Fallen Daughters: A Dark Romance

by Alta Hensley

  “You are to be trained to be obedient. Pike wants his beauties to be docile, biddable.” He took a large bite and said as he chewed, “Call it whatever you want. My job is to make sure that you will always be submissive to Pike. I will do to you whatever it takes to make that happen.”

  “What if I am willing to be all of that right now?”

  He looked at me and studied me with skepticism in his eyes. “You have no desire to flee?”

  “And go where?”

  “You don’t want to scream?”

  “Who would hear me and care?”

  “Why are you not crying?”

  I swallowed the large piece of meat and softly answered, “I cried all my tears years ago. There is nothing left.”

  He nodded and looked down at his food and didn’t say another word. We both ate in complete silence, as if all was ordinary in the world.

  Loic

  I knew what I was supposed to do now. Feeding her wasn’t part of the plan—at least not on the first night. But she was so skinny. Too skinny. She wouldn’t survive the week if she didn’t have some calories in her. I needed her body to be strong, even as I worked to make her mind weak. I was to beat her. Torture her. Make her scream for mercy. It wasn’t like we had a manual as trainers, but there were acts that were supposed to happen on the first night to help in the process of crushing the woman’s spirit. A broken woman was what Pike wanted, and I had become the master of making that happen. It was easy. So very easy to crush the inner spirit.

  Yet…

  This woman was already broken.

  It was clear to me. She was an empty shell. Just as I was.

  “Have you ever been beaten?” I asked as I finished my last bite.

  “No.” She looked up at me as she answered, but I saw no fear in her eyes. Damnit, why?

  “Have you even been spanked? Choked? Flogged?”

  “No.”

  “Fucked?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  I stood up and gathered the dishes, expecting to hear the answers she gave. Each beauty usually had the same answer. Some hadn’t been virgins, but in this fucked up world, most had not willingly given it up.

  “Is that what you plan to do to me tonight?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “Yes,” I answered simply. “Though I may not beat you if you do everything I ask, when I ask it, and exactly how I ask you to do it.” I turned to look at her and noticed how she fiddled with her hands in her lap, but she did not cry. She did not plead. She wasn’t scanning the room for something she could use to try to kill me with, like all the others had done in the past.

  Her lack of emotion unnerved me. It made me angry. She should be fighting for her life now. She should be! What the fuck was wrong with her?

  I stormed over to where she sat and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her out of her seat and throwing her against the wall.

  She gasped, but did not scream.

  I pressed my mouth to hers, thrusting my tongue past her lips, waiting for her to bite, to shove, to struggle against such an intimate touch.

  She only returned the kiss, cautious at first, but did not resist at all.

  I grabbed her breast and broke away from the kiss so I could watch her expression. Pinching her nipple hard, I waited for a cry, a scream, something. All I saw was her pupils dilate and her mouth open slightly.

  Feeling as if I were losing this battle, I lowered my hand and pressed my finger into her pussy without any warning at all. Her wetness made the invasion simple, and when she spread her legs wider and moaned in response, I lost my fucking mind.

  Thrusting my finger up inside her as deeply as I could, I growled, “You should be fucking terrified!” I thrust again, and then again. Each thrust harder than the last. Her juices seeped around my finger, coating my palm.

  She moaned loudly with each aggressive movement of my hand, clinging to my back as if holding onto life.

  With my other hand, I grabbed her throat and began to squeeze. “I could kill you right now.”

  Her eyes widened, but I still saw no fear.

  Her pussy tightened around my finger, and I knew that if I continued, she would come. She was going to fucking come instead of cry!

  In a moment of rage, I flipped her around to face the wall.

  Still no cry. Not even a whimper.

  I slapped her ass hard, waiting for a squeal of pain.

  Nothing.

  Taking a hold of her hair, yanking hard at the scalp, I swatted her ass fiercely again, and then again.

  Breaths of air released from her open mouth, but still no cries for mercy. No shouts. No begging to God.

  I continued to spank her ass, watching it pinken beneath my touch. I would win this battle. She would reveal her fear to me by the time this night was over. This beauty would confirm to me that she was not more fucked up than I. She and I did not share the same blackness. Yes, she may be broken, but I was worse. I was nothing more than a million shattered obscure pieces, and I would prove to her that she was still whole enough to crack.

  I would crack her. I would fucking crack her.

  Hating myself with each spank of her ass, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved her down to the ground, towering over her. “Look at me,” I shouted. “Why do you not cry? Do you want to die?”

  Her big eyes stared up at me. I saw pain in them, a deep despair. But I did not see fear.

  “Answer me,” I demanded. “Do you wish to die?”

  In the most tender of voices, she answered, “I learned a long time ago that I don’t get to make that decision. I have no control over when I die.”

  “But do you want me to kill you tonight? If you show no fear, if you don’t cry, if you don’t plead, how do you know I will stop?”

  “Am I in control of when you stop?” she asked in the same tender voice, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “No, you have no fucking say in what I do to you,” I said between clenched teeth, hating that she was in far more control than I was. She had the strength to fight the urge to scream. She had the dominance over her own body and suppressed the trembles. Eden Rose had full command of her emotions and I hated her for it.

