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Entry tags:
Decending
Pairing: Hook/Wendy
Rating: NC-17
Category: NC, torture, insanity
A/N: Beta-ed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
japanpeterpan
A sequel to Wedding Night. Floating would be coming after, though the implications for that story gets much darker if you read this.
Disbelief came first, and lasted the shortest.
Wendy woke up in a strange place, her back hurting, but she didn't believe it. It was a nightmare, she told herself, despite knowing perfectly well that if you think it's a dream, then it never is. She didn't believe that she was awake when she slowly realised that she knew where she was, and she still didn't believe it, when a dead man entered the cabin and approached her.
"You are dead," Wendy said, and when she said it she knew she was just repeating herself, and she remembered the night before, every horrid detail of it, but she clung to her disbelief like a drowning person to a life-buoy, praying that it was a nightmare, because how could it be anything else?
Wendy was helped to her feet, swaying like a young tree in strong wind and his hand closed around her arm. She nearly believed then, because his hand was so warm, and his grip so strong, and his blue eyes mocked her so cruelly.
"I told you, I will never really die. I'm just here, forever- and now, my dear, so are you. You will always be mine now."
Panic seized her and she hit him, hammering at his chest like a small child throwing a tantrum. She was spun around and pressed facedown on the bed and Hook whispered in her ear;
"You may scream now, if you want. Scream as loud as you can, because no one here will care."
Wendy's last doubt was wiped away then, to never return, when he entered her, showing no concern that she was hurting from what he had done to her just hours before. She did scream, over and over, partly in pain, but mostly in an effort to chase away his laugh that echoed in her ears.
*****
Then there was hope.
Of course she would be rescued soon. That was what Wendy thought as her back healed. She held on to it every time Hook took her, she repeated it in her mind when he degraded her to a whore underneath his hand. Someone would come for her, Peter, Slightly, and she would be saved. That was how it always had to be, wasn't it?
Hope kept her sane, she thought, when she was subjected to the unpredictable whims of the Captain. Wendy had always thought her body was hers, to be given graciously to her husband on her wedding night. But her wedding night had been torn away from her, and her body had been ruthlessly demanded, and she didn't own anything about it anymore. Hook decided if she was to writhe in pain, or pleasure, and she sometimes thought that she would be consumed by her hate for him.
But it was only for now, soon, soon, she would be saved, and everything would truly become a nightmare, a bad memory that would fade and be forgotten. Surely she was not truly abandoned by those who loved her? Surely she couldn't be?
She didn't lost her hope when Peter danced upon the winds and proclaimed that she was not Wendy, how could she be, and flew away. Peter had forgotten, but her husband would not. He wouldn't let her stay here, he was as brave as Peter, and hadn't Hook told her that Slightly was still alive? Every day she waited for him, and her hope was a shield against Hook's actions towards her body and soul.
Hope died when Hook disclosed to her what had happened to Slightly that night. Lying on her back, her hands bound, her legs spread wide, and her body open for him. Pillows piled under her hips, making his access to her easy. Wendy had been forced to do that so many times, and it had not always brought sufferings, so she wasn't too alarmed at first.
At first it had been pleasurable, his hand had teased her until she was very close to her climax, but then he had stopped. Hook smiled at her, and she hated how he could be so unperturbed, when she was almost lost in the pleasure he had forced upon her. Then his hand, still wet from touching her, went further down, slowly making way into her body through a way that she had never considered. Wendy stiffened, trying to stop him, but without any success, the only thing her efforts gained her was to be hurt more than necessary, or so Hook told her. It was a humiliation she had never thought was possible, and her shame deepened when he leaned forward and whispered into her ear;
“Every inch of you, my dear,” and she knew it wasn't just his fingers she would have to endure this night. The indignity when first his fingers and then his cock slowly made way between her buttocks, made her face burn and tears leak from her eyes. It was not only the pain, though there was plenty of it, while he slowly entered her. Nor was it the humiliation of being used this way. No, the worst of all was the words that Hook smilingly told her, all while he thrust into her.
