WARNINGS: Non-con/dub-con, violence, death. May be deeply disturbing, my apologies in advance. *** In the middle of the night, Madeline Branford was shaken from her sleep by one of her father’s butlers.
“Miss Madeline! Your father,” the butler was pale as chalk, “he’s dead!”
Panic struck, Madeline threw on her dressing robe and ran out of her room before the butler could stop her. She sped down the hallway towards the sound of a great commotion in the main hall. The butler chaseed after her, too late to avert her eyes from the sight of the police lowering the body of her father from the rafters.
Madeline screamed. *** “I am most terribly grieved by the death of your father,” Mayor Gesthal said in an almost exaggerated tone of sadness, “He was a very dear friend of mine. He did so much for our city…”
Madeline listened but barely paid attention. She had just laid her father into his grave. There was barely an investigation. Suicide, the coroner ruled it. She could not believe it; a man so passionate about the advancement of technology and so utterly adoring of his only child could not possibly end his own life.
“And Vector Industries has been vital to the development of industry of our great city,” Gesthal droned on, perched in Mr. Branford’s chair behind Mr. Branford’s desk.
Madeline sat primly in her chair across the desk from him. The sight of him made her sick. She hated Gesthal. There was just something that she never liked about him. He seemed wise and charismatic and clever, but there was something dark under the surface, like a monster in the depths of an ocean. Yet her father trusted him, trusted his know-how to create a business from a bunch of etchings on a chalkboard. Mr. Branford was the brains, and Gesthal was the capital to build her father’s company into an industrial, mechanical empire.
But there were things that the Mayor was doing, in the name of progress, that neither her father nor she agreed with.
“Respectfully, I do not like you sitting in my father’s chair, sir,” Madeline was barely able to mask her contempt.
“Oh, my dear, that’s what I brought you here to discuss,” Gesthal sat up straight, hands folded on the desk. “This is my chair now, and my desk, and my house and…”
“What?” Madeline’s face drained of color.
“You see,” Gesthal explained, “I am the majority stock-holder in your father’s estate. Since you are not yet of age, control of Vector Industries and all of your father’s property is under my control.”
“NO!” Madeline shot up out of her chair, her hands clenched. “Father wanted ME to run the business! He built it for our family!”
“I have the papers here to prove it,” Gesthal pushed the will forward. “I trust you can read. Rare thing for a girl.”
Madeline studied the papers. Something seemed off. Why would her father give Gesthal everything? Even after her father and Gesthal vigorously argued only days before his death…?
“I…can’t believe this!” Madeline threw down the papers. “This has to be a forgery! My father was getting leery of you taking land from the townspeople…!”
“For the greater good of the city,” Gesthal rose from his desk. “Look here, my dear, I am not seeking to throw you out onto the streets. I am seeking a more…satisfactory arrangement.” Gesthal stood uncomfortably close to Madeline.
“Like what?” Madeline stood tall, head high.
“Well,” Gesthal reached out and stroked her chin, “pretty girl like you, with no family, alone, fresh, untouched…”
Madeline smacked his hand away, “Mr. Gesthal, shame on you!”
Gesthal grabbed her by the throat, backing her into her father’s desk, “Quiet, my dear! You will serve me. You will perform all of the duties a good little wife is expected to perform, to my satisfaction.” Gesthal leered at her, his eyes wide with lust.
“But,” Madeline choked, struggling to free herself from his grip, “You’re so much older than my father was…”
“That matters not!” Gesthal hissed. “There have been many men older than I that have produced countless heirs with younger brides. So, what do you say?”
“What if I refuse?” Madeline gritted through her teeth.
“Well,” Gesthal’s lips curled, “then you can ‘serve’ every member of my household, every servant, every soldier, every grunt, every lowly dick in this city. Or I can toss you out. A girl like you would easily fall prey to any roving gang, looking to sell your for profit, or pleasure.” Gesthal released his grip, “oh, and all of your possessions are mine, too. All of your pretty dresses, in case you did think of actually leaving.”
Madeline braced herself against the table, choking back the tears but failing. She wept bitterly. There seemed to be no end to the tears these past few horrible days.
“I’ll stay,” she murmured, “for now.”
