FIC: Aftermath [NC-17; Rape, Violence]

  • Aug. 21st, 2009 at 4:18 AM
noexitwounds: (Heroes + Molly's Nightmare)
Aftermath by RedHillBones/NoExitWounds
Rated Mature for violence, language, and sex. Contains rape
Fandom/Characters: Heroes; Sylar/Claire, Molly Walker
Kink: Gunplay

* * *

He lumbered out of sleep slowly, drowsily coming awake to find himself still buried, now hard, in Claire's wet cunt. She woke a second later when Sylar gave a hard thrust inside of her, bottoming out. For a minute she didn't recognize the room, or him, or the situation and she fought against the intrusion roughly. Bound by her wrists and his grip it didn't do much good and she collapsed back after a minute, panting. “Sylar.”

“I'll forgive that,” he told her with a thrust inside for every word. “As you were confused.” A small kindness as he rapidly took what he wanted from her and her breath shortened for other reasons. She whimpered, a delicious sound that pushed him closer to climax and clenched around him as he kept up the punishing pace. “Touch yourself,” he ordered. Her eyes snapped open, looking at him in accusation and anger, and he bent down to bite one nipple after the other. It drew whines out of her. So good. “Do it!”

Squeezing her eyes shut again, she slipped her hand straight for her cunt and its pulsing clit. “Oh.” Her back arched and he pushed himself into her mind to discover what she was picturing. To his surprise, it was this moment, this space in time. She was picturing being raped as she was raped, the little masochist.

It didn't take him long to come, releasing his climax with a hand around her throat. As his cock jerked a final time, he let go. “Go back to sleep.” And Sylar slipped out of her, heading towards the bathroom. Once he'd voided his bladder and washed up he made his way to the kitchen and began to cooking for three. Claire could do without and Molly wouldn't starve from a single day, but he wanted them to start depending on him. He was their caregiver now, in control of their fates. The sooner they accepted that, the easier this transition would be for them.

Finally, he plated three servings of food, his the largest, and went back to where Claire had closed her eyes but definitely wasn't sleeping. Her stomach grumbled at the smell of food and he smiled. “If you'll behave yourself, we'll go have breakfast,” he promised, slipping the cuffs off of her arms.

“Where's Molly?”

“The same place she was last night. I'll bring her out to eat.” A beat passed and he ordered, “Say 'thank you for taking care of Molly.'” Her throat caught on the breath she'd just taken in and Claire coughed violently, expelling it. It seemed to pain her to say it, but she told him thank you and he let her up. “If you need to use the bathroom, use it but not the shower.” He had plans for that later. “Then join us at the table.”

Without bothering to see if she'd followed his instructions – she would, given the stakes – he went to Molly's room and unlocked it. The girl sat huddled in the bed, shaking ever so slightly, and the acrid scent of piss filled his nostrils. “Sorry!”

“You wet yourself.”

“I couldn't hold it. I didn't mean to.” He could see the damp spot in the corner and he gestured her up, telling her to come with him as the trembling grew.

Claire had beaten them to the table but, smartly, hadn't touched her food and he ushered Molly into a chair before sitting.

“Are you alright, Molly?” she asked hopefully. “Did he hurt you?”

“I wet the bed. He's mad.”

“She needed access to the bathroom,” Claire accused him, biting out the words. “Or of course she's not going to be able to hold it.”

“I'll think of something,” Sylar promised, picking up his fork and spearing a section of his omelet. As his fork reached his mouth, he watched the two girls. “Say 'thank you' and then you can eat.” And they chorused it obediently. “Good girls.” Claire and Molly both shoveled the food in as fast as they could without choking, gulping down the water and the juice that he'd given them, and he smirked in amusement. They must not trust him not to take the food away.

The breakfast went on in near silence, only the sound of forks clanging against plates and swallowing to be heard. That's when Sylar noticed Claire's solution to him having disposed of her clothes in a short fire the night before. She'd wrapped herself in the black cotton bed sheet, using it as a cover and a shield all in one. It fell almost like a dress.

“Since we've already gone over your rules, Claire, it's time for yours, Molly.” She looked up at him, fear dancing in her eyes, wariness not far behind. Her young mind would start to break down if he kept her on the edge of fear long enough, a thought that he filed away for later. “The obvious first: no trying to escape, no helping Claire to escape, no contact with the outside world, no attempting to hurt me. For any violation I'll punish both you and Claire, making the other watch, understood?” Her terrified face nodded. “Now, the others. Ask permission to use the bathroom, return to your room, or eat. You'll eat what I give you. You'll have assignments to keep up with in place of school, as I'm not letting your mind go to waste, and those assignments better be done when they're due. Act respectful and, if I'm not here or busy, defer to Claire.” His eyes settled on the girl in question. “Claire, you're responsible for taking care of Molly.”

