In the Dark

I was in the mood for some casual torture. Don't want to lose my title as Empress of Casual Torture, after all... This is fairly graphic and nasty, so if that's not your thing, you might like to back off now...

Disclaimer: not mine, and I'm not profiting from the use.

... pain...
     Frederick winced as he regained consciousness, almost wishing he'd been able to stay unconscious. He felt... drained. Weak, horribly weak, almost too weak even to open his eyes...
     "Well well well... So it's awake. At last."
     Frederick bit back an instinctive hiss of defiance, and immediately afterwards suppressed a groan of despair. He knew that much hated, much feared voice.
     Rookery. This generation's bane.
     Fighting the faintness as the room reeled about him, he somehow managed to push himself up onto his elbows, glaring at the self-styled vampire hunter. Rookery was seated at ease on a chair a short distance away, a cruel smirk curving his lips.
     "Comfy?"
     It was at that point that Frederick realised his thin body had been stripped to the waist and laid on its front over a rough boulder, his ankles and wrists very securely shackled to the rock, the chains leaving him just enough slack to pull his arms under him. He shivered, with apprehension rather than cold. Rookery chuckled, but there was little humour in the sound. Frederick swallowed, his throat dry with fear.
     "Where... where are my family?"
     Rookery frowned.
     "That fiend you call a wife and those cursed brats got away."
     Frederick closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to rest against the cold stone beneath him, weak with relief. What happened to him didn't matter as long as his loved ones were safe...
     The moment's respite came to an abrupt end as pain blazed through his back. His head jerked back, his whole body flinching as he refused to cry out. Through the blinding white light behind his eyes he thought he saw Rookery grinning. He definitely heard the satisfied tone in the man's voice.
     "Ah, yes, thought you might not like that..."

"... please... no more..."
     The plea was almost inaudible. It hurt to beg, but Frederick was beyond pride, beyond almost anything but wanting this torture to stop. He could smell his burned flesh, feel the chill air sharp against the rawness that had been his back, the skin burnt away by the narrow-beam ultraviolet torches the vampire hunter had played across his body. Had he been human, he'd almost certainly be dead by now.
     Only the thought that his family were safe kept him going. The longer he could keep Rookery... 'occupied'... the more time they had to flee, to find a deeper refuge.
     He whimpered as a coarse hand gripped his hair, yanking his head backwards, forcing him to look up into the sweating face of his nemesis. Rookery's other hand reached out, calloused fingertips stroking the cold, smooth skin of the vampire's gaunt, pallid face, and Frederick flinched. Rookery laughed harshly.
     "You're going to last a good long time, I can tell. You're a lot tougher than you look."
     He loosed his hold: Frederick's head dropped forward, impacting painfully with the rock. The vampire lay still, trying to control the agony coursing through him and failing. A moment later he grimaced as a foul smell assailed his nostrils – the smell of blood, but cold, half-clotted... dead. Rookery thrust a plastic cup full of the thick red liquid at his mouth: Frederick kept his lips closed and tried to turn his head, but a heavy hand gripped his hair again.
     "It's all you're getting, so you'd best make the most of it."
     Frederick would have resisted, but hunger gnawed at him, and he needed blood to help him repair the damage that had been done to his body. Shuddering with nausea, he took a swallow of the rancid liquor, forcing himself not to vomit. Rookery sneered.
     "Animal."
     Frederick managed another swallow, then pulled away and laid his cheek against the cold rock.
     "No more than you – and in many ways more human."
     Rookery threw the cup against the roughly-hewn stone of the cave in which he was keeping the vampire captive, and grabbed Frederick's hair again, yanking his head back brutally before backhanding his face hard.
     "For that, demon, you starve."
     Frederick closed his eyes in despair and tried to gather his strength as Rookery reached for his soldering torch...

Frederick's eyes flickered open – and the pain returned in a rush. He whimpered almost soundlessly, but Rookery still heard it and leered.
     "Good."
     "...why...?"
     "Why am I doing this?" Rookery lit a cigar and blew the smoke in the vampire's face. "Cos it's my job. And because I enjoy it."
     "...you... are a... sadist..."
     "And you're an evil fiend from the pits of hell. You deserve everything I'm doing to you." He stubbed his cigar out on Frederick's shoulder, making the vampire writhe and cry out, and chuckled. "Y'know, it's quite a kick having you here, in my power. Makes all the sleepless nights, all the scorn and disbelief, almost worth it."
     "... how long...?"
     "Am I going to... 'play' with you? Oh, 'til I'm tired of it."
     Frederick closed his eyes, biting back a sob. That could be a very, very long time...