“What was that?” Gesthal snapped.
Madeline raised her chin, “I’ll stay.” The bile bubbled in her stomach. She was on the verge of vomiting.
“Good,” Gesthal nodded. “Now that we are in agreement,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips hard against hers.
His beard scratched against her skin like steel wool pads, and he tasted like that horrible brown drink that rich old men were so fond of sipping. Madeline clenched her teeth to prevent his tongue from slithering in.
Gesthal pulled back, “Now turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around!” Gesthal barked, and he roughly spun her around and bent her over the desk. “Now lift your skirts.”
Madeline’s heart jumped into her throat, “WHAT?”
Gesthal turned her towards him again, and smacked her across the face sharply. “Are you deaf? Over the desk and up with the skirts NOW!”
Madeline shook with terror. Gesthal had gone utterly mad. She feared what his temper could do. She slowly hiked the black crepe skirts of her dress up over her backside, as well as the underskirts underneath.
Impatient, Gesthal tossed the skirts over her back, and pulled down her panties, “Ah, fresh young thing.”
Madeline whimpered as she felt Gesthal’s cold hands wipe across her bare buttocks, squeezing and probing.
“Nothing like fresh virgin cunny to revitalize an old man,” Gesthal rubbed his hand against her mound, running a finger between her lips.
“Please, don’t,” Madeline pleaded.
“My dear, I am an impatient man,” Gesthal smacked her buttock with the same force that he used on her cheek. “I get what I want, when I want it, right now!”
Madeline forced back the vomit as she heard the sound of fabric rustling behind her, and felt something cold and fleshy pressed against her sex. However…
“Come on…” Gesthal grunted, as Madeline heard the sloppy sound of skin rubbing skin. “Get going…” Madeline felt it press against her, prodding between her fold but… “Up! Up!”
Gesthal was cursing and grunting, but not in a way that Madeline expected. He sounded deeply frustrated, smacking himself against Madeline, pressing against her bottom forcefully, even ramming his hips against her, crushing her against the desk. And still…
“Bah!” Gesthal, in a fit of rage, pulled Madeline upright by the hair and spun her around again. “You uncooperative bitch! On your knees! NOW!” He threw Madeline to the floor, holding her by the hair.
Madeline was at eye level to the source of Gesthal’s frustrations. It was floppy and fleshy and purplish and shriveled like grape left too long on the vine. Underneath it hung what looked like a weathered old sack.
“Open your mouth,” Gesthal commanded.
Madeline shook her head. It revolted her.
Gesthal pulled her hair harder, as if he would scalp her, “OPEN. NOW!”
Threatening to gag, Madeline opened and Gesthal shoved himself into her mouth.
“Bite and you’re dead,” Gesthal growled. “Suck. Get me hard.”
As much as Madeline tried to suck at this vile meaty thing in her mouth, Gesthal was still frustrated. He pushed her face fully into his crotch, jamming Madeline’s nose with his greying pubic hair. Madeline choked and gagged, tears pouring down her face. She wished she’d take one last breath and die right there on the floor, just to end the misery. But it just kept going on and on, minutes feeling like hours with Gesthal’s thing filling her mouth.
“Bah!” Gesthal pushed her away, and for one blessed moment Madeline felt the relief of that horrible thing being taken out of her. But her horror was just beginning.
“Worthless!” Gesthal pulled up his pants. “I’ll teach you! Wait until I’ve had some tonic, then I’ll show you how to fuck a husband properly!” And Gesthal stormed away, out of the office, slamming the door.
Madeline collapsed onto the floor. She prayed for death. She prayed for her father to save her.
But no one would save her. She was a prisoner of an impotent tyrant. She watched as her city, including her father’s home, was razed to the ground, and in its place was a city of steel and soot and darkness. Vector became an empire of the worst kind, with Gesthal as its emperor. And she watched children become the subjects of horrific experiments, one such little boy going utterly mad. And she, herself, was subjected to the failing body and violent temper of an old man, who compensated by destroying all life around him and replacing them with machines: her father’s machines.
And it was not until a terrible storm knocked out power to the castle that Madeline slipped away, crawling through the rancid sewers and into the storm, lost and alone.