"This is what they did to your husband, my beauty. My whole crew, but don't think they were as considerate as I. They all wanted their go, so they used him, one after another, with no concern for him. Before long he must have been bleeding, can you imagine how much it must hurt to be forced to accept yet another intruder, when you are already in agony? You will feel some pain tomorrow, but he, he ended up trashed and bleeding, and if he is unlucky enough, he will never fully recover.
They were in a hurry as well, so they took turns two and two with him. Think about that, Wendy, to be forced to stand on hands and knees while two take you at the same time. That's what they did, all the time while you were with me. He hurt, and he bled, but still, I was told, he did manage to get some pleasure out of it."
And to Wendy's horror, Hook started to touch her again, his all too clever fingers managed to make her move against him, all while he thrust inside her, still so slowly, and to her shame he forced the ultimate pleasure out of her, and as she rode the waves of it he moved faster and that added to the pleasure, and to her shame, and Hook's knowing laugh told her that he knew.
"Just like that, my beauty, just like that. You can be sure that he loved it and hated it as much as you do, but like you unable to hold back.” And Hook buried himself in her one last time for his own climax. Still deep inside her, he clutched her close to him, not yet satisfied with the pain his words had already brought her.
“What do you think he told your mother the next day? What do you think he had to say when they found him bleeding and bound, but you were gone? Do you think she said what she surely thought, that if her daughter had married a real man, this would not have happened, that a real man would have been able to protect you. But whether she said it or not doesn't matter, because he surely thought so himself."
Feeling dirtier than he had ever managed to make her feel before, Wendy lay unmoving long after Hook had released her. She thought of her smiling, charming, gentle Slightly, and of what had been done to him, and she realised that he would never come for her. It had not been a kindness to let him live, it had, as Hook said, been a punishment. Slightly had been left alive because he had been broken. The boy she had married would never save her, because he had been shamed and spoiled as much as she, and there was no one left to rescue Wendy Darling.
*****
Hope died in shame that night and despair was born out of it instead.
She was caught in the bleakest despair, tossed back and forth until she held a glass by its narrow stem, and she felt no fear, just a feverish longing to escape. A beautiful Venetian crystal glass, and Wendy broke it against the end of the table, leaving a jagged edge, so cruelly sharp that she was sure that it would cut deeply. It did, and she determinedly continued cutting, despite the searing pain. She willed her hand to continue until she was too weak to hold it anymore, and she dropped it and the glass shattered to a million small pieces of the floor.
Wendy felt a enormous relief over what she had done, and she was proud that she had found a way to end it all. The last thing she saw before she fell into darkness was the horror in a pair of blue eyes.
She survived it, though. She should have waited, waited until she knew Hook was ashore, and not expected back for many hours, but she had been too eager to end it. Wendy came to on the bed, dazed by opiates, and unable to move, because her hands were tied to the bedposts. Not to torture her, she eventually realised, though it was torture, but to keep her from harming herself again.
Later she wondered if it wasn't the effects of the drugs that made her think so, but all the while she recuperated, Hook cared for her. She saw no one else, in pain, and in fever he cared for her and her needs, soothing her when nightmares made her scream. Because of what happened later, she wished that his compassion had just been a chimera, that would have made it easier to bear, but it was not.
Wendy healed, all that remained was the angry red scar at her throat. She regained her strength, and when she had, Hook made her pay. Humiliation, she learned, could always be taken one step further.
*****
Wendy was brought to the deck, her hand resting on Hook's velvet sleeve, and unease stirring inside her. Hook had been so smiling and charming when he had offered her his arms, and she became afraid of what was waiting for her outside. The brilliant sun of Neverland drenched the deck in gold, and for a moment she was blinded. When she could see properly again she saw that every man on the ship was there, all staring at her in intense anticipation.
Her hands were chained and then her arms were stretched above her. Her feet were spread apart and fastened to manacles set in the planks, and she wondered if they had been done so just for her, or if she was just one of many to be restrained like this. Her body were soon taut, fighting the strains of her bounds. The hook slashed down, shredding her clothes away, and she was naked, for anyone to see. Wendy wasn't altogether surprised when the first whiplash landed on her back, though nothing could have prepared her for the stinging pain.
