Desire becomes Her

Forward

Foreword

"Daddy, please.  Please don't leave me here..." She looked at her father, who had just released her from a hug, a worried but loving look on his face.

"You'll be okay, you'll get better here." He touched her face gently.  "You have to stop what you're doing Addison, and then you can come home.  This is for the best my darling." And then it was her mother's turn.  She stood behind her husband, arms crossed and unwilling to look up.  Addison spoke to her in Italian.

"Mom, please, please do not leave me here. I promise I'll be good. I promise.” She hugged her mother, the first time she had done so in a long time and then they turned and they walked away and they left her there. 

The admission process was then started.  Charts were made up, her injuries were documented, medications she was currently taking, and medications she would now be taking. Blood was drawn for tests and then she was given clothing to wear and put in a room.  Everything she was, everything she had was stripped away.  She was now just a patient, a number.

Those first nights were hard. She cried and the medication they gave her to help with the withdrawal to the pain medications gave her headaches and she would often hide them in her cheek and spit them out later. She would rather go through the symptoms then be made a drone.

Days went by, those turned into weeks, and then into months.  The wounds in her wrists and feet would periodically open up and nurses and doctors would scramble to find a blade, a weapon that did not exist to stop her from doing it again.  But they never did find anything.

Life in an institution was boring for her, and at some points almost torture.  She hated being locked up, although who really enjoyed it?  She had never been someone to go outside all the time, but just having that option was freedom enough for her.  Now she was in an institutionalized situation; bars on windows, no access to outside, only filtered, antiseptic air and the smell of patients and disinfectant.  She kept to herself for the most part; she was not mentally ill, she did not wobble around mumbling, nor did she sit idle and stare at a wall.  There were few people on her floor that were lucid and that she could talk to.  She went into therapy like everybody else did. Her doctor, Robert Richards was a good looking man, and eventually he came to realize that she really was not ill; but something did have to be done about her hurting herself.  Things got rather out of hand with the two of them; she seduced him, much like she had many other men before.

Her life seemed somewhat normal after a year.  She took her medication, she went to her therapy sessions, and she tried to make herself better; though her affair with her doctor did not make it easy.  They sneaked around behind closed doors, in empty rooms.  However, it was getting boring for her, as it usually did after being with one person for so long.  She pushed him away and threatened to tell if he tried anything else with her.

Robert retaliated at her threats and had her sedated for many hours out of the day, said she was a threat to herself again and she was often tied to her bed.  She'd be allowed time in the commons room for an hour a week but otherwise, she was kept locked away.  It was one day, during her 8 minutes in the commons room that she first heard him.  Whispers in her ear telling her that she was not crazy, that she was a gift.

"Who said that?"  She furrowed her brows, turned in a circle.

"You are a gift, Addison Giovanni, you are my gift." Admodeus, Sin of Lust had finally chosen his prize.

Addison turned in circles, trying to find who the owner of the voice was. "Who said that?" She looked to another patient "Was it you Philip?"  She pointed at him, came at him before she was stopped by strong hands on her shoulders.  She struggled.  "He's whispering in my ear! Let me go!” This was a typical reaction for Addison; she did not like being restrained, being told what to do.  Struggling, kicking, biting, she felt a needle prick in her arm and she knew she would be on the floor in a few seconds.

This went on for weeks, they thought her mental illness had progressed but still she insisted that was not the case.  She had seen him in her room, a tall man with dark hair; she had felt him touch her at night. A burning touch on her cheek as she slept, hair swept over her forehead as she lie there tied to her bed. "Please, please, Robert, you have to believe me." She sat in his office, pleaded with him. "I'm not making this up, just like I'm not making up these f*****g holes in my arms! Why would I keep doing this to myself?”

"I wish I could, Addy.  But delusions like these are not normal. Seeing people that do not exist in a locked facility is not normal. Mutilating yourself to mimic the stigmata is not normal."

"Neither is sleeping with your patients, but you did that, didn’t you?"  She leaned back in the chair, crossed her arms and frowned at him; she was on the verge of tears. Her nostrils flared she looked away from him.  He smirked and leaned forward on his desk.

"No one will believe you Addy; they all think you're insane.  It's why you're here, right? It's why your family has not come to see you in months." He had hit a sore spot.  She missed her father and wished he would come to see her.  Despite all the trouble she had gotten herself into, all the drugs she had taken and bad things she had done, he always told her he loved her, and he would always be there for her.  Then he suddenly stopped visiting, her mother giving the explanation that he just could not bear to see her like that. It was soon after that her mother stopped visiting also.  She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep from crying; she did not want to show him any weakness.  "I think we're done here, you can go now."  He paged the nurses’ station and someone came to escort her back to her room, where the door was locked.

