Evie's Adventures

by happenstance2me

Summary:

A young healer joins the Adventurer's Guild to earn her way in the world. Faced by betrayal and misfortune at every turn, she must find a way to survive when she is sold as a slave to the Red Lantern Brothel. Will Evie manage to escape these dark times, or will she succumb to despair?

An eventual "porn with some plot" tale of a naive young woman who gets fucked (literally and metaphorically) by the world. Inspired by, and based on, u/anonekama's Prostitute's Wish - A Slave Brothel Simulator RYOA. This will contain some extremely dark elements and isn't likely to have a happy ending. Please read the tags and understand that this fic is going to be mainly violence, rape, and angst.

Please please don't read if those sorts of things bother you - be safe and take care of yourself.

Chapter 1: The Guild

The Adventurer’s Guild was bustling, filled with the hum and babble of multiple voices. The afternoon sun shone through the large windows that lined the front of the building, the wooden floors gleaming rich and golden under the light. 

Evie stood poised for flight in the entryway, a hand still on the door as she hesitated, her wide, hazel eyes taking in the sights around her. She knew times were hard across the country; the blight had caused widespread drought and famine throughout Altos, and desperate, starving people had fled for the cities in hopes of survival. People like her. She’d left her family’s small apple orchard when it became clear they weren’t going to make enough of a harvest to pay the Lord’s taxes, hopeful that she could find enough work to tide them over ‘til the next year.  

And still, somehow, she hadn’t expected the crowds lining up at the registration counters - weary-looking travelers, wiry urchins dressed in rags, rough-looking individuals in mismatched armor and dirty bandages. Still others slouched at tables with flagons of ale, or stood in sullen groups, studying the meager offerings posted to the job boards. 

A throat cleared meaningfully behind her, and Evie startled, glancing back over her shoulder to see a hulking man staring down at her with narrowed eyes. 

“In, or out?” 

“I - I beg your pardon?” 

He rolled his eyes, and gestured with his chin toward the room. “You going in or out, girl? Or just blocking the door for the rest of us?” 

“Oh!” Evie felt an embarrassed blush crawl up her neck as she hurriedly stepped inside and to the side. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean -” 

Her voice trailed off as he pushed past her without a second glance, making his way to the counter near the back of the room. Right. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and moved decisively toward the registration lines. 

The afternoon passed slowly, a steady stream of mercenaries, bounty hunters, and wannabe adventurers circling through the door, until Evie finally found herself at the front. 

“Name?”

“Evie - uh, Evangeline Hurst.” 

“Occupation?”

“Healer.” 

The woman taking her information glanced up at that. 

“Don’t see many of your kind through these doors - hedge witch?” 

Evie shook her head.

“No, I’m a proper mage. I can mend most injuries and wounds, create elixirs and potions, cure poisons, that sort of thing. I’m not academy trained or anything though -” 

The woman cut her off. “That’s fine, no one expects academy-trained mages in a place like this. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding work. Membership fees are due the first of every month, and that gets you into the training yard, weapons and armor repair, access to the alchemy lab, a 15% discount on equipment purchases, any documentation required for guild-related jobs, and room and board. You’re to bring any salvage or recovered treasure to a guild representative, guild’s cut is 40%, no exceptions. You’ll be expected to abide by the Guild code; you’re always representing the Guild, so don’t forget that. Any questions?” 

Evie shook her head mutely as she passed over the first month’s fees. 

“Oh, uhm no, I do have a question, actually. Do I just, just find a group on my own or -?” 

The woman nodded. 

“There should be a few groups looking for healers right now, even a greenhorn like you. Take a look over by the job boards, you should be able to find someone willing to take you on. Barracks are down those stairs,” she gestured to the left, “You’re responsible for your own belongings, and troublemakers are banned, end of story.” She motioned the next person in line to come forward. “Welcome to the Guild, Evangeline Hurst.” 

Evie shuffled to the side as the person behind her pushed forward, and turned to study the room. It was early evening now, and the people who weren’t in line to register were mostly seated now, though a few groups appeared to still be studying the job boards. She tucked a stray chestnut curl back behind her ear, chewing nervously on her plump lower lip. As a newcomer, she didn’t want to get in over her head, and she certainly didn’t want to inconvenience or disappoint the adventurers who took a chance on her. Two of the groups were made up of relaxed individuals equipped with well-used armor and weapons obviously cared for; a third group was made up of hard-looking men covered in scars, stubble, and perpetual scowls. She crossed all three off her list of possible choices, and looked to the last group; one man, his wrist bandaged poorly, was sprawled back in a chair with an expression of annoyance creasing his youthful features. The hulking man who had come in behind her earlier was standing there too, next to a tall, lean man with a cigarette dangling between his lips. 

“Providence, perhaps,” she muttered to herself, observing the two men a moment longer before striding towards them with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. She faltered slightly when their eyes turned toward her, the steady regard making her skin prickle with discomfort, but continued to approach. Once she was close enough to speak without shouting, she nodded a greeting. 

“Uhm, hello. My name is Evie and I … well, I was wondering if you might have need of a healer? I’ve just joined the Guild, but I haven’t really met anyone yet -” 

“What kind of healer?” The big man cut her off abruptly, his disbelief clear as he leaned back, arms folded across his chest in a forbidding manner.

“A mage - not academy trained, but I can manage most injuries, I’m decent at brewing potions and elixirs -” 

“Evie, was it?” The man with the cigarette stepped forward, smiling, and extended a hand in welcome. “I’m Fallon and this is Seth.” The big man grunted in acknowledgement. “And you’ve guessed right, we’re in need of some healing talent.” Fallon’s smile turned rueful as he gestured to the injured man. “As you can see, we could do with a gentler touch when it comes to treating our wounded. I think we could work well together, providing you’re able to keep up with us. Any chance we could get a demonstration of those abilities firsthand before deciding?”

“Yes, absolutely!” she agreed. A hopeful smile tugged at the corner of her lips as Fallon turned to the man with a bandaged wrist.

“Rubias, c’mere and let the little healer fix you up.” 

