Third Day (3 of 4)

Breaking Free: Damion tries to rebuild piece by piece but discovers freedom brings sharp edges he can’t yet survive alone

'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.

Damion pulls up his pants then slowly bends over to grab the anal plug off the floor. He rinses the plug under the icy tap, his hands shaking. He hates the dirty soap smell but endures it anyway. He needs to put it back in or he'll ruin his only pair of pants.

He finishes washing it then bends over and pulls down his pants. He slowly presses the anal plug back in. But no oil, and his hole is sore from abuse. He doesn't want to ruin his pants, though, so he endures. That's what he's good at: enduring. He presses, and groans, and wiggles, and whimpers, and thrusts. He's at it for awhile, but it pops back in. He sighs. He's exhausted.

He pulls his pants up and sees that they've been ripped. Fuuuuuck! Godsdamnit. He clenches the sink in front of him and seethes. Now I have to get another fucking pair of pants.

His anger passes and he stumbles out of the bathroom and back to the bar. The bartender sees him, "I was getting worried you bailed on me."

"No, I'm here. Let me pay," he stumbles onto the stool but it hurts his ass so he stands. The bartender hands him the bill.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Damion takes a chance.

"No, you can't have a loan."

"No no, I have money," he takes out his coin purse and dumps the coins, "Can you just tell me what each of these coins mean?"

"You don't know how much they're worth?" He narrows his eyes at Damion.

"No. I'm new," he blushes.

"New to all of Harmura?"

"Most of it, yeah, you could say that," he sighs, "Can you please tell me?"

The bartender shrugs, "This is one, five, you don't have a ten, and this one is worth twenty."

"Okay, thank you so much," Damion is relieved. He counts out the coins based on what the bartender just taught him and pushes forward the amount, "Did I get it right?"

"Yeah, I was watching you. You got it right," he says with a jerk of his chin.

Damion scoops the rest of the coins into his coin purse, "Thank you, and thanks for the recommendation."

"Good luck," the bartender says as Damion stumbles away, "Looks like you need it."

Fucking understatement, Damion thinks as he stumbles out the door.

He's bombarded with the bright light of late afternoon. I still have so much of this day to get through. Days to get through. A whole life to get through. Fuck.

Damion blinks bleary eyes at the sun then unfurls his wings and leaps into the sky. He tries to make the turn towards the palace complex but his wing positioning is off and instead veers awkwardly. He becomes disoriented from not being where he expected to be, his drunkenness compounds the disorientation, and his attempt at a correction is an utter failure.

His wings lose lift and he begins free falling. He twists and tumbles trying to get back into proper orientation, but he just isn't high enough, and the ground is coming quickly. He crashes into the street.

He just lays there a moment trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. He eventually tries to stand up and uses his right arm but it collapses under him and he smashes his face into the street once again. His arm is screaming in pain.

Fuck, my wings! He's landed on the right one. He rolls off of it and raises it up. It hurts so fucking bad. He can't even get a full assessment because it's just flooded with pain. Fuuuuuck! He starts to panic. His panting becomes deep and fast but less and less air is getting in. Razorblades start to fill his lungs.

Someone crouches down next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "We've called for help," she says, "Just stay still, we've called for help."

He sees shadows of multiple people standing around him. Fuuuuuck.

The razorblades in his lungs are becoming the dominant problem. He needs to calm down. Fuck. Where is Mulsae's voice when I need him? Fuck fuck fuck. Breath in, breath out, breath in, out. Where the fuck is Mulsae?

The original person leaves and two more people crouch down next to him. "We're here to help you. We're going to take you to the hospital, okay?" Damion nods.

"Okay, I'm going to move your left wing." Damion jumps and pulls the wing in tight before anyone touches it. Pain screams through him.

A long narrow platform is placed to his left. "We're going to help you crawl over onto the stretcher and then lay you down on it, okay?" Damion nods. They support his shoulders as he carefully crawls the short distance to the stretcher. He lays down on his stomach.

"We need to fold your right wing so you can fit into the wagon," someone touches his wing as they spoke the warning and Damion jumps again and tries to retract his right wing. But it won't go. Someone is touching his wing and moving it. No no no! He tries to crawl away from whoever it is.

"You need to stay on the stretcher," he gets caged on the other side by someone preventing him from getting away from the one manipulating his wing. He struggles and then they stop touching his wing. He sighs in relief.

"I think that's closed enough. He's clearly sensitive about his wings," the one on the right says.

