Third Day (4 of 4)
Breaking Free: Damion’s first day of freedom ends in another cell, chained by the same helplessness that no door unlocks
'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.
The third healer comes in and announces she's here for his wings. She's a Sylvaran Windborne who looks old. She must be over a thousand to look as old as she does.
"Please turn to your stomach." Damion sits up and gingerly rotates so his unfurled right wing doesn't hit anything then lays on his stomach.
"I'm going to touch your wing now," and then that soothing energy flows through him once again. The healer diligently works her way through every bone and joint. She does both wings and now the left wing feels perfect. The healer folds the right wing and binds it in some gauze.
"The right wing will take one week to heal."
Damion eyes go as wide as saucers. "I can't fly for a whole week?!"
"Unfortunately, yes. Keep the gauze on the wing for the whole week, then remove it. If you experience any pain come right back here, okay?" Damion nods. Fuck. I don't even have a pair of shoes to walk in.
"You are all set then!" She smiles with calm glee, "You'll have a full recovery. You are free to go when you are ready. Have a good evening." And with that, she disappears out the door.
Damion sighs and stands up. He's a little achy but the healers did a great job. He walks out of the room and looks around. Where's the exit? He wanders the bright hallways, bare feet whispering on the stone. There’s no Mulsae to lead him now. Just himself amongst a thousand doors he doesn’t know how to open. He wanders until the air shifts cool against his skin: the exit. He steps through it alone.
He walks out to the street and has no idea where he is. He sighs. He can't fly and get oriented aerially.
Well, he thinks, the palace is on the east side of the city. I might as well go east. He looks around. Where is east? The sun has long since set. He sighs and starts putting one bare foot in front of the other.
He decides to chance asking for directions. The man looks him up and down and harrumphs as he walks away. Damion sighs again. He must look a sight. A wing wrapped in gauze. Bruised eye. Arm in a sling. Ripped shirt. Ripped pants. And no shoes. Fuck.
Where is Mulsae? He promised to help if I needed it, and right now I need help. He sighs deeply. Mulsae would help me if I had any means to get in touch with him. So many people assured me I'd have help, and yet here I am, lost in a strange city in the middle of the night. Fuck.
He's wandering in a random direction hoping for some sign of the palace complex when a woman stops him and asks if he needs help. Her hand cups his elbow in a gentle touch.
"Yes," he almost starts crying from relief, "I'm trying to find the palace. Do you know which direction it is?"
"Why are you looking for Reedrest in the middle of the night?" she asks cautiously.
"I have a room there," Damion explains.
"I see. Why don't I help you. Come walk with me," she says soothingly. Oh thank the gods. I have help and I don't have to be alone.
"What's your name?" she asks softly.
"Damion."
She smiles radiantly, "It's nice to meet you, Damion. My name is Izabelle." Damion smiles in return.
He walks with her and his tension dissipates. Finally he'll just get back to his room and go to sleep and end this rotten day.
She stops in front of an entrance to a building and gestures to it, "I'd like us to stop in here, okay?" Damion nods. He'd follow her anywhere as long as he doesn't have to be alone.
They go inside and she speaks with someone at the desk, "This is Damion. He's been wandering around looking for Reedrest. He says he has a room there." The woman at the desk nods.
"If you'll just have a seat over there someone will come and help you," she smiles sweetly.
Damion sits down with Izabelle. Now he's getting confused. All he needs is someone to point in a direction and he can just walk to the palace. Why does he need help getting oriented? All he needs to know is which direction is east.
A man comes and crouches in front of Damion, "Hi there, Damion. My name is Owen. Are you hungry? We can get you something to eat."
Damion hasn't eaten since yesterday and he is starving. "Now that you mention it, yeah, I really could use something to eat."
"That's great. Come with me then," he stands and holds out a hand for Damion. Odd. But, okay. He holds Owen's hand.
Owen leads him down a hallway, and Izabelle doesn't follow. "Is Izabelle joining us?"
"Don't worry, she's already eaten." Damion is very puzzled.
They're about to cross the threshold at the end of the doorless hallway when he realizes both sides have doors. His tactician training kicks in. This is a buffer zone. He's being trapped.
