written by Christine

This story is rated NC-17 for sexual situations and violence
[PG-13 alternate chapters are available]

Chapter 1
It’s raining again. The musty mold smell slowly seeped into the room. It gnawed on her cataleptic state, reawakening her to the here and now. That smell was the only clue she had to the outside world. Until electricity was installed, she didn’t even have light. There were no bathroom facilities. Anyone entering her “dungeon,” as she called her basement room, would have smelled something else entirely, but she was use to that odor. The long chain attached to the golden collar around her neck rattled as she moved.

How long she mused. Those two words covered a world of questions. She gingerly moved her right arm and winced at the pain. Not long enough it seemed. “He” had dislocated the shoulder and broke her upper arm bone last time. She could still see the bruises through the dirt that caked her naked body.  Hell! She still felt them, everywhere, even inside. No, her mental escape was not nearly long enough. She has not had enough time to heal and they would be coming soon. The rain always brought them. Apparently, they had nothing better to do on a rainy day than to rape and brutalize her. She was their prize, their sex slave, and their unicorn in human form.

A couple of them no longer came, repelled by her smell. She was filthy and she knew it. Her skin was covered with waste and her long matted hair looked more brown than white. It was the only rebellion she able to do. She found that if she refused to care for herself, some of them would be repulsed. Her capturers made it real easy since they were lackadaisical to down right neglectful about keeping her dungeon clean and cared little about her until it was too late. She developed filthiness into a fine art and wore it as a soldier wore armor. It was not without repercussions. Her head itched from parasites, her skin was dry and rough, and she often developed rashes. Even so, it gave her reprieve. She couldn’t quite mask her beauty but she made it much harder to see.

She tensed as she heard talking and footsteps. She curled into a fetal position as she heard the steps come closer and could recognize the leader’s voice, his angry voice. Only two? She listened closer. Yes, there were only two pairs of footsteps. One set was his, the other set was lighter and sounded like they were being forced into motion.
The leader, Yutaka by name, was the one whom she hated the most. He was, actually, the son of her capturer. He was just as power hungry but more brutal. He was much more evil to humans, as well as all life forms. He was there when she was captured and imprisoned in this hell, even though he was only a boy of eleven. Five years later she became his “coming of age” birthday gift. That day was the start of the worst years of her long life.
Before him, she only suffered through gang rape in the hands of these “men”. She was decently cared for and even had clothes to wear. He, on the other hand, enjoyed torturing and brutalizing. He didn’t care how she lived; only that she did. The gang rape continued but Yutaka made his “special” visits, calling her his sex slave and making her suffer through indescribable torture. He quickly learned that she was a fast healer and used it to full advantage. Five years after becoming his son’s ‘property’, the leader, Yutaka’s father, no longer joined the gang rapes and she learned that he had been killed. That was when Yutaka became leader.

That’s when Isabo learned to withdraw from reality. To survive, she separated her mind from her abused body. It dwelled in a fantasy safe place of fields and flowers surrounded by woods. There she could be with the ones she loved; the ones lost to her just a few short years before her capture, her mate, his pack, and eight of their ten children. She knew they were dead. Perhaps they were spirits sent to help her survive. She didn’t care why they were there. Their presence gave her the strength to endure. She wanted to stay with them but they kept pushing her back. They made her stay behind. Why? She thought. There was nothing here to stay for. Her only surviving son was grown and probably believes she is dead. Isabo wanted to be dead. She wanted it to end. Her soul cried for release, but she was immortal. She could only leave this world if her body was slain. Her capturers made sure that there was no way she could do it herself. She did the only thing she could do; she went slowly insane.

The dim light was snapped on and the trap door opened, letting in even more light, which almost blinded her unaccustomed eyes. Isabo looked away and started withdrawing into her other world, but then she stopped. Something new was happening.
“Now get down there and clean it,” said the leader.

Stumbling down the stairs as if he was pushed was someone she had not seen before. While feigning no interest, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was young, about 16 years. His shoulder length blond hair swung forward as his body came to an abrupt stop at the bottom.

