Morgan's Nightmare Ch. 02

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There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.
~Andre Gide

Morgan held her breath as he stepped into the limo and slammed the door shut. She didn't move from the floor of the limo, simply set her back against the door, curling one leg against her stomach, and leaving the other straight out. She hadn't meant to make herself look so fragile...but having him there...in the flesh...it threw her off guard more than she had been counting on.

He was slightly out of breath as he sat there and pounded on the roof of the limo for the car to get going, but he sneered as he cracked the window open slightly and pulled out a cigarette.

"I think...when we get back to the Manor tonight Morgan, we're going to spend the night working on your manners." he said, taking a long drag off of his cigarette as he stared down at her.

"You never would have fought me like a year ago, you've turned into a feisty little bitch, haven't you?" The question, she knew, was rhetorical and not meant to be answered. She simply glared back at him, and reached behind her to lower her own window slightly and pull out another cigarette.

"Brave little Morgan..." He nearly groaned, as he sat back in his seat. He kept his eyes glued to her as she lit her cigarette and took her own drag off it. Thankful for it's magical ability to calm her nerves slightly.

"You have permission to speak until I say otherwise." He said softly, as he gazed at her with hungry eyes.

Morgan smirked slightly, ignoring the ever growing pain in her side where he had kicked her. "Oh good...fuck you." She snapped, dropping her hoodie off of her head. Alastor's responding laughter surprised her.

"Oh my god!" He laughed, tossing his half smoked cigarette out the window. "You have no idea how hard I am going to beat you tonight for that Morgan...and tomorrow perhaps..." Morgan's stomach churned as she dropped her own cigarette out the window and rolled it up.

She pulled both of her legs up to her chest and dropped her head on her arms, attempting to ignore him.

Morgan felt him behind her as she slowly set down the logs for the kitchen fire on the barn floor. She turned slowly to face him and dropped to her knees. He stood against the frame of the barn door, and with a face holding no emotion except an angry sort of sternness, he moved into the barn and slammed closed both of the large doors. She didn't dare look up as his footsteps began to make their way around her. "Please...Master Alastor...I've done nothing wrong..." Morgan begged, nearly sobbing as his steel toe boots came into focus in front of her.

"Morgan, do not begin this punishment with lying to me." He said in a soft, deceptively caring tone as he began to move around her again. "What where you supposed to do this morning Morgan?" Alastor asked, and Morgan felt herself grow cold as she felt him undoing the back of her dress.

She racked her brain for what could have possibly upset him, and she could not think of anything until... "The wood for your fire..." She choked after a moment. She could not hold back the sobs anymore when his fingers grazed across the pale, creamy, untouched flesh of her back.

"Ah yes, the wood for my fire...it was not there this morning Morgan, so guess who had to go and get it?" He asked, kneeling down and stroking a hand through her hair.

"Y...you did...Master Alastor..." She whimpered, yelping when his strong hand grabbed her jaw and jerked her face to look up into his angry, merciless eyes.

"Very good Morgan...I did...so here is what is going to happen. I am going to punish you rather severely now...and possibly a bit unfairly. What are you going to do, Morgan?" His fingers dug painfully into her jaw as he spoke, and at the feeling of his belt trailing down her spine, she burst into tears.

"I will stay quiet Master...and when you are done beating me, I will kiss your boots and thank you. I will not tell anyone." She recited for what must have been the hundredth time that week.

Alastor gazed into her face and bent to kiss her gently on the mouth. "No you will not, will you Morgan? In a few weeks...your going to be mine...and I am going to make everyday you breath terrifying and painful for you...Do you know why that is, little one?" He moved his face to kiss her ear softly.

"B...because you can...Master." She whimpered, making a small attempt to pull away from him. It did not go unnoticed. The gentleness of the moment before passed quickly as the back of his hand flew through the air and struck her hard.

She tasted blood instantly and her jaw was back in his grip. "Oh, poor little slave, you must have fallen and cut your lip well you were working." He cooed, stroking her back with his belt again.