Whoever it was that wielded the whip did so knowing what he did. Not a single drop of blood was shed, but the lash came down on her body on a new place every time, every one of them bringing her agony. Her spread and vulnerable position sometimes allowed the lash to reach the most sensitive places of her body, and before long she screamed. When it was over Hook stepped up beside her, his hand skimming over her back, and she made a fruitless effort to move away from him.
“This, my beauty, was just the beginning. You have displeased me greatly, and all that will befall you today is to teach you to never try to do anything like that ever again. If you do, just remember that this day will be nothing compared to what I will do to you then." He paused, seemingly to think the next step through. "And now, I wonder, what we shall do now? Look around you, Wendy, my crew seems eager, don't they? Perhaps I should leave you to them. Remember what I told you that they did to your Lost Boy? I'm sure they will eagerly reprise that for your benefit.”
The men howled and laughed, and Hook left. Wendy screamed after him, begging him not to leave her, but he neither answered nor came back. She was left in the sun, at first terrified of the horrors Hook had promised her, but as time passed, no one in the crew came up to her. They were still gathered around her, drinking in her sight, many of them pleasing themselves, but no one touched her, and her fear of that subsided. Instead she grew more and more aware of how unmercifully the sun shone on her. It burned her skin, and it made her thirsty. Soon her longing for water overshadowed everything else, but still nothing happened. Not until hours later when she was almost unconscious did she feel the cool steel of the hook under her chin, lifting her head, and she came to stare up into Hook's eyes that watched her impassively.
"Next time, my dear, I will let the crew do more than stare, but not today. I have other plans for you now."
He held up a glass in front of her, the same kind of glass that she had broken. It was filled with water that sparkled in the sun, and for Wendy it was the most welcome sight she had ever seen. Hook held it to her lips, and she drank greedily, but as her thirst relinquished some, she became more aware of the pain in her back, and the numbness in her arms that hurt almost as much. Hook turned the glass in his hand, looking thoughtful.
"Such beauty, isn't it?" Suddenly he struck the glass against the hook, it shattered, leaving him holding the stem, sharp and irregular. "And such an ugly weapon it becomes. It was meant to be admired, and though it may be used for other tasks, it does so without grace." He touched the scar at her throat with it, and she flinched, which made him smile. He tossed away the broken glass, and held up his hook instead.
"This, however, is beautiful because it's used for what it's made for." He came closer, his voice almost inaudible. "It's only I who have the right to decide whether you shall bleed or not. This will hurt, but remember, if you ever try to do anything foolish again, it will hurt more."
He took a step back, surveying her body, before the sharp tip came down, making a graceful curve around her right breast continuing down her abdomen. At first it almost didn't hurt, but as he continued, methodically letting the hook tear into her again and again, it hurt more and more. But he kept on, not stopping until Wendy's mind escaped everything, and she hung unconscious in her chains.
*****
She got well again. The cuts healed into red scars, and then they started to fade. Sometimes, when she managed to displease the Captain another one was added, only to heal and fade as well. Wendy lost count of them, and she lost count of her days. She stopped feeling desolate, stopped longing to get away. It was easier so. Perhaps she went mad. At times she wondered if not everyone in Neverland was crazy. Peter's curious way of forgetting, of never growing, wasn't that crazy? And wasn't Hook's endless pursuit for revenge insane? Madness quite suited her, she thought, and was not without merits.
She is real. She is quite certain of it, because of the pain. As long as she can be hurt, then she can be sure that she is real. Hook is real as well, because how would he otherwise be able to inflict pain upon her? But Wendy isn't sure about anyone else, not anymore. It makes things easier to bear as well. If Slightly was just a dream, then it doesn't matter that he was raped and broken. If her mother wasn't real, then it won't matter that she must have cried. No, Wendy finds great comfort in being in a place where only she and Hook exist, and everything else is mere shadows.
At night she wraps her arms around the man beside her in the bed. “You will never let me go?”
