Hello! This is some cross-posted fanfic of a horror visual novel called The Price of Flesh. The context for this is that Eden was purchased by Celia from a dark web auction and used her like a stress toy both psychologically and sexually. This dynamic changed when Celia's shitty husband discovered the situation, tripping over a wire Eden had set for Celia. (It's fine, Harold kills you anyway if you don't trip him in the first place so fuck him)
That does mean there was an element of SA to their relationship, but not now.
There's a lot of complicated emotion and attachment tied up here and I figured people here would enjoy it even if they weren't familiar with the game.
Let's begin with a murder.
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Maybe there was something cracked in Celia to begin with, a narcissistic cheating pig of a husband didn't make someone get off on kidnapping and torture, or maybe it did. Displaced rage from marital and professional slights, projected onto another body because the real target was untouchable, and that still wasn't enough. She drank because even this little game, this elaborate mousetrap, wasn't enough to release the pressure.
Some corner of Eden's mind knew damn well none of this was rational, she knew Celia wasn't some innocent driven to extremes.
But neither was she.
"What... is this?" Celia asked, caught half-way between alarm and curiosity. There was something bright and hungry in her eyes, bringing out the red in them.
Eden grinned, mirthless and fuelled by adrenaline as Harold struggled beneath her, trying to tug the wire away from his throat. She couldn't take her eyes off Celia, however, the gagging bull beneath her only mattered as a means to an end.
"This is a gift," she breathed.
And then Harold was aspirating blood as the wire sawed through his flesh, gurgling, coughing, gasping, spraying, fingers sliding wet and useless through the dripping meat of his throat. Fresh and glistening carmine soaked into the dingy office carpet. It stained her slacks and sleeves, it stained her hands and it stained Celia's when she grabbed Eden and led her out of the building.
Her heart jumped at the sight of the rain-slick street, some part of her eager to flee and pretend everything could go back to normal, eager to pretend she wasn't someone who could enjoy feeling another human life slip through her hands.
Eden was vaguely aware of Celia talking to her. Celia was willing to let her go free, return to her old life but how could she be expected to go back to 'normal' after this? She had killed someone and enjoyed it. She had eaten Celia out after being bound and cut up and she had done it with fervour, with relish, her own hips rocking into nothing. The way Celia looked at her with both bloodlust and desire, that devouring sadism melting into warm words of praise and soft, soothing touches.
It was insane. Irrational. Some unhealthy attachment to cope with a situation most would break under. Maybe she had, or maybe what broke were the chains keeping her contained, docile, normal, the productive member of society, your friendly paramedic.
The friendly paramedic who ignored the thrill she felt when someone slipped away despite her best efforts. She'd never let it be said she wasn't good at her job, she prided herself on it, but when it happened...
No, Eden knew she wasn't going back to her old life. She couldn't. She didn't want to, and she didn't trust herself without a leash. She made sure Celia knew that and that she knew how to make this all go away.
The people who abducted her for that auction cut ties as soon as she was off their hands, and Celia was smart enough to mask her less savory financial activity--Harold could take the fall himself. He wasn't around to defend himself, Eden could pin the blame on him and plead Celia's case.
They were the only ones who actually knew what happened in that room.
"Why would you do that?"
"I told you. I need a leash and maybe you'll be happier without him."
"You're insane."
Eden grinned, not a feral baring of teeth as before but something much lazier and content, like a recently fed wolf. "And?" she said, blithely. "You're stuck with me either way, so what do you say?"
Celia chewed her lip, weighing the risks in her head, and Eden knew it would be easier for Celia to simply kill her and disappear. All Celia had to trust her on was Harold's leaking carcass and her insistence that she needed control, a handler.
Finally, Celia exhaled and levelled her gaze. "Alright."
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Two months later...
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"High flying businessman killed by kidnapping victim in corporate torture sex dungeon."
It was the kind of thing headlines were made of, a scandal that no news publication could resist from the most prestigious and self-serious outlets to the salacious bottom-feeders in the tabloids.
Celia knew exactly which members of the house staff were all too willing to speak on Harold's advances, his temper and need for control, cementing the idea of him as a perverse sadist. The irony wasn't lost on her, but Harold was dead and she wasn't, so the pig could be remembered for his worst qualities and rot.
Lying was as easy as breathing, she only needed the same smooth charm that let her survive a corporate boardroom. What rankled her pride and nearly tripped her up was playing the part of the abused wife, small and weepy and horrified, playing up her reliance on alcohol and shining a light on that thorny tangle of vulnerability--Celia almost preferred the prospect of death to exposing a weakness. Almost. But she reminded herself it was necessary to sell the deception and support Eden's "emotional" testimony to the police.