"Yes...Yes Master..." She said through tears as he stood, wrapping the end of the belt around his fist.

"Remember. Not a sound." He growled, and lifted his arm.

"Morgan...Morgan!" His harsh, angry voice shoved itself through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present and the handsome nightmare sitting across from her.

"One more chance Morgan...come here." He ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose annoyed. Morgan swallowed hard, and as if sensing her fear, he let his dark eyes drift slowly up her body to her eyes.

Morgan crawled slowly to him, keeping her eyes locked with his the whole time as though it might prevent him from lashing out at her suddenly and causing her more pain.

Alastor sneered and lounged back in the seat as he watched her. "You look very sexy this way...you know that?" He said huskily when she arrived at his feet. Morgan flinched hard when he bent suddenly, taking her under the arms and dragged her up to straddle his lap. She swallowed hard once more, watching him carefully.

He had never looked at her this way before...at least, she didn't think he had. Morgan had always thought he thought of her as nothing more than a mere child. His cruel, strong hands began a gentle journey from her shoulders and down her arms. "Arms up." he ordered breathlessly and Morgan obeyed, lifting her arms quickly so that he could pull her hoodie over her head.

He stared...his eyes moving from her eyes and traveling down her neck and her shoulders covered only by the net of her red and black corset shirt. They traveled over the swell of her breasts and down her tummy...a slow journey all the way down to her combat boots. "H...have I done something wrong..." She began to ask, but Alastor's hand shot up and wrapped it's fingers tight around Morgan's throat.

She pursed her lips tightly and winced, bracing herself for the back of his hand to fly...but it didn't. "When was the last time you ate something?" He growled softly, pulling her face towards him so that they're eyes where level.

Morgan tried to think quickly, but the last time was very unclear...she had been traveling for weeks, attempting to make it back to the Manor in time and had never really thought to steal anything other then cigarettes. "I...uhm...a few days...maybe...Master..." She said, her voice barely above a whisper and getting gradually softer when she saw new anger flame in his eyes.

"You do not remember?" Alastor asked, his fingers beginning to tighten themselves as he watched her face intently. She was skinny, he thought, much more skinny then she used to be. Morgan had always been the shortest of the women, and the tiniest, but this was bordering on sick and he knew that.

"N...no Master..." Morgan whimpered, lifting her head slightly, hoping it would convince him to loosen his grip slightly. He merely tightened his grip.

There was no use continuing on this. He would not punish her until they arrived home and he could not go back in time and make her eat, Alastor reasoned. Instead, he focused now on her mouth. "Kiss me, Morgan." He ordered, his voice soft but stern as his hands, which had been sitting on her knees began to make a slow journey upwards.

Morgan had been holding her breath, and she let it out in a sob of nervousness. She moved her eyes from his eyes to his lips. She had never paid very much attention to them before, they looked soft. How many other women had he told to kiss him? She pushed the thought from her head. It was not her business.

"Hands behind your back." He whispered, when Morgan was a breath away from him. She obeyed without thinking about it, unconcerned when she felt him click a pair of metallic cuffs on her wrists when her lips connected tentatively with his. His hands massaged her calves as he lifted his chin to meet her nervous kiss.

"I'm sorry...I suck...I've never..." Morgan whispered nervously. Alastor smiled slightly, lifting one of his hands to run his fingers through her short hair before pulling her into him.

He searched her little mouth, prodding his tongue between her teeth and meeting hers in a sort of dance neither ever expected to work. Morgan moaned, feeling his cock pulse violently under her and ground herself against him slightly. She blushed when he groaned...a feral, sexy sound that she knew she had been responsible for causing. His hand was between her legs suddenly, rubbing lightly through the fabric of her jeans."Tell me...tell me your virginity is still mine...you didn't give it to anyone well you where..." Alastor spoke against her lips. A rough, possessive sound that sent chills up her spine.

