The Great Escape I

In the first few years, all was as it should be according to Vasille. He was her light who shone through the windows of the small confined space when she woke. He was her darkness who punished her with long, deliberate torment when she disobeyed. The man was her everything, and if she displeased him she was left with nothing. Ysorrowen learned quickly that there was a hidden part of her which had been lying dormant until he had woken her and showed her the way. His way.

She would never willingly utter the words aloud, but she knew deep down in her very core that it was his smile which lit a slow burning fuse that traveled through her veins and left her hot, wanton, weak. His hand, though cruel as it often was, offered comfort when she needed it most. He helped her understand that she was created just for him, that she would be nothing without him, and serving him - giving into his every whim - completed her and pleased him.

Only once she fully understood and accepted those things did she find she did, indeed, crave the life he gave her - there was no pleasure without pain. There was no purpose to her world without him. As he said to her many times, there was no other life before him. Ysorrowen was enthralled. She felt loved, cared for and, most importantly, desired. She vowed to do everything in her power to bring a smile to that mouth that could cut her to the quick, or could bring about the most intense pleasure she ever experienced. He was beautiful, even at his ugliest he shone bright like no other star in her sky.

Yssie's chair was very close to his own while she watched him eat. The smallest of smiles played on his lips, and it was that tiny movement that caused something within her to stir. She dropped her gaze to his hand, mesmerized, watching his fingers manipulate the cutlery, bringing the chunk of meat to his lips. He chewed, eyes on her, and she was breathless and hungry for what only a Master could give his slave when he was done. But first she must eat. He insisted on it, and she sat up with a refined grace, leaning in toward him. Her eyes never leaving his as she accepted each bite he offered her.

After dinner, he bathed her and massaged the most exquisite oils into her skin, then ran that which lingered on his fingertips through her hair. She was his, he reminded her before, during, and after he fucked her. And she was. And when he was done, he carried her into her room and chained her there as was customary, leaving her to sleep. Slumber wrapped around her like a heavy steel anchor refusing to let go, dragging her down into the deepest rest.

She heard her name urgently called across the small space in which she slept, and she awoke with a start. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she scrambled to sit up and fully waken. Had she overslept? Had something happened? Did she move fast enough to please him? She knew what the price would be if she hadn't. But when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she spotted the source of the voice and saw his face - her friend, the former lover, the priest.

"Alteric," she questioned, her voice faltering, confusion setting in her gaze. His name, once so dear to her, was now foreign on her lips.

"Keep quiet, Ysorrowen," he replied into the dark, and stepped closer. He was dressed in his usual garb. It was comforting and startling all at once.

He was as she remembered him. Handsome, tall, honest, kind. He had such a nice face. Once upon a time she would have trusted him with her life. The first bit of memory he brought with him began to slowly trickle into her head. It was too much though, causing her to close her eyes and cover her ears with her hands. "No, no, it cannot be," it was desperately said as she opened her eyes again to peer at him.

He knelt down beside her, reaching through the bars to touch her. His touch jarred her, it stung. It had been so very long since another man had been in her presence, much less touched her. Vasille was very careful to ensure he was her entire world and taught her that without him it would crumble. Ysorrowen pulled away though she knew not why.

The priest looked stunned, but he retracted his hand and let her be. "Yssie, are you well?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" she murmured automatically, dropping her hands. "Why are you here? After all this time, why do you come to me?" Her eyes held his in accusation before wandering to the only door in the room. She expected the warlock to come busting through that night, but he never came. "You should go, Alteric. Before he finds you, you should take your leave."

"I won't leave you now that I found you, Yssie," he said matter-of-factly, watching her in her cage. The thought of abandoning her caused his stomach to turn. All things considered, she looked well and unharmed even though she was chained like an animal and trapped behind iron bars.

How cruel, he bitterly thought, knowing that the iron would burn her faerie flesh if she were to touch it.

Her fingers twisted in the sheets. "He will kill you if he finds you here." It was said without malice. It was said without any emotion at all.

"Ysorrowen, listen, we need to get you out of here," he said, ignoring her warning. "Is there anything you need to bring with you?"

She blinked at him, "I am where I should be, Alteric. It is you who shouldn't be here."

His mouth set into a firm line as he stood and looked around the room. The warlock was heartless, he knew, but this was beyond what he imagined. The room Ysorrowen was kept in was beautifully decorated, but she slept in a small cage that did not even allow her to stand. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, frustrated at the scene. "Fine, Yssie, we will leave at once and can replace anything you may need once things have settled," he said almost absently as his eyes still traveled the room.

"But I don't want to leave," the small voice said with a sprinkling of panic. "Why would I leave," she thought frantically. "My place is here. With him."

And even as those words formed in her head and slipped over her tongue, there was a familiar internal voice, one that had been stifled long ago, chiding her, "Are you certain?"