And his answer, that used to terrify her, comforts her now. “I promise, I will never, ever let you go.”
Rating: NC-17
Category: NC, torture, insanity
A/N: Beta-ed by
japanpeterpanA sequel to Wedding Night. Floating would be coming after, though the implications for that story gets much darker if you read this.
Disbelief came first, and lasted the shortest.
Wendy woke up in a strange place, her back hurting, but she didn't believe it. It was a nightmare, she told herself, despite knowing perfectly well that if you think it's a dream, then it never is. She didn't believe that she was awake when she slowly realised that she knew where she was, and she still didn't believe it, when a dead man entered the cabin and approached her.
"You are dead," Wendy said, and when she said it she knew she was just repeating herself, and she remembered the night before, every horrid detail of it, but she clung to her disbelief like a drowning person to a life-buoy, praying that it was a nightmare, because how could it be anything else?
Wendy was helped to her feet, swaying like a young tree in strong wind and his hand closed around her arm. She nearly believed then, because his hand was so warm, and his grip so strong, and his blue eyes mocked her so cruelly.
"I told you, I will never really die. I'm just here, forever- and now, my dear, so are you. You will always be mine now."
Panic seized her and she hit him, hammering at his chest like a small child throwing a tantrum. She was spun around and pressed facedown on the bed and Hook whispered in her ear;
"You may scream now, if you want. Scream as loud as you can, because no one here will care."
Wendy's last doubt was wiped away then, to never return, when he entered her, showing no concern that she was hurting from what he had done to her just hours before. She did scream, over and over, partly in pain, but mostly in an effort to chase away his laugh that echoed in her ears.
Then there was hope.
Of course she would be rescued soon. That was what Wendy thought as her back healed. She held on to it every time Hook took her, she repeated it in her mind when he degraded her to a whore underneath his hand. Someone would come for her, Peter, Slightly, and she would be saved. That was how it always had to be, wasn't it?
Hope kept her sane, she thought, when she was subjected to the unpredictable whims of the Captain. Wendy had always thought her body was hers, to be given graciously to her husband on her wedding night. But her wedding night had been torn away from her, and her body had been ruthlessly demanded, and she didn't own anything about it anymore. Hook decided if she was to writhe in pain, or pleasure, and she sometimes thought that she would be consumed by her hate for him.
But it was only for now, soon, soon, she would be saved, and everything would truly become a nightmare, a bad memory that would fade and be forgotten. Surely she was not truly abandoned by those who loved her? Surely she couldn't be?
She didn't lost her hope when Peter danced upon the winds and proclaimed that she was not Wendy, how could she be, and flew away. Peter had forgotten, but her husband would not. He wouldn't let her stay here, he was as brave as Peter, and hadn't Hook told her that Slightly was still alive? Every day she waited for him, and her hope was a shield against Hook's actions towards her body and soul.
Hope died when Hook disclosed to her what had happened to Slightly that night. Lying on her back, her hands bound, her legs spread wide, and her body open for him. Pillows piled under her hips, making his access to her easy. Wendy had been forced to do that so many times, and it had not always brought sufferings, so she wasn't too alarmed at first.
At first it had been pleasurable, his hand had teased her until she was very close to her climax, but then he had stopped. Hook smiled at her, and she hated how he could be so unperturbed, when she was almost lost in the pleasure he had forced upon her. Then his hand, still wet from touching her, went further down, slowly making way into her body through a way that she had never considered. Wendy stiffened, trying to stop him, but without any success, the only thing her efforts gained her was to be hurt more than necessary, or so Hook told her. It was a humiliation she had never thought was possible, and her shame deepened when he leaned forward and whispered into her ear;
“Every inch of you, my dear,” and she knew it wasn't just his fingers she would have to endure this night. The indignity when first his fingers and then his cock slowly made way between her buttocks, made her face burn and tears leak from her eyes. It was not only the pain, though there was plenty of it, while he slowly entered her. Nor was it the humiliation of being used this way. No, the worst of all was the words that Hook smilingly told her, all while he thrust into her.