The stretcher suddenly lifts and moves. It rocks with their steps. They reach another platform and he is slid on top. His wing touches something but it folds easily by whatever it is his wing is brushing against.

Then he's moving again. It's bumpy and he rocks side to side. The jostling hurts a bit. He rides like this for awhile and then they stop. Damion is relieved. It was an awful ride.

His stretcher is pulled off the larger platform. He's carried into a building. They walk him into a room and raise the stretcher so it is level with a high bed.

"We need you to crawl onto this bed here, okay?" Damion nods and works on shifting over to the bed while someone helps him.

Someone touches his right wing. He jumps and almost falls off the bed. "I need to assess your wing," she says sternly. She touches his wing again and he flinches again, barely hanging on the bed.

She gets into Damion's face, "You need to calm down!"

"I'm trying to," Damion croaks. He shifts back to the center of the bed while the female rounds the table. She touches his wing again, and he jumps again.

"I can't deal with this shit." And then he is alone.

I want Mulsae...

Damion buries his face into the mattress. What the fuck have I gotten myself into.

The same female voice calls into the room, "Can you at least tell me your name?"

"Damion," he says hoarsely as loudly as he can to meet the apparent distance of the voice asking the question.

"What type of Windborne are you?" the voice calls again.

Damion gulps, but answers honestly, "Emberai."

The door to his room slams shut.

He's alone for a long time. He can hear that people keep walking back and forth near the door, but no one comes in. He's alone. Again.

Have they forgotten me? Are they scared of me? Should I try to leave? He tries to sit up, but his right arm is useless and the right wing won't retract. He flops back down on the bed.

His mind drifts as he waits alone. Mulsae was always a great comfort. Damion could really use that comfort now. He was a good lover. Not even comparable to the man from the bar. His asshole aches. He hasn't had to deal with an achy asshole in over a year. Mulsae has been careful with him.

A calming power washes over Damion. He recognizes it. It's familiar. He felt it during the summit with the Sanctum Masters.

The door opens and the power intensifies. A familiar voice says, "Damion, I'm going to help you. Everything will be okay." It's Marsh Master Selune's voice.

"He just will not calm down. I can't get near him," that same woman's voice says with disdain.

"It's okay, I'll take care of him," Selune says soothingly.

The woman scoffs and mutters to herself as she departs.

The door gently shuts with a soft snick. "I'm Master Selune, do you remember me?" She drags a stool over to sit in Damion's line of sight. Just looking at her is soothing. Her grey eyes are mesmerizing.

Damion nods, "You ran the summit."

"Yes, I did," she says like music on the wind, "I've brought a healer. Her name is Sylunei. She's going to take an assessment of your injuries." She looks up at the person outside of Damion's line of sight and nods.

"Damion, I'm going to assess your right wing," says the other woman, "I'm going to touch it, okay?" Damion nods.

"I'm going to touch it now," and gentle fingers rest on his wing. Gradually more pressure is added until the healer has a light grip on the edge of the wing. "You're doing great, Damion. I'm going to open the wing now." She slowly pulls it open. Damion hisses from the pain.

Soothing energy flows from the healer's hands. "You have fractures in several places, pulled muscles, broken feathers, and abrasions all across the back," she places a gentle hand on Damion's back, "But everything will be okay. You will have a full recovery and fly again." Tension melts away from Damion's muscles.

"I'm going to inspect the left wing. Can you open it?" Damion unfurls the left wing. "I'm going to run my hands over it to assess it, okay?" Damion nods. Soothing energy flows across the wing. "You've only pulled some muscles. It will be fine by the end of the day."

"I'm going to assess your body now. I'm going to assess your feet and work up to your head, okay?" Damion nods.

Soothing energy enters his feet and goes up his calves to his knees, "You have a major contusion on your right knee," the energy continues up his thigh and over his buttocks. The healer pauses there and then the energy stops. The healer walks around the table and taps on Selune's shoulder. They switch places so the healer now is face to face with Damion. She has tanned skin, light brown hair, and wings of green with azure tips.

"Damion, you have significant tearing in your anal canal that is fresh. Did something happen to you today?" The healer says softly without judgment. Damion shrugs.

"Is it why you had the accident?" Damion shakes his head.

Where is Mulsae and his telepathic powers? Damion doesn't want to speak out loud. He doesn't want to say it.

"Did someone hurt you?" The healer asks softly. Selune gently puts a hand on the healer's shoulder.