"Torn Down", Gestahl/Madeline, NC17
***
In the middle of the night, Madeline Branford was shaken from her sleep by one of her father’s butlers.
“Miss Madeline! Your father,” the butler was pale as chalk, “he’s dead!”
Panic struck, Madeline threw on her dressing robe and ran out of her room before the butler could stop her. She sped down the hallway towards the sound of a great commotion in the main hall. The butler chaseed after her, too late to avert her eyes from the sight of the police lowering the body of her father from the rafters.
Madeline screamed.
***
“I am most terribly grieved by the death of your father,” Mayor Gesthal said in an almost exaggerated tone of sadness, “He was a very dear friend of mine. He did so much for our city…”
Madeline listened but barely paid attention. She had just laid her father into his grave. There was barely an investigation. Suicide, the coroner ruled it. She could not believe it; a man so passionate about the advancement of technology and so utterly adoring of his only child could not possibly end his own life.
“And Vector Industries has been vital to the development of industry of our great city,” Gesthal droned on, perched in Mr. Branford’s chair behind Mr. Branford’s desk.
Madeline sat primly in her chair across the desk from him. The sight of him made her sick. She hated Gesthal. There was just something that she never liked about him. He seemed wise and charismatic and clever, but there was something dark under the surface, like a monster in the depths of an ocean. Yet her father trusted him, trusted his know-how to create a business from a bunch of etchings on a chalkboard. Mr. Branford was the brains, and Gesthal was the capital to build her father’s company into an industrial, mechanical empire.
But there were things that the Mayor was doing, in the name of progress, that neither her father nor she agreed with.
“Respectfully, I do not like you sitting in my father’s chair, sir,” Madeline was barely able to mask her contempt.
“Oh, my dear, that’s what I brought you here to discuss,” Gesthal sat up straight, hands folded on the desk. “This is my chair now, and my desk, and my house and…”
“What?” Madeline’s face drained of color.
“You see,” Gesthal explained, “I am the majority stock-holder in your father’s estate. Since you are not yet of age, control of Vector Industries and all of your father’s property is under my control.”
“NO!” Madeline shot up out of her chair, her hands clenched. “Father wanted ME to run the business! He built it for our family!”
“I have the papers here to prove it,” Gesthal pushed the will forward. “I trust you can read. Rare thing for a girl.”
Madeline studied the papers. Something seemed off. Why would her father give Gesthal everything? Even after her father and Gesthal vigorously argued only days before his death…?
“I…can’t believe this!” Madeline threw down the papers. “This has to be a forgery! My father was getting leery of you taking land from the townspeople…!”
“For the greater good of the city,” Gesthal rose from his desk. “Look here, my dear, I am not seeking to throw you out onto the streets. I am seeking a more…satisfactory arrangement.” Gesthal stood uncomfortably close to Madeline.
“Like what?” Madeline stood tall, head high.
“Well,” Gesthal reached out and stroked her chin, “pretty girl like you, with no family, alone, fresh, untouched…”
Madeline smacked his hand away, “Mr. Gesthal, shame on you!”
Gesthal grabbed her by the throat, backing her into her father’s desk, “Quiet, my dear! You will serve me. You will perform all of the duties a good little wife is expected to perform, to my satisfaction.” Gesthal leered at her, his eyes wide with lust.
“But,” Madeline choked, struggling to free herself from his grip, “You’re so much older than my father was…”
“That matters not!” Gesthal hissed. “There have been many men older than I that have produced countless heirs with younger brides. So, what do you say?”
“What if I refuse?” Madeline gritted through her teeth.
“Well,” Gesthal’s lips curled, “then you can ‘serve’ every member of my household, every servant, every soldier, every grunt, every lowly dick in this city. Or I can toss you out. A girl like you would easily fall prey to any roving gang, looking to sell your for profit, or pleasure.” Gesthal released his grip, “oh, and all of your possessions are mine, too. All of your pretty dresses, in case you did think of actually leaving.”
Madeline braced herself against the table, choking back the tears but failing. She wept bitterly. There seemed to be no end to the tears these past few horrible days.
“I’ll stay,” she murmured, “for now.”