"No Master...it's yours to take." Morgan whimpered, when his mouth moved from hers and made it's way to her neck, nipping her gently.

"I'm the only one who will ever take it...do you understand me? You are mine...no one else will touch you." He snarled, his voice holding a touch of savagery as his hand slipped around her throat once more.

"Yes Master!" She cried as his fingers tightened. The churning fear returned to her stomach once more as Alastor's eyes returned to the calm, cold cruel shade that they always were. He stared into her eyes for a moment before letting his hand fly and strike against her face.

"Your mine now Morgan..." He growled as Morgan clenched her teeth against the pain in her face and kept her eyes down on his stomach.

"Yes Master Alastor." she spoke softly, her voice cracking slightly.

"Get off of me." Alastor ordered, not moving to help her as she struggled to move off of his lap without the use of her hands.

It was then that the familiar click of the Frostwilt gates opening that her heart made it's way to her throat. Alastor smiled as he watched her, knowing the fear and the realization that was building in her now. "Welcome home Morgan." He sneered, when the gates closed behind them.

Morgan supposed that hell had many forms...and to most of the people at Frostwilt, this was not one of them. People came to Frostwilt from all over the world...the only ones who where allowed to leave at any given time where the Nobles and in some cases, the people who where born there. Most of the slaves and servants had no idea where Frostwilt actually was in the world, which was somewhere along a rather unexplored coast of Ireland. It was private property that stretched for about 90 miles or so and surround by large walls. No one could see in...and no one out.

Morgan had been left there when she was three. Raised by Marietta, and somewhat sponsored by Lord Zachary when she was thirteen. She had gained Lord Alastor's attention around the time she turned seventeen...but he had never beat her until the night of her eighteenth birthday. Before that he would watch her, and yell at her often for little mistakes. When she had turned eighteen though, everything had changed. She could not do anything right in his eyes, and though by Frostwilt law he was not allowed to touch her, he would punish her at every turn. First maybe only once a month...which turned into a few times a month...which turned into once a week...and then a few times every week.

No one knew..Some people suspected something was happening, but no one guessed that Lord Alastor was the source of her torment. He was never one to take on slaves for longer then a week or so, and only then because of the instant gratification they afforded. This could be easily sought from the whore house in town...He would not put much effort into punishing anyone. He had better things to do. For a long time after Morgan had run away, she had wondered what was wrong with herself...and why Lord Alastor hated her so much. She had never thought about it again until this night.

"Come." He ordered when his door was opened. Morgan struggled nervously from the car, yelping when Alastor wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and began dragging her to the large, brightly lit building in front of them. The building was one that she had never stepped foot into, the "State" building is what the nobles would call it. A meeting place where slaves were not allowed to go except for special situations.

Despite Alastor's dragging, he held her close to his body. "Remember what I said Morgan. This is very important. You do not speak unless spoken to. Do everything I tell you to do quickly and exactly when I tell you to do it. Keep your eyes on the floor. Understood?" He whispered viciously into her ear. Morgan simply nodded, knowing the question was rhetorical and not meant to be answered out loud.

Her stomach twisted as they came closer to the state building and the doors flew open. The people who waited there were a mix of older and younger men and glamorously dressed women both young and old. Their gazes set on her, some hungrily, some passively, and some just plain angry. Morgan whimpered a barely audible, "Master..." in some search of reassurance. Much to her appreciation, he gave the back of her neck a very gentle squeeze before they entered the large building.

The inside was a great hall of sorts, blindingly white with gold banners and silks hanging everywhere. There where several tables with chairs lining the halls, but there was a large path in the middle of it all leading across the marble hall of the room to a large gold chair seated at the end of it. The old man that took his seat there was dressed in a simple black suit, and looked as though he had just been pulled out of bed to come and preside of what was about to go on.

Alastor did not waste much time making it across the room as he strode confidently towards the old man. Morgan attempted to keep up with him as best she could, but stumbled a few times only to be caught and set right. He was much taller than she was, 5'11 to her 5'2.

