control. And you found your mind didn’t hurt anymore.
But it ended, like all things must.
The front door opened and then slammed close and you jumped and Claire groaned, irritated. She knew what was happening, it seemed.
Maya walked in with her heels clicking on the floor. Her three suitcases being carted in behind her with Mr. Shades. Who looked at his boss like he was not sure who to be more afraid of, Maya or Claire.
“This looks cozy.” Maya snarls with a wicked look in her eyes at Claire.
You don’t know why they are glaring at each other. But you feel like you want to crawl back into the bedroom and hide.
“Maya?” You ask confused, and she looks at you now. She gazes at you like one does a lover they accidentally bump into after the breakup.
“Mason, we agreed you would wait until I told you you could come.” Claire’s tone wasn’t kind.
“Right, but see you aren’t my boss, so that’s not how this works. You keep me from her again and I’ll out you to the press so fast your head will spin bitch. You aren’t the only one with connections and blackmail.” Maya snarls and you look at Claire, fear evident on your face.
Claire drops the yogurt dramatically into the sink. Some of it gets on her button-down sleep shirt; she’s wearing that and a thong.
“Let me get dressed, and then we can talk about this in my study,” Claire said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
The Governor walks away from you and you feel completely lost. No longer having a tether to your insanity.
You turn to Maya, who stares at you like you are the freaky one here.
“Maya, how long have you been gone?” Your voice is shaky. Maya steps forward to come to you and you flinch. So she stops and looks back to Shades as if to say ‘get lost.’ He drops the bags and walks back out of the house.
Maya has so much fear on her face.
“Two months, two fucking long months. She hasn’t let me in this house yet, last time I saw you was in the fucking town car! I tried to get here but we’ve been arguing this whole time. Plus Matt is a shitty replacement and then Vegas and the shrooms. It’s been a mess without you. I’m trying to convince Governor Gaudy over there to let you work again. What the fuck are you doing?” She whispers, yells the last sentence like she’s on your side.
“What do you mean?” You ask and you feel yourself cracking.
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You are naked in the kitchen? You are practically her sex slave in here. I saw the footage, what the fuck?” Maya tries to walk forward and you back off to the corner of the kitchen like you don’t want to be around her for a second.
Maya seems to fear that too.
You panic and looked around, not sure what’s happening.
“Two months? No that’s not possible, she said six months at least.” You repeated and Maya shook her head.
“She’s fucking lying. Kinda like she lied and told me I could bring you back to work. Kinda like how she told me I could spend time with you. Fuck baby what is going on? Did she….I mean..are you?” Maya put her hands up and down to direct to your person.
And you felt like you were going to have a panic attack.
“Maya what the fuck!” YOu scream and go to the kitchen and grab a knife.
You put your back to the fridge.
“Woah! Put the weapon down!” Maya says but she’s not as freaked out as you thought she’d be. Obviously used to L.A. girls with sharp objects pointed at others.
“Stay away from me!”
“Hey, listen to me! I’m trying to get you out of here. But if you pull this again, she’ll put you down in that basement! I can’t help you there! Ok I’m trying to get you out. You gotta keep your shit together.” Maya yells at you but she turns to see if Claire is watching.
“You are lying, you…fuck you helped her steal me. Oh my god I loved you. Oh my god I told Clare I love her. What is wrong with me?” You yell and look at the blade. Maya watches your gaze, and she starts to walk forward.
“Yeah, that hurt by the way. You told me I was the first person you ever told you loved. And then you fucking tell her, that was fucked. Ok, let’s not hold the blade so close to your body, huh sweetness?” Maya knows you better than you do, you bring the blade closer to yourself, and she lunges forward and you both fight on the floor but Maya is stronger and she hits your hands against the marble top and the knife flies out of your hands.
Claire comes back in and she’s pissed.
“MAYA THIS IS WHY I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING STAY AWAY! What the fuck did you do?” Claire shouts, and you are fighting Maya as hard as you can, and then a shot goes in the back of your neck, and you see Mr. Shades before you pass out.
Help how do I cope with the gray area between fiction and reality where one might desensitize and lead to the other?
awareness is the key. most people don't do bad things just because they enjoy dark fiction. I've been enjoying dark and taboo fiction ever since I was a kid, and I didn't let my enjoyment in fiction turn me into the fictional horror that I consume. a lot of people I know also enjoy dark fiction, and they are ones of the sweetest people I know. that's because they — we — can separate fiction from reality.
what I'm saying is: engaging with dark or disturbing fiction doesn’t automatically desensitize you into becoming a bad and harmful person. more often than not, people are actually doing the opposite by processing fears, exploring control, or examining things they would never accept in reality through dark fiction. it gives you a contained space, in which no one in real life is harmed, for that.
that said, if you’re worried about desensitization, my honest advice is to check in with yourself by asking these questions:
"am I still able to empathize with real people?"
