Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Inescapable	By : LotornoMiko Category: +S through Z > Valkyrie Profile Views: 1614 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile, or the characters from it.I do not make money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Inescapable
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 4
- 5
- 6
The first days were the hardest. My world had been destroyed, it's reality torn apart until nothing existed of it save for the memories I had of it. The very face of the nine realms had been changed, the land and it's people unrecognizable to me now. The places and people that had led to building up my character, leading me into becoming the person that I am? Gone. I was a stranger in this new world. An outside element that could only wish that things had turned out differently.
But wishing could not change what had happened. Only through concrete action could I make a difference. And yet I felt powerless, the time machine destroyed. I was Lezard's prisoner, my body his to violate. He would revisit that particular indignation upon me countless times, as though the act of ravishing me could somehow force an acceptance between us.
I learned to dread his approach, to feel the first flickers of fear whenever he smiled at me with a certain twinkle in his eyes. It was both pleasure and torture Lezard offered me, a sweet torment of my body and mind as he worked me over. The very act was cruel in nature, though his actions were performed with the intent to arouse not distress me. Lezard could not understand that HE was the source of my distress, that every time he took position between my legs, something in me died a little further.
It would take some time for me to wither so completely. My anger and revulsion would be the last to go. I would cling stubborn to them, using them as both weapon and shield against him. But they were ineffectual tools, Lezard unaffected by the worse of what I attempted to do. The list stretches on, from name calling to outright attacks. How many times had I reddened his cheek? Or broken his nose? But those were minor inconveniences, easily soothed by his divine powers. He was unflappable in response to my outbursts, where I hurt from everything he had done. From everything he continued to do.
His crimes would continue, the nine realms suffering. But not from any malignant purpose of Lezard's. He simply didn't care, to taken with me to want to oversee creation. He was truly a selfish being, having become a God with the sole intent of possessing me. His lusts had driven him, and continue to drive him even to this day. I've since grown used to how he is, but many in the nine decaying realms have not.
I couldn't yet know of the dissension and dissatisfaction spreading among the people. It would start in spurts, furtive whispers in meetings. Eventually it would snowball out of control, the people choosing to rebel against their God. But the rebellion was not immediate, it would take decades maybe even centuries before an active assault was launched against Lezard.
I would remain by his side, existing in a state between life and death. I lived and breathed, but without purpose. At least not a purpose I wanted to acknowledge, as though ignoring what was happening could somehow deny my role as Lezard's toy. That was what I was, little more than a doll for him to use and admire. Lezard would impose upon me hourly his wants and desires, his expectations of me. That included the way I dressed, the frilliest of gowns, and immodest dresses being put on me. He loved to cover me in expensive fabrics, silks and satins being the only things to touch my skin. Several kingdom's worth of jewels laid at my feet, Lezard often telling me how their brilliance paled in comparison to my beauty.
I began to think of my beauty as a curse. Where once I was indifferent to my looks, I began to openly hate them. I blamed them for my predicament, but more than that, I found the fault in them for what had happened to my world and this one. Something had to have attracted Lezard to me, and I didn't for one-second believe he had first come to desire the woman I was. I thought his love superficial, his eye drawn to my ethereal beauty.
I wanted to make him stop wanting me. I wanted Lezard done with me, for the God to toss me aside. I didn't care if I would be just another casualty, did not care that the memories of the other world would be lost with my death.
Gods cannot die from their own hands, no matter how much self loathing they are filled with. But they can be made to suffer. I couldn't kill myself, my divine powers would protect me from the worse of what I attempted to do. I had no knife, but there were mirrors in my room. In a rare moment apart from Lezard, I began smashing them, not caring as the fractured glass sliced up my hands.
I would use my power to stop my body from healing those cuts. Nor would I be satisfied with just my hands being damaged. I'd use a jagged piece of glass, and slice off my hair. It wasn't enough, I could see in the pieces of the mirror that I was still too beautiful. I would have to do worse. And I did. I did slow, methodical cuts across my cheeks, slashing open my soft skin. Blood would drip down onto my breasts, staining my dress.
I would do many cuts, the lines intersecting one another. I thought they would make me ugly, make Lezard react in revulsion. How foolish I was. He was a God, the creator. It was no harder for him to heal the damage that I had done, than for him to blink his eyes. The only victory I had was a momentary one, Lezard reacting in outlandish horror. He couldn't believe what I had done, his hands shaking as he gripped me by my arms.
I was already on my way to being defeated. I didn't even think to use the glass on his throat. I merely dropped it when he grabbed me, my eyes defiant as he looked over each cut on my face. They were still bleeding when he ran trembling fingers over them, his touch warm with ether. Too late did I cry out, my wounds healing with every touch.
