“Listen. Do you hear that?”
She listened. Naively. The sound of blood thumping in her ears. Her heart hammering in her chest. The crunch of her throat as she swallowed. Gasp of a breath. She trembled against the loose restraints. He was behind her now, a shadow. Her body hurt. Her mind hurt. Her soul hurt. He wanted to break her so she’d submit to him… would that be so bad? Really?
“I can’t hear what I’d really, really like to hear, darlin’.”
That southern drawl sent shivers down her spine. His voice, so soft, his breath hot against her neck. His presence was overbearing, almost.
“Just say those words, and all this will be over. I hate doing this to you, flower, I really do.” He placed both his hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes. More pain would come. She could feel the cold metal prongs against her clammy, bare skin. “Nothing to add?”
How much more could she take? Another round of shocks? Another round of being suspended in a tank of water the same temperature as her, with no light, no sound… another round of pure hell at the hands of Mr. Priest? How many rounds had she had? How many years had this unhinged maniac had her trapped? Her mind was foggy. Too foggy to remember anything except for him. His face. Priest. Osmund Priest and his entire self. He was her and she was him. Perhaps it was enough. Perhaps it was time.
“Oh, darlin’, I am… disappointed.” She barely had time to register the tone of his voice before the volts ran through her body. She felt her bones light up, tensing, the restraints the only things keeping her from lifting out of the chair and breaking something important in her body. The shock lasted an eternity – ten short seconds of pure, unimaginable agony. Her heart felt like it was about to explode. She hadn’t made a sound.
Enough. That was enough.
“I’m yours.” Her voice didn’t come. Her lips moved, but her voice wasn’t there. She tried again, trying to pull a breath in. “I’m yours.” Again, nothing. But Priest was quiet. He stood behind her, a dark smirk on his lips, his eyes downcast towards her shaking form in the chair. He placed a hand on her shoulder, right over an impression of his boot. That one had been to restrain her a week ago… That had been delicious. She’d almost submitted to him, but she’d taken every hit like a champ. The defiance in her had been so sweet… beating it out of her simply delectable.
“Is there somethin’ you’re tryin’ to tell me, babydoll?” She took another breath in, nodding. She couldn’t speak. But he could read her lips. He moved to the front of her and cupped her jaw, forcing her to look up to him. Something was different about her, indeed. Something broken inside her. He withheld emotion from his face.
“I’m… yours…” she breathed. It was almost silent, but he caught it. He let a smile creep across his lips.
“I think somethin’s missin’ from the end…”
“I’m… y-yours… master.”
“Good girl.” Priest crouched down in front of her. His eyes locked with hers. “Ten years, I’ve waited for you to say those words… ten years.” The gentleness of his touch was heaven, now. The soft caress of his fingers on her jaw a drug, and she found herself nuzzling his palm tiredly. “Now, now, Project X… take it easy.” Priest stood and fetched a bottle of ice-cold water, unscrewing the cap. Usually, he drank it in front of her, but not this time. This time, he cupped her jaw again and fed her slowly, a small smile on his lips. Her throat was on fire from dehydration and clenching with the shocks. The water was like balm, soothing. Perfect.
With her submission, Priest took better care of her. He took her out of the fortified basement, away from her floatation tank, upstairs to the top floor of the house the CIA had bought for him to keep him quiet and stop him from working for them. Hush money, and a hush house. He’d spent time building the basement himself, bit by bit, with her in the tank. The rest of the house was just how he liked it, but X hadn’t ever seen it. Guided by his palm on her lower back, he brought her to the bathroom, where he ran her a hot bath. In the natural light of day, the scar running down his face looked less scary. The Blackwing surgeon had done an excellent job of it. Priest put her in the bath, cleaned her gently, then wrapped her in a huge fluffy towel. The entire experience was a stark contrast to the usual buckets of icy water he usually dumped over her, the harsh soap gritty and a bit too rough for her skin.
That had been an entire forest of sticks. This was the biggest prize carrot.
She felt numb as he led her to the other side of the house, to the master bedroom. The sight of his king-sized bed nearly made her faint from exhaustion, and her knees buckled. Priest noticed and lifted her up in one movement. What had changed to make his touch, his heat, his entire presence… comforting? X felt like she was made of jelly as Priest sat her down and pulled out some clothes for her. A plain underwear set, a dark-grey pair of sweatpants, and a grey sweater. A similar shade to her Blackwing jumpsuit. She dressed, and he turned his gaze to the window, where forest and woodland expanded beyond. He lived in the middle of nowhere for a reason. When she was dressed, he turned.
“I think you can have a rest for today,” Priest murmured, moving to her. She held his gaze, her throat dry again. “And then tomorrow, we’ll start your training.”
“Training?” X asked, looking up at him. He took her chin between his index finger and thumb, then ran his thumb along her lip. His eyes flashed with annoyance. “…Master?”
“I didn’t break you down for my own enjoyment, darlin’. I broke you down so you’d be happier workin’ with me.” He smiled softly. “But I did enjoy it, nonetheless.” X blinked up at him. He grinned. “Sleep up here for a while. I’ll come get you when there’s food for you.”
“Yes, Master.” X’s voice was tiny. He grinned and chuckled, clearly pleased with the work he’d done. Ten years of torture, of outright abuse… and finally, she’d stopped fighting him. Finally, she’d submitted to him. He’d broken the strongest being in the universe… how could he not feel pride? He kissed her forehead. Bless her heart, she actually blushed. Perhaps her training might be a little more enjoyable than breaking her…
Priest made his way upstairs, the smell of a good stew wafting up behind him. The autumn nights were drawing in, now. He pushed the bedroom door opened, and frowned when he didn’t see her in the bed. He was about to flick on the light when he saw an outline on the floor. X, snoozing softly, curled up. His cold, dead heart swelled a little.
“Well, bless my soul, aren’t you just precious?” he murmured a little sarcastically, crouching down. He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I am going to have a lot of fun with you…” he picked her up and she woke, but this time, she didn’t panic. She looked up at him. “Those puppy eyes don’t work on me, darlin’.” She looked down. Priest put her down. “Dinner’s ready. Come.”
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The last name "Priest" immediately gave me chills. Nice work on creating the two characters. I wasn't expecting it to make the sharp turn it did into a tale about "training", so now I can't wait to find out what he'll be training her for that's so important to him he felt the need to torture her like that. Or...did his experience with the CIA simply warp him into a total nutcase with delusions of grandeur? 10/10 for the gripping suspense and atmosphere, for sure! On an unrelated note, I found the movie trailer for "Thunderpants". At first, ...
Thanks Gip!! :D So this is actually a "fanfic" (and potential season 3, if I can do it) for a Netflix show - Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. I've been trying to figure out a plot for a LONG time, and this prompt worked perfectly! I recommend it if you haven't seen it. It's excellent! Ohh I'm glad you found it!!! xD Cracks me up - the acting is SO bad!! And I loved as well how they broadcast everywhere that they had a Harry Potter actor!! xD But the comment ain't wrong - it is absolutely about farting!