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By Hook or By Crook	By : OktoberBlack Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 14973 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The characters created by J. M. Barrie are not mine; I don’t own them and I’m not making any money off of them. The characters that were not created by J. M. Barrie in this fic *are* mine, and I do own them—but I’m still not making any money off of them. Figures.

Warning: Non-Con in a big way.

By Hook or By Crook (for want of a better name)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Bad Things Happen to Good People

When I awoke, the room was completely dark; the sun had set while I was asleep. My hands and feet throbbed with pain. I groaned and tried to sit up, but my head hurt like hell, so I lay back down for a moment to get my bearings. There was a rustling in the corner of the room, and the soft light of a small gas lamp being turned up slowly illuminated the room. Hook was sitting in the corner in a large armchair, the lamp on a table by his side. He wore his trousers and white shirt, his hair loose around his shoulders. He’d taken off his hook, and the bare stump of his wrist rested on his thigh. He watched me intently and I shivered with the intensity of his gaze. I pulled myself upright, leaning against the wall behind the bed, and looked at him. He looked dangerous but melancholy somehow, and I was a bit fearful of what he was planning to do with me.

He broke the impasse shortly thereafter, slowly moving from his chair to the bed, as if he were afraid I might bolt. I would have run, if it had been possible, but I was still chained to the bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin, trying to hide myself from him, but he yanked them away with little effort, leaving me exposed. He grasped my chin in his hand, but didn’t descend for a kiss just yet. He looked at me, searching my face for… something. I didn’t know what he was looking for. Love? Hate? Something more than indifference? I felt fear; surely that was enough for him. How he could think I would love him was beyond me. Inevitably, he did finally lower his lips to mine, but instead of a brutal kiss like before, he kissed me tenderly. I did not kiss him back. I wanted no part of him. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, kissing me with all the passion he obviously felt, but I was dead to his emotions and it made him angry.

“You kissed me, once,” he said, rage and sadness twisted up together in his husky voice. “You loved me, I know you did. You will love me again!” He kissed me harder this time, mashing my lips against his, his hand slipping down between my legs. He didn’t have two hands, but he used his weight to lean against me, effectively holding me in place against the wall.
“I don’t love you. I never loved you,” I hissed bitterly, and his eyes lit with fury.
“You did! And you will! You’ll give me what I want or I’ll take it from you, by Lucifer!” he roared. He pulled away from me, pulling his shirt off and undoing his trousers. I could feel my heart race with fear, knowing that I could do nothing to stop him from taking what he wanted. When he was naked, his cock fully erect, he stood beside the bed and grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards him. I kicked out with all the force I could muster, hitting him in the thigh and he fell backwards on to the floor. “Damn you!” I scuttled across the bed to the other side until I was as far away from him as my chain would allow. He lunged across the bed at me and I ducked, but his fist made contact with my shoulder, knocking me sideways on to the floor. Before I could get up, he was on me. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me around, forcing me onto my front. Then, with his good hand on my neck holding me down, he used his other arm to pull my ass up off the ground. I writhed around, trying to stop what I knew was coming next, but he tightened his hold on my neck.

“Stop! Please, stop! No, please don’t…”
“Stop moving, damn you! By Lucifer, if you won’t give it to me, I’ll take it! I’ll take you!” he roared as he thrust his cock into me.
“Oh god, oh god, nonononononono…” I sobbed with the pain of his thrusts, with the weight of his body on mine, his hand gripping my neck, leaning on me.
“I’ll take you, by Lucifer, oh I’ll take you…” He almost chanted it, his breath coming in ragged pants as he raped me. His body shook with his anger, and when he finally came into me, he collapsed onto my back with a final, “You are mine!”

He lay on top of me for several minutes. I couldn’t catch my breath, the tears running down my cheeks, my nose stuffed up and pain radiating through me from my bruised and battered privates. When he had caught his breath, he pulled out and stood up. Once again, he grabbed my hair, using it to pull me to my knees in front of him. I was beyond caring; more pain was more pain, and I hurt so much already it was impossible for my system to register anything else.
“Look at me,” he hissed. “Look at me!” I slowly tilted my face upwards, my eyes swollen to slits from crying. He looked wild; he wasn’t calmed at all by his sexual release but instead looked angrier than ever. “You are mine. You will always be mine. There is nothing you can do about it. I have killed your husband. No one will rescue you this time. If you accept this then your life will be filled with pleasure, and it might even be long. If you refuse, however, then your life will be brutal, nasty, and short.”
I couldn’t help myself; I let out a short bark of laughter through my tears. “You’ve read Hobbes?”
“Don’t change the subject,” he hissed. He grasped my chin in his hand, as he leaned down, his face in mine. “Do you understand what I am saying? You. Are. Mine. I will brook no argument in this regards. Now. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whispered, as tears flowed freely down my cheeks.
“Good.” He kissed me, as if to seal the deal, and then he stood up straight. He was still nude, and from this vantage point I could see he was still aroused. “Now you may service me and then we’ll have supper.” He grasped the back of my head, and drew me forward. And I, in turn, closed my eyes and thought of my husband. What else could I do?