The bandaged man slouched over, flashing a crooked grin at Evie. “Took a nasty bite when we were clearing out some kobolds,” he explained sheepishly. Evie hissed when he unwrapped the tattered bandage, revealing a wound that was less a bite mark and more as though something had latched on to his wrist and torn away a chunk of flesh. With a delicate touch, she cradled his wrist in her hands and let her eyes drift shut in concentration. Her magic surged, warm and golden, her fingertips growing warm as she channeled the power into knitting his flesh back together. When she opened her eyes again, a pale pink scar was wrapped around his wrist. 

“I’m afraid I can’t remove scars,” she said apologetically. 

Rubias rotated his wrist, his grin spreading even wider as he examined the newly healed flesh, and clapped Evie on the shoulder roughly. 

“Hell, I don’t care about scars, girlie. Damned fine job!” 

Evie smiled brightly at the praise, and glanced back at Fallon. 

“So? Do you think I can join you?” 

“Evie my girl,” Fallon stepped forward to sling an arm around her shoulders. “Let me be the first to welcome you to the team.”

Chapter 2: The Caravan

Evie met up with everyone early the next morning. Fallon had told her to be prepared for an escort mission, where they would provide additional muscle to a merchant caravan on its way to the port city of Frey. He’d been somewhat vague about the details when she asked, but Evie supposed she didn’t really need to know the specifics. She was there to heal the men while they did the real work—and if she was entirely honest, she was just too excited over her first mission to care that much about the details. 

“Good morning, Sunshine!” Fallon wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the group. “You’ve met Seth and Rubias, and these two reprobates are Arland and Carter. Are you ready for your first mission?” 

Evie nodded.

“I appreciate you all taking a chance on me when I’m so new, and I promise, I’ll work hard to make everyone proud.” She paused, taking in the other minor injuries she’d noted last night. “I could heal everyone first, if—you think that’s a good idea?” She looked up at Fallon for approval and almost sighed in relief when she saw his dark brown eyes crinkle in a smile. 

“A fine idea, Evie. Make sure everyone is tip-top shape so we can deliver our all on this mission. It was a lucky day for us when you asked to join our little group.” 

Evie glowed with pleasure over Fallon’s praise while working carefully and quickly to heal everyone’s remaining minor injuries before they set out to join the caravan they were escorting. 

*****

The caravan was a small group, though strangely intimidating. The wagonmaster was a stern man named Luthor; his eyes had crawled over Evie’s body with a lingering thoroughness when they were introduced. She had been shooed away then, while Fallon and Luthor had a brief, murmured conversation before calling the caravan to a start. They had set out through the city gates, swift and purposeful, and turned to follow the road south, to the coast.  

Evie wasn’t entirely sure why they even needed escorts, considering the heavy, fortified wagons and the unsmiling caravan guards, but she was glad to be traveling with Fallon and his men. They were a friendly and easy-going group, welcoming her with some good-natured ribbing and lighthearted teasing over her greenhorn status. Rubias had sent her a roguish wink, complimenting her on how well she kept her seat while riding before Seth had slapped him upside the head with a growled “Behave”. And though she could see they weren’t exactly the most in-demand crew, it appeared that Fallon’s contacts kept them supplied with steady work. Even as the most junior member of the group, she expected she would easily earn enough gold to send back home. 

“So Evie girl, how are you enjoying your first time as hired muscle?” 

Evie’s laughter bubbled up bright and sudden as Fallon guided his horse to ride next to her. 

“It’s wonderful! I’ve never been to the coast before, you know. Never even really been anywhere much beyond West Olwich. I’m so excited to see the boats—does that sound silly? I must sound silly to you.” Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment as she watched out of the corner of her eye to see if he laughed at her. 

“Nah, not at all. We all have to start somewhere, right?” The faraway sound of his voice caught her attention, and she turned to look at him more fully. His eyes were soft, hazy with memories, before he shook himself and flashed a half-smile at Evie. “Just remembering what it was like when I was your age, I guess.” 

“So what are we bringing to Frey, anyway? These wagons don’t look anything like the ones I’ve seen in West Olwich, and I can hear strange noises coming from inside them sometimes. It must be very expensive, for them to hire us on top of their usual guards?” 

Fallon’s smile disappeared and he tsked, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“We’re here to guard, not question. It doesn’t matter what they’ve got in those wagons, so long as we get paid. Understand?”

Evie’s blush intensified, the back of her neck hot with shame as she nodded. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was rude to ask -” 

“Hey hey hey, don’t worry about it, we all make mistakes,” Fallon soothed, his smile quickly returning. “At least you only asked me and not, say, Luthor. That would have been hell to explain!” He chuckled at Evie’s exaggerated shudder. “Anyway, we’ll probably stop to make camp an hour or so before sundown—think you can make it that long?” 

“Yes Sir!” Evie chirped, tossing him a cheeky little salute and startling him into another laugh as he nudged his horse to catch up with Seth. 

***** 

Evie leaned back on her hands, watching the sparks from the fire fly up into the star-speckled sky. The low rumble of conversation surrounded her, punctuated by the occasional bark of laughter or curse word. Her muscles ached after a long day in the saddle, but the warmth of the fire left her limbs feeling loose and relaxed. Her eyelids drooped slightly, blurring the flicker of the flames against the dark of the night. 

“Tired?” An elbow dug lightly into her ribs, surprising her into sitting up straight. Next to her, Rubias grinned unabashedly. “You’re not going to fall asleep on us just yet, are you? We haven’t even toasted to you surviving your first day with us!” 

She stifled a yawn and stretched slightly, shaking her head.

“I don’t know, it was a long day and I don’t want to slow us down tomorrow. I should probably just turn in and get some rest.”  

Rubias waved a hand dismissively, and reached in his vest to pull out a small flask. 

“Rite of passage, greenhorn. We all took our turn, and so will you—won’t you?” He held the flask out to her as the conversation around the fire fell silent, the men watching expectantly. Evie’s lips twisted as she tried to keep her smile, reaching out to accept the flask. 

“Well, I’m not really much of a drinker—but, I mean, if it’s tradition…” She hesitated, her hand shaking slightly as she glanced around the fire. The flames cast long, trembling shadows across their faces. 

