Darkroom Saga Omnibus 1

by Poppet

  “This isn't helping me!” Panic has me frozen. Too afraid to move.

  “What makes you his victim? How are you going to take back your power, unless you face your fear?”

  “This is scaring me.”

  “Shauna, when I develop film in the darkroom, what am I doing?”

  “Making pictures.”

  “No. I am coaxing out the character, the perfection of creation. But it needs the dark to become art.”

  “I don't care. Stop it.”

  “Face your fear. The dark can't hurt you. It creates you. It helps you to become brilliant, full of depth like an intricate photograph.”

  “For you maybe. Victor please, it makes me feel claustrophobic.”

  He punches my arm, rather hard. “The greatest sensei's on the planet fight blindfolded. They engage in combat using only their chi. Come on Shauna. Dig deep and use that reservoir of strength inside you. Use the dark. Let it become your friend. The martial arts prove that we can hone our defences in complete dark.”

  “Ow. Fuck off.”

  He smacks me harder, stunning me slightly, my eyes water. Staggering back I lose my balance again, feeling like a drunk toddler in high heels.

  “Fight me Shauna. I'm the only person here. What have you got to fear? Fight me, defend yourself. Face your fear, or you'll get hurt. Punch back.”

  “I don't want to!”

  “So basically you're a coward. You like being a victim? You would rather be at his mercy then?”

  “No –”

  “Yes! You know he loves the dark. Here I am helping you. Protecting you. Empowering you. In his comfort zone. But you'd rather sit there and feel sorry for yourself? Is that it? You are choosing, yes choosing, to stay his victim.”

  I don't know why, but that really pisses me off. Standing back up I take a lunging swing at him. My foot catches something and I fall flat, knocking my breath out.

  “Come on, Shauna. Show me how angry you are. Let it out.”

  Regaining my breath I get up, so wild with anger, I just go berserk, punching as hard as I can when I feel my glove connect. I step in, pounding out my anger.

  “Show me how you really feel. You can't hurt me. Come on. Show me how resilient you are.”

  And with those words, something hard impacts my face, three swift punches rain into me, sending me reeling back. Losing my balance I fall onto my back. My face painfully hot. It reminds me of being in the cell. My lip throbbing painfully, tasting blood on the inside of my mouth where my own teeth cut the skin open, my eye socket sending points of sharp pain into my eye, and my nose hot, sore, like having a cold and a migraine at the same time.

  But instead of helping me up, his hands imprison my wrists. I can feel his weight on me, roughly tugging away my underwear. “He won't be gentle. What do you do angel? Screaming won't help you if I'm not close. Defend yourself!”

  I can't. I don't have the strength. I don't have the skill. Ignorant of defence tactics, I'm prone. Feeling victimised, panic starts to rise in me. His hand is at my crotch roughly parting my legs where a knee establishes a stake, fingers groping at me.

  Outraged, I flail in desperation. Writhing to get away. Blind instinct takes over. Biting his arm when the hairs alert me to its presence by tickling my nose.

  “STOP IT!”

  The lights come back on with the clap, he stands over me, looking bemused. Wriggling frantically I get my underwear back up with difficulty. Impeded without the use of my fingers.

  His expression softens and he joins me on the mat, wrapping comforting arms around me. Shaken, confused, I let his embrace soothe my shuddering breath. “You bloody scared me.”

  “It's called tough love, baby. You can do this.” Pulling away slightly, his expression is so tender. Kissing my nose he says, “I won't let him near my woman. But I would feel better if you could use that anger and unleash it on him to do some damage.”

  I get it. He's frustrated. He's angry too, now that he knows the truth. He wishes he could be there to defend me. Instead of fighting my shadows. Placing me back into shadow-land to relearn reaction. Instead of reacting with fear, he wants me to react with anger. He's so genius. And dammit, I really think I love him.

  He traces my lip, then looks at my cheek, “Oh baby. I'm sorry, I think you're going to be swollen and bruised for a few days.”

  “It's okay. I'm not keen on being in public anyway, missing an eyebrow just makes me feel self-conscious.”