"This is what they did to your husband, my beauty. My whole crew, but don't think they were as considerate as I. They all wanted their go, so they used him, one after another, with no concern for him. Before long he must have been bleeding, can you imagine how much it must hurt to be forced to accept yet another intruder, when you are already in agony? You will feel some pain tomorrow, but he, he ended up trashed and bleeding, and if he is unlucky enough, he will never fully recover.
They were in a hurry as well, so they took turns two and two with him. Think about that, Wendy, to be forced to stand on hands and knees while two take you at the same time. That's what they did, all the time while you were with me. He hurt, and he bled, but still, I was told, he did manage to get some pleasure out of it."
And to Wendy's horror, Hook started to touch her again, his all too clever fingers managed to make her move against him, all while he thrust inside her, still so slowly, and to her shame he forced the ultimate pleasure out of her, and as she rode the waves of it he moved faster and that added to the pleasure, and to her shame, and Hook's knowing laugh told her that he knew.
"Just like that, my beauty, just like that. You can be sure that he loved it and hated it as much as you do, but like you unable to hold back.” And Hook buried himself in her one last time for his own climax. Still deep inside her, he clutched her close to him, not yet satisfied with the pain his words had already brought her.
“What do you think he told your mother the next day? What do you think he had to say when they found him bleeding and bound, but you were gone? Do you think she said what she surely thought, that if her daughter had married a real man, this would not have happened, that a real man would have been able to protect you. But whether she said it or not doesn't matter, because he surely thought so himself."
Feeling dirtier than he had ever managed to make her feel before, Wendy lay unmoving long after Hook had released her. She thought of her smiling, charming, gentle Slightly, and of what had been done to him, and she realised that he would never come for her. It had not been a kindness to let him live, it had, as Hook said, been a punishment. Slightly had been left alive because he had been broken. The boy she had married would never save her, because he had been shamed and spoiled as much as she, and there was no one left to rescue Wendy Darling.
Hope died in shame that night and despair was born out of it instead.
She was caught in the bleakest despair, tossed back and forth until she held a glass by its narrow stem, and she felt no fear, just a feverish longing to escape. A beautiful Venetian crystal glass, and Wendy broke it against the end of the table, leaving a jagged edge, so cruelly sharp that she was sure that it would cut deeply. It did, and she determinedly continued cutting, despite the searing pain. She willed her hand to continue until she was too weak to hold it anymore, and she dropped it and the glass shattered to a million small pieces of the floor.
Wendy felt a enormous relief over what she had done, and she was proud that she had found a way to end it all. The last thing she saw before she fell into darkness was the horror in a pair of blue eyes.
She survived it, though. She should have waited, waited until she knew Hook was ashore, and not expected back for many hours, but she had been too eager to end it. Wendy came to on the bed, dazed by opiates, and unable to move, because her hands were tied to the bedposts. Not to torture her, she eventually realised, though it was torture, but to keep her from harming herself again.
Later she wondered if it wasn't the effects of the drugs that made her think so, but all the while she recuperated, Hook cared for her. She saw no one else, in pain, and in fever he cared for her and her needs, soothing her when nightmares made her scream. Because of what happened later, she wished that his compassion had just been a chimera, that would have made it easier to bear, but it was not.
Wendy healed, all that remained was the angry red scar at her throat. She regained her strength, and when she had, Hook made her pay. Humiliation, she learned, could always be taken one step further.
Wendy was brought to the deck, her hand resting on Hook's velvet sleeve, and unease stirring inside her. Hook had been so smiling and charming when he had offered her his arms, and she became afraid of what was waiting for her outside. The brilliant sun of Neverland drenched the deck in gold, and for a moment she was blinded. When she could see properly again she saw that every man on the ship was there, all staring at her in intense anticipation.
Her hands were chained and then her arms were stretched above her. Her feet were spread apart and fastened to manacles set in the planks, and she wondered if they had been done so just for her, or if she was just one of many to be restrained like this. Her body were soon taut, fighting the strains of her bounds. The hook slashed down, shredding her clothes away, and she was naked, for anyone to see. Wendy wasn't altogether surprised when the first whiplash landed on her back, though nothing could have prepared her for the stinging pain.
