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Aithne's story part 24 - Spark


jfraser

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Every day for a month, Merks persisted. Every day he became a little crueler, inflicted a little more pain. Every day, Aithne endured it. Sometimes she cried out - pain still hurt, no matter how pathetic the source – but always, he seemed unsatisfied at the end.

 

His friends showed up with their same enthusiasm the remainder of the first week but the crowd began to peter out as the month went on until it was whittled to just the two of them. On the twenty-seventh day, she followed him into the room to find he had rigged chains to the shelves on two of the walls. She sighed, stepped to the center of the room, and held out her arms and spread her legs so he could connect the manacles to her wrists and ankles.

 

“That’s right, cunt whore bitch.”

 

Aithne fought to keep from rolling her eye. Merks clearly felt that the key to insulting someone was to throw every nasty word he could think of at them every time he addressed them. The man had no sense of subtlety or nuance. Still, no sense in provoking him further – she just wanted to get it over with.

 

Merks finished attaching the chains then held his hand up and said, “Zir̀ yu.”

 

Aithne felt a surge of energy ripple across the room and then found herself lifted by a warm, invisible force until she dangled three feet over the stone floor.

 

Merks gripped his hands into fists and jerked them inward. “Fuu blap.” Another surge of energy, but this time the chains tightened and Aithne could not suppress a yelp as her limbs were yanked taut.

 

For the first time since her initial meeting with Merks, Aithne felt fear. Her limbs were held so tight, she could not move even a wiggle. Her shoulder and hip sockets screamed in silent agony. It would take only a word from him to quarter her with the chains, a far more grisly and painful fate than she had ever imagined. Perhaps her subtle goading had been a bad idea after all – instead of forcing Merks to retreat, it appeared she had quickened his metamorphosis into a new full-blown Sutfu.

 

“Ah ha!” Satisfaction dripped from his voice. “At last you understand. The old orc may be your master in name, but I am your master in truth. Say it. Fuu blap.” He motioned with his hands again, this time with just a tiny movement, and pain shot through Aithne as her limbs stretched further.

 

“You are my master in truth!” The words came out in a desperate squeak – she found it difficult to manage even a breath.

 

“Very good! I’m glad we have finally come to this understanding. Now I’m going to release this hold and you are going to get on your hands and knees and you are going to beg to be allowed to put my cock in your mouth. If I believe for even a second that you are insincere…fuu blap.

 

Again, just the slightest of moves – apparently the man could grasp subtlety – and Aithne screamed as the pressure on her limbs increased. Then the pressure stopped, as did the suspension in the air, in one abrupt moment, only to be replaced by the pain of falling unprepared three feet to the floor. She yelped as she hit the stone, then couldn’t make another sound or do anything but try to breathe for several seconds as her lungs seemed to seize up. Pain raced itself around her body until it seemed to fill every crevice, then faded back like a receding wave. Her lungs released their grip and she gulped in air.

 

“Now, bitch cunt whore. Beg me for my cock. And make me believe you mean it.”

 

Aithne pushed against the floor with trembling arms, forced herself up, shifted painfully until she was on her knees, the clinking of the chains a constant reminder of what would happen if she disobeyed. Her shoulders and pelvis screamed raw pain and tears flowed down her face. She could not stop her body from quivering as she lifted her head and her brain began to formulate the words he wanted to hear.

 

It was in that infinite space between two seconds that something new awakened inside her. Or, perhaps, it was only her perception of it that was new. Whatever the case, this something recognized the trail of energy that still swirled around the room. The same energy she had felt when she had been healed in Rorikstead. The same energy she had felt in abundance when she entered the college. The same energy that Merks had drawn from to torture her.  

 

She had not recognized it for what it was because she had not seen it in its kinetic form until now. Realization dawned as her lungs began to push air upward, her throat tightened to lend force and sound, her tongue curled and her lips pursed to form the air and the sound into words.

 

The energy was there, and it was not dormant, not quiet. No, it was anything but quiet – it was hungry, eager, potential just longing for something to give it purpose, give it motion. And Merks, of all people, had shown her how to give that hunger a path. She had only to allow it to enter her, to use her as the catalyst to realize that potential, give it purpose and, with that purpose, give it the outlet it so desperately craved. It was, in short, exactly like being with a man.

 

Except this man was one she invited in and embraced with wholehearted abandon.

 

When the breath and the sound finally reached her lips, a second and an infinity after it had begun, her lips changed the words from what had been planned to something altogether different. Her hands lifted at the same time, formed fists. The energy coursed through her and out as she lifted her head to stare him in the face as she jerked her fists inward as hard as she could while the new words sprang from her tongue like a lash.

 

FUU BLAP!”

 

With a scream, the bookshelves on all four walls wrenched themselves from their moorings and careened forward. Aithne watched with building glee as Merks’ gloating expression turned to surprise and then to fear. He had just enough time to yell something inarticulate before the shelves crashed down on the both of them. Something heavy smashed into her head and she blacked out laughing.

 

Next Chapter

 

Previous Chapter

 

Start at the Beginning

Edited by jfraser

1 Comment


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Hmm. Compliments on the way you played with the reader's emotions here, with the chains taking a whole new meaning continously, and the Sutfu vibes ending with something initially unexpected. At last a spark of hope for her conditioning to subside ! Well written and staged, awaiting to see where we go from there. 

 

ldyMRSUy_o.png «  *deep breath"

                Dear Mr. Fraser,

 

                 I very hope Aithne didn't die, and that she gonna get free and with a cured eye soon.

 

                'cause if after all she went through, she just died with a "FUU BLAP" under a bookshelf...

 

                 it would completely suck.  

 

                 Very regards,

 

                  Ms. Marsoric. :classic_sleep: »

 

 

Edited by Tirloque
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