That night the man with the dark hair came to her room again, appeared out of nowhere and spoke to her. "Oh my darling, they've locked you up again. Do they not realize how important you are?"  She looked at him puzzled, not sure if it was real or not, if they were all right and this was just in her head.  Then she felt his weight on the edge of the bed, and the restraints being removed from her arms and legs. "I think it's time you get out of here.  You're coming with me."  The sting she felt as his hand wrapped around her upper arm was real.  It was not an illusion, it hurt and she thought she smelled burning flesh.

"Who are you?  Please let me go, I'll stay here!"  Addison was in a panic.  This delusion of hers was suddenly real.  There was a man in her room, and he was going to take her away.  Her struggle didn't last long; he had embraced her, taken her into his arms and held her tight.  Her whole body felt hot, pressurized and then suddenly they were outside the facility, standing in the snow.

"There, see.  This is much better." He smiled down at her, brushed his fingers over her cheek gently.  She looked at him in horror, turned and ran.  He just laughed and shook his head. "I will come for you soon!"

............

She spent months running, going from one place to another, falling back into her old habits and she had found people who could provide her with drugs. The only way she could pay for them, was to sell herself.  It was not something she was proud of, but it was something she felt was necessary to survive; she refused to go back to that hospital. Thinking she had found the right person, someone safe, she spent a few nights with a near stranger.  He used her, got her high and left her in a motel room with the police banging on the door. It was only a few weeks after that she realized she was pregnant. It was still early enough to get rid of it, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  Four months later, she was sitting in the park smoking when she was suddenly bent over in pain; the sudden, painful cramps had come on quickly. Standing up she felt wobbly, and there was a red stain on the bench where she had sat. Feeling herself start to fall forward she grabbed hold of someone passing by, but fell to the pavement, unconscious. She was taken to the hospital.

 Because of the stigmata, the wounds that so many saw as self inflicted, a psyche evaluation had been called in, and Dr. Richards was the one who showed up. “Why didn't you tell me, Addison?" He didn't question how she had gotten out of a locked facility without a trace. He sat on the chair next to the bed and picked her hand up and squeezed it.

"Tell you what?" She wrenched her hand away from him.

"That you were pregnant, it's something I should have known."

"It's none of your business Robert. I want another doctor; I don't want to talk to you. “She frowned and looked away from him.  She was pale, and felt sick. They had her on an IV to keep her hydrated, to push medications easily; she was about ready to rip it out of her arm and walk out of there.

"I should think it is, it was mine I'm sure." He looked at her, angry.  She laughed at him.

"You’re delusional Robert; they kept me on birth control in that place, all the women were; you signed the order for it.  According to you, I had a problem with s*x. You won’t find who he was; I don’t even know where he is. He left me, alone, in a motel room months ago and I haven’t seen him since." Her nostrils flared a little, the scent of flowers suddenly becoming very strong in the room, the white gauze around her wrists started to turn a pinkish yellow in the centers; the quarter sized holes starting to weep oil. "Robert, I want you to go, this has nothing to do with you."

"Don't lie to me, Addison.”  He stood up, a power move to intimidate her. It didn't work and she shouted at him.

"Out! I want you out of here! This has nothing to do with you, and I want to be left alone!"  The yellow oil marks started to run red as the blood started to ooze from the wounds.  She sniffed, wiped tears from her eyes; the pain medication they were giving her did not work on these injuries, they were pain on a different level. She felt as her feet and arms began to bleed, red lines running from her forehead and down her face. "Get out Robert, I don't want you here."  Her last words before she passed out were not shouted at him, but spoken quietly, pleading for him to leave her alone. Nurses and doctors rushed into the room with a crash cart, her heart had stopped beating.

A few hours later, she woke up. She was in a private room, no longer in the ER and she was not alone.  She turned her head to the right and was looking at the man who had tormented her, and taken her out of the State hospital.  He sat there, stoic, well dressed, legs crossed and reading a paper.  Her brows furrowed, confused and she moved her hands to rub at her eyes. "You're not hallucinating, I am real."  His voice was almost melodic; it was baritone, but not overwhelming. He was calm as he put the paper down and looked at her, a charming smile appeared on his face and again she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Who are you?"

"I am Asmodeus, Lust.  You may call me Lucian."