“A toast to Evie, the hardest worker here—besides our livers, that is!” Rubias called, lifting a drinking skin to his lips. The others cheered, toasting “To Evie!” and drinking as well. Evie laughed softly, her nerves disappearing, and she lifted the flask to her lips, drinking deeply. The liquor burned sweet and strangely spicy down her throat, causing her to choke and sputter slightly. Rubias grabbed the flask from her before she could drop it, and patted her roughly on the back, chuckling about how she couldn’t handle her booze. She was about to say goodnight when another voice, Carter she thought, called a second toast. 

“To Evie, the prettiest damned face here, for healing our wounds and curing our hangovers!” Rubias pressed the flask into her hands once more, and she drank again, finding it went down easier the second time. 

“To Evie, sent in our time of need to brighten our days!” Fallon toasted, tipping his flask to her before drinking deeply. Blushing a little now, Evie drank a third time, savouring the spicy flavour as it washed over her tongue. 

They continued toasting until her head was spinning and she begged off, crying “No more, I can’t or I’ll still be a drunken puddle in the morning!” She staggered to her feet, making a rude noise as they heckled her, and made her way to her bedroll to collapse into a drunken sleep. 

Chapter 3: The Nightmare

Notes:

Warnings: Rape; drugged sex; non-consensual drug use; M/F/M; oral sex; vaginal sex; basically, it's all non-con and 18+, you've been warned.

Sex scenes are the worst; this has not been QA'd at all, so feedback is valid and welcome. Thanks to the lovely readers who have left kudos, that was a super nice boost and I appreciate you all!

Consciousness was slow in coming. Swimming up through the blackness, streaks of colour etched on the inside of her eyelids. Evie’s body felt heavy, weighted down, a strange heat radiating through her limbs. Dizziness assailed her, her lashes fluttering as she tried to understand what had caused her to wake up. A groan vibrated in her chest as she managed to peel her eyes open, her vision blurred and watery. The stars spun in and out of view as a shadow leaned forward over her. Hands grappled her hips roughly, flipping her over onto her stomach. Her leggings were jerked down around her knees. 

Evie knew she should struggle, tried to move, to fight back, but her body refused to obey her commands. She sprawled there facedown, tears spilling down over the tip of her nose as she grunted into her bedroll, trying to call out to her companions. 

“Shh, Evie girl, just be good,” someone crooned in her ear, fingers shoving roughly inside of her cunt, scissoring her open. “We can make it good for you - we owe you that at least, shh-shh-shh, just relax sweetheart.” His fingers continued sawing in and out, his lips tracing the shell of her ear. “You’re so pretty, aren’t you? Such a pretty girl.” 

Evie’s heart stuttered as she recognized Rubias’s voice. 

“Nnnnnn…” she whimpered, her fingers clawing spasmodically at the ground. His fingers slipped away, and for a moment, she thought—hoped—he’d reconsidered. Then his weight settled on top of her. Her lips moved soundlessly as she tried to beg him to stop, a pained gasp escaping her lungs as he forced his cock into her. Her body clenched down tight and he groaned deeply, a hand pressing down on her shoulder blades. 

“Fuck that’s good - so fucking tight, ye-ahh mmm fuck Evie-”

Evie sobbed, feeling the way he stroked in and out of her, his hips stuttering whenever her pussy clenched and tightened. His breath sawed  in and out of his lungs as his pace increased, rutting into her hard and desperate. His low voice muttering soft praises, his hands moving to grip her hips tightly. 

“Such a sweet little thing.” Calloused fingers slid along her cheek and into her tangled curls, tugging her head back lightly until she was staring blindly into Fallon’s smiling face. 

“Please.” Her voice stuck in her throat, barely a croak, as Fallon’s face blurred through her tears. He knelt in front of her, his free hand undoing the laces of his trousers. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.” 

His words sent a terrified surge of adrenaline coursing through her and Evie finally forced her body to move, struggling with wild incoordination. She managed to push herself up onto her forearms, only for a particularly rough thrust from behind to send her sprawling into Fallon’s lap. 

“Don’t make us hurt you, sweetheart.” His hand moved from her hair to cup her jaw with deceptive gentleness, thumb pressing against her plush lips in unspoken demand. Rubias’s pace behind Evie slowed, his palms smoothing over the curve of her ass in silent threat. Evie’s eyes fluttered shut; she hesitated a moment, and then parted her lips. Fallon’s thumb slipped into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue as he gave a muffled groan. There was the sound of cloth being shuffled aside. 

“Look at me, Sunshine.” Her breath trembled out in a long sigh as she opened her eyes again to see Fallon fisting his cock as he knelt in front of her, his eyes dark and intent on her face. Slipping his thumb free of her mouth, his hands wrapped in her curls again, guiding her lips to his cock. His breath hissed out as he sank into the moist heat of her mouth, easing inside, inch by inch, taking it slow until he hit the back of her throat. Evie gagged, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to pull back, but his hand at the back of her head held her pinned, muttering low curses as her throat convulsed around his length. Rubias began fucking her again, rocking her forward into Fallon as she sputtered and choked around his cock, her palms pressing feebly against his thighs. Fallon moved his hips back slightly, giving her room to breathe, before snapping forward again.

They settled into a rough rhythm, jostling Evie between them. The taste of salt was heavy on her tongue, her face wet with tears and saliva as her jaw stretched painfully. Her throat burned with bile, but Fallon didn’t seem to care as he panted and moaned, his hands clenching in her curls. 

Rubias lifted Evie’s hips for better purchase, slamming into her, his hips grinding against her backside. She felt his cock twitch and pulse as he found his release inside of her, filling her with his cum. 

“Mmm, fuck baby, so fucking good,” he moaned as he slipped out of her, her thighs coated with the slick wetness of his semen. 