  His sensual smile caresses me, “You are very sexy when you're angry. You've made me hard for you again.”

  Somehow this tickles my humour, and I start giggling. “Take these gloves off and maybe …”

  “The mats are comfy. But I rather like you wearing boxing gloves.”

  Hooking the laces together, he holds my hands above my head with one hand, pulling my underwear back down again with the other, “You sexy girl.”

  I'm oddly apprehensive. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Pull my underwear down and get all rough?”

  “Improvising. That bastard wants you, and when he takes you, it won't be gentle and loving. I need your mind to be prepared to cope, no matter what he does to you. Even if it means that I'm the one who has to put you through it first.”

  “How do you know this stuff? I'd be screwed without you.”

  His handsome face gets closer to mine, his smile teasing one out of me, “I'd like you to be screwed with me. Right now in fact.”

  One last thing occurs to me despite the longing he's just ignited. “You called me angel.”

  “Yes. You are. I feel like you're a divine intervention.”

  “But you know he called me –”

  “You have that tattoo. Dirty angel. It's so fucking sexy. You are an angel, and you can be salaciously dirty. I love it when I'm entering you and see those words staring up at me.” He leans closer, kissing me, pausing, “You have that tattoo for a reason. I know tattoos are personal. But yours is super sexy baby.”

  “Are you calling me a dirty angel?”

  “No, I'm calling you an angel. There's a huge difference. But I have a mud ring here somewhere if you want to get dirty.” His smile and tone indicate he's teasing.

  I love him for reassuring me. I didn't tell him about the tattoo. What was he supposed to think? He's still holding my wrists above my head, so I grab his waist with my legs instead, pulling him closer, “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I'll be your salacious angel.”

  His biting of my lip burglarises my breath. He does seem to like playing rough. Maybe this is good therapy for me? I bite his in return. A throaty laugh teases my hormones.

  “Oh, you are delicious.”

  Choosing madness, I decide to trust him, “Let's do this in the dark.”

  He's faster than an apparition. Releasing his hold, a sharp clap resounds, the space becomes pitch dark again. Heat announces his return, followed by weight.

  “Face your fears, baby. I won't hurt you.”

  Realising he's without his own track pants now, I brace myself for invasion. Strangely, hot tears escape when he covers my body with his own.

  “Shauna?”

  I can't answer. I'm too choked up.

  He pauses.

  “I think you scared me.”

  Kisses cover my face, tracing it. “Is it the dark?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Hold onto me. I'll help you heal.”

  Nodding even though he can't see me. He lets go of my wrists, and awkwardly I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling closer, “I wish you could always be with me. You're so capable, and strong, and fearless.”

  “Shhhh …”

  Holding tight, I take the comfort and solace his body offers mine. Wishing we could just stay like this without me needing to learn to defend myself.

  “Shhhh …” This time, the kiss is gentle.

  ~ Chapter 23 ~

  It matters little how much equipment we
use;

  it matters much that we be masters of all we do use.

  ~Sam Abell

  Victor:

  I relish her reaction as I slam the door behind us, feeling her flinch, listening to her breath coming in gasps of fright. I want the freedom to punch her just once, so hard that it breaks her. A subliminal message that I am dominant, and she'd best remember that. I'm not just a man, I am also Vengeance.

  I've undergone SEAL training, done the extreme survival courses, and spent every day since the age of five in the dojo. She'll never be equipped to oust me, and this time I get to hurt her while watching her staring straight into my eyes with utter trust.

  God expects pain to be part of the lesson. Abraham was asked to sacrifice his son! This is child's play. It's time for her to walk the path of the righteous woman. No longer a sinner, she must recall what it feels like to be humiliated.

