SGA FanFic: This Never Happened to Captain Kirk (Chapter 10)
Originally posted by nacinom at SGA FanFic: This Never Happened to Captain Kirk (Chapter 10)
Title: This Never Happened to Captain Kirk
Chapter: 10 of 13+ (a change of POV in this chapter--comments welcome if anyone is reading this)
Chapter word count: 1573
Pairings: Sheppard/Teyla (be patient)
Genre: Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, explicit, violence
Disclaimer: SGA characters and tv episodes/book plots are not mine. I wrote this story for fun not profit.
Note: The story is set post-season five in a sort of AU between book two (The Lost) and book three (Allegiance) of the Legacy Series of SGA novels (which I definitely recommend) written by Joe Graham, Amy Griswold and Melissa Scott. Story has some minor spoilers for these books.
Summary: With little hope for rescue, Sheppard must find a way to escape before his captor maims him, kills him or brakes him with her unwanted attention. Will Sheppard find his way back to Atlantis? Will this hellish experience affect his recently initiated relationship with Teyla?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 10
After leaving the room where she had tended the injuries to Lady Vernara’s latest male captive, Kharla had struggled to control the fear and bitterness that churned in her stomach. What the lady was doing, what they were all doing helping her felt so wrong. She wanted to be brave and do something to help the man. But she was too afraid for herself and for the women who had been so kind to her since her bond had been bought by the lady two months before. So she resigned herself to continuing to be the obedient servant who cleaned her lady’s messes-even messes that involved torturing and abusing handsome men.
Dutifully, she went to the lady’s study as she had been previously instructed. As soon as she entered the room, heady aromas of burning incense and pungent herbs assaulted her nose and made her dizzy. Lady Vernara made her sit on a stool and then spoke at length to her in an uncharacteristic patient tone.
“Breathe in these invigorating scents, Kharla,” she had said repeatedly. “Let them fill your lungs, in and out.”
She couldn’t remember anything about what else the lady had said or done in that room. Afterwards, Kharla’s arms and legs obeyed the mistress’ commands while her mind stayed trapped in a far corner, somehow unconnected to the rest of her body. Nothing made sense. Nothing mattered. Nothing disturbed her.
Nothing registered through any of her senses until a heavy weight pressing down on her chest made it hard to breathe. A few warm drops wet her face, like the start of a light summer drizzle. Confused, she wondered how it could be raining inside the lady’s chamber. All her sensations seemed strange but still distant. Her eyes were open but she could not see; sounds were muffled as if she had stuck wax in her ears. The barrier that had segregated her mind from her body broke completely when an intense pressure forced a fiery hot pain deep between her legs. Her eyes shot open as she cried out.
The colonel’s eyes loomed inches away from Kharla’s. His tears had been the rain she had felt. His face looked full of sorrow and pain. He said something but the gag in his mouth made his words unintelligible. Behind him, lady Vernara had her right arm around his neck-the long amazingly strong finger nails of her left hand were digging into his hip, drawing blood-while she pushed with her whole body into his back, thrusting him deeper within Kharla. It hurt so much, as if she were being split in half.
“Please stop,” she tried to push him … them off.
And all the memories of what had happened in the past few hours, all that she had done under the lady’s influence, surged back into her consciousness. The sounds and images were overwhelming but the thing that resonated in her despairing mind was Sheppard’s plea for help in getting the knife. Lady Vernara had to be stopped. Kharla had finally reached the limit of endurance for what was supposed to be bonded servitude, but had really turned into slavery. She was now prepared to risk her life for a chance to escape. What she had seen of Sheppard gave her some hope that he might be her best chance for freedom. In the midst of the pain and the horrible memories of how she had gotten in this position, her mind locked on the need to reach that knife.
She pushed away the vivid images of mindlessly carving up Sheppard’s back with the knife. She couldn’t lose herself in the guilt of that now. Instead she concentrated her efforts on reaching with her left hand to feel around the sheets where she thought she had dropped the knife when she had been ordered to get the semi-conscious man a drink. She kept her eyes on lady Vernara to make sure that she wouldn’t notice her movements. The lady seemed lost in the bestial bliss she experienced hammering into Sheppard. The reverberations of her wild ride pounded Kharla despite his effort to hold his body as still as possible. It felt like she was being simultaneously ripped apart and stomped by a wild beast.