He freezes in place, "I'm just going to go back outside."
The doors at the far end of the hallway slam shut and a lock can be heard clicking into place. Damion yanks his hand from Owen and makes a barrel run down the hallway with the intent to burst the doors open. Owen yells for help. Damion runs at the doors at full speed and slams his left shoulder into the door. It budges, but does not break.
Damion continues slamming himself into the door trying to get it to break. Owen and two other men are running up to Damion. He tries a few more times to break the door down but then has to switch his focus to the men running up to him.
He's got one arm, but he's the superior fighter and in a narrow space they can't surround him. He crouches into a fighting position.
The men reach him and also crouch into position. They have a momentary standoff but then the lead man attacks. Damion blocks and shoves the first attacker into the second knocking them both to the ground. The third is blocked by the pile of bodies. Damion takes a chance to slam into the door again. No luck.
The men stand up and reengage. Damion uses their momentum against them, slamming them into the walls and each other every time they try to attack. Finally he grabs one, whips him around and slams him into the doors blocking his path. They burst open!
Damion jumps over the attacker he used as a battering ram and flies by the desk and out the door. He runs down the streets zig zagging through the blocks. His adrenaline wears off and exhaustion reaches him. Fuuuuuck. His good arm shakes, his lungs burn. He’s got nothing left.
Damion gives up. He's going to wait until dawn and follow the sun to the palace. He now wanders around looking for a spot out of the way so he can sleep. He finds an alcove tucked inside an alleyway and decides to curl up and sleep there. He presses his back to the cold brick. The smell of old rain and stone seeps into him. He pulls his knees tight, too tired to shiver.
Fuck. His first full day free and he gets himself fucked more ways than one. He falls asleep curled up against the brickwork. Alone.
~•~
He's poked hard in his ribs and a gruff voice says, "Get up!" Damion opens his eyes and sees five men with shields and blunt sticks all wearing the same outfit. They have him completely caged into the alcove.
He's trapped. Can he fight his way out of this? He stands up and assesses the situation. With all their shields they can easily cage him to the wall and then beat him to death.
"Turn around and put your hands on the wall," the gruff voice says.
"My arm is broken," Damion flaps the sling for emphasis.
"Then you shouldn't have assaulted three men and broke private property! Get your arm out of the sling, now!" the gruff voice gets angry.
While taking his arm out of the sling he tries to explain, "They tried to trap me. All I was trying to do was get away from them." His arm is out and the sling hangs empty from his neck.
"It's a charity for heaven's sake!" a different voice exclaims, "The worst they would have done to you is give you an uncomfortable bed!"
"How was I supposed to know that?!" Damion yells back. He almost laughs. How was he supposed to know what charity looks like? He’s never seen it. Not really.
"This isn't the place," says the gruff voice, "You don't plead your case with us. We're just here to collect you and keep the public safe from you."
"Safe from me?" Damion guffaws, "I've just been kicked while I'm down all day today."
"Turn around, put your hands on the wall," demands the gruff voice.
Damion does as ordered. One of the men gets close to his back and his breath blows across Damion's neck. Memories of what happened in the tavern bar and Mulsae taking him up against a wall flood his mind. He presses his forehead into the wall, "No, no, no, don't, please, don't, I can't take any more."
"We're taking you in," the gruff voice says loudly in his ear. Damion whimpers.
The man grabs Damion's right arm and pulls it behind him. Damion hollers from the pain, "My elbow is broken!" he yells. He's ignored and the man holds tight onto his equally broken wrist. The man grabs his other arm and pulls it behind him. He then wraps Damion's wrists with a rough scratchy rope.
The man tugs on Damion's right arm to pull him from the wall and pain shoots through the right side of his body. "Please," Damion yells, "My right arm is broken!" No one responds to him.
He's brought to a large box on wheels with horses to pull it. It's like a carriage, but just a simple bare bones box. He's thrusted inside and the doors shut. He can hear the doors being secured from the outside.