It was dark when he struggled back to consciousness, the only light a dim lamp shining at the far end of the cave. It was quiet too, the only sound a faint drip... drip... drip... from somewhere in the distance.
     Rookery was gone.
     Frederick waited for a moment, straining for any sound of the vampire hunter, then forced himself up onto his elbows, ignoring the pain from his back, and stared at the manacles around his bony wrists. Solid steel at least a quarter of an inch thick and riveted together, so tightly-fitted they'd rubbed raw the skin under the metal. At full strength he might have been able to tear them open, given time, but starved and weak as he was... impossible.
     He let his head fall forward for a moment, gathering his resolve, then tried to work one hand free, fingers tucked together as he twisted and pulled, disregarding the pain and the oozing blood as the metal scraped off the skin along the back of his hand. Desperation gave him strength, and after a bruising ten minute battle the manacle clattered to the rock below him. Half-fainting he rested for a moment, weakly flexing his freed hand, before starting on the other shackle.
     It took longer, and the room was spinning by the time he'd forced his bleeding hand through the metal circle. Struggling to stay conscious he twisted to examine the shackles around his ankles – only to find himself sliding from the rock now his hands were no longer fettered. The jaggedness of the boulder side cut gouges in his stomach and chest: not strong enough to stop himself from falling, he landed with a bone-shaking thud on the rocky floor of the cave.
     But there was no time to recover – he had no idea how long Rookery had been gone or when he might return. Hope fighting with desperation, he pushed himself up until he could see his legs....
     Yes. If he could reach his boots, pull them off, there should be just enough slack for him to force his feet through the shackles.
     Fear leant speed to his movements. Emaciation wrought of starvation helped his endeavours. He collapsed to the chill stone of the cave as he finally slid free of the bloody metal, lying still as his vision faded in and out.
     But not for long. He hauled himself over onto his front and slowly, torturously, began to crawl towards the light...

... keep moving... keep moving...
     He'd gone past pain and was moving on willpower alone, his mind fixed on the image of his family. They needed him. He needed them...
     Every inch forward seemed to take forever, his body trembling as he forced it along the cold hard ground. Gritting his teeth he pushed forward, ignoring the pain from his back, his wrists and ankles, the gnawing emptiness of hunger, and the bitter chill that normally, well-fed and comfortable, he would not even have noticed. He had to escape...
     "And where do you think you're going?"
     He froze, spirit plummeting in despair, and haltingly forced his head upwards. Rookery stood over him, relaxed, leering, cigar in the corner of his mouth.
     "You don't appreciate my hospitality? I'm offended."
     "...please..." Frederick closed his eyes, distantly ashamed of having to beg, more immediately frightened of the vampire hunter's retribution. Rookery chuckled and reached down to grab Frederick's hair, yanking the vampire over onto his back, relishing his captive's cry of pain.
     "There's just no teaching you devils, is there?"
     He dragged Frederick back to the rock, grunting as the vampire's slight weight caught on ridges and runnels in the cave floor, scraping more skin from his back. Finally reaching the boulder he hauled the gaunt shaking body back into position and crouched down so as to be able to look into the vampire's hooded, tortured eyes.
     "That was very silly. Going to have to make sure you can't do that again."
     Frederick looked up at him, eyelids fluttering as he fought to stay conscious.
     "... please... let me go..."
     Rookery grinned widely, eyes raised to the cave's roof.
     "He begs. There's no sweeter sound..." He leered at the vampire. "No."
     He grabbed a heavy industrial riveter, holding it in front of Frederick's eyes, twisting it so the light glittered evilly from its harsh angles, then, keeping the vampire's arm outstretched against the boulder, drove a bolt through his hand and deep into the rock.
     There was a moment's shocked silence, then Frederick screamed as sheer agony pulsed through him. Grinning, Rookery knelt on the fingers of Frederick's other hand and positioned the riveter, pausing for a minute to enjoy the vampire's struggles...