He immediately started coughing and gagging from the ammonia and fecal smell. Even so, he had the presence of mind to duck as buckets and a shovel were thrown through the trap door at him. His face turned red with anger and eyes flashed with hate but he kept his back to the door. The door slammed shut and laughter followed the echo of footsteps as they faded away.

He left! She thought. Relief washed over Isabo but she was careful not to show it. There was no guarantee that she was out of danger. She knew nothing of the young man in front of her, except that there was enough familiarity between him and the leader for the boy to defy him openly and not fear death.

The boy sighed and then coughed again. He covered his nose and mouth against the stink as he started scanning the room. The room looked like a dirty, long neglected dog kennel. His eyes spotted the chain bolted to the wall and followed it’s path over a futon mattress… A bed?? The boy felt a shiver as he noted that there was no waste on the bed but it was stained with something dark. The chain continued into a darken corner and was attached to some kind of crouching animal covered in what looked like fur down it’s back to it’s bare and dirty buttocks… Bare Human Butt? A bare human arm encircled bare legs and almost, but not quite hiding the large breasts pressed into them. A Woman??? He thought. The second arm draped limply to her side, obviously broken. She was covered with cuts and bruises that were so dark that they easily showed through the dirt. His stomach started turning as his eyes returned to the bed and recognized the stains as blood and semen, and now saw the hook on the ceiling. He followed the chain attached to the hook over to a wall well out of reach of the chained victim. There hung coils of rope and assorted torturous sex tools, many stained with more blood. Repulsed and sickened by the horrible images his mind created from what he saw, he gagged harder, quickly turned, and grabbed one of the buckets. Over the bucket, with his back to the victim, he retched up the contents of his stomach.

Isabo stared openly at the back of the boy as he strained over the bucket. Nobody had such a response to her situation before. She quickly looked away as he put the bucket down.
His eyes squeezed shut to prevent tears of empathy from escaping. So this is the one, he thought. The one mother told him about. Both he and his mother had to frequently suffer his sire’s (the boy refused to call him father) perversions and brutality but never to this extent. He remembered the day his mother told him about the story of the captured unicorn and her part in it.
He had come to her to angrily report his sire’s indiscretions. Luka knew he had been with someone else. The reek of it was all over him. Surely now she would leave him, he had thought. She didn’t. She cried through the whole story as she told him.  Then she made him look her in the eyes. “Luka, if you ever find out where she is, you must help her,” she sobbed. “You must free her and redeem my family’s honor. I betrayed her and my marriage to your father is my punishment. I cannot be free until she is. Her name is Isabo. Tell her this. Not even your father knows this. Only I know and now you. It will let her know who you are.” Then she laid her head in his lap and cried. All he could do is hold her and rock her until she stopped. He promised her. He loved his mother and it tore him apart that she was so tortured by the past.

Luka stood and turned back to the shivering woman. He looked at her. For over 90 years, she had been suffering so. Both of his parents were children when she was captured. He was a late child, an accident. He had no siblings. His mother, a miko, tried to prevent a pregnancy with her magic and leave her husband without an heir, but when she found that she was pregnant, she considered it fate and let it continue. Now Luka was planning to repay that gift. He unbuttoned and removed his shirt. This beautiful creature had been through enough, he thought. It’s up to me to set her free.

 
She heard him stand, saw him remove his shirt and walk toward her. She buried her head between her knees and shook with fear. She hadn’t felt this way in years. She tried to escape into her mental safe zone but found she couldn’t. Her mind was locked into her body, trapped by the curiosity she felt and the unknown. She was use to brutal attacks and was programmed to survive that. She had no defenses against the way this boy was acting. She was completely at his mercy.
 

He walked over to her. He saw her trembling. Her human hair was once nearly white, according to his mother. Now, even though it was matted and encrusted filth, one could still see the glow of it in the artificial light. She smelled awful. He knelt beside her. She shrank away even more. “I will not hurt you” he said, “My name is Luka. You must be Isabo.”

Her head came up at the sound of her name. None of the men knew it, not even Yutaka. How does this boy know my name? She thought. Luka, did he say?

