LOTS - CARA/DENNA

Lessons for the Strong

orange_creative

Title: Lessons for the Strong

Author: orange_creative

Fandom: Legend of the Seeker

Pairing(s): Cara/Denna

Rating: R

Summary: A day that a young Cara is trained at the hands of Denna.

Warnings: Torture and non–con because this is about Mord–Sith.

A/N: I wrote this months ago because I wanted to delve into Cara’s character. It ended up becoming the inspiration for the underlying theme in my Perfect Knot fic. I originally intended for this to be a later flashback scene in PK, but with the new direction I know I’ll be taking PK in, I know that this scene doesn’t fit into the fanfic anymore. D: AND, it’s also kind of an apology for the current PK hiatus. Please note that this fic is a stand–alone and is not connected to the PK storyline.

Spoilers: 2x03 “Broken”

word count: 1,554

Disclaimer: Copyrights associated with Legend of the Seeker and the Sword of Truth do not belong to me.

Lessons for the Strong

orange_creative

Cara remembered the last time she was taught a tight, proper knot. She had been shoved into a tiny cell that was little more than a cage of cold stone. She was still bleeding, exhausted, and starved. Naked. Nothing she hadn’t already been through. Unable to resist, Denna had deftly tied her hands behind her back and the slack was looped onto a hook on the ceiling. Then her feet were bound at her ankles and her toes barely had enough purchase on the ground. It was impossible to sit, let alone move with an inkling of freedom.

“To have the privilege of binding someone with these knots,” The other blonde whispered in her ear before biting sharply on the shell, “You must learn how to untie them.”

“Remember to behave, little Cari.” Before leaving, Denna sweetly licked Cara’s bleeding ear to draw out one last beautiful gasp. Darkness enveloped the room when the door was shut. Cara knew it wasn’t locked, it didn’t need to be.

The young blonde, barely sixteen, didn’t moved for a very long time. She knew she couldn’t unravel the knots from the position she was in. She could barely hold herself upright enough to keep her shoulders from being dislocated. Instead, she fell in and out of sleep, woken by the rumblings of her stricken stomach and the painful pull of the rope when her body slumped the wrong way. She merely shifted until the pain was tempered enough that she could doze off again.

Her own piercing scream pulled her back into the realm on consciousness. Denna was standing in front of her, clad in red leather that was earned not long after Cara’s capture those few years ago. Denna lightly trailed her agiel up along Cara’s bare side, raising a open welt from her hip to the side of her breasts. Tears escaped down Cara’s cheeks, bearing the pain in full bodied tension and near silence, but it was insignificant to the blood dripping down her side.

“I’m waiting, Cara.” Denna tapped her agiel on Cara’s fresh–made wound, receiving a gritted sob at each touch.

Then Cara was alone again. The tears came more freely as the burning on her side escalated. It always got worse. It would be hours before it started to dissipate and hours more before it would be sufferable enough to sleep again. Denna had taught her the spectrum of pain well and Cara knew that this stretch of torment wouldn’t peak enough to pass her out. A Mord’Sith knew better than to give a pet so generous a gift as unconsciousness.

It took two more visits and more than two welts from Denna for Cara to finally understand that she was supposed to learn something from this, but she didn’t know what that was. She already knew how to tie these knots. She had learned from the countless times that Denna deftly manipulated a piece of rope while Cara was too exhausted and terrified to resist, unable to do anything but watch with morbid focus.

The knowledge that she never fought back anymore brought on a fresh slew of tears. It was no wonder that Denna had left Cara here to rot. She was beaten and cowed and weak. This was where she was going to die. This is what happened to the little girls who didn’t have the capacity in them to become a Mord’Sith.

No. Even as she thought so despondently, her mind fought against it. She didn’t want to be weak, like her father. He hadn’t even had the strength to tell her that he had sold his own daughter to the Mord–Sith. His weakness and greed had been priced at her life and her sister’s, almost.

Cara twisted slightly in her bonds, testing their strength. The ropes chaffed at her skin, but Cara could barely feel her hands after the hours of restricted circulation. Moving sent an ache throughout her entire body, making her sag again. Her legs trembled even as she commanded her defeated muscles to keep her upright. She pulled again, jerking her body so violently that her welts cried out in protest.