Whoever it was that wielded the whip did so knowing what he did. Not a single drop of blood was shed, but the lash came down on her body on a new place every time, every one of them bringing her agony. Her spread and vulnerable position sometimes allowed the lash to reach the most sensitive places of her body, and before long she screamed. When it was over Hook stepped up beside her, his hand skimming over her back, and she made a fruitless effort to move away from him.
“This, my beauty, was just the beginning. You have displeased me greatly, and all that will befall you today is to teach you to never try to do anything like that ever again. If you do, just remember that this day will be nothing compared to what I will do to you then." He paused, seemingly to think the next step through. "And now, I wonder, what we shall do now? Look around you, Wendy, my crew seems eager, don't they? Perhaps I should leave you to them. Remember what I told you that they did to your Lost Boy? I'm sure they will eagerly reprise that for your benefit.”
The men howled and laughed, and Hook left. Wendy screamed after him, begging him not to leave her, but he neither answered nor came back. She was left in the sun, at first terrified of the horrors Hook had promised her, but as time passed, no one in the crew came up to her. They were still gathered around her, drinking in her sight, many of them pleasing themselves, but no one touched her, and her fear of that subsided. Instead she grew more and more aware of how unmercifully the sun shone on her. It burned her skin, and it made her thirsty. Soon her longing for water overshadowed everything else, but still nothing happened. Not until hours later when she was almost unconscious did she feel the cool steel of the hook under her chin, lifting her head, and she came to stare up into Hook's eyes that watched her impassively.
"Next time, my dear, I will let the crew do more than stare, but not today. I have other plans for you now."
He held up a glass in front of her, the same kind of glass that she had broken. It was filled with water that sparkled in the sun, and for Wendy it was the most welcome sight she had ever seen. Hook held it to her lips, and she drank greedily, but as her thirst relinquished some, she became more aware of the pain in her back, and the numbness in her arms that hurt almost as much. Hook turned the glass in his hand, looking thoughtful.
"Such beauty, isn't it?" Suddenly he struck the glass against the hook, it shattered, leaving him holding the stem, sharp and irregular. "And such an ugly weapon it becomes. It was meant to be admired, and though it may be used for other tasks, it does so without grace." He touched the scar at her throat with it, and she flinched, which made him smile. He tossed away the broken glass, and held up his hook instead.
"This, however, is beautiful because it's used for what it's made for." He came closer, his voice almost inaudible. "It's only I who have the right to decide whether you shall bleed or not. This will hurt, but remember, if you ever try to do anything foolish again, it will hurt more."
He took a step back, surveying her body, before the sharp tip came down, making a graceful curve around her right breast continuing down her abdomen. At first it almost didn't hurt, but as he continued, methodically letting the hook tear into her again and again, it hurt more and more. But he kept on, not stopping until Wendy's mind escaped everything, and she hung unconscious in her chains.
She got well again. The cuts healed into red scars, and then they started to fade. Sometimes, when she managed to displease the Captain another one was added, only to heal and fade as well. Wendy lost count of them, and she lost count of her days. She stopped feeling desolate, stopped longing to get away. It was easier so. Perhaps she went mad. At times she wondered if not everyone in Neverland was crazy. Peter's curious way of forgetting, of never growing, wasn't that crazy? And wasn't Hook's endless pursuit for revenge insane? Madness quite suited her, she thought, and was not without merits.
She is real. She is quite certain of it, because of the pain. As long as she can be hurt, then she can be sure that she is real. Hook is real as well, because how would he otherwise be able to inflict pain upon her? But Wendy isn't sure about anyone else, not anymore. It makes things easier to bear as well. If Slightly was just a dream, then it doesn't matter that he was raped and broken. If her mother wasn't real, then it won't matter that she must have cried. No, Wendy finds great comfort in being in a place where only she and Hook exist, and everything else is mere shadows.
At night she wraps her arms around the man beside her in the bed. “You will never let me go?”
And his answer, that used to terrify her, comforts her now. “I promise, I will never, ever let you go.”