The Apsaras Series 3:   



                                                                                                                                                        By:  Stacy L.   



CATEGORY:  Angst, Drama, Vingette

WARNINGS:  Dark, Disturbing Imagery, Violence


COMPLETED:  November 17, 2006


AUTHOR’S NOTES:  This story serves as a response to a table fic prompt from the 50_darkfics LiveJournal challenge community.


                                                                                                               * * * *

Hearing the door to his cell creak open he braced himself knowing, sensing that his visitor had only one purpose in mind, only one reason for entering his cell and that was to punish him and to beat him into submission.


He tried to resist tensing and managing to bite back a scream as he was yanked viciously upright. He felt suddenly lightheaded from the movement and started falling back towards the floor only to be harshly ordered to hands and knees. Continuing to bite into his bottom lip he forced himself to comply trying to ignore the immense strain on his chained wrists that the position was inducing.


His next order was whispered coldly into his ear a single word he refused to comply with, “Beg.”


He shook his head earning himself a brunt blow across the back that jarred his entire being, again the voice came back to him demanding, “BEG ME!”


This time he didn’t even respond releasing a low grunt as another harsh blow was applied to his back. The voice grew colder as the owner of it sneered, “Beg me and I will pardon you for the evening.”


He refused to respond grunting louder as another harsh blow came down across his back this time driving him to his elbows. He was again ordered to rise and complied tensing as a tender hand began to stroke across his back. He shuddered forcing himself to remain still knowing to move would only bring about a harsher beating then the one he would receive for his refusal to beg. He continued to bite into his bottom lip, clenching his eyes tightly shut, pushing back every instinct that told him, ordered him, to resist and to fight. As the stroking continued he nearly screamed biting back several vile curses and tensing when the evil voice repeated much closer to him now, much more seductive, “Beg me and I shall leave you for the evening. Refuse and I shall remain.”


Swallowing hard he tried to resist cringing as his tormentor blew warm breath across his ear and silently pleaded for the man to stop, refusing to voice the words his captor no doubt wanted to hear. He resisted yanking away as the man continued to caress his back as if he were attempting to soothe a frightened child…or stroke a wayward lover.


He mentally snapped at himself not to be afraid reminding himself that they had never crossed that line merely skirted the edge of it pushing just enough to frighten, to intimidate but never taking it to the next level. He counted himself among one of the lucky, for he had thus far been spared such extreme degradation. He had often wondered why, certain that some of the guards went passed the line with other prisoners, but they hadn’t done so with him. It confused him and made him slightly curious, but he knew he was not above such extremes of torture and punishment for that was one of the fastest, quickest ways to gain control of most people: to use them without their permission, to abuse them and degrade them by raping them and stripping them to the very core all for the sole purpose of gaining full and complete control over them, of gaining it AND maintaining it.


He had been spared but didn’t understand why. In some ways that comforted him, in other ways it scared him because he didn’t know, would never know when or if his captors would cross that particular line with him. Each time the guards chose to toy with him, to make him feel intimidated and threatened had the potential to lapse quickly from physical abuse into sexual assault and perhaps, perhaps that’s why they chose not to cross the line: to keep him off balance, to keep him leery and uncertain. Perhaps in doing so they maintained more control over him than he dared to release. Whatever the reason he was repeatedly spared from such a debasement…and he would never know if it was because he was just lucky or if it was because someone was actually watching over him…


                                                                                                               * * * *

They left shortly after that disappointed that their attempts to intimidate met again with failure, and as he settled once again to the floor falling rapidly into an exhausted sleep Shekinah gently stroked his hair. As he calmed further beginning to dream she promised him he would never be exposed to such brutality, for he had already suffered too much. As she made that promise to him she gently kissed his cheek then vanished. Her work here was momentarily finished. It was now time for another to visit him...



AUTHOR’S NOTE 2:  Shekinah is a female angel of liberation and freedom.  She is always close to humankind and inspires mortals to be just and fair.  She is especially healing of body, mind and spirit.







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