  How many men did she humiliate without flinching about her terse tone, or her derisive insults? It takes courage to approach a woman, yet they throw that courage right back and belittle the poor souls strewn in their path. Today I'm repaying for every man she's ever rejected or manipulated. Eve, so haughty and arrogant. It was arrogance that defied her Maker's instructions to not eat from the tree. She did it anyway. And every woman is just as arrogant and conceited. She thinks those big eyes will sway me. I fight back the laugh when she falls, shock prevalent on her face after the foot-sweep. She's predictable, making typical novice mistakes, leaving the opening for me. Easy to disarm and force her face into the mat, subjecting her to objectification.

  Women her age objectify men all the time, sinners flaunting their sin and wares. Her face an artist's perfection of confusion and hurt. Plunging her into darkness, the thrill of the hunt surges power through me.

  Forced to fight blindfolded for most of my life, I can see her clearly in the faint light filtering through cracks between iron sheets that clad the warehouse.

  Her anger makes her easy prey, unleashing my power, I give her the lesson she'll remember subconsciously for the rest of our life together. Three full power punches, carefully placed so as not to break bone or dislocate her jaw.

  Her fury dissipates as I sense her struggle between tears and pity. This is the best foreplay I've ever had the luxury of indulging in. I need to work this to my advantage, she can't know how hurting her tweaks all the right buttons in my body.

  Sitting with her, I wrap her up and tell her the same mindless drivel she's told countless victims before she met me. Placation's and ego stroking, I touch her face, proud of the bruises springing up to meet my gaze. I will mark you every way I can angel, with these wings, you will fly to heaven with me.

  I don't need to hide the response surging through me at the trembling lower lip. It's too soon to break you again. Taking all of my self-control not to rape you. It would be so easy. It would shock you. You'd have no doubt about which of us is the dominant one if I did. Oh how I wish I could smother that down turned mouth with my hand while fucking you within an inch of your life. If you dared to resist I'd take such pleasure in hurting you until you cower before me.

  I can't do any of the things I yearn to do, until you're legally mine. Making running away insurmountable. I'll have you tied up in legal intricacies for the rest of your life, meaning you and my son can never leave. Ever.

  You wouldn't be able to eat if you tried to get away. You'd be in the poor house until death, and I'm counting on your nurturing instincts to keep you chained to my will, for our son's sake. Those precious quivering lips will purge my frustration every single day for the rest of your pathetic life.

  You are mine. Mine!

  No one is ever going to leave me again, especially not you my little bitch. Crying, shaking. Pathetic. All it took was a bit of muscle and a lot of dark, and look at you, reduced to a snivelling heap. Good for nothing more than fucking. Yes, that's right. While I hold you, I want to shake you until your teeth rattle. Slap your pretty face around and give you a reason to cry.

  You want to cry? Feel this bitch.

  Don't laugh at her wince. Oh yes, the rod of command can be used to discipline too. I'll give you a hundred lame excuses about needing you. Desiring you so much I can't control myself. And as pathetic as you are, you'll believe it's love.

  I do love you, just not the way you need me to. God created women to serve. He made you diminutive for a reason. So that the man can break you if you don't listen. Tame you, discipline and command. And yes, he made you feel good to screw.

  He made you kind on the eyes. You cannot compete with my muscle baby. I will hold you down in this dark, see, there, isn't that better? Two wrists in one hand. Who's your lord and master?

  Don't wrap your spindly little legs around me. Slamming hard, you release the leg hold. That's better. See how pathetic your wrists are? You have no strength. None. Not even mental strength. All you are worthy of is discipline and whoring.

  It's okay angel, I'll accept your body tightly on the rod, I'll let you have this much of me. It's a divine gift I'm giving you. You should be grateful. You should be begging me for more of my mercy.

  How I've restrained myself from beating you. Reduced to tears again, I'm tired of your weakness. Show me something I can respect. Turning my laugh into a passable groan.

  You didn't realise I can stay this hard for this long did you? You're hurting now. At least the pain and bruising got you to stop your pathetic weeping.

  Tell her something. “Oh Shauna, oh baby … oh yes … I like that …”

  Pulling out, I grab her, turning her forcefully onto her knees. Dark is my home, I can find anything in the dark, and penetration is fun when all you can do is feel it.