"do I recognize that these things I enjoy are fiction and not something I condone in real life?"
"does what I enjoy in fiction change or affect how I treat people in real life?"
if something does feel off, you can always step back, change what you’re consuming, or take a break. but to be honest, I've never met anybody, who enjoys dark fiction, whose real-life moral compass was affected by the dark fiction they enjoy. humans' minds are stronger than you think, that's why most people are able to indulge in dark fantasies without harming anyone in real life.
Maya Mason Masked Murdere/Actress Fem Reader | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar💰| Maya + Reader MasterList | Darkfic +DeadDove List
Warning : Bl00d Kink / Vi0lence / Mask Kink / Sm_t / Yandere / Murder / RIP Sal / Maya is Unhinged / Possesive / Jealousy / G0re / Knif3 Play / Dirty Books Made Me Do the Knif3 Handle / Tongu3s / Mask Kissing / Clos3 Pins / Dirty 90's Phone Calls / Voice Jumbler / Agent Vidal Won't Win / Dark Romance? / Pain Kink / Bad BD$M / No Safe Word / D3ad D0ve / 3.5 k words / 18+
“Uh well, thanks for all your hard work. Uh, well…We cannot in good conscience continue filming, so we are officially stopping,” Matt told the production team, Matt stood there with his group. Quinn, Sal, Maya, and Tyler, all there as if it were the last supper or something. As you and the filming crew were supposed to watch like lost shepherds. The cops and detectives were all at the sidelines, waiting for someone to move out of place. To confess to being a serial killer maybe?
Your laugh broke through the crowd like a whip. A single manic noise in a frightful lot in Hollywood. You don’t see Maya smirk on stage.
How many dead actors until a studio takes the hint and shuts the production down?
Three, it turned out, actually.
The FBI agent Vidal’s eyes were narrowed on you as you laughed inappropriately. She was sure you were guilty, which was comical, really.
But then you weren’t being completely honest with Agent Vidal. You hadn’t mentioned the interesting communication you’d been having, the strange fucking phone calls, the gifts, what happened last night…
But you were desperate.
You’d needed this movie, okay, half-truth.
Yes, you wanted to do this horror movie, and your career was in crisis.
But it was deeper than that.
Sicker, if you were telling the truth.
The killer with the mask was on a rampage, but he was killing…bad people.
People who were cruel to you on set.
First was a casting director who implied you should blow him for the part.
Poor Mark was stabbed through both eyes with his member cut off. He’d been with the studio since the 70s. (And instantly replaced without a thought, but that’s LA for you).
The next day you got a letter with a single black rose.
Apologizing for the hideous remarks and saying that this admirer would never be so crass. That they would make love to you slowly.
You didn’t tell the police, unsure why. Something felt wildly too revealing. You’d have to explain and - you didn’t want to.
Instead, you ate the story and placed the flower in a vase.
Then, the excuses tacked ontop of each other. You stuck to your complicity. once the murder had passed, and the press got more excited for the film. You didn’t want to get into trouble for withholding evidence.
The next week of filming, everyone was on edge, some even implying it was a stunt from the studio to boost marketing sales.
Then the next victim. The second was a costume artist who implied you’d been too fat to fit into the negligee for the opening running scene.
His fingers were found, and they were able to identify his body in a bad part of town, skinned like someone was partial to wearing him. Stabbing to his major arteries, slow bleed out.
At that point, rumor had spread that you might be behind it.
Cops watched you closely.
A tail everywhere you’ve gone.
That's when you’d gotten the first phone call.
“You liked my rose.” The voice asked, and you inhaled sharply. Not a person you recognized. You should hang up. You should call 911. You should at least lock your doors. Instead, you spun to look at the rose, and answered back like you were some stupid final girl in this horror movie;
“I’ve never been given a flower before.” You say too honestly.
“Not even for your school performances?” The voice was shrill, through some kind of voice jumbler.
Giving you the reality that you knew this person. Not recognized, but they were concerned enough to go to this length. Could it be someone on set playing a trick? No, how would they know about the rose unless it was the killer.
Why were you impressed they’d gone to all this trouble? You were fucked up.
They were guilty, that this was wrong.