  Her tiny naked frame lay crumpled on the floor, still pressed up against the wall, yet she didn’t shake. I wanted her to fucking shake. I wanted to see that she felt something. I wanted to see that her soul wasn’t fucking dead. Where was her goddamn fear? I would kill her just to hear her cry. If I didn’t do something, I would break her neck just so I could see a small glimpse of fear.

  With the overpowering need to regain some semblance of power, I unzipped my pants. She broke her stare to look at my cock, with the first real signs of fear present as I pulled it out. I liked it. I liked seeing the terror surface in the depths of the dark blue eyes that stared helplessly up at me. I was a sick bastard. I knew this.

  Feeling all the fury of my life bubble inside. Feeling all my hate. Feeling all the dark fucking evil that consumed all of who I was, I allowed the piss to leave my body in a rush as I growled. The liquid splashed down on her exposed body, covering her in my waste. The golden stream flowed out as I felt all my built up angst flow out with it. Hate exited me and rained down upon her. Hurt exploded from deep inside of my gut and showered against her creamy-white flesh, tainting her purity with my pollution.

  Yet, she was beautiful. So insanely beautiful. The wetness coated her flesh, dripped from her hard nipples, and dampened the tiny little curls on her pubis. My cock hardened, but I maintained my control. And as I continued to pee on her, humiliate her, shame her, splashing the reality onto her soul, shocking her with the darkness of her situation, I watched as her eyes overflowed with tears, and she finally cried. My beauty finally gave me what I needed. She showed me that she was indeed vulnerable. She was indeed alive.

  She was afraid.

  The big droplets of her misery cascaded down her face as the last of my piss fell down on her.

  I had finally won a battle. />
  She had shown her fear.

  And I finally felt as if a thick, black, sinister evil had left my body.

  11

  Eden

  Why? Why did this man hate me so? What was I doing to make him so angry? I was doing everything he asked. I was submitting. I was being his fucking slave! What more did this asshole want?

  I couldn’t help it anymore. I could no longer be brave and fight against the tears. Misery was too strong. It wasn’t the abuse. It wasn’t the humiliation. It was the way he looked down upon me. Such hatred. And yet, I could see so much pain. He was in as much pain as I, and I didn’t know why.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said in an almost lifeless voice. Each syllable came out like the staccato of rapid gunfire.

  He bent down and lifted my limp and soiled body. He didn’t seem to mind that my filth… his filth… was getting all over him as well. I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed him to carry me to the bathroom in his cradled embrace. I didn’t say anything. Nor did he. I just cried.

  He placed me into the shower and turned on the water. Although the water shot out of the showerhead at a bitter cold temperature, Loic quickly adjusted the temperature until it was delightfully warm. So very warm. The water washed away my tears, and washed away the terror and pain—yet a pleasure in the most taboo of ways—that had just occurred.

  He discarded his dirty clothes and stepped into the shower himself. He was naked. And except for all the exposed cocks in the auditorium, this was the first man I truly had ever seen completely nude. I had had men try to take what they wanted in the past, but they never took the time to remove much more than their pants, and luckily I had been able to fight them all off. But there was no point in fighting this man off. He was my trainer. And unless I wanted to be shoved off the cliff, this was my destiny.

  I stepped to the side a bit so we could both share the streaming water. Maybe I should have moved fully out of the way, but I just couldn’t. This was the first warm and pleasant shower that I could clearly remember having in my life. I had to relish the small pleasures if I was to ever survive this nightmare of life.

  “Hand me that bottle,” he said, pointing to a clear plastic container.

  I did so, and he squeezed it into his palm and then reached for my hair and began to massage it into my scalp.

  I moaned.

  I couldn’t help it. It felt so very good.

  He continued to work the shampoo into my hair as the floral fragrance wafted up my nose, reviving my battered soul.

  “When is the last time you shampooed your hair?” he asked softly. His nude body was so close to mine, yet it did not touch, nor did I feel unsafe in any way.

  “When I was a child. I remember my mother had some for special occasions. I was turning ten. She said I deserved to have beautiful hair for such a beautiful day.”

  “You deserve this every day,” he mumbled, so low that it seemed he hadn’t planned for me to actually hear what he said.

  He used the rest of the soapy lather on his hands and ran it over my entire body. It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t lecherous. It was simply a man cleaning a woman.

  “Why are you so different? So quiet? It seems as if you have already given up.” His words weren’t cruel, but they were sharp.

  I looked at him as he helped me rinse the shampoo out of my hair. “Am I different?” I wondered if I was expected to fight.

  He nodded. “You don’t seem afraid.”

  “I am. Very.”

  “You don’t seem to mind my touch. At least not all of it.”

  I swallowed hard but didn’t respond. I didn’t mind the touch of this man. At least it made me feel something, anything. I wasn’t numb. I had felt nothing for so long that even pain was better than the void of nothing I had been spinning in for so long.