Finding the knife on the bed just by touch alone was very difficult. Finally, something sharp nicked her finger. Trying not to cut herself again, she worked her fingers up the blade to reach the carved handle. She hid her movements under her legs which were spread wide and bent at the knees.
She saw that Vernara had tightened her choke hold on Sheppard. He struggled to breathe as she thrust in and out of him with that unnatural thing she had strapped to her hips. Her free hand roamed his body, sliding on the sweat and blood now coating him. She punctuated some of her pushes by biting his shoulders, moaning in pleasure whenever he shuddered or gasped in pain.
The pain in Kharla’s core had dulled to a constant throb, making it easier for her to concentrate on stealthily handling the knife. Unable to see her own hand, she positioned the hilt against her waist and slid it down and up until she felt the knife touch the binding that held Sheppard’s right wrist to his side. She glanced up to confirm that Vernara continued to be distracted. She tried to keep her aim steady as she cut the rope. She slipped a few times, cutting herself and mostly Sheppard. His eyes and the garbled sounds he made urged her on.
When she cut through the last filament of rope, Sheppard snatched the knife from her hand. He moved so fast-all Kharla could do was put down her legs to give him room to maneuver. In one smooth move he stabbed the lady near her waist, loosening her strangle hold on him. He pulled out of Kharla and cut the rope binding his left hand to his own body. Bleeding and weakly shouting for the guards, Vernara grabbed Sheppard from behind and tried to wrestle the knife from him. He flipped her off his back onto his right side and stilled her movements with his upper body. No longer completely pinned down, Kharla wanted to move out of the way but her left leg was still trapped under Sheppard’s. He covered Vernara’s mouth with one hand to smother her calls for help. She briefly fought back by digging her fingers into his wounded arm and then she went limp.
Panting to catch his breath, Sheppard moved away from Kharla and Vernara’s now still body. He pulled off the gag from his mouth and then twisted himself to cut through the ankle and then the harness restraints. Kharla noticed the ugly lash marks crisscrossing his ravaged back, the deeper ones oozing fresh blood. The bandage on his arm was once again soaked red. By the speed at which the stain spread she judged that several of her careful stiches had been torn. Seemingly unperturbed by his numerous injuries, he moved around the room with a purpose. From the floor, he grabbed the black garments that Vernara had stripped off him earlier and he quickly retied the sides. He then cut off the leather jocks and harness from his body and put on the pants.
Kharla’s eyes drifted back to Vernara’s lifeless body sprawled on the bed next to her. Blood from the knife wound had pooled on her stomach, below that the manhood-shaped wooden abomination stuck out at an angle, the belts holding it in place had shifted in the struggle. Feeling her gorge rise up to her mouth, Kharla rolled off the bed and crouched on the floor to vomit the small amount of food she had eaten that day.
Between heaves, she saw Sheppard cover the body with the bedspread. Eyes averted from her naked form, he handed her some wash cloths and the slip she had been wearing before.
“Kharla, I am so sorry it took me so long to stop her,” she heard the guilt drenching his words. She wanted to let him know that she didn’t, she couldn’t blame him but she couldn’t find her voice. It had been her own fault or at least her body’s for mindlessly obeying the lady’s commands and doing those cruel things to Sheppard and, in the end, to herself.
He continued speaking softly, “I know what happened is horrible but we don’t have time now. Do you know if the guards are close enough to have heard her?”
At those chilling words, Kharla snapped out of her self-destructive introspection. If her heart had been beating quickly before, now it thumped on overdrive with fear for what would happen if they were caught.
“It’s late at night, so two of her personal guards should be in the back chamber taking their sleep turn,” she said. “Chauncer should be at his post outside in the hallway. The walls and door are thick. Maybe, … maybe he didn’t hear.”
Her optimistic words were proven wrong by a knock on the door. Eyes wide, she looked at Sheppard for direction on what to do.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Wait until I get into position next to the door and then tell him to come in,” Sheppard said as he quietly moved toward the entrance, armed only with Vernara’s knife.
