Please have mercy

Practice

Freedom was not about being without restriction.

That's what she had believed, way before at the temple, living by a tight set of rules and guided by an establishment that had stayed in the past. She had never wished to leave it, she had been perfectly content with her role, however insignificant it had been, but it had not stopped her from dreaming of another life.

Not having experienced anything else than the life of a priestess for as far as her memories went, the outside appeared ever so beautiful, enthralling, full of adventures and mysteries where the rules didn't matter.

She would be free, outside the temple. She had been so incredibly wrong.

She had exchanged years of servitude to an invisible force with perfect obedience to a master she could see. There were very few restrictions on the Finalizer, especially for her, her title outranking almost everyone except him. Yet, there was so little she could do with it, and she found herself being less free than she ever was.

It was supposed to be easier after a while, and it had for a few weeks, but it never felt quite natural, easy, assuaging. It had started off wrong, it had gotten better, then it had gotten worse. And she couldn't exactly tell out why.

It had not been her fault, she had done nothing, she had even apologized just in case, she had tried to be what he wanted and she couldn't get it right. She had not been allowed to ask about the scavenger , or any of the new missions he often left for, searching for something, someone, somewhere, returning angrier than she'd ever seen him.

He got vile with her, brutal, heartless, absolutely horrible, although she stayed silent like a piece of décor in the room taking in all the harsh words he threw her way as his grip tightened around her throat. He backhands her every time she's within reach or drags her to the bed by her hair when she tried to get far away.

Through that she stays the perfect doll he wants her to be, she lets him handle her roughly, fucking her for what seems like an eternity, and she stays, she stays where he left her, she stays mostly undressed, stays with her hands bound with her wedding veil she now regrets giving back to him. But she can't hide her expressions, can't fake being fine, can't pretend that she doesn't feel the pain. She probably looks scared and he probably likes it, she still isn't sure his actions get confusing.

He wants her to want him to hurt her. Now, she believes that this is how he wants her to show her love.

She cries out, trying to muffle the sounds by pressing her palm to her mouth, biting her own fingers, or pushing her face into the pillows, she doesn't want to give him a reason to be more violent, to draw attention to herself, she just wants him to do what he desires so it can stop as quickly as possible. 

In the end, she doesn't need to do a countdown, her ass gets covered in handprints regardless, red and stinging, and she starts to face him more often to avoid getting spanked. There's no good solution, either way, she gets hurt, in whichever position she finds herself in.

But after it happens, he holds her close, caresses her so softly, wipes the tears from her eyes, helps her with her bruises, tells her how beautiful she is or how good she feels. She craves the afters, waiting to get through with the present to get to the moment she feels loved, and he says he made a mistake, he says he lost it, he says he didn't hit her un purpose, but he never says he's sorry, he's just trying to make her accept it.

In spite of that some days he comes back and rushes to kiss her, he brings her gifts and jewels and clothes, more than she could ever need. He smiles at her when she walks in and invites her to sit with him, taking the time to explain parts of a new ship formation or to show her how he rewires his lightsaber, remaking the parts that seem to run down from the extensive toll his kyber crystal takes on the handle.