Evie shuddered in shame and disgust, her hazel eyes lifting to watch Fallon’s face as he chased his pleasure. She just had to get through this, just wait til they were finished, and then it would all be over like a bad dream. Fallon’s head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open as he urged Evie to take him even deeper. Deep pleasured growls vibrated in his chest every time she audibly choked or gagged, and his thrusts became more frenzied, until he was spilling his seed over her tongue and down her throat. He clutched her close to him, his hips making little circles against her mouth as his cock softened; absently, he petted her curls, murmuring about what a good girl she’d been for him. With a last soft sigh, he pulled away and let her collapse limply onto her bedroll. She sniffled, trying to get up on her knees; her mind was still foggy, her vision spinning. 

“C-can..” Her voice caught in her throat; she coughed, tried again. “Can I go now? I was good, right? You said so …” She raised her head to look up at Fallon, eyes shining with tears. Her heart dropped at his pitying expression. Seth’s bulky figure appeared over his shoulder.  

“Sunshine. You know that’s not happening.”

Chapter 4: The Nightmare Continues

Notes:

Warnings: Rape; drugged sex; vaginal sex; some violence; basically, it's all non-con and 18+, you've been warned.

I'm not awesome with content warnings so if you see something I should have tagged and didn't, please let me know. As always, thanks to everyone who's been reading and feel free to provide any constructive feedback. Otherwise, please enjoy!

Evie collapsed backwards, her breath coming in rapid, panting gasps. Panic raced over her skin, prickling icy-hot. Her heart fluttered wildly, like a bird caught behind her ribcage and desperate to escape. Seth moved to stand over her, silhouetted against the night sky, and then knelt down to strip her with a brutal efficiency. 

“You should have left that day,” he grunted. His thick, scarred fingers manacled her throat and squeezed lightly. “But fools always come to a bad end, I guess. Just the way it is.” 

Her eyes squeezed shut, tears seeping beneath the lids to trail back over her temples and into her sweaty curls. Seth’s hand moved from her throat to her jaw. A featherlight touch brushed across her lips, soft, exploratory. Her breath caught at the kiss, stuttered in a choked whimper as she tried to turn her head away. His fingers tightened painfully, holding her in place, and the kiss turned brutal, all teeth and tongue and savagery as he devoured her mouth for what felt like an eternity. They were both breathless when he pulled back, his lips swollen and damp, hers bitten and bloody. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, girl, but I will.” His hands slid down her body, work-hardened and rough against her freckled skin, to cup her breasts. Her nipples, pale and peachy-pink, perked up in pained awareness as he pinched and caressed her flesh. ‘’Bigger than you looked, aincha?” 

Evie focused on staying still and compliant. If she could just find that spot inside her, where she went when she was healing, she could pretend it was happening to someone else. She just had to get through this night, survive til the morning, and then surely they’d get bored with it all and let her go—

A sharp slap stung her cheek, interrupting her thoughts and startling her into staring wide-eyed at Seth. He loomed over her, his pale eyes burning. 

“I asked you a question, girl.” 

His fingers tweaked her nipple in an idle warning. 

Evie licked her lips, took a shuddering breath. 

“I - I guess so?” she answered, her voice cracked and thin. He slapped her again, sharply, and she yelped, tears springing up once more as she stared at him with wounded surprise.  

“Want to try that again?” 

She struggled to piece her thoughts together, still woozy and uncertain from whatever she’d imbibed earlier. 

“I—” She faltered to a halt, giving him a pleading look. “I don’t know what you want me to say, I’ll say it, I swear I’ll say anything you want but I don’t know — ”

He huffed, almost a laugh but not quite. 

“You call me ‘Sir’. Understand?”

She nodded desperately.

“Yes Sir.”

Seth’s hands slipped down to hook around the back of Evie’s knees, spreading them achingly wide as he settled his weight against her core. The thickness of his cock slipped back and forth against her folds, slick and hot, before pressing into her. Evie couldn’t help but note that it hurt less this time, although she still felt swollen and raw. The stretch was uncomfortable, more than she’d felt with Rubias, and she tensed, shifting her hips to try and relieve the ache. 

“Fuck,” Seth hissed, his fingers biting into her thighs as he gave a sudden thrust, seating himself fully inside of her. Evie whined as her body adjusted to the painful sensation of being too full, her back arching in complaint. 

“Please Se—Sir,” she gasped, her hands pressing against his chest. “It hurts—”

He moved slightly, sliding his grip on her legs until her knees were hooked over his elbows, folding her forward until his palms were braced near her shoulders. Evie whimpered as her hips tilted up and back, deepening the angle of his penetration. Pinned and helpless, she clutched at Seth’s broad shoulders as he started fucking into her with a rough intensity that bordered on painful. Her eyes were filled with his face, desperate and feral; his pale eyes never left her hazel ones, his teeth bared in a wildly ecstatic grimace. She was covered by him, his body heavy and slick with sweat, and he was filled with a blazing heat that made her feel feverish. She couldn’t look away from him. 

“You take me so beautifully. Like you were made for this,” he grunted. His momentum picked up as he hunched closer, burying his face in the crook of Evie’s neck. His  cock hammering into her, on the verge of finding his release as she whined and struggled, her hands pressing feebly against his shoulders as her hips bucked against his. His teeth bit into the soft flesh under her ear; the sensation was white-hot, an agony blending with the numb pain in her cunt to become overwhelming. Her mind blanked as she sobbed, feeling his hips jerk against her, the warmth of his seed as he came inside her. He stayed curled against her like that for a minute, his jaw unclenching as he licked and kissed the mark under her ear almost apologetically, soothing away the burn.  

*****

She wished it had stopped there. The night passed in a blur as she was handed off to the other men, Arland and Carter, Luthor, the caravan guards. At some point, Fallon had fucked her a second time. The dawn was just tingeing the horizon with blush and gold when she was finally allowed to fall back on her bedroll, sweaty, battered, covered in cum and spit and bruises. She stared blindly up into the slowly lightening sky, exhausted and numb. A pair of boots appeared in the corner of her eye; flinching, she turned her gaze to the man standing above her. Luthor. A bundle of rags dropped on her face. 

“Get dressed.” 

She pulled herself into a sitting position, fumbling to pull the threadbare shift over her head. Once she was covered, he leaned forward, grabbing her arm and jerking her to her feet. She was led toward the wagons. 