“What was that?” Gesthal snapped.
Madeline raised her chin, “I’ll stay.” The bile bubbled in her stomach. She was on the verge of vomiting.
“Good,” Gesthal nodded. “Now that we are in agreement,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips hard against hers.
His beard scratched against her skin like steel wool pads, and he tasted like that horrible brown drink that rich old men were so fond of sipping. Madeline clenched her teeth to prevent his tongue from slithering in.
Gesthal pulled back, “Now turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around!” Gesthal barked, and he roughly spun her around and bent her over the desk. “Now lift your skirts.”
Madeline’s heart jumped into her throat, “WHAT?”
Gesthal turned her towards him again, and smacked her across the face sharply. “Are you deaf? Over the desk and up with the skirts NOW!”
Madeline shook with terror. Gesthal had gone utterly mad. She feared what his temper could do. She slowly hiked the black crepe skirts of her dress up over her backside, as well as the underskirts underneath.
Impatient, Gesthal tossed the skirts over her back, and pulled down her panties, “Ah, fresh young thing.”
Madeline whimpered as she felt Gesthal’s cold hands wipe across her bare buttocks, squeezing and probing.
“Nothing like fresh virgin cunny to revitalize an old man,” Gesthal rubbed his hand against her mound, running a finger between her lips.
“Please, don’t,” Madeline pleaded.
“My dear, I am an impatient man,” Gesthal smacked her buttock with the same force that he used on her cheek. “I get what I want, when I want it, right now!”
Madeline forced back the vomit as she heard the sound of fabric rustling behind her, and felt something cold and fleshy pressed against her sex. However…
“Come on…” Gesthal grunted, as Madeline heard the sloppy sound of skin rubbing skin. “Get going…” Madeline felt it press against her, prodding between her fold but… “Up! Up!”
Gesthal was cursing and grunting, but not in a way that Madeline expected. He sounded deeply frustrated, smacking himself against Madeline, pressing against her bottom forcefully, even ramming his hips against her, crushing her against the desk. And still…
“Bah!” Gesthal, in a fit of rage, pulled Madeline upright by the hair and spun her around again. “You uncooperative bitch! On your knees! NOW!” He threw Madeline to the floor, holding her by the hair.
Madeline was at eye level to the source of Gesthal’s frustrations. It was floppy and fleshy and purplish and shriveled like grape left too long on the vine. Underneath it hung what looked like a weathered old sack.
“Open your mouth,” Gesthal commanded.
Madeline shook her head. It revolted her.
Gesthal pulled her hair harder, as if he would scalp her, “OPEN. NOW!”
Threatening to gag, Madeline opened and Gesthal shoved himself into her mouth.
“Bite and you’re dead,” Gesthal growled. “Suck. Get me hard.”
As much as Madeline tried to suck at this vile meaty thing in her mouth, Gesthal was still frustrated. He pushed her face fully into his crotch, jamming Madeline’s nose with his greying pubic hair. Madeline choked and gagged, tears pouring down her face. She wished she’d take one last breath and die right there on the floor, just to end the misery. But it just kept going on and on, minutes feeling like hours with Gesthal’s thing filling her mouth.
“Bah!” Gesthal pushed her away, and for one blessed moment Madeline felt the relief of that horrible thing being taken out of her. But her horror was just beginning.
“Worthless!” Gesthal pulled up his pants. “I’ll teach you! Wait until I’ve had some tonic, then I’ll show you how to fuck a husband properly!” And Gesthal stormed away, out of the office, slamming the door.
Madeline collapsed onto the floor. She prayed for death. She prayed for her father to save her.
But no one would save her. She was a prisoner of an impotent tyrant. She watched as her city, including her father’s home, was razed to the ground, and in its place was a city of steel and soot and darkness. Vector became an empire of the worst kind, with Gesthal as its emperor. And she watched children become the subjects of horrific experiments, one such little boy going utterly mad. And she, herself, was subjected to the failing body and violent temper of an old man, who compensated by destroying all life around him and replacing them with machines: her father’s machines.
And it was not until a terrible storm knocked out power to the castle that Madeline slipped away, crawling through the rancid sewers and into the storm, lost and alone.