Fourth Day (4 of 6)

Breaking Free: Marsh Master Selune vows to make things right for Damion and fix what is failing in her Sanctum

'Breaking Free' Content Warning: Erotic Psychological Drama

This story contains scenes of psychological distress, dubiously consensual intimacy, emotional dependency, complex trauma recovery, and themes of power imbalance and identity reconstruction.

This story explores the fragile process of healing after long-term dehumanization, the difficulty of regaining agency, and the intimate entanglements that form in the aftermath of captivity.

Proceed with care.

"I see, I understand. It's okay, we can address this," the man says soothingly, "We don't have a replacement anal plug to give you. But we can give you some cloth and show you how to wrap it around yourself so you can keep clean."

"Okay," Damion says and averts his eyes.

The man stands and goes into a cabinet and takes out four folded cloths, then two safety pins from a drawer. He puts them down next to Damion. He unfolds one of the cloths, then folds it once another way.

"I'll show you how to wrap it around you, okay? Can you take off your pants?"

Gods oh gods oh gods I'm a fucking mess back there. He unties his pants and carefully lowers them to the floor. They're obviously covered in fecal matter on the inside rear of the pants. This is so fucking humiliating. I'm supposedly 'free' yet humiliation just comes right back and haunts me. I can't get away from it.

The man does not acknowledge the cock cage. He doesn't even look like he saw it. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up first," he says without judgment, "Step out of your pants and put them aside."

While Damion obeys, the man puts down the large cloth and pulls a smaller cloth from the cabinet. He warms the water from the faucet and soaks the cloth.

"I'm going to help clean you up, is that alright?" Damion nods.

The man starts wiping up his thighs and to his ass cheeks. Damion remembers all the times Mulsae had to clean him up after fucking him. He should be used to this by now. But it's still humiliating when the man spreads his ass cheeks and cleans up his cleft.

This man is seeing the cock cage. The piercings. The tattoos. He probably thinks he's some weirdo. But which is worse? Being perceived as a weirdo, or someone who was modified for sex and raped for two years straight?

The man tosses the cloth in a bin. He picks up the larger cloth he had already folded once. "Alright, let me show you how to wrap this around yourself. Start with this..." he proceeds to instruct Damion on wrapping it around him. It's a diaper. He's being shown how to put a fucking diaper on himself. Can my life get any worse? I've been through hell. I should know.

He's now standing there wearing a fucking diaper. He sighs.

"You probably shouldn't put these pants back on," the man picks them up, folds them and places them on the bed.

"I'm going to go get some pants from the donation bin." Damion nods. The man leaves.

Elirick knocks on the door, "Can I come in now?"

Damion rushes to keep the door shut, "No! Please wait. He's coming back with something."

"Okay! I'll be right here!"

Damion sighs. They say Selune and the counselor will help me, but the pain just won't stop. It keeps coming and coming. I wouldn't have this pain if Mulsae was taking care of me. If I still were with Mulsae.

The man comes back carrying pants and a shirt, "I noticed your shirt is ripped, so I figured you'd like a new one."

"Thank you," he is so relieved.

Damion takes the pants and puts them on. Then he takes his shirt off and tosses it in the trash bin, and grabs the other shirt and puts it on. Welp, this man has seen everything of me. I've been completely exposed to him. He snags the prior pants and also throws them in the trash bin.

Damion looks down on himself. He clearly looks like he's wearing something bulky under his pants. Fuuuuuck. His shoulders sink in defeat.

"Here are three more cloths to take with you," the man places a hand on the small folded pile, "You can wash and dry them as needed until you can get another anal plug." Damion nods.

The man smiles, "I think that's everything. Is there anything else?"

"No... Thanks for your help. And... for not being... judgmental. All of this," he gestures up and down his body, "None of it was consensual."

"Oh. Oh my. I'm so sorry."

Damion nods. What else is there to say?

The man looks sympathetic and puts a hand on Damion's shoulder, "Good luck with everything." Damion nods. The man leaves.

Elirick knocks, "Okay if I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," Damion sits back on the bed.

Elirick comes in. She clearly notices the new pile of white folded cloths. But she fortunately doesn't say anything.

Elirick sits down, "Now it's time to wait for the escort." Damion nods.

There is silence between them. Damion is just so upset that he needs a diaper now. He's going to walk around with a diaper. And it's noticeable through his pants. Fuck!

Elirick breaks the silence and attempts to restart the conversation, "So! While we're waiting for said escort, let's go back to what we were talking about earlier. You were saying that society didn't help you when you were very young. Where did you sleep back then?"

