Her strength fascinates him. Regardless of what is done to her, nothing breaks her. Her friends are all dead, the last killed two months ago by an excitable Macnair who never did learn how to play well with others. Yet she remains, unbroken and strong.
Lucius no longer wants to break her. She’s his, after all, and who wants a broken toy who simply lies there hoping for death? He prefers the intelligence that gleams in her eyes and the way her mind is constantly thinking of ways to survive. She’s a fighter but has learned her place, even if she isn’t weak and docile.
It takes six months before he finds out what makes her fall apart. She remains silent when she’s cursed, doesn’t cower when she’s fucked, speaks when she’s asked a question, and obeys without question even if she bites her tongue to resist protesting many times, but she never breaks. Until the night his fingers gently cup her cheek and he kisses her throat, teasing the warm skin with his tongue and teeth. She whimpers as his fingers drift down her body, lightly touching her bare skin, and she’s wet when he slides them into her cunt.
Lucius watches her with hungry eyes, savoring every noise he draws her from and every shudder she unwillingly makes. He thrusts into her as she’s still trembling, fucking her eager body as she writhes beneath him, and he sees the shame in her eyes as she rolls her hips, wanting more, needing more. His smile is triumphant as she shatters in his arms.
End