Go back to Chapters 1& 2
Title: This Never Happened to Captain Kirk
Chapter: 10 of 13+ (a change of POV in this chapter--comments welcome if anyone is reading this)
Chapter word count: 1573
Pairings: Sheppard/Teyla (be patient)
Genre: Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, explicit, violence
Disclaimer: SGA characters and tv episodes/book plots are not mine. I wrote this story for fun not profit.
Note: The story is set post-season five in a sort of AU between book two (The Lost) and book three (Allegiance) of the Legacy Series of SGA novels (which I definitely recommend) written by Joe Graham, Amy Griswold and Melissa Scott. Story has some minor spoilers for these books.
Summary: With little hope for rescue, Sheppard must find a way to escape before his captor maims him, kills him or brakes him with her unwanted attention. Will Sheppard find his way back to Atlantis? Will this hellish experience affect his recently initiated relationship with Teyla?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 10
After leaving the room where she had tended the injuries to Lady Vernara’s latest male captive, Kharla had struggled to control the fear and bitterness that churned in her stomach. What the lady was doing, what they were all doing helping her felt so wrong. She wanted to be brave and do something to help the man. But she was too afraid for herself and for the women who had been so kind to her since her bond had been bought by the lady two months before. So she resigned herself to continuing to be the obedient servant who cleaned her lady’s messes-even messes that involved torturing and abusing handsome men.
Dutifully, she went to the lady’s study as she had been previously instructed. As soon as she entered the room, heady aromas of burning incense and pungent herbs assaulted her nose and made her dizzy. Lady Vernara made her sit on a stool and then spoke at length to her in an uncharacteristic patient tone.
“Breathe in these invigorating scents, Kharla,” she had said repeatedly. “Let them fill your lungs, in and out.”
She couldn’t remember anything about what else the lady had said or done in that room. Afterwards, Kharla’s arms and legs obeyed the mistress’ commands while her mind stayed trapped in a far corner, somehow unconnected to the rest of her body. Nothing made sense. Nothing mattered. Nothing disturbed her.
Nothing registered through any of her senses until a heavy weight pressing down on her chest made it hard to breathe. A few warm drops wet her face, like the start of a light summer drizzle. Confused, she wondered how it could be raining inside the lady’s chamber. All her sensations seemed strange but still distant. Her eyes were open but she could not see; sounds were muffled as if she had stuck wax in her ears. The barrier that had segregated her mind from her body broke completely when an intense pressure forced a fiery hot pain deep between her legs. Her eyes shot open as she cried out.
The colonel’s eyes loomed inches away from Kharla’s. His tears had been the rain she had felt. His face looked full of sorrow and pain. He said something but the gag in his mouth made his words unintelligible. Behind him, lady Vernara had her right arm around his neck-the long amazingly strong finger nails of her left hand were digging into his hip, drawing blood-while she pushed with her whole body into his back, thrusting him deeper within Kharla. It hurt so much, as if she were being split in half.
“Please stop,” she tried to push him … them off.
And all the memories of what had happened in the past few hours, all that she had done under the lady’s influence, surged back into her consciousness. The sounds and images were overwhelming but the thing that resonated in her despairing mind was Sheppard’s plea for help in getting the knife. Lady Vernara had to be stopped. Kharla had finally reached the limit of endurance for what was supposed to be bonded servitude, but had really turned into slavery. She was now prepared to risk her life for a chance to escape. What she had seen of Sheppard gave her some hope that he might be her best chance for freedom. In the midst of the pain and the horrible memories of how she had gotten in this position, her mind locked on the need to reach that knife.
She pushed away the vivid images of mindlessly carving up Sheppard’s back with the knife. She couldn’t lose herself in the guilt of that now. Instead she concentrated her efforts on reaching with her left hand to feel around the sheets where she thought she had dropped the knife when she had been ordered to get the semi-conscious man a drink. She kept her eyes on lady Vernara to make sure that she wouldn’t notice her movements. The lady seemed lost in the bestial bliss she experienced hammering into Sheppard. The reverberations of her wild ride pounded Kharla despite his effort to hold his body as still as possible. It felt like she was being simultaneously ripped apart and stomped by a wild beast.