“I should call the police.” You tried to reason with yourself more then the killer, but gripped your phone tighter.
The sinister answer was fast, not liking you pussying out.
“No, no, no, not a good idea.” They threatened.
“What exactly is the endgame here?” You said, contemplating if you should try your pager. Page the studio or Agent Vidal, her card still on your kitchen table.
“You.”
The phone line cracked, you feel cold sweat roll down your back.
You don’t know how to answer that; they can’t be serious.
“That’s not very funny,” you reason back, and whatever voice scrambler did a little sadistic laugh.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like scary movies?” The voice sounded masculine, but something about this felt too smart; you imagined a woman.
You move the landline phone away from your mouth for a minute, rubbing your lips together, trying to think of a way to not incriminate yourself.
What if you gave the killer the wrong answer? What if you lied? What if you didn’t turn them in?
You bite your lip, but bring the bottom of the phone back to answer;
“Of course I do.” It would be dumb to lie as the person enrolled in the lead of a horror movie contract, and a franchise no less.
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The voice asks, seeming to be enjoying themselves.
“Why? Do you want a date night?” You snark back, and the laugh on the end sends your hair on edge.
“I would love date night, but you’d have to follow the rules. And big stars like you, I’m afraid the femme fatale type doesn’t listen to rules. But would you, for me? In my spooky, scary mask, with my long knife, could you be a good girl for me?” The voice asks, and you hated how your breathing was coming out on the phone now.
“I think I should hang up now.” You say, but the uncertainty is clear. And the killer just laughs again.
“Don’t be boring, I know you're not boring. Don’t start now, tell me - would you behave for me? Would you lick the mask? Would you bend over in those black cute panties with your ass cheeks peaking out, and let me spank you? Or is that too vanilla- too girly for a woman of your needs?” The voice hits you right at your core, fuck this.
You look down, how could they see you were wearing your black panties? Were they inside the house? You look over at your kitchen window. Moving to pull the blinds down-
“Don’t, you’ll make me so sad.” The killer says.
You know what they do when they’re mad, you hate to see them sad.
You stood still staring out into the night, no lights to be see . Just pitch black outside your window.
“I knew you’d want to play. You’re just as bad as me.” You hear from the speaker, you're holding the phone like it’s a lifeline.
You still don’t hang up. You need to hang up.
“I don’t want to play anymore.” You answer slowly, but you both know it’s a lie.
“Oh come on now, if you don’t play, you can’t win.” The caller tries to entice you.
“What could I possibly win that I’d want?” You snarl back but you already know.
“I’ve already given so many fun gifts, don’t you doubt me now. Not when you see how much I can make happen.” The threat gives you insight.
You're suddenly freezing cold in your hoodie and black panties, in your kitchen, waiting to die, waiting to be stabbed.
You imagine the knife penetrating your skin, then the image bounces in your mind where your bleeding out with the phone in your hand and a knife in your chest.
The image leaves, and the adrenaline washing through you is both alluring and horrifying.
“Aren’t you a bit curious who I am?” They taunt and it’s killing you, you have to know.
So much of your life you felt forgotten, looked over, ignored. Why else would you choose acting? To finally be seen.
But here was your secret admirer, your very first one. And they’d do anything for you…Perhaps that was so worth the gamble with your life.
Your fingers grip the landline so hard your white knuckling it.
“You’re not some sicko assistant tech or something, you work higher up.” You string it together and hear a hum through the speakers. They liked that.
“They’re my girl.” The caller says the praise, and it rocks your whole being. Why are you so fucked?
“You work at the studio.” You repeat it, like you can’t believe your actually getting somewhere. Suck it Agent Vidal, how far had she made it in the case? Fuck her perfect smile and sexy boobs, you were an actress making better headway then her.
“You already said that kitten.”
“I’m not your kitten, I’m not your girl, now tell me who the fuck you are?” You spit out, taking a step closer to the window, hoping they can see you now.
“Oooh, look at you. I knew you had guts, knew it before the silly director saw you. Knew it before the studio got word of you. But seeing you here in your little panties mean mugging me, well this really gets me going.” The caller said excited, and you got a gross idea.
“Fuck please don’t be Matt or Sal, I’ll never be able to unimagine that. Sal already gives me the creeps.” You feel like you might throw up, another laugh on the line.
“No, remember I have power, real power, not a simpleton. Pay attention, or I’ll have to make this more painful.”
The hair on the back of your neck stands up.
“Is that what your going to do, hurt me?” You swallow drly, and you can see your reflection in the window.
There’s a pause.