"I don't understand why you are here"

"Because you belong to me, and I take care of the things I own." He didn't look at her, he went back to his paper, uncrossed his legs, and crossed them again.  She watched him with glassy eyes; it was still hard to focus.  Well dressed, well groomed, well mannered. Whoever he was, he had made sure she had a good room.  It was private, had a television, private bathroom, a couch, and a recliner. She was not tied down to the bed, and the medication did not make her dizzy or nauseous, only hazy and calm.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but I can fend for myself. Thank you for your help, but I think you should go."  She lifted herself into a sitting position, ran her fingers through dark hair, the blonde highlights looked out of place, contrasting with the dark.

"How old are you, Addison?"

"I'm 20, how do you know my name?"

"Far too young, my Dear to be fending for yourself, I think I will stay a while longer." She went to reach for the call button, to get a nurse in to get him out of her room but he shook his head. "ah,-ah-ahh.  They won't believe you."  He raised a hand to show a platinum band around his ring finger and he nodded toward her own hand.  She looked down, frowned at the diamond ring that sat in a platinum setting on her left hand.

"What is this?"

"My proof that you belong to me, and assurance that they let me in to see you. I suggest you rest, Addison.  We have a hard journey in a few hours."

"What? You're crazy, I'm not going anywhere with you."  She tugged on the ring, but it would not budge. She let her hand drop. "I don't understand."

"You will in time, I promise I will explain it to you. But for now, get some rest."  He picked his paper up again and started to read it, side glanced at her and gave her a sly grin.  It made her skin crawl and she rolled over, pulled the cotton blanket up over her shoulder and closed her eyes.

.......

She was waked up a few hours later, a nurse had come in to take her vitals. She was sat up in her confusion, blood pressure, pulse, temperature, all were taken. An elderly doctor came in with a gentle smile on his face. He had her chart with him. "Hello, Mrs. Giovanni, My name is Doctor Eugene Green.  I heard you have some history with my colleague, Dr. Richards. So I'm here to speak with you instead."  She only nodded slowly and then sat back against the pillows, looked at the ring on her finger and frowned, confused.  "You have suffered some trauma, you hit your head pretty hard when you fell, and you lost quite a bit of blood, your confusion is normal.  Your husband has explained quite a bit to us and you're set to be released in an hour."

"My husband?  I don't have a husband, I’m not married." The doctor sat down in the chair beside her bed and nodded a little to her statement.

"We know you don't remember him, but he's provided proof of relation and we will be sending you home with him tonight with instructions."

"No, you can't send me home with him; I don't know who he is. I don't have a husband, I'm not married."   Panicking; her heart was beating heavily in her chest and she felt the old man take her hand and pat it gently.

"Mrs. Giovanni, I know this is hard, and I know it's confusing.  But we have no medical reason to keep you here any longer. Your husband has provided us with the needed documents to prove that he is next of kin."

"My mother, my father?  Why haven't they been contacted?  They can take me home." 

“Your parents are both deceased.  Your husband provided death certificates for both of them."

"What?  No, no they can't be dead I just saw them a month ago."  And she had, though they had not seen her.  She watched them through a window at a book store as they walked past, hand in hand, healthy and alive.  She drew her knees up against her chest and cried.  "This is too much.  Can't I just stay a while longer?"  Doctor Green just patted her back gently and walked from the room. Lucian walked in after him and stood there looking at her, hands in his pockets and head to one side.

"Why are you crying my Darling?"

"Why am I crying?  I was just told my parents are dead and I have to go home with a stranger." She wiped tears from red eyes, face blotchy and tear stained. Tongue darted out to moisten dry lips and she rested her forehead on her knees again.  Suddenly feeling a burning on her back she pulled her head up, his hand was on her back gently and he smiled at her. It was an odd sensation and she suddenly felt an overwhelming need to kiss him, touch him, and be near him.  But it passed quickly and she was disgusted with herself. "Please don't touch me again..."

"Come on, we have to go.  Get dressed."  He handed her a pair of jeans, a tank top and shoes.  But he stood there and waited.

"I...can you please leave while I change?" This coming from the girl who usually had no problem undressing in front of strangers.  However, right now she felt vulnerable and confused. He stood there a moment and nodded, leaving the room.  She felt she had no choice but to go with this man. Everyone around her, the people she was supposed to trust were telling her that he was her husband and she simply did not remember him.  She slipped on the jeans and tank top, then the shoes. They were not new and they did not belong to anyone else.  They smelled of her perfume and soap, the relaxed feeling told her they were her own. She gathered a few of her things in a bag and opened the door slowly. The Dark haired man stood outside the door waiting, speaking casually with the nurses at the station.

"Come on my lovely, let’s get you home."  He had already signed the papers and she was now being escorted out of the hospital in a wheelchair, out of her safe haven with a complete stranger.

"Where are we going?"

