by Sophie Stern
“You’re awake,” he says. “Good. We’re almost there.” He doesn’t stop touching me and he doesn’t speak again. I stay perfectly still, trying not to enjoy the sensations pulsating through my body.
He’s my captor.
He’s not my lover.
He’s a bad person: a villain.
I should be scared of Farwol. This knowledge is seared in my mind, yet as his hand moves to my shoulder and begins to massage my skin in soft little circles, I can’t seem to care.
A moan escapes my lips and I jump back, embarrassed.
Ashamed.
I scoot to the far edge of the bench and lean against the wall. Farwol doesn’t react right away. He doesn’t yell. He looks at me for a second and I close my eyes. Now I’m humiliated. A moan? He’s the person who has torn me away from my father. I shouldn’t react to him in this way, yet somehow, my body betrays me.
Somehow, my body aches for him.
Somehow, my body yearns for him.
And something tells me that Farwol knows exactly how he’s affecting me.
“We’re here,” he says. The carriage stops and he helps me climb down. Once I’m outside, he takes my hand and holds it tightly. I don’t resist, but this time, I feel like I should. I should pull away. I glance around at the woods surrounding us. I could run. Now would be the perfect time.
I could run away and go back to my village or I could find a new one. I could find a place of my own, a place to belong. I could find a place to live in solitude and loneliness. I could find a place to build my own world without the restrictions my upbringing placed on me.
Farwol seems to know what I’m thinking, though. “Do not go into the woods,” he says. “There are wild animals. If you’re attacked, no one will hear you scream.”
I shiver and squeeze his hand tightly, seeking comfort. He seems to recognize this and a small smile forms on his face. He likes that. He likes knowing I’m helpless and that I’m forced to depend on him. I don’t know if there actually are wild animals or if this is just a story he’s telling me to keep me complacent, but the threat is real enough that I’ll honor his wishes.
Fortune and Gauge are nowhere to be seen. Farwol and I step away from the carriage and the driver gets the horses going again. I assume he’s off to put them in the stables.
“Come,” Farwol guides me up a large stone staircase that leads to his home. It’s not a castle. The stories I heard about his home all claimed it was a castle, but it’s not quite big enough for that. It is, however, a large mansion, and the biggest home I’ve ever seen in real life.
As a child, I looked at picture books that showed beautiful homes. The houses were all large and brightly colored and impeccably decorated. They were all beautiful. This one is dark and scary: intimidating. This one looks like I’m going to my death, and in a way, I know I am.
I will never return home again.
I will never go to the village again.
Farwol made that clear when he allowed me to say goodbye to my father. I suppose I should be grateful he even gave me that mercy. Many captors wouldn’t have permitted me that much, I’m sure.
We climb the stairs together and enter the mansion. The heavy doors swing open, but they don’t creak. So Farwol takes care of his property. I suppose that should give me hope and a sense of peace since it means he likely won’t break me and dispose of me.
But we’ve only just arrived.
I try not to gawk at the open entryway. The room we walk into is huge, spacious. It’s beautiful. My entire childhood home would fit in just one corner of this place and it’s only one room.
“Take off your shoes,” Farwol says, and he points to a nearby chair. I hurry to it, moving quickly, and slip off my soft black slippers. Once they’re off my feet, I stand awkwardly. The floor is cold beneath my bare toes. “Set them there,” he motions to a small basket by the front door. I carry my shoes and set them in the correct spot. Then I return to Farwol’s side.
I feel a little like a doll, or perhaps like a child following orders. So far, Farwol hasn’t demanded anything terrible of me. For a brief second, I wonder if my stay here won’t be as terrible as I imagine it could be. This house is much too nice to have a dungeon. I try to focus on that thought.
We move through the main room and walk toward a staircase. Farwol takes my hand as we ascend the stairs and when we reach the top, he doesn’t let go. He guides me down several hallways. Within minutes, I’m completely turned around. I know that if I ever try to leave this place, I’ll get lost before I even reach the front door.
Perhaps that’s his goal, though.
Perhaps that’s what he wants.
Farwol isn’t what I expected, although to be fair, I’m not sure what I imagined. The villagers all claimed he was a monster, a beast. Is he really so terrible, though? Is it really so awful to collect on your debts? Is it really so terrible to demand payment?
I’m not sure.
I should be certain he’s evil. He collected a woman for payment, after all, but somehow, I can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t as terrible as he seems.
We reach a door and he fetches a small key from his pocket. Then he unlocks the door. It’s interesting to me that the room is locked. Perhaps this means he has servants or maybe other people live here. I haven’t seen anyone and I sort of thought the house must be empty.
Farwol motions for me to go in first and then he follows, closing the door tightly behind us.
I look around the room, and I realize that I was wrong.
He is a monster.
Chapter 4
“What are you going to do to me?” I look around the room, taking it all in hastily. My heart is suddenly racing and I realize my excitement was grossly misplaced. How could I have been aroused by this man? How could I have been turned on at the idea of him spiriting me away? Something is wrong with me. Something is very, grossly, deeply wrong.
I am broken.
