In Which Amrit is Gagged Again (FaeApoc, Amrit/Mieve)

First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: Amrit Splits Wood.

Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, violence, and will eventually contain Stockholm Syndrome.

Her new slave’s mouth was stained with blood, his lips cracked open. That gag was truly a nasty thing.

Meive watched him drink his water and cataloged his body. Nice muscle, no scarring, none of the lopsided development slaves sometimes got. Tanned, but it had that look of someone who had tanned to look good, before the End. Or maybe he just had a Working for it. What damage had been done to him was beginning to heal already, and he was, if not so blasted frustrating, rather handsome.

She waited until he finished the water. He handed it over and waited, silently this time. His eyes were on the gag in her hand, and his tongue darted out to touch the wounds on the sides of his mouth.

She dropped the gag into the pocket of her work apron and pulled, from the same pocket, the hopefully-gentler piece she’d fashioned in the early morning. His eyes followed every movement. He licked his lips again. He looked like he was thinking. “What-?” he tried. He paused, watching her. She gestured, please continue. No Working started with Wha-

“What is that?”

Meive held up the gag. “It’s a gag.” She tried not to sound perplexed.

He picked his words with care again. “Why – why a new one?” His tongue darted out again and he licked the wounds.

“Because you’re not going to cooperate easily.” She knew she sounded tired. She felt tired. And it was only noon. “And the old one was cutting your mouth.”

“What does this one do?”

Mieve raised her eyebrows. He sounded so resigned. She didn’t believe it, not for a minute, but she responded carefully, as if she did. “It’s softer, so it won’t cut your mouth, and it shouldn’t cut your face or your tongue.”


“Because whether or not you’ll accept it, you’re my responsibility.”

He grinned suddenly and fiercely. “Careful,” he warned. “I might do something bad with that.”

“I don’t doubt you would. Let me gag you, and you can get back to that pile of wood.”

He hesitated, not moving towards her but not clamping his jaw shut either. His tongue darted out again. “Lunch?” He added, very careful-sounding, “please?”

Mieve relented, if only a little. she pulled a meat roll from her apron pocket, split it in two, and handed him half. “Some lunch, if only because you said please.”

“Fu -” He took the roll carefully. “Thank you.”

He ate it slowly, the first bite cautious and the next bites as if he was savoring it. Mieve matched his pace, nibbling slowly on the roll. They were one of her favorite things to make, but they didn’t keep well and they didn’t last. Some days, she really missed proper refrigeration. Or a Kept who knew refrigeration Workings.

Her captive looked more alive when he finished his roll. His eyes darted to the water bottle.

Mieve passed it over without comment and let him sip and rinse his mouth. She had sympathy for his position – but she couldn’t risk her own. “Time for the gag.” She tried to make her voice gentle this time.

“Fuck you, lady.” His voice held no heat, and he opened his mouth without further complaint.


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