He shoved her to her knees suddenly and applied pressure to the back of her head telling her press her forehead to the marble. "My Lord William, this is the slave Morgan, the runaway from last year." Alastor explained, and continued explaining something to Lord William, but Morgan had tuned it out by that time.

She was tired, and had not realized it until her eyes began to close well the two men where speaking.

"Who owns her?" She heard Lord William questioning, and Alastor explain the deal himself and Lord Zachary made just before she had runaway. "Do you have a receipt of some sort to prove this?" Lord William asked tiredly, and it seemed as though Alastor produced one, because what the old man said next surprised her. "That is quite a large sum of money to pay for something so small...she looks so sickly...please make sure the first thing she does is eats something Lord Alastor. Punishment of any kind will not be well suited for tonight." The old man recommended. Alastor did not say anything as the old man stood and adjourned the meeting. "Come." He ordered softly, helping her to her feet and out one of the back doors of the State building.

Alastor lived in one of the larger castle like houses at Frostwilt, located in the middle of town so it was a very quick walk. Morgan had often made meals for this house, but she had never before actually been to the upper levels beyond the kitchen. Slaves served their Master's dinner, servants merely made the meals.

As Alastor made his way up the stairs of the house, dragging Morgan along with him the doors flew open quickly and all in the main hall went quiet.

"Morgan..." She heard two voices say in unison. Aaron and Ana stood staring at her with horrified expressions on their faces as both of their eyes traveled up to her neck where Lord Alastor was tightly gripping her.

His eyes glared back at them, and anger bite into him. "Have I been gone so long that the slaves of my own house forget their respect when a better enters the home?" He said in a soft dangerous voice, his eyes traveling slowly from the tiny, pale, freckled, mousy haired Ana to the tall blond haired, blued, handsome young man that was Aaron. Both seemed to break from their trances and fall to their knees, their foreheads touching the floor and their hands out in front of them.

"Your Master will hear about this Ana...Aaron...I'll deal with you later." He growled, kicking Aaron hard as he made his way past the two of them.

"Come Morgan..." Alastor dragged her up a three long flights of stairs, and began the journey down a rather long, dark hallway. "Keep your eyes on the floor, little bitch." He growled, shoving her to her knees at the end of the hall as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

He reached, pulling her to her feet once more, shoving her violently into the room and slamming the doors behind them.

Morgan forced herself to her knees quickly, taking only slight notice of the large, grand bedroom. The fireplace was the only thing that offered any light or warmth in here. "I hope your ready Morgan." Alastor snarled and bent down in front of her, pulling her close and roughly unlocking the handcuffs that had bound her for more than two hours.

Morgan felt tears begin to pool in her eyes, and her body began to shake violently as he took grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "The difference this time...just in case you are wondering, my little slave, is that there is no one I have to worry about scolding me for leaving you a bloody mess at the foot of my bed tonight," He spoke softly against her ear, digging his fingertips into her jaw. "No one will be able to feel anything but pity for you tomorrow when they see the bruises you'll be covered with because you pissed...off...your Master!" He growled, shaking her violently with every pause.

Morgan stared at the carpet with a blank, terrified gaze. He was right. Lord Zachary was not here to save her this time...and there where no specific laws governing how a Master or Mistress could punish their property. Her stomach churned and she felt as though all the blood in her body was draining from her.

"I can do anything I want to you now, Morgan..." He whispered, kissing her throat.

"What will you do when I'm finished with you tonight Morgan?" Alastor snarled, nipping her ear.

"I...I will...kiss your boots and t...thank you Master..." Morgan spoke softly, beginning to shake violently as he chuckled.

"If you are still conscious...why would I ever do such horrible things to you little one?" He whispered, and Morgan burst into tears at the sound of his belt loosening and being pulled through the loops.

"Because you can, Master..."

Don't worry! We're getting to the smutty stuff next! I had to get the basics out of the way first. Please let me know what you think!