He's on his knees in the black of the box. He can't see anything. It starts to move, swaying back and forth and bumping over cobblestone. He's rocked and bumped for a ways before it stops. He can hear people milling about outside, but can't hear what they're saying.
Then there's the sound of the doors to the box being unsecured. The doors open. "Get out," demands the gruff voice. Damion rotates into a seated position then scooches himself out of the box.
The man grabs Damion's right arm again, and Damion yells out, "Please! My arm!" but no one responds.
He is roughly dragged inside and led into a cell in the corner of a room with two desks with men seated at them. There is an identical cell across from him that's empty.
"Face the wall," Damion is maneuvered to the wall. The rope is untied from his wrists. "Put your hands on the wall," the man grabs Damion's right arm and tugs it out and up to the wall. Damion moves his left hand on his own.
The man takes off Damion's coin purse and tosses it out of the cell, then runs his hands around Damion's body, pressing against everywhere. He gets down to his crotch and stops, then fondles his caged cock, "What is this?"
"A cock cage," Damion says softly.
"A what?! Okay, I need to lower your pants and inspect this," the man reaches over to the ties on Damion's pants, undoes them, and then roughly pulls down on his pants down to his ankles.
"You have tattoos literally everywhere," the man moves aside Damion's ass cheek, "Even here. Godsdamn," he remarks about the tattoo that rings Damion's asshole.
The man pokes at the base of the anal plug, "What is this?"
"An anal plug," Damion is so humiliated. Fuck.
"You can't have something up your butt in here. Against policy. You'll have to remove it." Damion hangs his head.
"Turn around. I need to inspect this 'cock cage' of yours," the man says gruffly.
Damion shuffles 180° with his pants wrapped around his ankles. The man crouches down and gets real close to Damion's crotch. Damion looks up at the ceiling and imagines nothing is happening at all.
"You gotta see this," the man announces to the room. Fuuuuuck. The two other men sitting at the desks come over.
"What the fuck?" one of them says.
The gruff man stands and says to Damion, "You'll have to take that off, too."
"I can't. I've been cursed," Damion says meekly.
"What? You can't ever take it off?"
"No," he whispers.
"I don't believe that," the gruff man crouches back down and fiddles with the cage. He pulls and yanks on it. Hard. Metal scraping skin, sharp pinches like teeth. Damion grunts with the painful tugs.
"I can't get it off, either of you want to try?" the gruff sounding man said.
"Sure, I'll figure it out." Fuuuuuck.
The other man crouches in front of Damion and tugs and yanks at his already tender area. At one point he tries to pry it off and Damion exclaims, "Ow ow ow ow ow! Please, I wasn't lying, it's cursed! Please stop!"
The man stops, frustrated and pushes against Damion's hips. With his ankles wrapped up in his pants, Damion can't balance himself and ends up falling onto his ass and smacking his head into the brick wall. Fuuucckk.
They laugh at him. The three of them just stand there and laugh. He tilts his head back against the wall and closes his eyes and wills himself to be anywhere else but here.
"Get the fuck up," growls the the gruff one. Damion struggles but manages to stand.
"Take the plug out," he demands.
Damion sighs. He crouches down and works the plug free, grimacing as he does so. He holds the anal plug out.
"That thing is disgusting," he jerks his chin to the third man, "Get a box."
The third man scampers away, then returns with a suitably sized box. He holds it out to Damion and he drops the anal plug into the box. The man puts a cover over the box. "Nasty," he mutters.
The gruff man waves his hand and the three of them leave the cell and then close and lock the door. Damion pulls his pants back up, not even bothering to tie them, and flops onto the hard mattress.
Fuck.
He's so overwhelmed he can't even think straight. He throws his arm over his eyes. Fuck. He's exhausted. Exhausted from pure humiliation.
How did I get here? I'm so stupid that within a day of being released as a prisoner I become a prisoner once again. Stupid stupid stupid. He stomps the floor in frustration.
"Hey! Settle down in there!" one of the men calls out from the desk area. Damion groans. Stupid. I can't do anything right. So stupid.
Damion falls asleep kicking himself for his stupidity. If he’s so free now, why does it feel worse?
Continue reading: Fourth Day (1 of 6)
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