“No, no wait!” She found the strength to twist and pull against his hold, kicking at his shins. “What are you doing? I did what you all wanted, you’re supposed to let me go now!” 

And he did let her go. She staggered, off-balance and surprised, and caught a glimpse of the cold indifference on his face before the back of his hand struck her cheek, spinning her back down to her knees. Her face throbbed where his knuckles had caught her, and tears of pain leapt to her eyes. He leaned down, grabbing her by the hair, and yanked her back to her feet. The pain screamed through her scalp, her hands flying to his wrist as she tried to pull against his hold. He dragged her to the wagons. 

“You can make this as easy or as hard as you want, Miss Hurst. It’s no difference to me.” 

 

Chapter 5: The Voyage

Summary:

I never understood all those author's notes where the writer would apologize for taking so long between updates, but I do now. It's hard not to feel guilty, even if I am mainly writing this for myself. Anyway, just a short update this time around.

The inside of the wagon was suffocatingly dark, ripe with the scent of unwashed bodies and misery. Evie caught a glimpse of pale, naked limbs as Luthor thrust her up and in, the brief slash of light reflecting back from wide, frightened eyes, and then the wagon door slammed shut behind her. She heard the clink of chains, the finality of the lock snapping shut, Luthor’s footsteps moving away. 

“Are—were you all—I mean, isn’t there some way-” Evie’s voice rose, increasingly desperate in the muffled silence of the wagon. “Can’t we - can’t we fight back, escape somehow—?” 

Her eyes searched the darkness blindly as someone scoffed. 

“Better to just get used to it. It hurts less if you don’t fight.” 

Evie’s throat tightened as she fought back tears. 

“But—surely there’s something we can do…” she whispered. Her body throbbed with pain every time she shifted or moved, and tremors wracked her body. “People must be looking for us—” 

“Nobody’s looking.” Someone different this time, their voice flat, colourless. “An’ if’n they are, it don’t matter. They’re takin' us ‘cross the waters, to Ildun. I dunno ‘bout you, but my da’s a soddy. ‘E’ll be too busy scrabbling in the dirt, tryin’a feed my ma and brothers to bother wi’ where I gotten to.” 

“We’re orphans,” someone else chimed in. “They grabbed us off the streets one night.” 

“My husband sold me after he met some trollop he liked better’n me.” 

“My parents already had six mouths to feed, didn’t need ‘nother.”

“I was set to hang anyway.” 

Evie’s breath trembled as she listened to the voices in the dark, heart sinking. She wasn’t any different from these people; she’d left home, alone and full of pride. She knew no one in the city, and the Guild would likely be given some song and dance about her untimely death. 

She’d been an easy target. Invisible. 

*****

It took six days to reach Frey. Every night, several hours after stopping, the wagon doors would swing open. They’d be given hardtack and warm, metallic-tasting water that was laced with drugs. Woozy and compliant, one or more would be led outside to entertain the men for the night. They’d skipped Evie that first night, but she’d been dragged out every night after, forced to heal injuries before being pressed down on her knees to service other needs. Fallon came to find her each time, her only hope of gentleness amongst the brutal handling of the other men. He would pet her hair, whisper soft praise against her lips as he held her; she almost— almost —learned to enjoy her times with him. At least it didn’t hurt as much. 

In Frey, they were bound in metal shackles and steel collars, herded onto a ship headed to Ildun. Fallon had pressed a kiss to her forehead then. 

“You’re a sweet girl, Sunshine. Obedient. Men like that in a woman.” He’d pinched her chin lightly and tilted her face up, looking her in the eyes. “Just keep your head down, do as you’re told, and you’ll be alright.” She’d stared blankly as he turned and walked away from her without a second look, before she’d been jostled roughly and led down into the ship’s cargo hold with the other prisoners. 

Time passed without meaning in the dark damp of the ship’s bowels. They were fed irregularly, mostly ignored, occasionally used. Evie learned to close her eyes and bear it. The sailors rarely indulged in violence, more focused on quick, selfish gratification. The prisoners who fought were beaten and starved into compliance; those who participated eagerly were given small mercies, occasionally even going aboveboard to eat with the sailors and enjoy a breath of fresh air. Prisoners like Evie were mostly ignored, and that suited Evie just fine. 

 She spent the days dozing in her cramped cage, trying to ignore the muffled sobs and the occasional scream, dreaming of escape. Of rescue. Of mercy and heroism. The ship docking in Ildun, being led out into the blinding sunlight and seeing her father, the Guildmaster, the Governor, even Fallon waiting there to arrest the sailors. Sometimes she imagined a bloody retribution, Luthor thrown at her feet as he begged for mercy. A faceless figure garbed in shining armor and a halo of justice would step forward and strike Luthor’s head from his shoulders with a gleaming sword before going down on one knee and vowing to protect her with their life. Sometimes she imagined Fallon’s dark brown eyes, crinkled in a soft smile as he told her he was sorry, that he’d realized his feelings and come to take her home now, that if she only forgave him, he would spend the rest of eternity caring for her, his most precious treasure. Sometimes she laughed in his face. Sometimes she didn’t. 

Most often though, she imagined her magic welling up with a violent surge, spilling out in a golden wave, her chains falling away from her wrists and her curly hair writhing like snakes in lightning. The other prisoners would be healed, inspired, and take up weapons. They would strike down the sailors and take the ship for themselves before sailing back to Frey as celebrated heroes. Those dreams were the best dreams, the dreams that left her warm inside. The stink of despair and desperation would lessen for a moment; barely-there ribbons of golden light would light up the darkness for a brief second before fading back to shadow and gloom. 

*****

The sky was overcast when the ship docked in Ildun, the sun a hazy gleam on the eastern horizon. Evie was dragged out of her cage and swept into a crush of bodies as the prisoners were marched above deck. Shivers wracked her as she stepped out into the cold, the scent of brine and fish sweeping away the ripe smell of unwashed bodies. A tall woman, dressed like Luthor, stood before them. A braided leather whip was curled loosely at her hip. Her eyes swept over them, observing their condition as she spoke.

“Keep your mouths shut and your feet moving. Don’t waste my time with useless heroics. Don’t be a problem.” She fingered the whip idly. “I’m a problem-solver.”

