Captive. (ls)

1. Black

Hello! I'm Delilah, and I really hope you'll enjoy this fanfic. It's my first. I'd like to warn you of some possible triggers first. There will be/may be abuse, major violence, bdsm, non-consensual sex, eating disorders, murder/death, sub/Dom relationship, foul language, cutting, animalism, slavery, and just a lot of kinky smut. Read with caution if these may trigger you because your health is most important. I will mark all chapters with smut/major violence/death with •. Other than that, happy reading! x

Harry's POV

Everything is black. Not literally, of course. Not that I would know. I haven't been outside since I can't remember, so it must've been a while ago.

I've been named Him. I've also figured out that I'm seventeen years old, supposedly. That's what Master Damien tells me. He also tells me that the world is even darker than my room, but I find that hard to believe when my world is nothing but him.

**
Louis POV

The silky substance of the sheets tangled through my fingers as my eyes fluttered open, only to shut tight again at the bright morning sun. Stretching out, a long and content sigh fell from my lips. I could feel the heat of a body beside me, but could care less of who it was.

"Somebody take that back to its room," I ordered with a raspy voice, watching as the rather large, and buff, guard dragged a male by his hair through the door. The body was naked and bruised but he should be thankful I at least let him sleep in my bed.

My feet pattered against the cool tile as I made my way to the bathroom, rubbing my head due to the pounding ache, before peering at myself in the mirror.

Dear lord, Louis, you've got to learn to teach those subjects not to touch.

My gaze traveled down the front of my chest, debating wether I should cover up the dreadful scratch marks or not. Deciding to flaunt them, I buttoned up a plaid flannel but left the top three buttons open just enough for every subject to notice.

A little fear never hurt anyone.

Even in the dimly lit hallways, I could see the alarmed looks on the subjects faces while mine held a smug smirk full of authority and power.

The reason for their fear is understandable though. I allow markings on my skin if my subjects have been in pain during intercourse. These marks aren't ones of love, they're ones of pain and they make up for the scars on my body from back when I was one of the scared ones.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" A young boy gasped, stumbling into my chest. His emerald eyes immediately lit with fear and he placed his hand back on the wall to steady himself.

"I-I..." He stammered, quickly breaking eye contact and staring at the floor.

This boy was raised in my home since he was the young age of nine. At the time, I wanted a pet; someone I could control and command, but I didn't have the nerve to do anything remotely sexual. So I just kept him in his room downstairs until the age of seventeen, and now I was slowly introducing him to everyday things. Surely he remembers certain hobbies or items, but for now he was mine. Just one of my fifteen subjects.

"What are you doing out of your room? You know what happens when a subject wanders without his helper,"bI spoke, voice low and sleepy from early morning. My mouth quirked up in a sly smirk as I watched his shoulders slump in defeat.

"I-I'm sorry Master.. I-I got hungry.. Nobody brought me breakfast this morning, Nicholas said it was nearly lunch, and my tummy started to get funny feeling," He whispered so quietly I could barely hear him.