She nodded almost listlessly, reaching over to squeeze Molly's hand. “It's going to be okay, I won't get you punished.” Perfect.

Molly tried giving her a brave nod but her shaking betrayed her so she went straight back to eating while Claire picked at the rest of her food. After breakfast he set Claire to cleaning up, leaving her alone with the knives to see what she'd do, and set the littler girl up with her first assignment. Math had always been an easy subject to him so he'd started with that.

As he returned to the kitchen he kept on the lookout, scanning the scene and the surface of Claire's mind for betrayal, but none rested there for now. “Is Molly safe?”

“Of course. She's doing her first assignment.”

“Are you going to fuck me again now?”

“No.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Go draw a bath, as hot as you can stand it.” She went with no spring in her step, already in survival mode, and the monster inside of him growled in satisfaction. “Good girl.” Sylar joined her in the bathroom as the tub filled. “Undress me.”

Poor little Claire blanched, her hands staying at her sides, and he lashed out, laying five hard smacks against her vulnerable bottom as she tried to move away. “Okay!”

When he laid off she took a deep breath, steadying her hands to reach for the hem of his shirt. Her hands slid against his skin, underneath the shirt, pushing the fabric up, until she had to press against him to get it over his head and off his arms. Her fingers trembled as she unbuttoned and zipped down his pants. “You can do whatever you want to me.” True. “But you're not going to break me,” she insisted headily. He'd remind her of this moment when she finally did break for him.

She had to kneel down to strip him of his socks and finish with his pants, her mouth fidgeting enticingly just inches away from his cock, and his hand tangled in her hair to pull her close.”Bite me and I'll pull your teeth out. Open your mouth.”

In the end he had to use the puppet mastery to get her determined mouth open and just for that he immediately thrust himself to the back of her mouth. As her throat widened to gag, he pushed in, burying himself in the tight muscle. He held it, counting to thirty, sure her lungs were burning by now. A full minute passed before he pulled out of her slightly panicked face, allowing her to suck in breaths desperately. “You bastard.” He thrust in again, using her mouth as a receptacle: a warm place to keep his cock. Keeping up a punishing pace, Sylar climaxed down her throat and she wretched the second his cock was out of her. Bile and undigested egg spilled onto the floor. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I should make you lick that up.”

“Oh, god. No. Please, no.” Her eyes met his, frantic not to do that disgusting task, and he smiled.

“If you'd prefer that I spank you...”

“Yes, don't make me eat that.” Already she gagged a little bit at the idea, reigning it in carefully.

“Good girl.” He got her a wash cloth and let her clean it up with soap and water, rinsing the rag out after she was done with it. The bathtub had filled and the water still had steam wafting off of it. Easily taking the burden, he picked Claire up and set her carefully down in the hot water, watching her hiss and her skin pink up. Then he joined her from behind, pulling her back against his chest. “Relax.”

She choked on a laugh as if the idea of relaxing remained so preposterous she couldn't imagine it. And Sylar ran a hand through her hair while he relaxed himself.

“Claire.” Her body tensed. “I've decided to be somewhat generous given your situation. You still have one punishment coming but. But I thought I'd offer you some things.”

“Things?” she repeated, like the word had become foreign to her.

“Yes. Books, for your entertainment. A game system, something hand-held. Items for you to have a hobby and Molly too. I won't be fucking you every waking moment, merely a lot.” He smiled against her neck as she shivered. “Board games for Molly. We'll start with books. Make a list today of books you want or the type of books you like.”

Her teeth grit but she knew what was expected of her. Still she remained frozen in hesitation for a long minute. His hand sliding forward to her cunt prompted her. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” And he smiled against the top of her head, letting the warmth take him as he closed his eyes. Still his hand crept its way to her swollen cunt, not to punish it but to pleasure it. She jerked as his finger circled her exposed clit and he worked her silently. The water sloshed gently as she rocked and fidgeted. Only her whimpers, pants, and moans sounded in the room as he breathed so slowly as to not make a sound. Her responsive cunt fluttered against his palm as he cupped her. Having come twice already he didn't harden again but the haze of arousal and shame kept him aroused. Her emotions were well worth consuming. He pressed two fingers against the nerves at the apex of her cunt, rubbing her clit in concentric circles that rushed the air out of her and made her hips buck. Claire even strangled a scream as she came, banging her head back hard against his collarbone and panting. “Good girl. Sweet girl. My girl.”