Cara thought of the words her trainers had dropped like breadcrumbs.

Pain is just a feeling.

A feeling the mind externalizes to cope with the world that has betrayed you.

Accept the pain. Reject the world.

Cara took a few breaths before clenching her teeth tightly on her bottom lip. She slowly built up the pressure, eyes clenched tightly and the metallic taste of her blood coating her tongue. She refused to relent until it was the only thing she could feel. Then Cara tugged at her bonds with the last dregs of her strength. Denna was very, very skilled, the reason she had been given the opportunity to make a guest appearance in Cara’s training even though Denna had barely finished her own. Defeating her knots would be far from easy. Cara used her fingernails to cut into her palms, hoping that slicking her hands with blood would help. It did-just barely-and Cara dropped heavily to the floor when her hands slipped free. She didn’t think to brace herself for the fall and her cheek struck the ground. Sharp pain shot through her head like a crack of lightning.

Cara wanted to lay there and close her eyes, but she knew she wasn’t done. Her face scrunched into a grimace as she dragged her ankles up as close to her hands as possible. At first, she could only pull weakly at the tight ropes, nothing more than meager brushes of her fingertips. Eventually, she caught her nail on the right part, but it was futile tugging from the wrong angle. When she started pushing herself up into a sitting position, her body screamed at her to just lie down, Cari.

She managed to prop herself up against the wall facing the door. This time, she gave herself a moment to collect herself, pushing away everything but the task in front of her. Again, she pulled her knees up and worried at the knot. The determined expression many would eventually remember her by didn’t leave until the twine was curled and conquered on the floor next to her dirty, naked body.

A labored sigh escaped her and all the pain she had tucked away returned, enveloping her in a cold embrace. She welcomed the bone deep ache, a reminder that it hadn’t defeated her, that she was alive.

Cara was close to falling asleep, the pulsing throb in her body hypnotizing her like counting sheep. Light suddenly filled the room and Denna sauntered in as if she had been watching and waiting the entire time. She kneeled down at Cara’s side and raised a hand to cup the side of Cara’s face, pushing the pad of her leather–clad thumb into the red and purple bruise that had arisen from crashing into the stone floor. The pain of the pressure rolled through her, sharpening her focus instead of blurring.

“So very beautiful.” Denna whispered, sincere appreciation threading through the older blonde’s voice.

Cara hissed softly and looked at Denna with desperate eyes, “Please, Mistress Denna, please.” She knew that Denna was aware of what she asked for.

Denna hummed her pleasure, “You’ve been so good.” She leaned in and placed a light kiss on Cara’s chapped, cracked lips.

Without anymore prelude, Denna pushed open Cara’s legs at the same time that she surged toward the broken young woman. Denna’s tongue plunged forcefully deep into Cara’s mouth, thorough and relentless. Cara inadvertently let out a fretful gasp as Denna’s dominating tongue savored the lingering taste of old blood like fine wine.

Denna was very, very skilled. The kiss radiated pleasurable in contrast to the hours of pain Cara had just endured, even with her bottom lip so torn and wounded, that it tore a moan from her throat. Despite everything, the Sisters could still take that from her. It filled Cara with unbearable shame even as her lips began to move and return the caress.

Cara wasn’t surprised when Denna touched the agiel to the inside of her thigh, but her eyes widened, taken aback by the trickle of arousal that blinked at her through the agiel’s torture. She whimpered into Denna’s mouth, wishing she didn’t understand why her body was betraying her.

Denna pressed the agiel harder against Cara’s skin until the smoke of burnt flesh filled the air. The pain caused Cara to bite down on Denna’s tongue hard enough to break skin and the full–fledged Mord’Sith responded by moaning deliciously into the reddening kiss. The older blonde broke away, her tongue slipping out of her mouth briefly before it was obvious that she was indulgently sucking on her own injury.

Cara was panting, overwhelmed by the knowledge that her body would burn so differently than before. With a smirk reflecting her satisfaction, Denna twisted the agiel ever so slightly. The agony in Cara’s thigh was suddenly intense and blinding and it profoundly caused Cara’s first pain induced orgasm. She cried out loudly, her voice cracking as her body found enough reserve of strength to arch her hips up.

Just before she passed out into the agiel’s sweet oblivion, she heard Denna speak affectionately, “You earned it.”

End