Part of her expected it to all come tumbling down the moment Eden was separated from her, out of sight, out of reach--out of her control. If Eden wanted to escape she could have, bringing Celia directly to the police was just a bonus, and the thought of being played because an especially endearing mouse convinced her to put the noose around her own neck...
It gripped her with a furious, icy panic--a feeling that melted the moment Eden walked out of the police interview and smiled at her.
It took a little time to sort everything out, but with seemingly nothing more to investigate, the case was closed in short order, allowing them to slip away from the entire situation without the prolonged scrutiny of a criminal trial.
The police loved easy answers, it made them look competent. The perpetrator was dead and the victim was alive to tell her side of the tale.
Which was how they ended up on the other side of the country in Vancouver. Familiar enough to start again while legal necessities were sorted through by a trusted lawyer.
Celia had contingencies in case things went nuclear with Harold, she'd always known they would eventually, that level of resentment and volatility couldn't be sustained forever, she just hadn't expected to do it so soon, and she had expected to do it alone.
She wasn't sure how to feel about any of it other than surprised, maybe on edge, still waiting for the guillotine to drop, to be caught in the lie. For right now she--no, they seemed to have gotten away with it...
It was in this state of reflection that Celia found herself watching Eden shower through the half open door, lying on a plush hotel bed. She'd long since taken off her shoes and jacket. A five hour flight wasn't exactly tiring, everything else leading up to it, however, the back and forth with the police, waiting with a pit of nerves in her stomach every time Eden left to sort out her own affairs, finally making plans to leave--she didn't want to think about it anymore so she focused on Eden instead.
She wasn't being creepy, Celia told herself, the fogged up glass made details fuzzy anyway, but it struck her that she didn't really know what the other woman looked like outside the masculine office wear. Even the times they met to speak with the police and corroborate their story it seemed Eden preferred masculine clothing in general, a lot of blacks, leather, and silver.
It was never important before. Her mice were passing amusements, mannequins to dress up and break under heel--she hadn't planned for one getting under her skin and nesting behind her ribs. Not to mention that her previous "guests" were men.
Men were always obstacles, ignorant overbearing pigs and smug self-important weasels who had never listened to the word "no." But women--that was complicated. Other women were dangerous, jostling for the same limited space at the top, waiting for a chance to strike--women were threats.
Sex with men was an expectation, a tool to leverage if need be and rarely something Celia found herself enjoying but her enjoyment wasn't the point. Men rarely bothered to even check, confident that just bestowing a woman with the "gift" of his cock was more than enough to get her going. Women had never crossed Celia's mind in that context, not for any repulsion on her part but simply because it wasn't a path that felt open to her.
The way Eden's tongue felt against her, however...
She chewed her lip. She hadn't been prepared for how good it felt. Even the way Eden screamed did something different to her, sending a hot flash of roaring hunger through her body.
Harold's dying face crossed her mind again. Too white teeth turning pink, then red, eyes bulging as he pawed helplessly at the wet chasm where his Adam's apple used to be. And Eden above him, face frozen in a wild rictus grin, eyes bright and piercing, and looking directly at her, asking so many silent questions at once.
' Do you like this? Have I been good? Are you happy with me?'
Taking another human's life and all Eden could focus on was if she approved.
A tingling ripple of warmth rolled through her gut and sank lower, smouldering.
If her rational mind hadn't kicked in Celia could have ridden Eden's grinning face right then and there. Probably would have gotten Harold's blood all over her thighs in the process as Eden dug her nails in...
Of course, it had occurred to her that Eden's clever little trap wasn't meant for Harold. Eden had no idea Harold would be there, that he even knew where they were--thus, the only logical answer was that she had fully expected to catch Celia.
The thought of Eden getting the wire around her neck elicited a somewhat bewildering response. A cold spike of dreadful realisation, yes, and a shivering upswell of heat as she imagined herself struggling against Eden's strong body, soft lips and hard teeth at her neck, the wire constricting her breath yet not cutting into her skin--Celia shoved the thought away.
Harold walked through the door first. Whatever Eden planned, the pig was dead and she was free to carry on with her life, she could overlook the intent when the result was so obviously in her favour.
The water shut off and Eden stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to start drying off. She paced by the door, arms raised to get the water out of her hair and leaving the rest of her body completely exposed to Celia's curious stare.
She was pale like someone who worked night shift, with the build of a CrossFit enthusiast who didn't care about fad diets. She clearly wasn't trying to fit a standard set by the leering dogs in charge of everything, but she did fit nicely into a suit. Her ears had multiple piercings and the shoulder length mop of wavy hair on her head was dyed a pale violet.