He'd even restore my hair to it's previous glory. Lezard would spend hours brushing it, as though trying to confirm it's existence. We did not talk much that night. I merely sat rigid before him, enduring his hands in my hair. The brushing did not calm me, if anything my agitation only grew. The next morning would come, and the mirrors would be removed from my prison. All in an attempt to protect me, a fail-safe to ensure I did not repeat my attempts at self mutilation.
Sometimes I think I went down that path of self loathing because there was nothing left to me. I could only grieve for so long. It was easier to forget those that had mattered to me, and turn instead to laying blame on my shoulders. It was easy to blame myself. After all, who else could have hoped to rival Lezard in a fight? I had failed, and I had been the motivation for his many, many crimes.
There wasn't much to my days when apart from Lezard. He didn't leave me often enough for my liking, but sometimes he disappeared for hours at a time. I often think it was his attempt at a kindness. An attempt to give us both a break from his lusts. When with me, he touched me often. Even when he desire had been expended for the moment, he would continue to tease me. He truly could not get enough of me, his hands constant on my body.
Even then I was learning to tolerate if not accept what he was doing to me. Disgust could only sustain me for so long. This was happening, and would continue to happen for an eternity it seemed. My mind in an attempt to cope began conditioning me to respond favorably to him. It would be the start to a long journey to my ultimate acceptance of Lezard in my bed.
The adjustment period continued. The first weeks and months, I was so angry I couldn't even look at Lezard without wanting to kill him. I often acted on those impulses, lunging at him, my hands attempting to close around his throat. But I was as ineffectual as a rag doll, my attacks easily pushed aside. He was never violent in deflecting my attempts on his life, though Lezard reacted with dismayed confusion. He often spoke of how he didn't understand where this hatred came from, why I was so against being his. More than that, he spoke at great length about his undying love for me, the admiration plain in his eyes.
I could only speak of hate, denouncing him. I would shout and snarl, hurl insult and accusation and ultimately scream in helpless rage as he pinned me down. He had to force me to the bed each and every time. Even as I cursed him, he was loving. Or as loving as he believed himself to be. As loving as one could be when committing a crime against another.
We embodied hate and love so completely, two split sides of the same coin. It would take time for the worst of my anger to simmer. Time for my temper to cool to where I could look at him without murderous impulse in my heart. I'm sure he was delighted when the attacks stopped. Just as he reveled in my interest when I began to speak to him at length about things other than what a monster I found him to be.
But I didn't want the intimacy that came with conversation. The intimacy that was born of getting to know my captor better. I was at cross purposes, wanting to find a chink in his defense. If he had suspicions about my sudden interest, he never showed them. Not even when I questioned Lezard at length with just how he had changed destiny, going from mortal to God supreme.
He enjoyed telling me of his exploits. Lezard would take on a boasting tone, smug satisfaction oozing off his every pore. My amazement was not feigned, he had earned that much in his accomplishments. I paid careful attention to every word, listening even as he touched and caressed me in the midst of his tales.
One might think Lezard was being careless in divulging such details to me. He wasn't. He just knew with the time machine destroyed, there was no way for me to go and right the wrongs of the past. And yet to keep from going insane, I harbored the delusions that somehow I could rebuild the time machine. But a dozen requirements were needed, the most problematic of all escaping Lezard long enough to rebuild a time machine I didn't understand how to work.
The first times I tried to escape, I was aimless. I just wanted gone from here, having no other purpose than to be free of Lezard and his twisted affections. Sometimes I think my escape attempts was just an effort to pass the time for there was no other entertainments to be found. None that could hold my interest at least.
I never made it that far. I never even got out of the building. Lezard always found me. I couldn't muster enough dignity to not go kicking and screaming back to my room. He would chastise me as though I was a petulant child. Maybe I was acting that way, not far from a temper tantrum. But I was so weary. Tired of being used and abused. I would continue my attempts at escape, right up until he chained me.
I had thought all my hopes had died long ago. I had thought I had known what true Hel was like. But that chain took away the last of my freedoms, binding me thoroughly to this room. My dreams of escaping were just that, my powers suppressed by the divine properties of the chain. Lezard took no joy in what he had done, but never did he consider removing the chain from my ankle. He was that determined to hold onto me, even if it meant stifling my spirit.
I was suffocating, little by little. Denied the things I needed in order to be me. I had not seen the sun in decades, my skin turning pale in response. I missed the sky, seeing it change with the sun and the moon. Missed the twinkling of the stars. But more then that, I missed soaring through it, my wings spread for maximum speed. The only wind I ever experience now is the wind Lezard calls upon in his rage. The wind he uses to batter those unwanted pests who dare intrude on us.
I no longer knew the warmth of anyone but Lezard. His was a cold flame, chilling me to the bone. I needed the connection of more than one person, needed the simple things of a smile without expectations. I missed the voices of the people, hearing their prayers and hopes. I was isolated from everything and everyone, my only contact with the outside world a man who would not tell me of it.
