Pandora's Box

Chapter 3: Pride

Superficially, it's kinky smut, but this is about so much more than that. It's very dark, toxic, and unhealthy, but they've got difficult pasts and still need to find a way to love right and trust... So there's an unconventional way ahead. I hope you'll get why I decided to do things a certain way. If not, feel free to ask.

Warning for toxic relationship, rough sexual content (with explicit verbal consent!), and slight touching on heavy topics.

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See You Bleed – Ramsey

It was another night of tossing and turning for Zelda. The bedding was rumpled, her hair was tousled, and she couldn't stand lying on one side for more than ten minutes. Sighing, she pushed herself up and walked over to the window, opened it, and leaned on the sill to have a smoke. She'd even resorted to sleeping at the Academy because she was repeatedly waking her family with her late-night walks and occupations.

The night was cold, and when a breeze brushed past her bare upper arms, she reached for her robe that was draped over a nearby chair and slipped into it, pulling it close. She exhaled a cloud of smoke into the freezing air, looked at the moon, and scoffed. She wondered if, after everything, Hecate was even worth worshipping.

The Goddess had brought Hilda back, and Zelda would never admit how grateful she was for it. The only way to thank her had been to promise eternal worship. Yet she found herself cross with her, as much as with the Queen of Hell. Only that the latter hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, it pained Zelda to admit that she had done her wrong.

The problem, however, was that Lilith wouldn't talk to her. She hadn't answered any of her dozens of prayers, and Zelda feared that she might never do it again. She couldn't blame her. There was a line she had crossed and buttons she shouldn't have pushed— especially not with her fingers buried knuckle-deep inside the woman.

She questioned where she had acquired the arrogance to do anything but worship the Queen of Hell and the gall to think she could insult her and get away with it unscathed. Having always been a devout witch—with a secret proclivity for a little revolution here and there—she'd never have dared do such a thing back in Satan's day.

A bat came dangerously close to Zelda's face, and she had to snap out of her thoughts to fend off the misguided little thing. It was quite adorable, though, and made Zelda turn around to look at the sleeping Vinnie T on her bed. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth—weak but present.

Pulling on her cigarette, Zelda twisted the ring on her finger, thinking about whips and welts and feeling ashamed for it. She hadn't done anything of the sort since Lilith had first come to her, but now she found herself craving the painful relief. It would at least give her the feeling of having atoned for her sins when she was forbidden from asking for forgiveness.

Yes, Zelda Spellman was willing to ask for forgiveness. Not only willing, but desperate for it. She was many things, but not someone who couldn't own up to their mistakes. It might take her a while; it required swallowing her pride, but the ability to show humility was what differentiated her from Faustus Blackwood.

Stubbing the cigarette out on the outer windowsill, she flicked the remaining piece away and left the window open, returning to her bed and sitting down on the side. Fumbling around on her nightstand, she found the unfinished drink that hadn't been able to help her fall asleep and swiftly gulped down the rest of it.

Vinnie T had kept her company all these nights. He was a dear, but it wasn't the same; it wasn't Lilith. Her body against hers, arms around her, nose nuzzling her neck—and all these orgasms. Lilith had a way of making her forget about the many reasons she was such a sad person. In these brief moments, she had only felt Lilith (inside of her). She was aware that she had lost this and that she'd probably never get it back, even if she were given the opportunity to apologise.