He regained consciousness unwillingly, waking to brightness and pain unlike anything he'd ever imagined; the least movement caused starbursts of agony in his hands and behind his eyes. It was several minutes before he realised he was now completely naked, his legs spread wide, ankles manacled again, and chained tightly to the ground at the base of the boulder.
     It was another minute before the utter vulnerability of his position fully registered. He could barely move: escape was no longer even a remote possibility. Rookery could do anything he wanted and Frederick would not be able to stop him.
     He flinched as something hot stroked slowly down his spine – then whimpered as the pain hit properly. Rookery ground out his cigar at the base of the vampire's spine and lit another, then lowered his hand to rest heavily over Frederick's thin buttock. The vampire froze, eyes widening in alarm, and Rookery chuckled.
     "Oh HO! I see. Don't like that, do you?" He curled his fingers and scratched roughly down the back of a lean thigh, grinning to himself as Frederick tried to pull away from his touch. "Oh, this is good." He ran his hand back up, ragged nails marking the cold smooth skin of the vampire's buttocks, chuckling at the horror-filled gasps Frederick was unable to stop himself making in his struggle to flinch away from the hated touch.
     For a minute or two Rookery paused, considering. He'd bet his life the vampire had never had a man before, and his panic suggested that it could quite well be the worst thing the fiend could imagine. Though the thought of sullying himself by fucking the vampire... he shook his head. No. No, he couldn't bring himself to do that.
     He smiled maliciously. Then again, it didn't necessarily need to be a fleshly organ. In fact, it would hurt much more if he was to use something big and solid and rough. Like one of his wooden stakes, for instance.
     Frederick watched him fearfully as he sauntered over to a workbench and eyed his stakes, finally selecting an unfinished specimen a foot long and a little more than two inches thick, its surface not yet planed smooth, although the sharp point had already been machined. He held it aloft, examining it, making sure Frederick could see what he was doing. Finally he walked back to the boulder, the stake held threatening before him. Frederick was shaking, his eyes fixed on the wood. Rookery waved it in front of him.
     "This is going to hurt you far more than it's going to hurt me."
     "... what..." Frederick stilled, his eyes widening still further as the vampire hunter stroked the point of the stake down his back, between his buttocks, and paused. No... no, surely even Rookery wouldn't do something so foul, so depraved, so wicked...
     Screaming in agony, without realising it he tore one hand free from its bolt as the point of the stake drove home, Rookery's weight behind it as it was forced into his undead body.

... something cold... wet... on his tortured body...
     Shivering, he dragged himself awake, pain an all-encompassing torment. Rookery threw the last of the icy water over him then crouched down to leer into his face.
     "I'm so glad you heal quick. Don't want you bleeding to death." He laughed. "That'd be ironic, wouldn't it? A blood-sucker bleeding to death."
     Frederick closed his eyes and tuned out the uncouth voice, trying to forget what had happened. But it was there, hovering behind his eyes, the memory of the feel of the wood violating him, tearing him, burning him inside. Rookery had thrust the stake in and out several times before Frederick had passed out from the pain... He felt sick, sick as he hadn't in over 300 years. This sort of thing simply did not happen, not to him, not to a man of his stature and rank...
     He bit back a sob. He felt defiled.
     Rookery laughed and patted his buttock, pinching as Frederick instinctively flinched.
     "Gonna leave you to get your breath back. Don't want you dying on me just yet. Don't bother trying to escape. Door's locked and you don't have the key."
     He dimly heard the hunter's footsteps fading away, then the dull clang of a heavy door slamming shut – then he was alone again, bleeding, chilled to the bone and utterly distraught.
     Rookery was right. There was no way he could escape. He had no strength left. It would be better if he were to die.

"S'a fine night out, t'is..."
     Frederick forced his eyes open, focussing disinterestedly on the vampire hunter. Rookery had a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, a cigar in the other, and was grinning at the vampire.
     "A fine, fine night... an' I need..." He paused and eyed Frederick's pale, scarred body with lascivious eyes. "I need... to relieve my... tension."
     The vampire closed his eyes, too weary and desolate to be able to react. It didn't matter what Rookery did, now. He felt the hunter move behind him, heard a zip being pulled open, distantly felt himself being penetrated by something warm and a lot smaller than the wooden stake. He felt the pain in his hands most, as they were jolted against the bolt and manacle – his hand had been too badly mangled to allow for another rivet – by the hunter's thrusts. A rush of heat and wetness, then the human was pulling out and away, and something slimy was trickling from him...
     He drifted into unconsciousness.