Chapter 6: The Arrival

The wind was cold and bitter as they trudged through crooked, narrow streets that stank of waste, excrement, and despair. Grim-faced individuals hurried through the shadows as the noise of a new day unfurled out of slanting shacks and ramshackle tenement buildings. Evie spotted the occasional dirty, pitiless face peering around ragged curtains, watching their enforced march with flat eyes. She kept pace to the discordant melody of jingling chains, the snap of a whip, and the hopeless thudding of feet; occasionally someone would stumble or fall to their knees, and the guards would be on them immediately, kicking and shoving them back into line.

Their path led to a fortified warehouse, with guards posted at the door and more patrolling the perimeter. The courtyard was well-kept, paved with white-washed cobblestones, loud and busy. Public stocks faced the gates, some empty, some not, and in the centre of the yard, a man with a booming baritone voice stood above the crowd on an auction block, extolling the virtues of a shivering boy in chains. Evie’s steps stalled as she stared in horror, imagining herself in the boy’s place. She stood frozen for a moment before a rough hand slammed against her shoulder blades, shoving her forward. A guard snarled for her to keep moving. She and the other prisoners were ushered toward a prominent building, a large metal sign bearing the words “Processing” displayed above the entrance. 

Inside, they were herded towards a narrow gate; Evie shuffled along helplessly as the line of prisoners advanced forward. A male guard stopped each person as they reached the gate, removing their chains and shackles while briefly examining them and making comments to the woman standing nearby. She dashed off notes in a large ledger and then directed the individual through the gate, where they would disappear down a dimly lit hall. Another man, silent and menacing, stood next to her, arms crossed over his chest as he kept a watchful eye over the whole scene. Dread crept along Evie’s spine. She and her father had passed a stockyard once on the way to market, where she’d watched the cattle urged along in just this way, the stink of blood heavy in the air. The lowing of the cattle had sounded like sobbing to her, and Evie had wondered at the time if they knew they were being led to their deaths. As she edged closer to the front of the line, hemmed in from all sides, Evie thought that maybe the cows had known, known and walked on anyway because there was nothing else to be done. 

The man ahead of her reached the gate, grunting as the guard roughly jerked him forward. He was a big man, his shoulders broad enough to block Evie’s view of the guard and gate, but she heard the shackles rattle as they dropped away from his body, felt the sudden slack as the line loosened, no longer pulling her forward. The man’s shoulders rolled slightly, the muscles relaxing and bunching under the rough linen tunic he wore. She heard the guard’s voice, an indifferent monotone as he relayed his comments to the woman with the ledger. A twitching motion caught her attention, the man’s fingers flicking with nervous energy as his right foot slid back and his knees bent slightly.

Even though she was half-expecting it, Evie was still startled when he lunged forward, stumbling backwards. The woman behind her also staggered off-balance, and they wavered together in an unsteady dance before collapsing in a tangled mess, dragging several of the other prisoners down with them. The discordant clanking of their chains provided a grim counterpoint to the frenzied thud of fists on flesh and the muffled curses bit out in pained grunts as the man fought desperately. Evie watched as the first guard went down under the man’s brutal assault, while the woman at the gate swept a cool, impassive gaze over the scene and continued to make notes in her ledger. The guard at her side charged toward the line, grabbing at the sap that hung on his belt, but the man was already moving in the opposite direction, around Evie and the heap of fallen prisoners towards the guards who were converging on the front of the line. He lowered his shoulder and barrelled into the nearest guard, pitching her up and over his shoulder. She hit the ground and rolled, the air whumping out of her lungs as she struggled to catch her breath. 

The man’s teeth were bared in a fierce grimace, and a cut on his forehead bled freely into his eyes as he faced off against two approaching guards, one grim-faced and scarred, the other grinning with vicious amusement. Behind him, the guard with the sap was also closing in. Evie’s struggles stilled for a moment, her eyes wide on the man as he squared off against the two guards in front of him, determination settling into the lines of his body. She could feel her magic swirling just under her skin, could feel it at the tips of her fingers desperate to reach out and heal, to help, to bolster him on to victory and success, and hated her own limitations. Helpless to do anything except bear witness, Evie watched as the grinning guard dove at the man, the scarred guard and the guard with the sap following close behind. The three men swept over him, a tidal wave of brutality as they drove him to his knees with a flurry of blows and booted feet to his ribs. For a moment, he was able to throw back the grinning guard and get a foot under his knee, but then the guard behind him brought the sap down in a final, hard blow to the back of his neck. He went limp, sprawling belly-down on the ground as the guards continued to pummel his unconscious body. 

The man with the sap stepped back, breathing hard, and gestured for the other two to drag the attempted escapee away. He swept hard eyes over the huddled collapse of prisoners and stomped forward, pausing to grab Evie’s arm and haul her back to her feet. The other prisoners scrambled to stand up in some semblance of order. Evie swayed slightly, nearly falling again as she was jostled into position and pushed toward the gate. The guard who had gone down under the big man’s attack was standing once more at the front. A bruise shadowed his jaw and his hair was ruffled and mussed, almost playful, but his eyes were hard and cold on Evie as he unlocked the manacles around her wrists and tossed them in a bin next to the gate. Calloused hands gripped her jaw, capturing her attention again as the guard tilted her face up and to the side; his thumb pressed down on her lower lip, forcing her mouth open so he could look at her teeth. 

“Adult female; looks healthy enough,” he noted to the woman standing next to the gate. “Good hips; farm stock maybe, sturdy. Has all her teeth, no rot or disease. Send her to Tobin.”

His companion nodded briefly, gesturing Evie forward and nudging her through the gate. 

“C’mon you, we haven’t got all day. Straight down and to the left. I don’t recommend getting lost.” Her eyes gleamed with warning as she pointed down the hall. “You won’t enjoy being found.” 

Chapter 7: The Examination

Notes:

Warnings: mild humiliation, mild medical kink, mild sadism - as usual, nobody is very nice to poor Evie.