  “Vic … tor …”

  Oh yes, it's hard, it's so hard as I pump her, she can't even speak without breaking words up. I leave you breathless. You are in awe of me. Don't speak, you're ruining it. Shoving that face down into the mat, crushing those nicely bruised lips, I nail this piece of ass. Yes, there we go … I'm purging you of your evil, delivering you from yourself, feeble and worthless female.

  Develop your potential in this dark. Worship me and praise my name, show me how my wings serve you. Soar Shauna. Accept that you are nothing without me. Depend on me and show me your gratitude. Show me.

  “You feel so good angel. Keep doing that, yes … oh baby …” I struggle to keep laughter from my meaningless utterances.

  I watched you whore your way all over town, I'll treat you like a whore because you like it. Sex, sex, sex, you admitted you needed it to your whore friend Sarah. It's what you think gives you power.

  The power is mine. All of it. You think this is what we crave? You think this is what we want? Wrong angel. The power is mine to give or take. I'm a forgiving angel. But Vengeance is my nature. It's my calling. And I'll excavate the slut right out of you.

  That's it, grunt. Grunts of pain finally caress my soul. Good girl. Good girl.

  I slap her ass hard just to hear her cry out.

  “Shauna, you turn me on when you play these games with me.”

  Her reply is muffled. She would be broken to see my wide smile, hooking her hips and yanking her back so that the connection stings. When the lights come back on I want her creamy flesh to be livid with vigour.

  “Yes!”

  Let her think this is your fantasy and she'll never object. It's punishment. God's wrath visited on the dirty bitch. Jeremiah two verse twenty-two, angel. I am doing God's duty here.

  For though you wash yourself with lye and use much soap, yet your iniquity and guilt are still upon you; you are spotted, dirty, and stained before Me, says the Lord.

  I'll fuck the horny out of you.

  Leaning over her, I stroke her hair as the rod finally purges inside her, speaking with my gentle tone. “Did you like that? Oh angel, you are such a gift. You are beautiful and precious.” Well you should be, and you will be once you know your place.

  She doesn't say anything. Rolling away onto her back.
Holding her knees up to her chest. I lay down beside her, dropping soft kisses on her forehead, wrapping an arm around her knees, helping her hold them there. “Beautiful, sexy, woman.”

  “I think my body is still adapting to being sexually active again.”

  “Oh honey, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “I'm just a little bruised.”

  And still you don't accuse me of being a violent prick. Maybe there's hope for you? What is this? Every time you don't object, I get this strange warmth. I hate this urge to be tender. Betraying Vengeance I rub a soft touch over the exposed buttocks.

  “Oh angel. I hurt you. You should have said something.”

  Leaning in, I kiss her willing mouth. One hand holds my head and she pulls herself in for comfort. Wrapping my arms around her I pull her to lay on top of me. Gently stroking, soothing. Hugging my soft angel, giving her reassurance and validation. Tugging the gloves off her hands.

  “Next time maybe you can be on top, hmmm?”

  I feel her nod. Then faint kisses trace my neck.

  “Shauna this is so difficult for me. I want you to be able to fight and be brave. But you turn me inside out, I can't help myself when I look at your sexy ass in those lace knickers.” I catch myself smiling when she laughs softly.

  “Thank you for caring and loving me the way you do. I'll get better. I just need more practice.”

  “Are you feeling a bit better about the dark now?”

  “Kind of.”

  Touching her nose I suggest persistently, “Take control. Be on top right now, we'll go at your pace, I'll follow your lead. This is giving that wanker the middle finger. Finding pleasure in the dark, when he gave you nothing but pain in it. We can do this. Let me help you.” Inserting encouragement into my tone I tell her, “Take back your power baby. Own it. The dark can be your friend. It's a place for lovers, and love. No more nightmares for you, just pleasure in the dark.”

  “How …”

  “You've slept at my place, twice. Trust me, you scream in your sleep.”

  “Oh god! Oh Victor …” Her voice is quavery as she sits up on me. “No wonder you're being so forceful. It's because of what you know about my subconscious.”