Damion sighs then nods his head.

"Master Mulsae is in the Fire Sanctum, so I imagine it was someone else?" says Selune.

Damion nods, then musters up the will to speak, "A man... at a tavern."

"Did you know him?" Damion shakes his head.

"What's the name of the tavern?" Damion shrugs.

Selune crouches so she's eye level with Damion, "I'm going to look into it, okay? What he did is illegal here. You don't need to be involved, just know that I will do what I can to prevent him from harming anyone else, okay?" Damion nods. His eyes line with silver.

"Okay. And secondly," the healer resumes, "Your anal sphincter muscle is stretched to unhealthy levels."

Selune drags over another stool and sits next to the healer, "Is this what Master Mulsae did to you?" Damion nods. The tear finally falls.

"We can work with you to help restrengthen those muscles. Would you like that?" Damion nods.

"I also sense there is something wrapped around your penis," the healer asks, "Would you like it removed?" Damion nods.

"Alright, let's move on to assessing the rest of your body. It looks like you should be able to sit up for me, can you try it?" Damion nods. He lifts himself up with his left arm and twists his legs over the edge of the bed so he's sitting facing Selune and the healer.

"I'm going to assess your torso and chest area," the healer stands, brings her hands up and soothing energy flows through, "Your liver is bruised," moves up to his chest, "Three ribs are fractured in the right side."

"Okay, I'm going to do your arms now. Hold up your right arm." Damion holds it up and grimaces. Her soothing energy flows through his arm, "Your wrist and elbow are fractured."

"Left arm." Damion lowers the right arm and raises the left. "This arm is good," the healer says after her assessment.

"Lastly, your neck and head," she brings her hands up and sweeps them across his head, "Your right eye socket is fractured and you have abrasions on the right side of your face."

The healer looks up at Damion with a kind face. Not smiling, not frowning. Just simple kindness.

"You'll make a full recovery. Most we can have healed by tonight. Your arm and wing will take a few days. And your sphincter will take a few months of physical therapy." Damion nods.

"I want to remove what is wrapped around your penis now, is that okay?"

Damion shakes his head. "It's enchanted to not come off," Damion says in a soft hoarse voice.

"May I evaluate it?" Damion nods. "Please lay on your back and lower your pants." Damion gingerly moves his right wing around so he can maneuver to lay on his back and shoves his pants down.

The healer looks at the cock cage. She runs her soothing hands over the area. "You may pull your pants back up," she says as she sits back on the stool. Damion pulls his pants up.

"I feel that a Mountain Seal is present. That is beyond my capability to break," the healer says solemnly.

Selune speaks up, "Don't despair," she places a soothing hand on Damion's arm, "I will look for someone who has experience breaking Mountain Seals. But, I must warn you, that Mountain Seals are notoriously difficult to break. We may have to wait until Heaven Master Halion is done with the Fire Sanctum so he can personally break it." Damion nods, but doesn't let the concept of hope enter his mind.

The healer stands, "I'm going to send in three healers to work on you, okay?" Damion nods.

"Everything is going to be alright, Damion. We'll take care of you," Selune smiles gently then she and the healer leave the room and close the door behind them.

Damion is alone again.

He sighs deeply. He can't even go a full day of freedom without getting raped and hurting himself. What the fuck is wrong with me? Stupid.

He stares at the ceiling thinking about how monumentally stupid he is when the door opens and a stout dark woman walks in. "I'm here to heal your knee, arm, and ribs." Damion nods.

She repeats the gentle scan, then sends a deeper magic flooding through him. He closes his eyes, lets the warmth pool in every bone.

"I've done what I can for your arm. Take it easy with it for three days," she goes through a drawer and pulls out an arm sling, "I want you to wear this for three days, okay?" Damion nods. The healer helps Damion put on the arm sling.

She finishes up and then bids her farewell to him and leaves.

He's fortunately not alone for too long when the second healer arrives. Tall and black with white eyes. "I'll be healing your internal injuries and head today," he smiles sweetly. Damion nods. The same routine occurs and Damion enjoys the wonderful soothing sensations of being healed.

"I'm sure you'll have a full recovery. Have a good evening," he smiles kindly again and leaves.

Damion sighs and waits. Alone. It was actually really nice that he was always at Mulsae's side. He's becoming acutely aware that he hates being alone.

He already feels better at least. He can breathe easier.

Continue reading: Third Day (4 of 4)
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