Timeline/World: Manor
Characters: Charlotte aka Charlie and Catino, mention of a creepy producer
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THWACK!
Her eyes remained wide open, staring with something very close to hatred as she bit into the gag that had been forced into her mouth, swallowing down the hiss of pain that tried to escape. She refused to give him the pleasure of hearing her react, of seeing her show the pain. She wouldn’t. “Precious, how I love those eyes when they shine this way. The way you’re looking at me, I could keep you chained forever, shame your brothers might just wonder, mm?”
THWACK!
A slight rattle of chain as the paddle landed on an already reddened and painfully sensitive skin though still she refused to close her eyes, still glared with all she was worth. The more the pain settled into her core, the stronger her hatred, her strength in keeping the man from what he wanted. He wanted to see her break, he wanted to see her beg and cry and those were the very last things on her mind.
THWACK!
Breathing in a sharp gasp about the gag, she did close her eyes for a few painful moments as she tried to get her bearings. It was his grimy fingers brushing along her bared breast that startled her back to the present, that had her eyes open. She struggled against the cuffs that were biting into her wrists and only had the rattle of the chains holding her standing and his pleased laughter as companion and answer to her efforts.
Charlie swallowed back the need to cry and merely focused on trying to glare him into non existence. She knew it was foolish a thought but it was worth it. She nearly had managed to build up that hatred she felt for him back to the surface when she felt the prick of a needle into her neck and her world darkened around the edges again.
This was something she was used to, why would it be any different this time? Nearly all of her life, on her and her brother’s birthdays they would be taken away, separated, hurt. Though last it had happened had been nearly six years back, her memories had dulled somewhat in that time, really.
The over-warm burn of something liquid being poured over her skin brought her back to awareness with less than a warning and she tried to pull away. Whining sharply when her shoulder pulled at her struggle, again she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the wax as it trailed and cooled. Her arms were once more bound, this time together and above her head. Her legs spread, each ankle bound to a foot of the bed she now found herself on. The earlier stinging pain from the paddle blows were dull in comparison as more low-quality wax was dripped upon already reddened skin.
“I’ll produce your movie, precious. All you’re missing is the male lead, right? So once you find someone, we’ll do your movie. Just remember to keep your nights open for me, precious.”
She wanted to glare him back to oblivion again but the burn of the cheap wax where it never should have gone forced her eyes shut again as she swallowed back a soft sob.
<Charlotte, are you alright?>
The words startled her and she opened her eyes, staring into the confused and worried face of her brother. When had he come about? What had she been doing for the past few hours?
<Charlotte? Come on, you look scared out of your wits, what were you thinking about?> Italian still and his words were soft, full of that worry she knew belonged there, it was genuine and she knew it. She understood it but couldn’t help the small cry of terror as he reached out to touch her arm. Scooting away, she shook her head and pulled her legs closer to herself, hugging them as if that barrier would keep her safe.
<I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.>
His words were heard but she still couldn’t find it in herself to answer him. Shaking her head sharply when he once more reached out to try and comfort her, she begged him to keep his distance and he did.
Shuddering, she pulled her knees all the closer still and pressed her face to the top of them as she shuddered and fought not to cry though the tears were already running down her cheeks.
“He used me, abused me!” Perhaps in more than those few words as they could lead one to confusion as to what was done exactly. When he once more was reaching out, she merely started to cry harder, shaking her head, murmuring brokenly about how she was still pure. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to.
Digging deeper, one would find that perhaps her mind had simply locked it all away, lost and forgotten and that a so very simple event the night before, event that had been tender in ways nothing had ever been in her life before, had brought it all back up. Sighing softly, her brother leaned back and eased to his feet and padded towards the balcony. This situation required a touch he didn’t have, a touch he couldn’t offer. Who best to calm a hysterical woman down than another woman?