I was alone the first time I heard a voice that was not Lezard's. I thought I had imagined it, and was quick to dismiss it as nothing more than a lonely woman's mind playing tricks on her. But the voice would sound again, a man who had a gruff basset tone. It was nowhere as pleasing as Lezard's own voice, but to me it was a welcome difference.
That man was shouting, not a hint of fear in his voice as he demanded God to appear. I couldn't help but be alarmed, thinking him a fool. No one made demands of Lezard. Not without suffering great consequence. But here there existed a being who was bold, demanding the God appear before him to pay for his crimes of neglect against the realms.
I couldn't even begin to fathom what was happening. Was I dreaming? There couldn't really be a revolt going on inside this temple, could there? But other voices were rising to bolster the first, and I could sense the righteous thirst within the group.
In a daze, I drifted over to the door of my prison. The chain that tethered me to the bed was such a length that I had free range about the bedroom. It did not impede me as I went to the door, though it frustratingly came up short whenever I tried to cross it's threshold.
The voices would continue, their anger mounting as they shouted. I heard the smashing of something delicate, the crowd turning on the building's furnishings. I couldn't see them from the doorway, only their voices were known to me. It wasn't enough, I was greedy for exposure, wanting to see them, to speak with them. I began to shout back, but my voice was lost to the screams.
The pain turned their screams into fear. I knew then Lezard had deigned to put in an appearance. He would effortlessly cut down every last person who had ventured into the temple, sometimes drawing out their suffering with a slow, cruel kill. I could hear the panicking, the stampede as dozens of people tried to flee for their lives. Some spilled into the corridor that led to my prison, and even though they were terrified, I savored the sight of those mortals.
The mortals didn't know what to make of the sight of me. Of the sight of a chained and powerless Goddess who was ready to weep tears at the sight of a new face. I knew they were already dead though, the group living on borrowed time as Lezard played with other members of their rebellion. These mortals weren't ready to accept it though, and one rushed towards me, sword in hand.
I honestly thought he meant to kill me in that moment. I wouldn't know then that they were hopeful they could unleash a God that could rival Lezard in power. I foolishly backed up, seeing too late the intent to sever not my head, but my chain. It cost us all seconds of valuable time, Lezard appearing to strike down the mortals. I could only stare, helpless and horrified as Lezard brutally and sadistically killed those people. He was always aware of me, but Lezard had gone to a different place in his head, enraged in a way I could never make him.
It frightened me, and I quickly shut the door. But it wouldn't keep Lezard out. He would come to me, the ether energy he had discharged heavy on his skin. Even choking on the scent of divine power, it couldn't hide the fainter scent of the blood and death he had reveled in. He had showered, his clothes immaculate. And yet all I could remember was the sight of him, covered in blood, with an angry snarl on his face.
When he advanced on me, I was huddled against a wall. I hadn't even realized what I had done, but my hands were over my ears. I had been trying to block out the sounds of killing, shaking violently with my eyes leaking tears. It had been a long time since I fought him so vigorously, but when he attempted to draw me against him for a kiss, I reacted like a hellion.
My nails scratched down his face, dislodging his glasses. They'd actually crunch under foot as we struggled, Lezard overpowering me yet again. I would be pushed down onto the bed, forced to endure his weight on top of me. For a moment that was too brief he just stared at me, as though trying to fathom the reason behind my upset.
"How could you?" I asked with a shaky expel of breath. Understanding dawned in his eyes, or as close as he could come to it.
"They would have taken you away from me." That was his explanation. That was Lezard's justification for the slaughter he had just committed. It didn't reassure me, and I screamed into his mouth when he kissed me. I'd taste blood, having bit him. Something I hadn't done in a long time. With his lip still bleeding, he'd work on kissing my cheeks, attempting to lick away my ever flowing tears. They would not stop, lasting the entire duration of his twisted expression of love and need.
He needed me. Needed the reassurance of my body. Through me he would calm himself, soothed into believing all was as it should be. I wasn't yet used to this arrangement, but it would become a familiar ritual, Lezard a mix of desperation and desire whenever anyone came close to rescuing me. What's worse, Lezard would delude himself into believing he was protecting me. That it was us against the world.
But I wasn't ready to align myself with him. I wasn't ready to turn my back on the realms, even if this world, this reality wasn't mine to begin with. I wanted to believe in the people. To find hope that they would offer me the freedom Lezard had stolen. For a time I would, my hope restored. And all because I believed in the mortals. In the concept of good triumphing over evil. But as the months turned into years, the decades piling into centuries, I began to doubt even that. Eternity is a long time to live without hope and dreams, is it any wonder I began to change? To cope with the reality of my situation by becoming someone different from the Goddess I had been born as? Lezard had patience in abundance, willing to wait me out as I struggle to keep from submitting so completely.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To Be Continued...
Michelle
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Inescapable