"I made a tent from discarded tent materials."

"Quite clever for being so young! What did you eat?"

"Oh, the Hearthhold did feed all of us... I guess I got some help."

"You got some help. But you certainly deserved more help," she says soothingly, "You deserved help then, and you deserve help now."

"Why? I'm just a lowborn bastard."

"What does being lowborn or a bastard have anything to do with what you deserve?"

"Because lowborn bastards are entitled to absolutely nothing, not even decency."

"That is not true! We're all deserving of care no matter how we are born!"

Damion's lips part in surprise. "No matter how we're born?"

"How you're born is the last thing that should ever be used to evaluate worth. How we behave as adults is the most important."

"I... I don't know what to do with that concept. It flies in the face of everything I was taught in Scaldmere."

"You're not in Scaldmere. You're here, in the Marsh Sanctum where we believe everyone is deserving of help no matter who they are," she says with sincerity. Damion looks at her in surprise.

There's a knock on the door. It's a Sylvaran man. "Damion?"

"I'm Damion."

The man smiles widely, "I'm Kiramen. I'm here to escort you to Marsh Master Selune."

"I guess our time together has ended, Damion," Elirick says with a bittersweet smile.

"Thanks for staying with me. It really helped," Damion says bashfully.

"It was my pleasure. I enjoyed talking to you," she stands up, "Good luck with everything, Damion," with a last parting smile she leaves.

"Are you ready to go?" Kiramen asks.

Damion stands and picks up the folded cloths. He notices Kiramen's eyes drifted towards his crotch a moment. Fuck.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Damion follows Kiramen through the hallways. He feels like he's waddling. Yuck. Ugh. I hate this. He can't even properly appreciate the view of the escort's beautiful green feathered wings.

It doesn't take long before they're outside. There is a large, lacquered carriage blocking the way. It's gorgeous with its lotus inlays that catch the light like ripples on water.

Kiramen walks right up to the carriage, opens the door and gestures inside. Damion gawks. "We're going in that?!"

"Yes, is there a problem?" Kiramen looks concerned.

"No, no. I just, it's just, it's so... so much."

"It'll be alright. Come on in," he holds a hand out to support Damion as he steps inside. Damion actually needed the help. His balance is off because of his wings being bound, and he's got only one arm to help himself.

Damion sits down on the luxurious seat cushion. There are equally lovely pillows to either side of him. Kiramen pops in, shuts the door and sits on the opposite side of the carriage.

"This is just... wow," Damion is stunned to be in this beautiful carriage.

Kiramen chuckles as he knocks on the wall of the carriage. It starts moving a moment later. It rocks back and forth as the wheels roll over the street.

"This is a stark contrast to what happened when I left the hospital yesterday... or rather, last night." Damion huffs a laugh at himself.

"What happened last night?"

"I was simply told I was free to go. I walked outside with no ability to fly and a broken arm and ripped up clothing."

"They didn't give you new clothes yesterday?" Damion shakes his head. "That's not right."

Damion nods, then turns it into a shrug. "It was the middle of the night. I didn't know how to get to the palace. Then as I was wandering around, bad shit happened. Then a bunch of men put me in a jail cell. Then they beat me so badly I fell unconscious and ended up back here at the hospital."

Kiramen lifts his hand to his mouth, "That is utterly awful."

"I have had a very bad day. This is my third day of freedom, and I've been fucked more ways than one," he shakes his head.

"Freedom? You weren't free before?"

"No. I was a prisoner for over two years. But then it was decided I was being treated more like a slave, so I was released."

"Wow. You've been through tough times."

"You know... It wasn't so bad with Mulsae towards the end. I've been missing him, what we had." He sighs and looks out the window.

"Mulsae the Water Master Mulsae?" Damion nods. "Wow. And you miss him?"

"Yeah. But I guess not enough. He heard what happened to me and came to the hospital earlier to make sure I was being taken care of. He offered to take me back, but I declined." Damion rubs his eyes anxiously.

"It's probably best not to go back to the person who was treating you like a slave," cautions Kiramen.

Damion huffs a laugh and rubs his neck, "Yeah. It sounds all kinds of fucked up."

The carriage slows and stops. Kiramen looks out the window, "We've arrived at Reedrest," he opens the door and exits, then helps Damion to get down the carriage steps.

"I'll take you straight to Master Selune," Kiramen says with a smile.

