Fettered

Don't Forget Who You Belong To

Blatant non-consensual sex warning

As her orgasm and subsequent afterglow subsided, she dried herself off in the bathroom, stomach churning. The sex and her climax were wrong, the house was wrong, Lucas was wrong. How could she have let that happen? Why didn't she stop him? She glanced to him as he redressed, seeing his tired, deadened eyes. He scared her like never before. She didn't know what to make of it all, especially not as he took her into his bedroom (which devastated her again when she saw how normal it appeared). He gave her his clothes to wear.

"Gonna throw yer other stuff in the wash," he said, handing her a belt to help keep his pants from falling around her ankles. He reached up and ran a few of his fingers under her chin. "Make yerself at home, beautiful."

And he left her there. Her mind screamed to just leave but that horrible monster awaited her in the halls. Its gnarled, long fingers and gaping, sharp-toothed jaw had been burned into her memory, chilling her to the core. She couldn't leave — she couldn't face that thing. It was hard enough to face Lucas. Or, what appeared to be Lucas.

She didn't want to believe he was Lucas at all. It couldn't have been — he was just another monster. Or he was some lookalike, or this was all a horrific nightmare and she'd wake up at any moment to the sounds of her shitty life in shelters or on the streets. Maybe the whole year had been one big nightmare. Maybe when she awoke, she'd be greeted by a morning message from the real Lucas. That Lucas calling her beautiful made her heart flutter, but this one calling her beautiful dropped a pit in her stomach.

She must've been standing there in shock for quite some time as Lucas... As whoever that was returned, footsteps behind her. Something slipped over her shoulders and a familiar scent wafted over her. She knew without needing to look that it was his hoodie. No, he wasn't Lucas. Her nose simply lied.

"Chilly down here," he said, putting her arms through the sleeves.

Then he held her, chest pressing into her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head, once, twice, then three times until he trailed kisses down to her neck. His hands fervidly groped her breasts, tongue running along her ear.

"Stop," she said firmly.
"Stop? Why?"
She broke away and crossed her arms, back still toward him. "Because I don't want this."
"Ya don't?" He questioned, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Is that why we fucked in the shower?"
She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "That was a mistake."
"A mistake? How could it've been a mistake? You were soaked — ya came. How was that a mistake?"

Being reminded of her complete lack of self-control soured her stomach. Things had been so different in her mind. She would've given anything to go back to her delusions. Under the veil of his sleeves, hoping it would wake her from this nightmare, she pinched herself. It hurt but perhaps not badly enough.

Her quivering voice found some semblance of courage. "I came back here expecting everything to be the same." She pinched her skin between her sharp nails, feeling a warm trickling of blood seep through, and held back the pain in her voice. "But it's not. This house isn't the same, this family isn't the same, YOU'RE not the same!"
"Aw, baby." That condescending tone. The real Lucas would never talk to her like that. His arms held her once again. "I know things're diff'rent right now but I'm still the same ol' Lucas."
"No." She pushed him off and faced him. "You're not. You're not Lucas. Just some-s-some—" She tried to find the words but as they ran through her mind, they sounded unbelievable. "Some fuckin' lookalike pretending to be him!"
His widened eyes looked at her strangely. "The hell are ya talkin' about? How could I not be, Pers?"
"Don't call me that!" A perversion of her nickname — that's what this was; soiled by this impostor. "Lucas would never have abandoned me! He always texted me in the morning, always texted me goodnight. When was the last time I got a call from y—" She stopped. No. Not from him. He wasn't Lucas — he wasn't. "From Lucas."
"I am Lucas."
"No, I don't believe it — you're not! You're not Lucas at all! He never would've taken advantage of me like that!"
It was like the thought never occurred to him — his eyes widened more, jaw dropping, face paling a shade making him look all the more skeletal. "You think I took advantage of you?"
"Are you fucking kidding? You can't expect me to believe you didn't know I was terrified! Lucas would've known — he never would've done that to me!"
"But Pers—"
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"