This one got away from me a bit, so it's kind of long and ends in a bit of a cliffhanger. I'm hoping to get the second part up shortly, so as not to leave y'all hanging too long! Thanks everyone who's been reading, I appreciate the kind words and encouragement on something I figured wouldn't really amount to much more than shameless self-indulgence :)

Evie paused on the other side of the gate; a long hallway stretched ahead of her, dimly lit. The left side was lined with sturdy metal bars - cells, she realized suddenly - while closed doors marked regular intervals along the right wall. A sudden push on her shoulder knocked her out of her daze, and she glanced back to see the dispassionate stare of the gatekeeper. 

“Go on now. Tobin’s waiting.”

Evie turned away, cautiously making her way down the hall; her steps were faltering, uncertain, and the cells to the left drew her unwilling attention. They were empty, thankfully, and spotless save for the occasional splotch of disturbing stains spattered here and there. Iron manacles dangled loose on the walls; the air was dusty and dry, and her throat tickled with the urge to cough. 

The floor sloped gently downward as she continued on, the temperature of the air cooling slightly; she could hear no sound save the soft slap of her bare feet against the stone floor. The end of the hall branched into a T-intersection; she hesitated for a moment before recalling the gatekeeper’s directions, glancing to her left. At the end of the intersection was a partially opened door, bright lights spilling over into the dimness of the hallway. Presumably, she would find the mysterious Tobin waiting for her there. Her eyes slid to the right; the hall in that direction was shadowed and silent, but she thought she could see figures moving further down. 

Fear curdled in the pit of her stomach, sour and heavy; tension vibrated through her body as she stood poised for flight. It was likely no one was even watching her anymore, though Evie expected another prisoner would soon make their way down the hall. It hadn’t been a long wait between prisoners as they were shuffled through the gate, ten or fifteen minutes at most. 

The doors … Evie looked back over her shoulder, down toward the gate. The guards’ silhouettes were highlighted against the open entryway. There was the possibility, of course, that the doors weren’t locked. There might be a way out through one of them. Instead of going down the hall, she could just backtrack a bit, try the doors ‘til she found one that opened - if one opened - and slip away. 

Hide. 

Escape. 

Of course, there was also the possibility that all of the doors were locked. That someone would see her. That she would be found, eventually. 

The woman’s clipped warning played over in Evie’s mind again. Her mind wandered to the brutal beating of the man who’d been in line ahead of her. The thud of leather and boots impacting his flesh as he laid slumped and unconscious in the dirt.

Her throat worked nervously as she turned to the left. Her feet moved almost unconsciously. She took a step. And then another. And then another, each tentative step taking her further down the hall until she eventually found herself standing in front of the door, hand raised to knock tentatively. A low, husky voice cut her off before she could make any further action.

“Don’t stand there like an imbecile. Come inside.”

Evie reacted with automatic obedience to the commanding tone, her hand curling ‘round the edge of the door as she timidly slipped into the room, squinting at the sudden change in lighting. It was bright here, clean, orderly. A slender man, dark-haired and silvering at the temples, sat hunched at a desk just inside the door, peering over a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles perched at the end of his aquiline nose as he paged through a notebook. His spindly fingers were smudged with ink. He glanced up irritably, waving her impatiently toward a strange-looking table set against the opposite wall. It was narrow, with hinged bars that ended in stirrups at one end. Another, younger, man waited beside the table, smiling gently. A smattering of freckles dotted his nose, giving him an innocent, boyish appearance, and his gingery curls gleamed copper under the light. 

“Please stand here,” the young man directed. Still nervous, Evie moved quickly to where he pointed; he stepped forward and adjusted her position slightly before continuing. “Raise your hands and grab hold of the hook, there.”

Evie glanced up to see an iron hook dangling on a rusted chain above her head. Stretching her arms upward, she could just barely grasp the hook when she balanced on her tiptoes. Trembling slightly from the strain, Evie returned her attention to the young man. 

“Good.” He moved closer, too close, so close that she had to crane her neck back to meet his gaze. He stood much taller than her own height of five and a half feet. “Now don’t move.” His blue eyes, deep and arresting, held Evie’s attention so intently that she barely registered him drawing a knife from a sheath hanging at his belt. The blade gleamed under the light. “Your - garment - must be removed before we commence with the examination.” 

Evie flushed at the barely concealed disdain in his voice; her arms dropped down instinctively as her heels flattened back to the ground. 

“I can just do it myself -” 

“I said. Don’t. Move.” The sharp point of the blade emphasized each clipped word as it dug into the sensitive flesh just below Evie’s collarbone and the young man urged her back up onto her tiptoes. “This will be your only warning; if you disobey, you will be punished.” 

Evie’s breath hissed through her teeth as she scrambled to raise her arms back above her head. She bit back a pained protest; the wolfish smile curving the young man’s lips suggested he would only find further pleasure in her torment. 

The knife bit into her skin as he dragged it along the lines of her collarbone, up to the hollow of her throat. He used just enough pressure to leave behind red welts, not breaking the skin, not quite. Evie froze as he lingered there, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he watched her steadily; she barely dared to breathe as the tip of the knife scraped against her skin. 

“Milo. Stop wasting time and get on with it.”

The sharp rebuke from the man seated at the desk startled both Milo and Evie, breaking the tension. A light blush spread across the apprentice’s cheeks, highlighting his freckles, and his shoulders drooped sheepishly. 

“Yes, Master Tobin,” he said apologetically, pulling the knife downwards to slice through the front of Evie’s soiled and tattered shift. The thin material split apart with ease under the sharp blade, sliding slightly down Evie’s shoulders as it began to gape open across her breasts. Milo worked quickly, rendering the shift into scraps of material at Evie’s feet. “Pick that up and put it in the bin; then take a seat there.” He pointed to the table. “You can use the stool there if it’s too high for you.” 

She lowered her arms, rolling her shoulders and shaking away the slight pins and needles sensation from holding her hands over her head. Milo’s eyes moved from her face to the rags on the ground, and then, expectantly, back to her face. Obeying the unspoken demand, Evie bent her knees to crouch down and gather up what was left of her shift. Discomfort prickled down her spine as she realized her position at the young man’s feet. She hugged the material to her chest and slowly stood up again, ducking her head to stare at her feet. 