"We are going home, Addison.  Where else would we go?  Come."  He opened his arms, beckoned her toward him.  She looked around nervously, folded her arms against herself and walked toward him.  His embrace was gentle, with one hand on the back of her head and she leaned into him and closed her eyes, there was something very comforting in how he held her.

Suddenly, her ears were ringing; her body felt unbearably hot and as if it were being squeezed at every angle. "What's happening?"   Her eyes were shut, he had pressed her head to his chest, hiding her in his jacket.  She suddenly felt the ground under her move, and her knees buckled and he slowly let her slide from his arms to the floor.  Leaning against the wall she put her hand to her forehead and swallowed, moaned at how awful her body and head suddenly felt. “Where are we? What just happened?"

"You are in the third layer of Hell; that special place for those who commit the sin of Lust.  My name is Asmodeus, I am Lust incarnate, this is my domain, this where I rule.  You, my darling are my prize for good service, a gift from the Morning Star.  This is your home now and you belong to me." 

She looked up at him, horrified and was only able to watch as he turned and walked away from her.  He spoke to her as he walked. "You will get used to it Addison.  You will get used to it, or I will make your life hell."

She did not sit on the floor in that hallway for long; he came back and stood there looking at her.  She had been crying; her face stained with the red trails of tears.  “Get up,” his voice was stern, not the soft tone she had heard earlier.  She looked up at him and swallowed the lump in her throat, but did not move. “Get up.”  He said the words slower this time, his voice no nicer than the first time he said it.  She placed her hands on the red carpet, leaned against the wall and pushed herself up off the ground.   She looked at him, wary of what he was going to do to her.  “Come with me,” Such short, stern sentences, what had happened to the soft words of encouragement he had given her earlier?  She was even more afraid now than she had been.  He turned and started walking and she reluctantly followed behind him.   They walked for what seemed like a long time, the hall way was endless.  But then they came to a pair of double doors to the left; big, heavy, oak, four panel doors with brass fittings.

 He opened the doors and gestured for her to go in. “In you go, Addison.”  She hesitated a moment and then walked in, he followed in after her, closing the door quietly.  The room was big, though the ceiling was solid, not the endless darkness that was in the hall way. It held a single light in the center of decorative ceiling tiles that were painted with gold patterns.  A large bed sat against the wall to the left of the doors with tables on each side.  Each table held a Tiffany lamp; whose colored glass gave the room a warm, reddish tint; there was an opened door to a bathroom to the right, the cream colored tiles seemed out of place.  When the doors closed behind her she turned and looked at him, nostrils flared in fear.  She had no idea what was going to happen next. “Don’t be so afraid, my Lovely.  This will not hurt you if you cooperate.”  He moved away from her, his hand leaving the small of her back and he sat in a chair that was to the right of the bed.  The Wingback chair was upholstered in black with gold piping, patterns sewn into the fabric barely visible in the dim light.  He tilted his head to one side and smiled. “Take your clothes off.” 

“No.”  She shook her head, set her jaw.

“Take them off.” A simple statement but the smile had left his face.

“I won’t.” Her brows furrowed and she bit her lip. She tugged at the ring on her finger, trying to pull the diamond solitaire off.  “I want this off, why won’t it come off?  I want to go home.”  Big demands for someone so small in a world she did not belong in.

“It’s either the ring, or shackles my darling, which one would you prefer?”  He waved his hand, and the ring disappeared; in its place, a set of heavy iron shackles around both wrists, lying heavily on her bandaged arms.  He got up and grabbed hold of the chain that held them together and pulled her toward him. “I would rather not treat you as a slave my darling, but if this is what you prefer, then that is what you shall be.”  The iron that bound her wrists suddenly got tighter, pressure that caused her hands to ball into fists involuntarily.

“The ring, I prefer the ring.”  She squeezed tears from her eyes, but the look of defiance never left her face.  The shackles disappeared, and the platinum, single setting ring reappeared on her left ring finger.

“Now, take off your clothes, I would like a better look at you.”  He backed away from her and sat in his chair again, crossing his legs and watching with a smile.  She did as she was told, but not nicely.  She was angry as she pulled off the red tank top and threw it on the floor. She kicked off the flat shoes and pulled off the jeans, those too were kicked off and thrown in a corner.  Standing there in underwear and matching bra she lifted her arms in question.

“Is this enough for you?”  He laughed a little, surprised with the attitude she put forth considering the predicament she was in.  She turned in a circle, a sarcastic gesture and then stared at him again.  

