His, For Evermore

Necessary Sacrifices

TW: SA / R*p*

Mick nodded in agreement.

Amelia stood up from the table, "Thank you for listening. I'll see you later," she said before excusing herself from the kitchen.

Mick watched as Amelia made her way towards the hospital. He sighed deeply as he wondered if he'd made the right decision in allowing Alistair to contact her again. She had been through so much already. It pained him to watch her struggle, to watch her cry, and to know that he was, in a way, responsible for what was happening to her. But they had no choice. They had to use Alistair and Luthera as spies to keep themselves alive, to give them hope, and keep them one step ahead of the Night Whisperers. He always knew Amelia would do whatever it took. She always did her best, no matter what the cost, because she was a good person, she was a healer.

Amelia hurried away from the kitchen towards the hospital, she was eager to work, to take her mind away from the inevitable. Her heart raced, and she felt the nausea building within her, her mouth went dry as she thought of being with him again, being under his power once more. She hated him so much. She'd do her job though, because it was important, she knew the necessary sacrifices, and she understood that their very survival depended on the intel provided by Alistair. She couldn't let the Alliance down.

Amelia entered the hospital ward, there was no time to dwell on her pain, she had to push forward, to help heal and comfort the sick and injured, to mend broken bodies. There was always so much work to do, the war never stopped and they needed her skills, the suffering never ended, the bloodshed never stopped. The injuries and ailments varied from minor to life-threatening and her expertise was often called for, even though she was a general healer rather than a specialist, she had experience in almost every discipline and was able to handle anything that came her way.

She'd lost count of how many people she had saved in her time as a healer, but it wasn't enough, it would never be enough, no matter how many she cured there was always more to do.

The hospital was always busy, there was no time to rest, to sit and contemplate or ponder the fate of the world. Her job was to save people, and that's what she did.

At the end of her shift, Nurse Huckle thanked her and mentioned that Mick had said she had a new assignment. Amelia nodded and said she did but would still like to help at the hospital whenever she could.

Walking back to her room, tired from the long day, Alistair Victor came back to mind. That name brought a whole wave of unpleasant feelings. She'd hoped he would die soon. She couldn't bear the thought of having to see him again. It filled her with fear.

She collapsed on her bed, she'd had no lunch or dinner but couldn't bear the idea of eating, the very thought of food made her stomach churn. She pulled her sheets over her head and tried to sleep but was tormented by nightmares.

She dreamt that Alistair came for her in the night. That he woke her by wrapping his long pale fingers around her neck and strangling her, slowly squeezing the air from her lungs, a smile on his beautiful face.

In the morning she woke up sweating, her hair stuck to her forehead. Her whole body ached with anxiety. She didn't feel ready to get out of bed.

The hours passed, and she knew she had to prepare to meet him.

She stood up and washed her body carefully. Her long brown hair fell to the middle of her back. It had a natural wave that hung loosely. She brushed it out carefully and let it dry naturally before braiding it. She applied light pink lip balm, nothing else, and left the bathroom to get dressed.

Her clothing options were limited; most of her belongings had been burned with her childhood home during the war. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of long-sleeved dresses, white blouses, and trousers. She wore what was practical but unassuming; war did not care for fashion. She pulled on a white shirt, a navy blue knitted cardigan that hung past her knees, and grey trousers. Her boots were well worn, comfortable, and warm, and the leather was soft.

She had only one piece of jewellery. A thin silver chain necklace that held a small diamond shaped emerald, a family heirloom from her mother, a gift when she turned fifteen. She didn't wear it, she felt she should protect it from the terrible things that might happen this evening.

Her eyes looked tired and red-rimmed but at least she looked presentable. She thought of him, thought of the pain, her body throbbed just remembering, remembering how it had felt, what he had done to her, and the terrible things he made her feel, his face when he took pleasure in her pain. She would have to find a way to bear it, she thought grimly as she forced her mind back into the present moment. She was due to meet him in fifteen minutes and she couldn't be late.

As she made her way out of the door, her nerves got the better of her, and she hurried into the bathroom to vomit into the sink. She flushed the contents away, washed it down with cold water and rinsed her mouth. Her hands shook, her legs felt weak, she knew she couldn't show up like this.

"What are you doing? You have to go!" her inner voice screamed.

Amelia closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She stood for a few minutes trying to steady herself before exiting the bathroom. Her legs still trembled, but her hands were steady now. Her breathing remained steady too.

She picked up her coat, slipped it on over her clothes, and teleported to the alleyway. She arrived three minutes late, she hoped he wouldn't be angry with her.

She felt his magic before she saw him, it was dark magic and made the hair on her arms stand up, she shivered in fear as his presence surrounded her. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the hotel room. It was the same room as last time. The receptionist recognised her and said the other guest - Alistair - was already there.

