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「RISE」(1×1 with Jikkah)

Before Nana could protest, the room around her changed, and the priest disappeared. She recognized the room as her bedroom from the inn the first night she had spent with Motochika. She had changed into her bedclothes, and was standing in front of the candle lighting the room.
 
That was when the door was pushed open and closed, Motochika moving toward her ans kissing her hard as he forced her onto the bed. He pinned her down and tugged at her clothes as he started to take advantage of her.
 
This wasn’t how she remembered that night, she didn’t remember trying to scream and having Motochika punch her hard in the gut, didn’t remember him pressing her face into the pillows to keep her from screaming aloud again, or him pushing her gown around her hips, and her underwear down to her knees.
 
She didn't remember him forcing her to take him, or him growling at her to keep quiet. That wasn't how it went, was it? That wasn't who Motochika was.
 
The pain seared through her intimate parts, feeling the warmth of blood between her legs, the hot tears that streaked her face.
Nana sat shaking on the ground in front of the priest, caught deeply in the illusion he forced into her head. Her eyes were wide with a thousand yard stare, tears pouring down her cheeks, mouth open in a silent scream. Immense suffering was reflected in her eyes, and it was only just the beginning.
 
Nana felt like she was shifting between watching herself being assaulted, and seeing the assault through her own eyes, only further causing her anguish. The assault felt like it lasted the entire night, Motochika repeatedly ravishing her in more humiliating ways than the last, even once glimpsing someone watching through the cracked doorway.
 
It was the monk, Tenkai, the one who reported Motochika's evil deed to the king. He just watched with a cruel glint in his eye, as if savoring her despair.
 
No, this wasn’t how that night had happened, she remembered vividly that she had gone straight to bed after parting with Motochika, yet she looked to the monk with pleading eyes. “Help me!” She mouthed, reaching out a hand to him.
 
Nana was nearly a drooling mess on the ground, head hanging limply as she stared with dead eyes at the floor, murmuring over and over. “No... No...” She was a complete mess, just mumbling to herself as she was stuck in her illusion.
 
They did this to her for a long time, Motochika even touching her inappropriately while she was bound. It was awful between the beatings and torture and firced intimacy.
 
They lashed her with the whip until her back was a bloody mess, used wooden broom handles to beat her, fed her potions that she wasn’t quite sure what they did. She tried her best to keep to her word that she didn’t believe it was Motochika who was hitting her, but her memories were starting to become hazy and hard to remember clearly.
 
Maybe he really was a cruel man? Maybe he just said those nice things to butter her up so he could take advantage of her again. He wasn't kind at all, was he?
 
Nana was black and blue, covered in welts and knots, skin split open and burned. Tears leaked from her black and swollen-shut eyes, body shaking as Motochika had his hand down the front of her pants. “Motochika... Please, stop..!” She begged.
 
Her face would’ve been red with embarrassment if it wasn’t so bruised and crusted with blood already. “Please..!” She whimpered, hating that he was pressed up against her back firmly. “I don’t want this..!”
 
She let out a weak sob, only wanting to vanish. She would have fought harder if she wasn’t in so much pain that even just breathing crippled her. “Motochika, please stop...!” She begged, trying to lean forward and away from him.
 
“You’re hurting me again..!” She sobbed, trying to close her legs on his hand to stop him. “Please, just stop, please I’ll do what you want, I won’t rely on you anymore..!” Embarrassingly, her body seemed to find pleasure in him rubbing her like he had, but he always got too rough, always felt like he rubbed her raw, and even after her completely humiliating climax, he just rubbed on and on, forcing her to orgasm again and again until it hurt.
 
This seemed to go on for an eternity, one she could never escape from. Did she really put that much strain on him? Why not just tell her instead of humiliate her?
 
Nana preferred the beatings over being violated, her reactions gradually numbing to the point where she stopped begging him to stop, and just knelt where she had been put and allowed him to touch her as he pleased. She would only cry silently, her eyes slowly losing the light they held.
 
The final nail in the coffin was when they branded her with the insignia of the Three Heroes church into her forehead. They had to sit on her to keep her still.
 
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