“Do you fear that, it doesn’t sound like you do. How cute. Is that what you want, pain? Would that make you quiver?” The voice jumbler can’t hide how the killers voice deepens. You’ve made them aroused.
You twist around you, grabbing the cord of the phone like it might save you. You rock back on your heels, ready to turn away.
“You aren’t even here, I’m not-I’m not going to dirty talk on the phone-to-to a murderer! I’m not flirting some sex game-”
“Isn’t it though?” The ask hits you in the chest, your heart pounds.
“I’m hanging up.” You sound less and less sure, and the psycho on the other end knows it.
“No your not, you’re mine. We both knew that before you even answered the phone.” The caller says and you bite your lip so hard it bleeds.
Neither of you say a word.
You scrunch your toes and stare into the night imagining what they might look like.
“Pull your underwear down.”
It wasn’t a question. The killer was telling you, in the middle of the night, in front of the window.
You slowly raise your left hand, your thumb playing with the elastic, a bit of your pubic hair peaking out.
That was the first time.
The first of many, so many calls, so much touching. So many things you swore you’d enver do.
Your pulled back into the present day as FBI Agent Vidal walks in front of Matt now, and she’s eyeing you more than the crowd.
The third victim had been found, Sal. He’d evidently made a remark about you needing to do more ‘nude work.’ They’d taken his body off of the Hollywood sign, guess he finally got instead of gave some of the ‘D,’ he was so found of talking about.
You’d stared at the photo’s this morning, the stab wounds were consistent.
Your admirer was dramatic if not reliable.
You never should have mentioned Sal, had you wanted this?
“If you have any information, please come forward. If you are hiding something or aiding in this killer in any way-” Vidal’s trying to make you feel the heat. But you disasociate as her lips move. Unaware of the head of marketing watching you just as closely. Her blue eyes remembering what you looked like bent over naked, screaming and moaning as you were inscructed where to put the closepins. As you ruined yourself for a masked crazed lunatic…..with a knife.
Agent Vidal tried to say something about how if everyone co-operates this will all be over soon.
They were all wrong. It won’t stop it.
Your lover won’t stop until she’s satisfied, and they weren’t smart enough to catch them.
You were biased of course….
But then…..after last night, you don’t know if you want this ever to end.
Fuck you don’t know anything after last night….
Everything had changed;
You’d been waiting by the phone, only no call.
Everynight they called, every single night.
So you waited by the tv, it quietly playing a slasher film. You were already, your panties on and nothing else.
Something must have been broken inside of you, that you didn’t care about anything else anymore. Not acting, not the studio worrying about this stupid film.
Your mind was consumed.
You stared at your corded phone like it was the only thing that could save you.
You were past hating yourself for craving their attention. Past being embarrassed while you defiled yourself for their enjoyment.
Something about the carnage, all that murder in your name…. delighted you.
The clock ticked on the wall.
The phone didn’t ring.
You waited.
You would learn in the morning why your admirer was so late. Traffic from the Hollywood Sign wasn’t easy at any time of night.
You tried so hard to stay awake, but your eyes got heavy staring at that phone. Sleep stole you before your killer could ring.
You woke up with a start, grabbing the phone to answer it, only to have dreamt it run in the first place.
The dial tone was practically taunting you.
“Hello? Hello?” You said to the phone lines to no one. But still the dial tone run like a bad dream.
You put it down and groan, attempting to wipe the sleep from your eyes. This would be the first night of not hearing a word from the killer.
Your monster.
You decide to go to bed, no use enjoying the feeling of being stood up.
Yawning and half asleep already, you carry your exhaustion out of the living room, towards the hall with your bedroom.
You don’t get that feeling that happens in horror movies, where something is off. Don’t notice a change in your surroundings.
You walk into your bedroom, confused why all the blankets are gone, the candles lit, rose petals on the ground.
You spin on your heel and run towards the front door, only to see a figure step out.
The mask was nightmare fuel, simple, yet the deep black eyes gave you nothing.
No idea what emotion was held. Long mouth something akin to a psychotic childs drawing. A halloween mask, the terrifying figure was taller than you. Wearing a black robe and boots.
They pulled from behind their back a long black knife, you stepped back.
This is the part where you run.
You watched as your intruder didn’t step forward, didn’t lunge, didn’t cut you up.
You took a shaky breath opening your mouth to say something, anything.
You’d asked for date night, it seemed your admirer had delivered.
You tried to calm yourself but your heart was pounding in your ears and you were somewhere between excited and mortified.