And then she broke down into quiet little sobs, her chest hitching with every breath, her hair dripping at only the tips being used as a shield for her face. The anguish rolled through her, ripping sounds of pain and need out of her throat and feeding them to him. So he encouraged her to let it all out, to cry her pretty eyes out and make herself hoarse. Each new sob brought her closer to the edge, wringing out of her for a long fifteen minutes before she finally sagged back in exhaustion. “Now you're one step closer to starting over.” He said it and she shuddered weakly, her head rolling against his chest.

Still they sat in silence while the water soaked into their skin. In his case: relaxing; in hers: contemplating how she got here and what she'd do to get out. I have to get out. came through strong and clear, the dominant thought on her mind.

Eventually the water cooled and instead of warming it he carried her out of the bath and wrapped her neatly with a towel that smelled of strawberries, like the shampoo that he'd used on her. He quickly dried himself off, rubbing her carefully dry as well, before he led her back to the bedroom and stripped her of the towel. She shivered, from the cold, or the exposure, it didn't matter. As he sat on the end of the bed he tugged her to him, spreading her out on his lap. She resisted, of course, until he jerked her hair down towards his calves, tearing some of it out and making her whimper. Sylar laid his hand on her upturned ass, rubbing the warm, dry skin. Then, without warning, he lifted his hand and brought it down in a harsh smack.

Claire jumped, wiggling on his lap but he only pressed down on her spine and forced her to still as he rained blows down on her. Tan flesh turned to pink, then to red, as her whimpers changed to groans and her groans finally to shrieks before he stopped. “Good girl.” Gentle now, he rubbed her ass to soothe it and let her stay gasping and sore across his lap for another few minutes. Then he lifted her off.

He should have seen it coming from the way that the anger and humiliation had come back into her eyes and how she grit her teeth, but he saw only his own satisfaction at first. Her hands lashed out, clawing at his cock and balls, getting vice grips and twisting as he grunted in agony and threw her off. The pain overrode everything, his stomach rolling with nausea as she got to her feet and ran. He could hear her bare feet beat against the carpet and stop outside Molly's room, where she stared at the unusual door and banged on it.

“Molly! Molly! Can you open it from the inside?”

“No. There's no knob,” Molly replied, her voice high with fear. “Did you kill him?”

“I hurt him.” So she had and he recovered, slowly rising. “I'm going to go get help. I'm sorry.” Her feet pounded towards the front door as he reached the doorway, one hand out and flicking over to slam her into a wall. She hit her head, groaning.

“I'm afraid little Claire here's just gotten you into trouble,” he called to Molly, shooting daggers with his eyes at Claire's healing form.

Her face twisted in a contortion of fear and pain. Her heart beat rapidly and her breath came out shallow. And he advanced on her, summoning a tool at the last minute. Her eyes widened at the heavy metal gun in his right hand and he raised it, pressing it against her forehead before she could stand. Telekinetically he yanked Molly's door open and the girl timidly made her way out, gasping into tears when she saw Claire. “Please, no!”

“It's too late for that,” he told her angrily, crouching down to reach Claire in all her glory. “You've been a bad girl and earned your punishment. I should just kill you. I could do that as many times as I need to break you.” He cocked the gun and she squeezed her eyes shut, surprised when he forced the gun down and into her mouth. “Suck on it.” Her eyes opened frantically, accusing him of being crazy, begging him to stop. “Suck it!”

Gorgeous tears streamed down her cheeks as they hollowed out in a sucking motion. Sylar worked the gun in and out of her mouth, starting a steady rhythm and shoving the long barrel back into her mouth to make her gag. She gagged; she sobbed; she sucked; and eventually he calmed down. His hand gripped around her throat quickly, pinning her against the wall as he slid the gun down her body and forced it into her cunt.

Molly gave wounded, terrified shrieks at the change of game and he quieted her by locking her mouth shut. He fucked Claire with the gun, sometimes brushing her clit with his knuckles or his thumb, but this time arousal didn't raise up because fear drowned it out. Fear drowned everything out but the need to beg. “I'm sorry! Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I made the wrong choice. Please don't kill me. Please don't hurt Molly. I'm sorry. Sylar. Please have mercy, Sylar.”

“Do I strike you as someone who's very merciful?” and she gulped.