  He continued to bathe the rest of my body and then did the same to his. Silently turning off the water, he reached for two towels and handed one to me. Once he dried his body off, he used his towel to help dry my hair. He gently squeezed the water out, massaging my scalp again. What should have been a continuation of the hell I was cast in had turned into pure heaven. Closing my eyes, I just allowed the feelings of good to wash over me.

  “It’s getting late,” he said as he reached for my hand and pulled me out of the bathroom. “We need to prepare you for tomorrow before bed.”

  “Prepare?” What was what he had done earlier? Was I not broken enough for him?

  “Pike likes his slaves stretched,” he answered simply as he sat me down on the bed.

  He walked over to a dresser and pulled out some items that I couldn’t make out from the angle in which I sat. I clung to the towel around my body as goosebumps covered my flesh. Would he hurt me again?

  “Lie down on your stomach,” he ordered as he walked toward me.

  I did as he asked, noticing how comfortable the mattress was. It gave beneath my weight and embraced me in the softness of the blanket’s fabric.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked. I was scared, but he wasn’t acting like he was earlier. He didn’t seem angry and he appeared to be in control. I didn’t see the dark eyes that I had seen moments before he pissed on me.

  “I told you. I have to stretch you. You’ll be glad I did tomorrow.”

  “Stretch me?”

  “Your back hole.”

  I snapped my head back to look at him in disbelief. “What? You are going to stretch my ho… hole?” I was appalled. He couldn’t be serious.

  “It’s my duty as your trainer to make sure that you are ready to accept whatever request Pike has. And trust me, he has many. So many that it is almost impossible to train you for all. But on the first day for the new arrivals, he usually makes all the slaves do the same thing.”

  “Which is?”

  He squeezed some fluid out of a tiny bottle onto his index finger and without pausing, touched it to my anus. I gasped and tensed up, but he continued. He rubbed the cool, slick liquid all around the surface and then dipped his fingertip past the entrance.

  I bucked and cried out. It didn’t hurt, but the invasion surprised me and I didn’t like it one bit. I wiggled and whimpered when his finger went even deeper inside and the small bite stung.

  “Just relax. My finger is nothing compared to what will be put inside of you tomorrow.”

  “Oh God,” I whispered as I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the ministrations going on in the depths of what I considered an area that would never be touched in this way. What would be put inside of me tomorrow? I didn’t want to know… and yet, would my imagination be worse than the actuality?

  “I’m adding a second finger. It might hurt a little as I stretch your bottom hole more, but in a few minutes, your body and mind will adjust.”

  “Why? Why does he do this?”

  “Because he enjoys it,” Loic said as he added the second. And just as he’d warned, the small bite from before grew in intensity.

  “Ahhh,” I cried. “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, I think you are a smart girl. Your life isn’t about liking things from this point on.” He shoved both fingers in deeper, making me moan loudly as I clutched the blanket with balled fists.

  “Does he like hurting women?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you?”

  He paused in his assault on my hole but didn’t pull out. He remained as still as the energy in the room. What was he thinking? Was he getting prepared to show me just how much he liked to hurt helpless victims? Had I been too bold in my questions?

  “No,” he answered quietly.

  “Then why do you do this? Are you forced? Captive, as well?”

  “No. Although I suppose I am just as captive as you.” He continued on with the stretching of my bottom hole, ignoring that I gasped and moaned with each tiny thrust of his fingers.

  “You can’t leave?”

  “I could.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “
Where would I go? Is there any place that is better out there?” He pushed his fingers in deeper. “There is nothing out beyond the walls of this compound. Only starvation, war, suffering, and death.”

  “But you would be free.” He shoved a little harder, and I wasn’t sure if I was upsetting him or not. “I would take whatever the world had in store for me, if it meant I could be free.”

  I could hear him huff behind me. “I learned a long time ago that there is not a world anymore. All that there is left is a dark hell to survive day by day.” He pulled out his fingers and I sighed in relief, happy my stretching was over. I moved to sit up but he placed his hand on my lower back, pinning me down. “I’m not done yet. The dildo is next.”

  I looked over my shoulder, with less shock this time. Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as two fingers. “Will this hurt?”

  “Yes.” He lubed up the phallic instrument. “But if you relax and take deep breaths, you may actually find some enjoyment in it.”

  I smirked as I turned my head and hid my face in the crumpled up bedding. “I doubt that,” I mumbled.

  I knew the instant the dildo touched my puckered entrance that it was going to hurt. It was big. Far too big to enter inside of me—

  “Ahhh,” I cried out. “It’s too big. Please! You are going to tear me!”

  He paused with just the tip of the dildo inside, burning the entrance to my bottom. “Shh… take that breath. Come on.”

  I inhaled, and let it out with a shaky exhale. As I did so, Loic pushed the awful instrument all the way in. I screamed… or at least, I think I did. I really didn’t know at the time because my head spun as the sensation of pain mixed with a fullness that gave me an odd sense of warmth. I wanted it out immediately, and yet, when he slowly pulled it almost from the depths of my channel, I moaned loudly when he pressed it back in.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes,” I replied, yet oddly, I didn’t want him to stop.

  “I know. But you have to get used to something of this size in your backside. You will most likely be sitting on one of these for most of tomorrow.”