Before, During, After
Title: Before, During, After
Pairing: Lord Beckett/OFC (Becky)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Most hated her blank look and the sterile, mechanical routine of her movements, but these only excited the Lord. He wanted to see how much she could take. He wanted to make her scream."
Before, during, after
She was walking swiftly through the dark corridors. It had been that scarred faced man who had let her in. She couldn’t bother to remember his name. He knew hers and always greeted her by name. His voice seemingly polite but dripping with loathing as he snarled at the Miss. She always ignored the undeserved title. He hadn’t offered to accompany her. She knew the way.
The sound of her steps unbearably loud on the staircase. Mirroring the wild beating of her heart. She wished she was already in the carpeted office that would swallow both sounds. She would be calm then, as usual.
Cold terror before, complete indifference during, nothing after.
Most hated her blank look and the sterile, mechanical routine of her movements, but these only excited the Lord. He wanted to see how much she could take. He wanted to make her scream. She was only called when he was angry, when he needed to hurt someone. There were others, prettier, more skilled, simply better. He didn’t desire her, and she wasn’t surprised. He only wanted her pain. Her screams. He was said to be a great tactician, who always knew how best to use others, so he must have known all he could take from her was this. And he took great pleasure in doing so.
She didn’t mind. She couldn’t care less abut the bruises and the cuts, the limping and the pain. He paid well and it spared her the tiresome fight for customers for at least some nights. Deep down she was as bored with Lord Beckett as with all the rest of it. Nothing he did could truly get to her. It was only her body he abused. That was nothing compared to seeing her little brother step into her footsteps, and even that had lost its poisonous sting by now. Everything can turn into dull routine with time.
Lord Beckett sensed, of course, that her screams didn’t mean anything, so he went farther and farther. He could be very imaginative. One day he would either grow tired of her or kill her in his need to truly wound her.
And as she gently knocked on the door, waiting for the hard, cruel voice from inside, she faintly wondered which she would prefer.
.
Pairing: Lord Beckett/OFC (Becky)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Most hated her blank look and the sterile, mechanical routine of her movements, but these only excited the Lord. He wanted to see how much she could take. He wanted to make her scream."
Before, during, after
She was walking swiftly through the dark corridors. It had been that scarred faced man who had let her in. She couldn’t bother to remember his name. He knew hers and always greeted her by name. His voice seemingly polite but dripping with loathing as he snarled at the Miss. She always ignored the undeserved title. He hadn’t offered to accompany her. She knew the way.
The sound of her steps unbearably loud on the staircase. Mirroring the wild beating of her heart. She wished she was already in the carpeted office that would swallow both sounds. She would be calm then, as usual.
Cold terror before, complete indifference during, nothing after.
Most hated her blank look and the sterile, mechanical routine of her movements, but these only excited the Lord. He wanted to see how much she could take. He wanted to make her scream. She was only called when he was angry, when he needed to hurt someone. There were others, prettier, more skilled, simply better. He didn’t desire her, and she wasn’t surprised. He only wanted her pain. Her screams. He was said to be a great tactician, who always knew how best to use others, so he must have known all he could take from her was this. And he took great pleasure in doing so.
She didn’t mind. She couldn’t care less abut the bruises and the cuts, the limping and the pain. He paid well and it spared her the tiresome fight for customers for at least some nights. Deep down she was as bored with Lord Beckett as with all the rest of it. Nothing he did could truly get to her. It was only her body he abused. That was nothing compared to seeing her little brother step into her footsteps, and even that had lost its poisonous sting by now. Everything can turn into dull routine with time.
Lord Beckett sensed, of course, that her screams didn’t mean anything, so he went farther and farther. He could be very imaginative. One day he would either grow tired of her or kill her in his need to truly wound her.
And as she gently knocked on the door, waiting for the hard, cruel voice from inside, she faintly wondered which she would prefer.
.