He thrust the silver barrel in roughly three or four more times before flinging it across the room, well out of their reach. He planned to give this lesson hands on. “Bend over the chair, now, and put your hands on the seat,” he ordered low and threatening. Claire shook when he let up on her neck and rose out of his crouch. Her legs barely supported her as she stumbled down to the closest chair, moving as instructed. When he shoved her back down into an arch she didn't even resist. Sylar weighed the options of using his bare hands, hurting himself but delivering her punishment in the most personal way or retrieving the metal pointer stick. As his eyes settled on Molly, he knew. “Molly, go get the small metal stick from on top of my dresser and bring it here.” Her emotions twisted in confusion but glad to be out of his presence, even for a few seconds, she hurried. He flicked the pointed out to full length when she brought it and her eyes went wide. Even Claire shuddered at the sound of it releasing. “Last words?”

She shook her head, her hair dragging over her fingers as she bent over, and he unleashed the first blow. Her entire body stiffened as a dark red line blossomed just below her ass cheeks and she gave a belated grunt. The second and third blows were just as hard as the first and on the third she jumped sideways, desperate to get away from her punishment, already straightening. He just dragged her back down and started over. Her tan, slender body jerked over and over as he struck her, the sounds she made mutating into shrill wails as she sobbed at the unrelenting pain. Marks disappeared almost as fast as he made them and he covered from her knees to the base of her spine twice before his arm tired.

When he released her hair, she collapsed – hitting the chair on the way down – into a heap on the floor. Her eyes were open but distant, staring out at nothing as she curled up into a tiny ball. When he moved to touch her, she flinched back as if he'd struck her again and let out a little pleading sound. “I'm going to deal with Molly now.” The little girl, sobbing for the woman that'd taken so much punishment, gasped for her own sake, her eyes wild with fear. “Come here.”

She didn't, she couldn't make her legs moved and he carried her over to the couch. Quickly, with no interest in her assets, he stripped her down to her t-shirt and kiddie underwear, tossing her jeans aside. Claire had gotten the focus to watch as he bent Molly's limp, terrified form over his lap and he went almost gentle on her. She still sobbed in pain by the end of it, scrambling onto the couch on her stomach as soon as he released her and he stalked over to Claire, grabbing her hair roughly.

“This is what you've done.” He forced her head down near the flaming red, heated skin and then yanked her away. “Never, ever try to run again or I'll butcher her.”

The girls made a symphony of agonized sounds, one collapsed on her knees in front of the couch, the other laying on the couch, and he left them there to work it out. Almost as soon as the gun was back in the safe, he heard a rough knock on the front door. Stalking back into the living room, he threw a blanket at Claire and hissed at them to be quiet. Then he yanked the door open.

A gruff man who looked to be in his mid-forties with peppered hair and a height that matched Sylar's stood at the door, peering in angrily. “I heard screaming coming from here.” He had to have nosy neighbors.

“Yes, my daughter was being punished,” Sylar explained easily. “I'm sorry, I didn't realize she was that loud.”

“It sounded like you were killing her,” the man's voice was marked with suspicion and, reluctantly, Sylar swung the door open, gesturing the man in. He could kill the guy here but maybe he could diffuse the situation.

“Just a spanking,” he said, gesturing to Molly on the couch, where Claire held her hand. “She knew the punishment was coming. Again, I'm sorry to have disturbed you but, as you can see, both of them are fine, if a little sore.”

Molly gasped as she shifted, gritting her teeth in pain, and the good Samaritan, who reminded him of the rental car clerk Elle had goaded him into killing, stared at the two girls intensely. “Are you two alright? His story true?”

This would be a real test and he met Claire's eyes as he mouthed 'Be good' and she shivered, nodding her head to cover it up. “Yes, we'll be f-fine. It j-just stings.” Her teeth gritted to, also from pain, and Sylar watched as the man accepted the story without really believing it.

“Okay then. If you girls need any help, I'm just down the hall, apartment eighteen. Day or night, got it?” He spun on Sylar. “I'll be watching you. It's wrong to beat your family.”

“I'll handle my family how I see best,” Sylar snapped, gesturing the man towards the door. “They won't bother you again.” They really needed to move into a soundproof apartment. Once the door snapped shut, his fists unclenched and he softened, lifting them both telekinetically and taking them to his large, king size bed. He'd heal Molly while she rested and he brought them both water laced with different doses of a sedative. They both drank without suspicion and soon dropped off into a troubled, unnatural sleep.

He shook his head to himself as he prepared the shot of Claire's blood for Molly. Perhaps this demonstration will have convinced them how very serious he was. Though she healed she didn't stir from her drugged sleep and he left them both there in peace, already considering the next piece of his plan. Hopefully the nosy neighbor stayed out of it, for his own sake.

* * *

Comments welcomed in all forms. (Please do!) Feedback/concrit cherished. All typos mine (and probably hilariously inappropriate).

Additional parts: One ; Two ; Three ; X ; Four ; X ; Five.

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