Eva's New Hermitcraft and Dream SMP Oneshots

Stockholm Syndrome - Rated R

"Look who's all cute and ready for me."

I couldn't stop the shiver running down my back at his voice, the words praising me but his tone dull and dangerous.

"Ready to have some fun my doll?"

I didn't move until he grabbed me by the hair at the back of my head pulling me out of my bent position. My eyes landed on the familiar white mask with the strange smiley drawn on it. His blond hair was slicked back with red streaks through it as fresh blood dripped down the right side.

One of his hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his lime hoodie as the hand holding my hair released me, letting my head flopped down in exhaustion at the same time as a drop of blood fell from his mask and onto his hoodie.

I tried to focus on the new stain as my vision slowly went black. Being yanked up so fast put a toll on my weak heart as it attempted to pumped the necessary blood to my brain. Everything felt so sluggish as he lifted the mask slightly and grabbed my chin, placing his lips against mine, his teeth immediately bruising my lips.

My vision was fading fast now with the lack of oxygen and as I was kissed harshly, my eyes closed as my head rolled back.

Then a harsh breath of air filled my mouth, forcing its way into my lungs. "I can't have you blacking out yet. I haven't had any fun."

My whole body felt heavy as I struggled to open my eyes, only to be met with the room of my nightmares. Somewhere between him kissing me in my room and nearly passing out, he had dragged me to a large white room. The floor was stained a permanent pink, it being especially dark in the middle of the room where a rack sat beside another table with straps for arms, legs and the neck.

Against the back wall stood various heights of chains and ropes, including some on the roof and the floor. To the right were his tools and toys as he called them, but the left of the room was the worst. Hanging on the wall was the occasional torture trap or death machine, even a guillotine in the far back corner. The floor there was still a terrifying dark red, glistening in the fluorescent lights.

If I had any spit in my mouth, I would have swallowed, but my throat had closed up. My hands shook where they were pressed against his hoodie still, making him tilt his head.

"It's not your turn today. I'm giving you the day off after the flogging yesterday. You did so good yesterday, screaming so pretty for your master."

I knew in the logic of my mind that the flutter of my heart was wrong. It was more than wrong. It was gruesome, but sanity had fled me long ago. I was just waiting for the death which he didn't seem to give me.

I nodded lightly to my captor as he hauled me to the far wall. "How would you like to stand for me today?"

I knew better than offer my opinion. I had been strung up to each of these stations more than once, watching countless people die as I bled out on the floor after his fun on me. The chains nearest the guillotine, even though I would usually end up standing in blood, was the best. It forced me into a crouched position on my toes. A wooden block (if he was nice) would be placed on my back as my arms would be forced behind me and over the block. A chain around my neck and wrists would prevent me from moving.

The worst was right in the dead center on the wall. My legs would be chained in just the right way to force my feet to be flat against the wall while a rope held my arms back. I would be leaning at an angle, my neck sometimes wrapped with rope from above as well, forcing me to not only lean heavily on my shoulder joints but also keep my head up and watch his 'fun'.

The rope on my arms broke once in the early days and he had to quickly slice the one on my neck off as I fell forward, the chains on my legs making the bone in my shins snap clean in half. I hadn't been able to walk normally ever since even though he had surgically fixed it.