Sixteen Years Ago
Suddenly she remembered the little baby Yutaka brought to show off to her sixteen years ago. She also remembered how he shook the baby because he was crying. That was the day she took a risk and acted on the baby’s behalf. It was also apparent to her that this wasn’t the first time he had shaken the baby for crying. “Stop! Please stop it! You’re killing him!” She had yelled at him. She grabbed the baby out of his hands. She could sense him dying. She held him close and healed him as well as shielding him from the repercussions of her actions. The gold collar around her neck delivered it’s painful punishment as it converted her healing and shielding powers into electric energy and reflected it into her body. It made her scream but it was a small sacrifice to save an innocent’s life. Once she felt the baby’s strength return she stopped using her power and the collar relented. She dropped to her knees panting but once she caught her breath, she again acted in the baby’s defense. “This baby is soiled, tired and starving. How long have you had him away from his mother?” He didn’t respond. “A baby this young needs to be fed at least every 2 hours, often more frequent than that.” She calmed the crying boy, altered her body so her milk would flow, and then put the poor starving infant to her breast. “What’s his name?”

“Doesn’t have one,” he mumbled.

“Who’s his mother?” she asked

“My wife,” was all he said.

“You should name him Luka,” she suggested. It was close enough to his name to satisfy Yutaka’s ego but she suggested it because she remembered hearing a song by that name somewhere that described what his life would probably be like. She could only pray that her interference that day would give the boy a chance to grow up. The baby finished feeding and immediately fell to sleep. She was handing the baby back to him, when he grabbed her hair and shoved her to the ground. She barely got the baby a safe distance away before he was upon her.

“Slaves never talk back to their masters!” He slapped her so hard it split her lip and she felt a chunk of hair rip out of her scalp. He hit her again and blackened her eye. He backslapped her, blackening the other eye and breaking her nose. He boxed her ears making her cry out in pain, and then he got up and dragged her by her hair as close to his instrument wall as her chain would let him. She was choking against the collar as he reached for…

Back to the Present
She felt something drop around her shoulders and squeaked, almost jumping out of her skin. Then she realized it was cloth, the boy’s shirt. She pulled it around her as she watched him stand and walk back to the buckets and the shovel. She was grateful not only for the shirt but for the distraction from that dark memory.

He sighed, picked up the shovel and started scrapping up the mess and depositing it in to the buckets. Helping her physically will have to wait for another day, he thought. She wasn’t ready for that step and would probably fight me. Just dropping that shirt around her shoulders produced such a strong reaction that it startled him. More reactions like that would only injure her arm more.

He knew what to do about the arm. His mother has taught him all the miko magic she knew. The knowledge normally was passed on to daughters but his mother only had him. He also knew that Isabo needed her body cleaned, her cuts treated, as well as the broken bone set and put into a sling. She was in a very sorry state but he knew why she let herself get like this. An effective armor such as this would repel normal men. However, Luka’s sire was not normal. Luka knew that it was not repelling him, and it never would. He doubted there was anyone else abusing her at this point. Maybe because there was no longer any advantages to being so repulsively dirty, she would be agreeable to a bath. Tomorrow I’ll bring a tub down, provided ‘He’ continues letting me care for her. For her sake, I’ll have to make sure of it, he thought.
Isabo rubbed the material between her fingers as she watched him work. The shirt was the first act of kindness she had received in all the years of her captivity. She watched his muscles rippled under the skin of his bare hairless chest and arms as he worked to remove the waste. He bent over to remove old discarded plates. His butt was tight and shapely under his pants. He was more muscular than normal boys his age.
Isabo felt something stirring in her that she has not felt since her last mate and has been lying dormant since her capture. Her sexuality was awakening deep inside. Attraction? It caught her by surprise since he was just a boy. He was not something she was usually attracted to.

This is not normal, she thought. Then the horror of her dishonorable thoughts compounded as she realized the only possible excuse there could be… she must be nearing her heat cycle time. If she didn’t find some way to escape before it started, then, for the next ten years she will be fertile. Soon, if something doesn’t change, she will be bearing children into this hellhole. She looked at the boy and pulled the shirt tighter around her. This boy, Luka, may be my last hope - my only hope.
 

 

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