Damion nods and looks up at the building before them. It's a low spreading building half veiled by drifting reeds and pale lanterns. Its roof curves in two gentle tiers, each edge lined with hanging charms that chime when the wind shifts. A shallow pond curls around the front step, lilies drifting on its surface, catching moonlight or dawn mist alike. A pair of quiet guards stand at the entry path, spears grounded in the gravel. From the porch, faint light glows through reed screens, softening the shadows within. This looks like a place where silence lives.

They walk down the path, past the guards, and towards the building. The small foot bridge for the pond creaks under their feet.

They arrive at the entrance where a single guard stands beside a set of low double doors framed in pale reedwood. Delicate lotus motifs are carved into each panel, half hidden by soft drifting lantern light.

"This is Damion," Kiramen says to the guard while gesturing. "Master Selune is expecting him."

The guard inclines his head then steps forward without a word, placing one palm to each door. The panels open inward on quiet hinges, letting the quiet of the residence spill out to meet them.

They step inside into a hushed threshold chamber with smooth reed mats underfoot and pale lanterns floating in quiet pools of light. Beyond a half-open screen, Damion glimpses Selune waiting beside a shallow sunken hearth, its coals shielded by a circle of polished stone. She sits on a reed cushion, her pale robes folding around her like drifting mist. When she lifts her head, her gaze meets his calmly. She closes her book, smiles and stands.

"Damion, I'm so glad you've made it," Selune says while walking towards them. "You look battered, but clearly on the mend," she looks over Damion up and down.

"I'm better, thank you. I can't fly for two weeks, though. I'm pretty upset about that." They all frown at the news.

"Clearly, things need to be fixed in my Sanctum. We'll discuss it over dinner." Selune turns to Kiramen, "Thank you for escorting Damion. You are dismissed."

Kiramen bows to Selune then turns to Damion, "Good luck," and departs the residence.

"Please come, let's sit at the table," Selune gently ushers Damion through a carved reedwork partition where there is a table set for two. There are two smooth lacquered trays laid across a reed mat runner. Pairs of pale ceramic chopsticks rest on carved lotus holders beside each tray. A single shallow cup sits beside each set, catching the soft flicker of the small spirit-lantern placed between them. It's quiet, warm, and feels like something alive has been invited to settle between them.

Selune pulls out a chair for Damion and he sits, feeling quite intimidated. He feels he ought to know proper etiquette for a meal like this. I'm going to fuck this up. I'm just a stupid brute.

He can't help but compare all of this to Mulsae's lifestyle. They're both Sanctum Masters but live completely different types of lives. Mulsae lives alone --- not even guards! --- in neat lines and hidden edges where everything serves a purpose. Selune's world appears to be layered softness, small kindnesses, extra comforts no one asked for but that fill the silence anyway. He brushes his thumb over the extra tea cup set beside his own tray. He wonders who it's for or if it's just there because Selune likes to leave room for company, even when there isn't any.

"Damion, I want to express my sincere apologies that you have had these experiences in my Sanctum by my people." Damion dips his chin in acknowledgement.

Two attendants slip through a reed-screen door. One carries a small tray of delicate dishes: steamed greens and a root vegetable cut thinly to curl like paper scrolls. The other follows with fresh steaming water and tea leaves. Neither looks at Damion. They bow lightly to Selune, set each dish in its place, then step back behind the screen. He knows they're still there, shadows behind woven reeds, waiting for Selune's smallest gesture. Damion glances at their shadowed forms. What a shitty job. Mulsae serves and takes care of himself.

Selune lifts the steaming water off the warmer and pours it into a small clay teapot until it overflows, then continues pouring the hot water over the tray and into two tiny cups. Damion cranes his neck to see. He notices slats in the tray and the water draining through them, vanishing below.

She sets the kettle back on the warmer and places the lid on the teapot. She lifts the tiny cups and tips their contents over the pot, then empties the whole pot over a small lotus statue on the tray. What the hell...?

She opens the teapot again, pours in fresh steaming water, and this time it doesn't overflow. She sets the lid back, closes her eyes, smiles, breathes in the rising steam, then pours the new brew into a small serving pitcher, raising the pot as she pours so a long gentle stream flows through the air down into the pitcher. Pretty. He notices not a single drop of water flows out of place.

She fills one tiny cup from the pitcher and offers it to Damion. He hesitates, painfully aware how clumsy his hands feel against porcelain this thin. He accepts with both palms open anyway, praying he won't drop it.

Selune watches him expectantly. He takes a careful sip and the soothing warmth settles his chest. Only then does she pour a cup for herself and raise it to her lips with a small, satisfied nod.

"May you please tell me everything that has happened since you left the summit?" She begins.

Continue reading: Fourth Day (5 of 6)
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