The room is empty except for shackles along all of the walls. There must be eight sets of shackles and there’s a pile of straw in the corner. Is that supposed to be a bed? Is that where I’m supposed to sleep? Is this my room now? Fear fills my heart as I realize I never truly appreciated the life I had before.
I can’t stay here.
I don’t want to be here.
“So you can speak,” Farwol says, cocking his head to the side. He looks amused.
“Of course I can speak.”
“You were strangely quiet on the way here. I was wondering how long it would take you to try to escape,” he says, but it’s not a judgment: it’s an observation.
“Is this it, then? Are you going to lock me up and leave me here to rot? Is this your dungeon?” The room smells of sweat and fear: possibly also of blood. There’s a bucket in the corner and I realize it’s for bodily fluids. I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want him to leave me here. I don’t want him to abandon me.
“That depends on you,” he says simply. “If you’re going to be a good girl and obey me, you may stay in an ordinary bedroom. This is a big house; there are plenty.”
“And if I don’t obey you?” I ask. I shouldn’t ask. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know what he does to the girls who aren’t good, to the ones who are bad.
Farwol seems to grow even taller as he steps closer to me. He towers over me. I’m tall for a woman, so this is saying something. He makes me feel tiny, petite. He makes me feel fragile. He makes me feel afraid.
“Then you will be beaten,” he says. “You will be locked here, in this room, until I am ready to dispose of you. I have no need for an untrainable girl. I have no use for insolence.”
I glance at the room once more, tearing my eyes from the man who has stolen my freedom. How many girls have been here before me? The idea of taking someone’s daughter doesn’t seem to affect Farwol on any emotional level, so I must assume he’s done it before.
How many times?
How many women have been
locked up in this room to die?
How many women have screamed, begged for their freedom?
How many women have died trying to escape?
No matter what Farwol demands of me, it will not be as bad as dying here alone. It will not be as bad as torture. It will not be as bad as this room.
“I will obey you,” I say. The words come out a whisper: a soft promise. I will do as he commands. I will be his.
Farwol looks at me for a moment, but he seems to be satisfied with my answer because he leads me out of the room and back into the hallway. He locks the room again and places the key back in his pocket. Then he guides me down two more halls until we reach another room.
This one is unlocked.
This one is large.
This one is his.
I know even before we step inside that he will be taking my virginity tonight. He is my new owner, after all, and there is no doubt in my mind he will view me as his property. My body is simply part of his prize.
We both go into the room. There’s a large bed in the center that is beautifully decorated with thick, black blankets and purple pillows. A large sitting area has a sofa and two chairs arranged around a fireplace. There are several dressers and a large desk.
And, of course, there’s Farwol himself.
“Undress,” he says, closing the door behind us. I notice that he locks this door, too.
“Right now?” I ask in a squeaky voice. I’ve never been naked in front of a man before. I suppose I’ve never had the opportunity. The village boys always tried to take me out behind the apple orchard for some fun, but I resisted. I’m not sure why. I suppose I thought it would be improper, but something told me they wouldn’t be as good at it as they seemed to think.
Farwol won’t have that problem. I can already tell that anything that happens tonight will be controlled. He may push me, but only as far as he intends to. He will not lose control. He will also not be persuaded.
“Are you questioning orders so soon, Evelyn?” He words drip with disappointment, and I immediately begin pulling my dress over my head. I don’t protest or apologize. I just obey. Something tells me this is what he wants most of all: obedience. Now I know he expects instant obedience without questioning, as well.
I’m naked beneath my dress. I hold the soft fabric in my hands, but don’t move. My nipples are already hard and goose bumps form on my arms. I’m nervous, but I do my best not to show it.
Is Farwol the kind of man you can’t show fear to? Is he the kind of man who would be disappointed if I started to cry? Or would he enjoy it? Is he the kind of person who craves tears?
I can’t tell yet, but I won’t be that person, either way. I won’t be that girl. I won’t be afraid.
I was raised better than that.
“So you can obey,” he murmurs, and takes the dress from my hands. He turns around without sparing me a glance and hangs my dress in the wardrobe. I’m suddenly embarrassed at his actions and I cover my breasts with my arms. It wouldn’t be so bad if he looked at me, admired me. Ignoring me makes me feel ashamed.
It makes me feel like I’m not good enough.
Farwol turns back around and sees that I’ve covered myself. “Drop your arms,” he snaps sharply, and I instantly obey. He stalks toward me and grabs my hair, yanking my head back. He forces me to look into his eyes and I see darkness there. I see pain there. I see something I’m not supposed to see. I see him at his very core.
“You will not cover yourself,” he says. “You will not hide your body from me. This,” he pinches one of my nipples. “This is mine. These are mine. This body is mine. Do you understand?”
I try to nod, but he’s pulling my hair back and moving is difficult.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I understand, sir.” I’m not sure why I called him “sir.” I’m not sure if this is appropriate. I don’t know his first name, though, and “Mr. Farwol” seems strange. The word seems to do something for him, though, because now he’s the one closing his eyes and groaning.
“Say that again.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with growing confidence. “I will obey your commands.”