... the sound of metal slamming against stone...
     ... hurried footsteps...
     ... Rookery's voice, slurred but defiant, demanding to know what was going on...
     ... Bob Thompson's voice, outraged, shouting something about scum...
     ...Rudolph's voice, high with fear, and his shaking hand brushing Frederick's hair back from his face...
     ... Freda...
     "Oh my love..." He forced his eyes open as something soft and heavy and familiar was laid over his wrecked body, gazing into his wife's horrified eyes. "What he has done to you..."
     "... Freda...?"
     She kissed his forehead.
     "Yes, my darling." She glanced towards the workbench, where Tony's father was pounding Rookery with something heavy and shiny, then gently laid a hand over his, infinitely careful not to cause him any more pain. "If you can bear it a little longer, sweetheart, Robert will help us free you."
     One last blow to the head and Rookery was laid out on the cold floor, and Tony's father hurried over to the family, face anxious.
     "Are you OK?" As Freda and Rudolph looked at him, he coloured and cleared his throat. "OK, stupid question..." He crouched down to examine Frederick's hands, wincing when he saw the massive rivet. He raised his eyes to Freda.
     "Gonna take a bolt cutter at least to get through that, and it's gonna hurt."
     "Can you do it?"
     "Well yeah..."
     "Then please... He has suffered enough. We need to leave this place."
     "OK." Bob went back to the workbench, pausing to kick Rookery as he did so, and returned with a large, long handled tool. Freda eyed it nervously, and Bob shrugged.
     "I'm sorry. It's the best I can do."
     "Please..." She gestured to her husband's hand, then gripped his wrist, trying to hold him still as Bob manoeuvred the tool into place.
     Frederick whimpered as the bolt head sprang free, and couldn't quite bite back a cry of pain as Freda pulled his hand as quickly as she could from the metal piercing his palm. She held the tortured limb very gently between her hands as Bob quickly cut through the manacles then helped Freda to turn Frederick over and sit up. Rudolph quickly tucked the cloak around his father's shaking body then knelt beside him, trembling.
     "Papa?"
     Frederick forced his eyes open. "My son..."
     Rudolph bit his lip. "We were so frightened."
     Frederick weakly pulled the vampire child to his side.
     "It's all right, my son. It will be all right now."
     Freda stroked his hair. "It will be if you can feed, my love."
     Bob glanced at the unconscious Rookery.
     "There's food right there. I won't look." But Frederick weakly shook his head.
     "No, my friend. I have not tasted human blood in almost three hundred years. He may deserve it, but I will not compromise my principles."
     Freda laughed softly. "And would we really want him as a neighbour?"
     "Good point." Bob frowned at Frederick. "But you have to... feed."
     "Indeed. If I might trouble you to drive us to the nearest farm..."
     Bob glanced at Freda, who smiled.
     "We feed from cows, Robert."
     "Oh. Well yeah, of course!" He stood, then leaned forwards hastily to catch Frederick as the vampire collapsed. Freda moved to his side to help support her husband.
     "He has been cruelly treated. It would be best if we were to hurry."
     "Sure..."

Freda kissed her husband's hand in its swathing of white bandage: Tony's mother had been horrified by the state the vampire had been in and insisted on doing what she could to dress his wounds before allowing the family to descend to the cellar to rest.
     "Sweetheart..."
     He feebly rolled his head to gaze into her eyes.
     "I will be all right."
     "I know... it will be days, though. You are so terribly weak."
     He nodded. But the physical damage would heal, in time. The mental harm – well, that was something he'd have to learn to deal with. But later, when he felt stronger. He forced himself to think of more practical things right now. Like clothing. Rookery had ripped his to shreds. While the cloak Freda had wrapped around him was sufficient for the moment, he could hardly wear just that...
     "C'n I come in?"
     Rudolph, who had been watching his father with worried eyes, brightened and smiled towards the stairs to the cellar.
     "Tony! Please, do come down."
     The young American walked carefully down the stairs, a large package held in his hands. He placed it down on a large packing chest and grinned up at Frederick.
     "Sir, my dad says he thinks these'll fit you."
     Intrigued, Freda carefully opened the package, eyebrows rising as she regarded what was inside.
     "Oh my..." Using just the tips of her fingers she lifted something very soft and warm in black cashmere, holding it out before her and giving it a little shake, then placing it against her husband's chest. "This is... princely."
     "It's a sweater. With a turtle-neck, for warmth mom says."
     "A... sweater. I see." She laid it down reverently and reached for the next item, which resolved itself into a pair of black leather trousers. A pair of black leather boots, low-heeled and butter-soft, came last. Freda smiled gently at Tony. "These are wonderful. Thank you."
     Tony grinned bashfully.
     "S'OK. You need clothes, and mom thought you'd look good in these."
     Frederick closed his eyes, lips quirking in a faint smile.
     "Please convey my thanks to your parents. These gifts are much appreciated."
     "OK. Sorry they couldn't find a cloak though. Mom thinks she might be able to make one. Or you could get a big coat instead, if you like."
      Freda smiled at the young human.
     "It is very generous of you all."
     "No problem." Tony shrugged. "I hope you get better soon, sir."
     "Thank you, my friend. I am sure that I will."
     "Then they want to invite you to dinner."
     Rudolph laughed, turning it into a cough as his mother frowned. Freda inclined her head.
     "Thank you Tony. We would be very happy to oblige."
     "I'll tell them. And I'll see you later, Rudolph."
     "I'll look forward to it, dude."
     As Tony climbed back up the stairs, Freda turned to her husband.
     "We should get you dressed, my love. You will be more comfortable..."

A little later Freda eyed her husband as he slept. The new clothing was... striking. And very attractive. And much more... revealing than the three-hundred year old layers he had worn for... well, for the last three hundred years. She ran her fingertips over the cashmere of the sweater, then lightly touched the incredibly soft leather of the trousers. Yes, this was very good...
She wondered idly what women's fashion was like today...