The killer tilted their head to the side, like a dog who is trying to understand a command.
“You-You came.” You say lamely and instantly wish you’d been more creative.
Your intruder tilted their head back, walked forward slowly, knife raised to the side, you walked backwards.
Unsure why you weren’t picking up speed, weren’t screaming bloody murder.
But you walk all the way back to your bedroom, with it’s flicker candlelight, the rosepedals are softer then kittens cheeks under your feet.
Your butt hits the end of your bed and you almost stumble but manage to catch yourself.
The masked assailant walks the distance until they’re body bumps against yours.
You’re sure it’s a woman now, her chest presses against yours, up close like that - you can smell expensive perfume and something….salty? No what was that? It was…Coppper, it was…blood?
They lunge forward and you stay still as your killer stabs your bed with the nine inch blade.
You jump but don’t run, the gloved hand grabs your throat, and it’s wet - bloody.
You don’t move an inch, terrified it’s about to be the end, terrified you’ll wake up and this will be another hot dream.
But as the masked killer’s bloody hands moves down your neck, smearing the sticky substance down your throat, down down - she pushes down your underwear.
You must look like some sort of bad fingerpainting, but the message was clear.
You were staying still, silent, as your admirer marked you.
She grabbed the end of your top and ripped it through the middle, you gulped and she watched the way your red coated throat bobbed.
Her greedy hands pushed the fucked fabric until your breasts were hers to play with.
The black gloves cupping them, pinching and twisting, making you try your best not to moan.
The masked head tilts, like she’s learning you, learning how to play your body.
You bite your lip trying not to make noise, not to lose it, but as your nipples were now crimson and her hands roamed freeling down your rib cage, you thought this might be the most alive you have ever felt.
On the verge of death.
You try not to yelp when the voice scrambler finally makes it’s appearance again, and the masked individual sounds just like the phone calls.
“I thought you wanted date night?” It says dripping with charm.
You are too scared to laugh, but too horny to scream, of course now’s the time she makes a joke.
“Take off the mask, I want to see you.” You say with more confidence than you thought possible.
Your hand reaches out and she pulls back.
“I thought you liked the mask? Kitty doesn’t like my games anymore?” Your bloody killer is so flirty you are already dripping wet and somehow covered in someones blood. Who’s you don’t question, too busy with your tits out, nipples hard as diamonds.
“You wanted me, you have me. I think I’ve proven I’m not going to the cops, please?” Your voice cracks at the end, your killers thumbs go back to your nipples. As if she’s mesmerized by you, now you feel powerful.
Her gloved fingers pinch your nipples painfully and your knees buckle just a bit, but your masked woman won’t let you fall yet.
Even through the voice machine, you hear her anger.
“I’m not scared of your horny Agent Vidal, she couldn’t make you cum. Not like I have. And you know better to play with dead things. She will get got on her own time.” The masked killer gave you the clue, a little treat. What was that phrasing? Who else said things like ‘get got?’
“You’d kill her, just to-”
Her mask comes impossibly closer to you, and your eyes widen at just how intimidating she is.
“I’ve killed so many more, for so much less. You have a way about you, my little muse.”
You can practically hear her smiling.
You could unpack that later, you’re too selfish you have to ask;
“I want to-” You start but stop, feeling stupid.
“Do it.” Your lover says so strong it fills you with something.
You lift your face up, heavy brath, hesitant, afraid she would deny you like past lovers.
But your staring into the black holes of a dark mask. Souless, empty, and unyielding.
You’ve never felt more alight. Every nerve ending on fire.
You place a kiss on the white plastic jaw, once.
The moan you hear is both from the voice changer, and in her chest.
It gives you a head high.
The blood starts to dry on your skin, you are baptised.
You kiss down the jaw once, twice, then you feel bold.
You let your tongue lick the black fabric, and feel a hard wet muscle through the fabric lick back.
You both moan now.
Adam and God’s first touch.
Two wet tongues ready to devour each other whole, with that thin barrier.
You’re fucked.
The bloody glove grabs the back of your head, your hair fisted, you scalp burns.
You whine, missing the wet tongue more than oxygen.
“You didn’t say you liked the room, easy kitten. All in good time. But you promised me you’d ride me. I think it’s time you make good on that, don’t you think?” She tells you, and you look down to her crotch and she laughs.
“Uh uh, turn around my little star. I have something thicker for you to ride.” Your masked terror tells you, spinning you with the foce of her grip.
You see the knife, jet black blade, sticking out of your mattress.
You shudder, a full body reaction.
“Go on superstar, show me.”
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