He thrust his slippery cock into my mouth and I tasted blood. I gagged when I realized that I was tasting my own blood on his erection. He continued to use my mouth for his pleasure, not seeming to care if I participated or not, so I kept my eyes shut and tried not to vomit. When he finally came, I forced myself to swallow as he sat down on the edge of the bed, obviously finally calmer.
“Marvellous, my dear. I can see you’re coming to your senses,” he murmured, his hand on my head. “And now, it’s time for supper.” He stood up, finding his trousers and shirt on the floor. Once he was dressed, he proceeded to transfer my chain from ankle to neck again, and then he led me into the dining room, where a full table had been laid. Once I was chained to the wall nearest the table, Hook allowed me to sit in a chair opposite him. “You may eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I replied. I felt sicker than I’d ever felt in my life, and the sight of all that rich food made me want to vomit even more.
“As you will,” Hook said, as he spooned potatoes onto his plate. I leaned on the table and lay my head down on my crossed arms. The chain and collar made my neck so heavy and it hurt so much! I just wanted to go home, back to the life I’d finally made for myself. I was so tired. And my neck hurt. I wanted to cry but I was too tired. I was all cried out.
“Water, Miss?” the valet asked. I looked up at him. His wore a bland, almost bored look. He obviously didn’t care that I was naked, or chained to the wall. He poured some water in my goblet and then moved off to serve Hook. No help from that corner this time, obviously. Hook was right; no one was coming to my rescue this time. I was on my own.

When he’d finished his supper and the valet had cleared the table, Hook prepared to go out for the evening. It was already pretty late, but he apparently had business to attend to in the town. I sat, chained up, on the floor near the couch, as he strapped on his hook and slid his shirt back on over it.
“It will be very late, my dear, when I return,” Hook said, as he strapped on his pistol and sword, “but I shall expect you to get up and be ready for anything I desire. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I murmured, my eyes downcast.
“Very well, then. I’m going to put you in your bedroom and you may sleep, or read, as you wish,” he said, unchaining me from the wall, and leading me to the bedroom. “If you need to use the toilet, there is a chamber pot underneath the bed.” He chained me back up by my ankle and then left a candle lit by the side of the bed. “There are several good books in the drawer by the bed.” He kissed my forehead, and then closed the door behind him. I sighed in relief. Finally, I was alone. I listened, my breath held, as he strode out the door. It clicked behind him and I relaxed against the pillows. Now I just had to decide—was I awake enough to try and escape? Or was I as exhausted as I felt?

Turned out I was just awake enough to check things out. I examined the chain that held me captive. It was thick iron with a fairly large fetter; the lock was built into the fetter itself. I couldn’t get a really good look at the lock to see if I could potentially pick it because the light Hook had left me with was so incredibly dim. I examined the iron ring attached to the bed frame to which the fetter and chain were attached. It was embedded in the wood fairly deeply. I worried it a bit and it refused to budge. Great. I sighed. At least he hadn’t left the collar on me. That was a small blessing indeed. I lay back on the bed and took stock of my situation. I was stuck in Neverland, a captive of Hook, who insisted that I love him the way he thought he should be loved. My husband, Jason, for whom Hook was the spitting image, was dead, murdered by Hook. I had no clothing, and my feet, knees, and hands had been injured when Hook had forced me to walk into the hotel. Oh, and I was chained to something in the suite at all times.

That left me with only a few options. One, I could do what Hook wanted me to. I could have sex with him and try to love him. Two, I could refuse to eat and drink and thereby starve myself to death. Three, I could set fire to the room with the candle he’d left me, and die a fiery death instead of dying of hunger or thirst. Or, finally, four, I could continue to refuse to give him what he wanted, and in turn he would continue to hurt me. Not the best of options, all things considered. I blew out the candle, refusing to make the decision at that point. Perhaps, when morning came, I would be able to see my way clearly to a solution. At the moment, however, I had nothing but an exhausted ache behind my eyes, and a rumbling empty belly. Despite my pain and sadness, I soon fell asleep.

Little did I know, but a fifth option would soon be revealed…
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By Hook or By Crook