“For now it is, yes. Come here.”  He motioned her over and she walked toward him.  He reached up to touch her ribs and she instinctively shied away.  The wound that never healed, the white bone under lean muscle; it was a constant sting that never went away.  Taking her hands in his own, he inspected the holes in her wrists, running his thumb around the rim of the right one. She pulled her hand away from him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’ll touch what is mine, Addison, nothing will change that.”  He took her hips in his hands and turned her around to look at her back. The amount of damage was gruesome.  The scars he had seen on others were nothing compared to what she had.  Thick scars, small pink ones, they littered her back, right down to the backs of her legs, leaving very little smooth skin. She felt him stand up; felt him so close she could feel his breath on her neck.  He traced a scar with his fingertip. It was one that wrapped over her shoulder and went down to the middle of her back; his fingertip burned and she winced and shrugged her shoulder away from him.  She turned around to look at him.

“What do you want?  When can I go home?”

“I thought we had been over this, my Lovely.  You are not going home.”  He reached out quickly and grabbed her arm; she fought with him, which in time she would realize was a mistake.

“No, no, please don’t do this; you don’t have to do this!”  She screamed, even though no one would hear her.  She struggled and would not allow him to take her without a fight.  Grabbing her wrists in one hand he pulled her arms up over her head and pushed her toward the bed and threw her down. “Please don’t do this.” She kicked at him as hard as she could but it was no use, he had her right where he wanted her.  Her arms had been bound above her head; she kicked at him as he advanced on her, removing his own clothes as he approached.

“I do have to do this Addison and if you behave, I won’t hurt you.” She did not take that seriously and continued to kick at him as he crawled onto the mattress and tried to pin her down; it was like she was kicking a brick wall. Soon he flipped her over, twisting her arms in the process; she thought her shoulders might dislocate.

“Stop, stop please stop!” she felt his hands on her hips, felt as they wandered down and as he pushed her legs apart.  He grabbed her hair in one hand, wrapped an arm around her with the other and forced himself in.  She tried to struggle but it was no use.

“Calm down Addison.” His voice was calm, but his grip on her did not lighten as he continued.  She finally took in a deep breath, though the tears did not cease to fall. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of other things, but it was no use; this would be engrained her mind for a lifetime. She hated how he was making her feel; it was as if she had no choice but for it to feel good. Every time he touched her, her pulse quickened; every time his lips touched her body it burned. He flipped her over, untwisting her arms and loosened the ropes but he was not done. When he kissed her she kissed him back, her legs bending to press against his body and she wondered why she had done that; it had been a reflex. He grinned a little “If you just calm down you’ll enjoy this.”  He moved down her body and she held her breath as his tongue sent ripples through her.

“No….stop….please stop.” She was still resisting and he was impressed; no one had ever been able to keep up with him, not one person since head become Lust had managed to not enjoy every touch he afforded them.  Her fingers were curled in his hair and she pulled it, hard and made herself snap out of it. It was then she managed to knee him in the side of the face; not hard but hard enough to startle him. He stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. It was then she realized the mistake she had made.  His hand made firm contact with the side of her head.

“I told you if you behaved I would not hurt you.”

“You’ve already hurt me!” She spat at him.

 An hour later, she sat in the bed next to him, sheets pulled up, her knees drawn up against her body she shielded herself, tears running down her cheeks.  He lay there, looking at the ceiling and then he got up and started to dress.

“If you had just cooperated like I told you, you would not have had to endure that.” He buckled his belt and looked over to her.  She didn’t say anything to him, just looked away. He had not restrained himself when she fought him.  Her lip was split, her left cheek bruised, and nose running and bloody.  Her body ached; burn marks from his hands and bite marks on her skin. “You can stay in this room until I have your living quarters arranged. There are towels in the bathroom; soaps, oils,” He buttoned his shirt and pulled a dark blue silk tie through the collar and proceeded to tie it. “Perhaps a bath will make you feel better.  Darling, you should answer me. “

“Um, yes; a bath would be nice.”  She pulled her fingers through her hair and took in a deep breath and looked to him, tears rolling down her cheeks.  He almost looked sympathetic, and took her chin between her fingers and kissed her tears away.

“No more tears, Addison.  I have a meeting to attend, but I’ll be back shortly.”

“Okay…” She watched him with dark eyes as he tied his shoes and pulled his jacket back on.  He did not look back as he exited the room closing the door behind him.   She lay back against the pillows and rolled over. Curling herself up, she let out a hard sob, body shaking as she cried, not sure what to expect the next time.  She did not know when he would be back, but she was exhausted, and had no energy to move.

He would come back from his meeting and do it repeatedly until she finally submitted and did not fight him.  He was impressed with how much she could take before giving in.  He thought it would have been easier, but she would not let him break her; she would not allow herself to be what he wanted her to be.