His presence made the room feel small. Her throat tightened as she swallowed.

Alistair's blue eyes flashed dangerously. She thought she saw amusement behind the anger, as though he knew the effect he had on her and was enjoying it.

Her breath quickened as she stepped further inside, he watched her every movement, every expression, the tremble of her hands.

"You're late," he growled, "do you realise how difficult it is for me to get away? I don't like being made to wait, Amelia."

"I'm sorry," Amelia whispered.

"Sit on the bed." His voice was harsh.

She walked over to the bed, her legs felt heavy and weak, she sank onto it. The sheets seemed to welcome her back. She held her breath.

Alistair approached her.

His face was hard, cold, emotionless. Amelia wondered what was going through his mind as he studied her. He grabbed her face in both his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. Her heart pounded loudly against her chest

She didn't resist when he pushed her down on the bed.

He pulled off her shirt, revealing the plain, simple bra beneath, his hands moved lower and pulled her trousers off next. Her heart pounded faster as he took off each article of clothing. His cold eyes never left hers as he worked, making sure she watched. Her whole body trembled under his gaze, goosebumps covered her skin.

She gasped as his fingertips grazed her bare thigh. She didn't want this to happen, but she didn't want to upset him by fighting back. She remembered the strength behind his slap when she last angered him.

He leaned closer until their faces were almost touching, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath hot against her cheek, "If you struggle," he hissed, "I will punish you."

Amelia felt a chill run down her spine. His hand moved between her legs, sliding over her sensitive skin and finding her opening, she clenched her muscles in response as he pushed one of his fingers inside of her, slowly exploring. Her stomach churned when she realised how wet she'd gotten from him undressing her and touching her. She was embarrassed. But she realised it was like her body knew, it was trying to protect her, it was a physiological reaction.

Alistair moved back up to face Amelia. His eyes shone with amusement and pleasure as he took in the sight before him. His free hand slid under her head, grasping her hair tightly before pulling hard. She winced. The pain made her cry out as his finger entered deeper and twisted around. She didn't dare move her legs for fear he might hurt her more.

He lowered his head, so his lips almost brushed hers as he whispered in her ear again, "You can cry Amelia, I already know how pathetic you are," his breath sent a shiver down her spine.

His fingers left her, and he stroked himself briefly.

He was already hard, she felt sick thinking of him being inside of her again, he was large, and the memories of him raping her made her cringe in fear. He lined himself up, and without warning, he rammed inside her, it made her scream as the pain of being stretched filled her senses. Tears flowed freely now.

She tried not to sob as he thrust deep inside of her again and again, each movement sent shock waves of pain through her body, making her whimper, it felt like she was being torn open each time he forced himself inside.

She kept crying and crying until, eventually, her voice was hoarse from screaming, her face wet from tears, and her chest heaving from hyperventilating.

Alistair didn't let up until he came, it seemed to go on forever, it felt like hours that he violated her. He held himself above her and watched her as he panted from the effort of f*****g her so violently.

Amelia felt dizzy, her body ached all over, and her limbs were shaking uncontrollably as she lay under him, trembling uncontrollably from fear and pain, her body felt like jelly. The tears never stopped coming, they were flowing so fast and freely they were wetting her hair and dripping onto the pillow below her head.

Alistair smirked down at Amelia. His eyes were full of amusement as he stared at her pathetic crying face. Amelia wished she could disappear right now and never see him ever again.

But he wasn't finished.

He moved back slightly and began rubbing himself until he became hard again. Her fear spiked, she didn't think she could handle any more pain tonight. Amelia tried to move away but his hand gripped her hair again tightly, keeping her in place, her hands wrapped around his wrists in an attempt to stop him, but she was weak and her hands trembled.

"Please don't," Amelia pleaded. Her voice was broken.

He ignored her and pressed into her again.

She cried out as he forced himself deep inside of her, deeper than he'd ever gone before, it was a new pain.

He f****d her hard and fast.

She felt like she might faint, her mind was going numb from the assault and the terror that ran through her. He came a second time, but this time she didn't even have the energy to scream. Her eyes were glazed over with tears, her vision blurry.

His eyes seemed to burn as he stared at her, a satisfied smirk played at the edge of his lips.

"You're lucky I have to leave now, Amelia." He hissed at her, his voice cold and menacing.

Amelia wished he would just kill her. Anything would be better than living in this hellish nightmare.

He stood up and quickly got dressed before heading for the door. Without turning to look at her again, he muttered, "We will meet tomorrow, be here at 6 pm."

She watched in horror as he left. She was still in shock. The pain throbbing through her body reminded her that what had just happened wasn't just another nightmare, it wasn't just some horrible dream. It was very real. She looked at herself lying naked on the bed, c*m dripping from her bruised folds.

Her body trembling and sore.