Season 4, "Spell"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Author's Note: This is darker than my usual stories. Elements of rape, bondage, and sadism.
Pain brought Clark back to consciousness. He groaned and stirred, feeling sharp-edged discomfort everywhere. Not terrible, gut-twisting pain of the sort kryptonite exposure gave him. But he was definitely uncomfortable, with stinging aches all over his body.
He slowly realized that he was covered with dozens of scratches and bite marks from Madeline. And equally as painful was the growing discomfort in his arms. Having his arms pulled up over his head hurt, and having had his weight supported mostly by his arms while he'd been unconscious was excruciating. Every muscle in his arms and chest hurt.
Ordinarily he could hold a car overhead for hours without any sort of strain. But the witches had taken his powers, and that meant he could get sore muscles, just like anyone else. It also meant all the marks Madeline had made on him wouldn't heal any faster than a human's.
He managed to pull his eyes open, groaning again. Madeline was standing in front of him, her mouth curved in an expectant smile.
Oh, God, make her go away. "Please," he said hoarsely. "Leave me alone."
"How ungrateful you are," she said reproachfully. "After all the pleasure I brought you?"
He didn't want any more pleasure. He didn't want any more pain. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The knowledge that he'd given into his body's needs and let Madeline use Chloe weighed heavily on him. He should have fought harder, should have tried harder to protect Chloe, and he knew it. Guilt and shame knotted together in his gut, making him want to vomit.
She stepped closer to him. Familiar, wide hazel eyes looked up at him, and he could hardly swallow back a sob of pain. He wanted Chloe back, not this hard-eyed, cruel witch who enjoyed watching him suffer, who wouldn't leave him alone until he crawled on the ground and kissed her feet.
I wonder if she's telling the truth about Chloe.
He tried to forget the thought. It didn't matter if Chloe had been a virgin or not. Why the hell should she have saved her virginity for him? It wasn't like he'd ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her.
And yet somehow he'd thought she loved him, adored him, to the point where she didn't even look at other guys. He'd imagined she'd always be there for him. He wasn't sure why he'd thought that, or why it mattered to him so much. If anyone had asked him before today, he would have said that of course he didn't want Chloe to be lonely, to wait forever for a guy who didn't feel that way about her right now, and who might never love her. He would even have been happy if she'd gotten a boyfriend. At least he'd thought he would have been happy for her.
But maybe he just would have been jealous as hell.
He wasn't sure. His mind was confused and his body was tired, and he couldn't begin to analyze the complicated tangle of feelings he'd only just realized he had. All he knew was that he wanted Chloe back. She was his friend, and he could depend on her to get him out of this mess, if only he could get through to her.
He looked down into the hazel eyes and tried again to contact her somehow. "Chloe," he said softly. "Help me. I need you."
Madeline gave her cold laugh. "She's not here, farmboy." She reached out and touched his stomach. He tried to move back, out of her reach, but there was nowhere for him to go.
"Leave me alone," he said fiercely.
"Or what?" Her hand drifted downward. "What will you do to me, farmboy?"
"Please..." He hated to beg, but she was right. He couldn't issue threats, because he couldn't follow up on them. "Please, Madeline. I'm tired, and I'm in pain. Please, just leave me alone."
"I haven't been with a man in four hundred years," she said softly. "You can't expect me to pass up the opportunity when I have such a pretty boy chained and at my mercy."
He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wooden beam. He seriously doubted he was "pretty" right now, with scratches carved into his flesh, bite marks on his neck, and sweat matting his hair. And he doubted he was much good to her at this point, anyway. After everything she'd done to him, he was sure he couldn't possibly get it up again.
He wondered how she'd punish him if he failed to please her, and shivered.
"You are cold," she said.
He realized she was right. He was unaccustomed to any sort of physical discomfort. But as the sweat dried on his skin, he was growing very cold. It was October, and a cool breeze blew in through the open doors of the barn, raising goosebumps on his skin.
Great. He got to experience pain and being cold, all in the same day. And he didn't like either of the sensations. He damn well wanted his powers back.
"I will heal all your hurts," she said. "Give you warmth. And give you anything else you like, if you tell me one simple thing."
He opened her eyes and looked at her. That sounded preferable to what he'd feared she was going to do to him. In fact, it sounded too good to be true, which meant it probably was. Even so, he couldn't stop a little flicker of hope from igniting in his chest. "What do you want to know?"
She stared into his eyes. "Where is the stone of power?"
She's talking about the crystal, he realized. Earlier in the year, while under the influence of his "father" Jor-El, he'd found a Kryptonian crystal. Well, he'd taken a Kryptonian crystal. It had called to him somehow, and he'd had a compulsion to take it. He'd hidden it in the recesses of the Kawatche caves, where there was a table waiting for it, along with two other stones he hadn't yet located.
He wasn't sure what powers the stone had, but he did know he didn't want any of these women getting their hands on it. Because the technology concealed in the clear depths of a Kryptonian crystal might magnify their abilities somehow, and that would be bad. Seriously bad.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he answered.
She reached out a hand, curled into a claw, and dragged her fingernails down his chest, scoring four long gashes in his skin. She'd scratched him there before, and the long, sharp nails raking over his already ripped flesh hurt like hell. He threw his head back and yelled in anguish.
"Have you not learned your lesson yet, farmboy?" Her voice was very soft and very cold. "Do not defy me."
He gasped for breath, blinked back tears of pain, and lowered his head, trying to look submissive, because he sure as hell didn't want to piss her off any further. "I told you, I don't know what you mean."
"I know you have seen the stone of power," she said softly. "You have even touched it. I can smell it on you. And you will tell me where it is, or I will cut the knowledge from you."
"You told me..." He paused to gasp again, trying to ignore the pain, to ignore the sensation of his own blood trickling down his stomach. "You told me the other two had gone off to find the stones of power. You said they left you here to guard me."
Her eyes narrowed. "They are fools. Wandering out into this unfamiliar world without a plan or a guide in the vague hope of finding the stones." A cold smile curved her lips. "I intend to find the stones first."
"You stayed behind to double-cross them."
"I stayed behind to experience the pleasures of the flesh for the first time in four centuries with a beautiful young man." She paced back and forth in front of him slowly. "But the moment I tasted your blood, I sensed that you had touched a stone of power. Once I have it in my possession, and it leads me to the other stones, Isobelle and Brianna will cower before me. The world will cower before me."
Somehow he wasn't looking forward to that. In fact, he realized, it was his responsibility to make sure that didn't happen. It was his goddamn stone, and his responsibility. He had to stop her.
The only problem was, he was chained and powerless. Which meant he couldn't do much of anything.
Her hand moved down to his unprotected genitals, and she cupped his balls in her hand, curling her fingers around him. He could feel the sharp nails digging lightly into his flesh, a reminder of how easily she could hurt him, how badly she could hurt him. Fear gripped him, curling in his lower stomach and making him want to throw up.
"Tell me where the stone of power is, farmboy."
He swallowed hard and lifted his head, staring straight into her eyes.
"No," he answered.
Read Chapter 4 here.