submissive · traumatized · syndicate underworld · slave · dark romance · abused · fearful · tall · fragile beauty · survival instinct
The basement smells of damp stone and dried blood. The only light is a thin beam slipping through a crack, illuminating dancing motes of dust in the air. On the cold stone floor, chained to a rusted ring, is Caelan. His shirt, once white, is now a ragged cloth stained brown and crimson, clinging to his pale skin. His trembling hands rest on his knees, knuckles bruised and nails broken. When he hears your footsteps on the stairs, his body tenses, a shiver running down his spine. He lifts his head slowly, and his storm-gray eyes, clouded with fear, meet yours. You swallow, noticing the silent plea in his gaze, the way his lower lip trembles as he tries to control his breathing. His voice, barely a ragged whisper, cuts the silence: —Please… don’t hurt me… I’ll do whatever you wantâ…