Farwol kisses me then: my very first kiss. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Despite my lack of experience, my body seems to know how to respond to his touches, how to react to his tongue.
I’m wet, and aroused, and needy.
The kiss is an awakening. This isn’t love. It never will be. This was never meant to be love, but it is desire. It is passion. It is something much more feral, something much more powerful than love.
His hands are in my hair, but he lowers them, tracing gentle lines on my back until he reaches my bottom. Farwol grabs me and pulls me closer to him. I can feel his hardness against my belly, can feel exactly how much this kiss is affecting him, and I like it.
I shouldn’t enjoy this, shouldn’t want more. I should be afraid, and I am, a little. I’m not nearly as scared as I ought to be, though. I’m more curious than frightened. If Farwol can affect me this much with a kiss, what can he do with the rest of his body? What other things can he do to me? What else can he make me feel?
His hands move around to my front. He moves slowly, so as to not frighten me, I suppose. He moves with determination, with experience. He moves with a grace I don’t have yet. He moves with purpose.
Farwol keeps kissing me as his hands reach my breasts. Heat fills my body as he begins to massage me. I’ve never been touched there, never had another person play with my body like it was a toy, like it was just for them. He bounces my breasts for a moment, but then Farwol begins to move his fingers in small circles on them.
“Oh,” I whisper against his mouth. “Oh…” I close my eyes and keep kissing him. Farwol doesn’t stop touching me. Instead, he picks up speed, moving faster. He does other things to my breasts. He pinches my nipples and twists them. Then he holds my breasts in his hands and massages their entirety at once. I feel dizzy with excitement.
I didn’t know I would feel this way.
I didn’t know this sort of feeling was possible.
I didn’t know this could happen to a plain, ordinary girl like me.
Suddenly, I don’t feel like the village butcher’s daughter anymore. Suddenly, I don’t feel like the poverty-stricken girl with worn clothing. Suddenly, I don’t feel like the girl who fades into the background. Suddenly, I feel bright. I feel bold. I feel colorful.
I feel alive.
Suddenly, I feel like this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. This is the feeling I’ve been dreaming of. This is the experience I’ve needed my entire life.
My head spins as Farwol keeps touching me and in a fit of braveness, I move my hands to touch him, too. He tenses for just a second, perhaps in surprise, but doesn’t resist, so I allow my hands to explore his body, too.
I’ve never been close to a man like this. I’ve never run my hands over someone’s chest: never felt their tight body beneath my palms. I’ve never run my hands down lower, lower, lower. I’ve never gripped a man’s length.
I do that now, though, and it’s Farwol’s turn to groan.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Whatever you do, Evelyn, don’t stop.”
Chapter 5
I close my eyes.
Farwol smells masculine: like pine trees, like winter.
He smells like he’s going to let me lose myself for a little while. He smells like danger.
I rub my hands over his body, exploring every inch within reach. Gradually, he moves his kisses from my mouth to my neck. Slowly, carefully, he nibbles on my shoulder. I’m not sure if I should like this or not. It’s a strange sensation.
Farwol bites harder, and that, I do like. I groan at the pain and clench my thighs tightly closed, protecting myself. Farwol chuckles; my movement didn’t escape his notice. I think he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, exactly how he’s affecting me, and I think he likes it.
I think he likes the way I’m a little turned on by d
anger.
I think he likes that I’m a little excited by pain.
The feeling that something is wrong with me floats through my body, but I try to squash it. There’s no time for embarrassment right now. There’s no time to be ashamed. There’s no time to be worried or uncomfortable with what’s happening.
Right now, all I need to do is focus on obeying Farwol’s every command. I just need to focus on doing exactly what he desires of me.
Then everything will be okay.
He moves me back to the bed and pulls away. For a moment, I mourn the loss of his touch. He’s only a foot away, but suddenly, that seems so far.
“Turn around and put your hands on the bed, Evelyn.” I swallow hard, but do as he asks. The blanket is soft beneath my hands and the wooden floor is chilly beneath my feet. The difference in texture overwhelms my senses as I wait in anticipation to see what he’s going to do to me.
I’m not sure if I want to know what he’s going to do to me.
I’m not sure if I’m going to survive it.
I hear Farwol moving around. I think he’s taking his clothes off. His shoes hit the floor and there’s a rustle of fabric, but then nothing. He doesn’t start touching me, doesn’t start speaking.
Is he watching me?
Is he looking at me?
I’ve never been this open, this vulnerable to anyone’s gaze before. I’m not sure if my legs should be closed or open. Should I move my feet? Should I lean over more? Should my breasts be against the blanket or should they be dangling?
“Don’t over-think,” Farwol’s voice cuts through the air. “You look stunning. Do you know that?”
“No, sir,” I whisper.
“Have you ever been with a man, Evelyn?” His voice sounds closer now. He’s nearer. I wonder if he’s going to touch me because I really want him to touch me. I want his hands on me again. I want his tongue on my skin. I want to feel his body connect with mine.
I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I want Farwol in this moment and I’m not sure whether I should stay quiet or fall to my knees and beg him to take me. I don’t know where I want to go or what I want to do, but I know Farwol knows, and I trust him to get me there.