“The bin,” Milo reminded. His voice was gentle now, pleased. She crossed the room to the table, dropping the remains of her clothing into the bin as directed, and then stepped up onto the stool, seating herself on the table.  It was several feet off the floor, slightly cushioned and made of a slick material she’d never seen before. Her feet dangled in the air as she waited nervously, her arms folded over her breasts in an effort to maintain some semblance of modesty. 

“Begin the examination while I finish this up, Milo.” 

“Of course, Master Tobin.” The young man moved around the table to stand in front of Evie. His long fingers combed through her curls to feel along her scalp with a quick and nimble touch; his hands were firm, tilting her neck forward and back, then left to right. Moving downward, he palpated the flesh at the base of her skull. 

“No lumps or contusions, Master Tobin.” He tilted her chin once more to peer into her eyes, stretched the lids up and down. “Pupil dilation is normal.” His thumb moved to press against her mouth, caressing her lower lip lightly before applying a slight pressure to encourage her lips to part. Three fingers slid over her tongue as he maintained steady eye contact with her, pressing to the back of her throat. Evie’s breathing hitched slightly, saliva pooling around her tongue as she struggled not to gag. His skin tasted slightly of salt and medicinal herbs, not entirely unpleasant. “She has all her teeth.” The apprentice withdrew his fingers partially as he tipped her head back and peered into her mouth. “No smell of rot or disease. No discolouration. She appears to be in good health.” Without warning, he pushed his fingers back into her mouth with a rapid thrust, and Evie retched, panicky hands flying up to hold his wrist as she convulsed and struggled to pull back. 

Milo tsked disapprovingly. “I said to stay still.” He withdrew his fingers from her mouth, connected still by a silvery line of saliva. Smirking, he wiped his fingers down her face, smearing spit across her forehead, cheeks and lips. The smirk widened into a smile as she flinched away from his touch, her eyes squeezing shut. “You’ve made a mess of yourself now. Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose.” The apprentice continued running his hands down her body, pressing her arms away from her chest to hang loose at her sides. His hands smoothed down over her limbs, lingering over the tender bits that tickled, admiring how she twitched in discomfort. “She’s a bit underweight.” He cupped her right breast in his hand, jiggling it slightly as though weighing the flesh, and then caught her nipple between his thumb and finger. Watching her expression intently, he slowly escalated the pressure as he pinched and twisted the tender flesh with increasing cruelty as he listened to the older man’s reply. Satisfaction flashed through his eyes at her choked whimper. 

“To be expected. She probably came in with that lot from Frey. Check her breathing, make sure she didn’t bring something in from the ship.”

Milo nodded absently and began adjusting her position without asking, swinging her legs around to the end of the table and pressing her shoulders back ‘til she was lying down. When he moved to place her feet in the stirrups, she pulled away, raising her voice in protest.

“No, wait, I d- why are - what are you doing?” 

Milo frowned again. 

“I said to stay still. Honestly, you can’t even follow the simplest directions-”

“Don’t argue, Milo.” Tobin’s voice, slightly reproving, cut off whatever else the younger man was about to say. “Use the restraints.”

“Yes, Master Tobin.”

“No! No, please don’t, I’ll stay still!” Evie jolted up, voice high and tight with fear as she babbled promises. “I swear, I won’t move again, I won’t! Please don’t-”

“Gag her as well.” 

Milo’s arm came down across her chest, pinning her struggling form under his weight with ease as he buckled straps over her chest and waist. He moved quickly and efficiently, expertly securing her restraints, cinching the straps with a vicious energy that drew a high-pitched sound of pain from Evie. Her panicked yelps seemed to spur the apprentice on with even greater fervour, his blue eyes alight with excitement. Moving around her with a barely restrained wildness, his hands roamed roughly over her nakedness as he manhandled her to where he wanted her. One at a time, he yanked her arms perpendicular to her body and immobilised her wrists with leather cuffs that bit into her skin, leaving her splayed out and on display; her knees were forced apart as Milo locked her feet into place with ankle cuffs attached to a wide bar at the end of the table. Finally, he shoved a smooth leather ball between her lips to muffle her cries, and buckled the straps behind her head. 

Evie sobbed, breathing in rapid pants through her nose as tears spilled down her cheeks and into her hair. She twisted in the restraints, her fingers clenching and unclenching as she yanked against the cuff.

“Shh shh shh, none of that now,” Milo admonished, pressing his hand firmly against her chest. “Slow breaths, in and out. In…and out…” Evie could feel the weight of his hand as her lungs rose and fell with each breath - rapid at first, agitated and stuttering, but then the soft, soothing tones of his voice slowly settled her. A languid sense of calm spread through her and her breathing began to even out. She breathed in when Milo said ‘in’, breathed out when he said ‘out’. The heavy warmth of his palm steadied her. “Good girl. Just like that.” He took a small minute-glass from the nearby table and flipped it, his fingers finding the pulse point in her neck. 

A hush fell over the room as the young man counted to himself; Evie’s eyes drifted shut in sudden, abject exhaustion; the gentle sounds of her own breathing, the soft fall of sand in the timer, and the scritch-scritch of Tobin’s quill across paper all slowly lulled her into a daze. Her skin felt warm wherever Milo touched her, and she could feel her magic pooling under her skin, eagerly reaching out to curl and grasp at anything it could touch. She could feel it behind her eyes, reassuring and golden, spreading down through her body like warmed honey as she slowly relaxed under the young man’s ministrations, only to startle back to awareness as he gasped, jerking his hands off of her with a start. 

“Master Tobin! She’s a mage!” 

Evie’s eyes flew open to see Milo backing away from her while Tobin peered at them over the rim of his spectacles, his grey eyes alighting with interest.

“We’ll need the mage collar then - go on and fetch it. I’ll finish up here.” 

Milo made an assenting sound and hurried out of the room as Tobin stood up from his desk and moved to stand over Evie. The light glinted off of the doctor’s lenses, obscuring his eyes as he studied her like she was a strange new specimen splayed wide and pinned down for dissection and examination.