Finding the knife on the bed just by touch alone was very difficult. Finally, something sharp nicked her finger. Trying not to cut herself again, she worked her fingers up the blade to reach the carved handle. She hid her movements under her legs which were spread wide and bent at the knees.
She saw that Vernara had tightened her choke hold on Sheppard. He struggled to breathe as she thrust in and out of him with that unnatural thing she had strapped to her hips. Her free hand roamed his body, sliding on the sweat and blood now coating him. She punctuated some of her pushes by biting his shoulders, moaning in pleasure whenever he shuddered or gasped in pain.
The pain in Kharla’s core had dulled to a constant throb, making it easier for her to concentrate on stealthily handling the knife. Unable to see her own hand, she positioned the hilt against her waist and slid it down and up until she felt the knife touch the binding that held Sheppard’s right wrist to his side. She glanced up to confirm that Vernara continued to be distracted. She tried to keep her aim steady as she cut the rope. She slipped a few times, cutting herself and mostly Sheppard. His eyes and the garbled sounds he made urged her on.
When she cut through the last filament of rope, Sheppard snatched the knife from her hand. He moved so fast-all Kharla could do was put down her legs to give him room to maneuver. In one smooth move he stabbed the lady near her waist, loosening her strangle hold on him. He pulled out of Kharla and cut the rope binding his left hand to his own body. Bleeding and weakly shouting for the guards, Vernara grabbed Sheppard from behind and tried to wrestle the knife from him. He flipped her off his back onto his right side and stilled her movements with his upper body. No longer completely pinned down, Kharla wanted to move out of the way but her left leg was still trapped under Sheppard’s. He covered Vernara’s mouth with one hand to smother her calls for help. She briefly fought back by digging her fingers into his wounded arm and then she went limp.
Panting to catch his breath, Sheppard moved away from Kharla and Vernara’s now still body. He pulled off the gag from his mouth and then twisted himself to cut through the ankle and then the harness restraints. Kharla noticed the ugly lash marks crisscrossing his ravaged back, the deeper ones oozing fresh blood. The bandage on his arm was once again soaked red. By the speed at which the stain spread she judged that several of her careful stiches had been torn. Seemingly unperturbed by his numerous injuries, he moved around the room with a purpose. From the floor, he grabbed the black garments that Vernara had stripped off him earlier and he quickly retied the sides. He then cut off the leather jocks and harness from his body and put on the pants.
Kharla’s eyes drifted back to Vernara’s lifeless body sprawled on the bed next to her. Blood from the knife wound had pooled on her stomach, below that the manhood-shaped wooden abomination stuck out at an angle, the belts holding it in place had shifted in the struggle. Feeling her gorge rise up to her mouth, Kharla rolled off the bed and crouched on the floor to vomit the small amount of food she had eaten that day.
Between heaves, she saw Sheppard cover the body with the bedspread. Eyes averted from her naked form, he handed her some wash cloths and the slip she had been wearing before.
“Kharla, I am so sorry it took me so long to stop her,” she heard the guilt drenching his words. She wanted to let him know that she didn’t, she couldn’t blame him but she couldn’t find her voice. It had been her own fault or at least her body’s for mindlessly obeying the lady’s commands and doing those cruel things to Sheppard and, in the end, to herself.
He continued speaking softly, “I know what happened is horrible but we don’t have time now. Do you know if the guards are close enough to have heard her?”
At those chilling words, Kharla snapped out of her self-destructive introspection. If her heart had been beating quickly before, now it thumped on overdrive with fear for what would happen if they were caught.
“It’s late at night, so two of her personal guards should be in the back chamber taking their sleep turn,” she said. “Chauncer should be at his post outside in the hallway. The walls and door are thick. Maybe, … maybe he didn’t hear.”
Her optimistic words were proven wrong by a knock on the door. Eyes wide, she looked at Sheppard for direction on what to do.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Wait until I get into position next to the door and then tell him to come in,” Sheppard said as he quietly moved toward the entrance, armed only with Vernara’s knife.
Go back to Chapters 1& 2