imazsadist-blog

[imazsadist-blog]

#TheSong #BeforeTheAwakening Chapter 18

#BeforeTheAwakening #Chapter18 #TheSong

(Dedicated to @TimelessKate and @KoldestKhy.

I know you’ve had a rough year, Katie. I hope this brings you a moment’s respite and joy. Khy, Thank you for your unwavering support, it means more than I can say.)

[The first few days at the estate of #Phury’s acquaintance, I spent hulled up in the room I’d been given. Trays of food that were left at the door of the room went untouched, except for the green apples, oranges and bananas that would be put upon the tray as an afterthought. Berries went untouched. There was no barrier to insure their safety. After a thorough inspection to ensure that the skin or peel of each piece was unaltered, I deemed them acceptable to ingest. On the third night, all that I found as I peeked through a crack in the door to be sure that no one was around when I retrieved the tray, was a small mountain of the fruits. With a grunt, I took the entire contents of the tray into the room.

Clothing was also left, freshly laundered in a stack outside of the door each night. After being left naked for, what I had learned was one hundred years, the threads often felt heavy, rough and confining over my flesh, but I preferred having as much of myself as possible covered. I only disrobed to bath. That task I took to regularly, often rubbing my skin raw, futily attempting to rid myself of the filth, the rot of the mistress. I knew I would never be rid of it, however, the abrasions on my flesh were a welcome reminder that I lived.

#Phury came and visited, spoke to me at the beginning and end of each night. I did not know why, the topics he spoke of held little interest to me. I did not much care for the chatter of finding the young abandoned king. Did not have interest in interacting with the males he spoke with of such plans. I knew that whatever plan he made next, I would be beside him, do what was necessary, but discuss it? Nae, that was not required for me. When the beast sharing brain space stopped railing at my skull that we needed to escape because the chambers I inhabited began to feel like my cell, I began to venture out of my room. First, I would step into it hall, inspect my surroundings, then return to my chambers. Eventually, I wandered to the end of the hall then back. If ever I heard a sound, I would duck into an alcove or behind a tapestry. I did not enjoy the startled looks of terror on the faces of those who encountered me, and did not wish to give any doggen an unnecessary fright. On one such occasion as I skulked in the shadows, I discovered the doggen passageways. Tentatively, I entered, my heightened hearing attuned to any sound that might signal an impending discovery. I found I was able to move more freely than before through these passageways. The space was confining, my broad shoulders often scraping along the jagged stone walls, but I barely felt it. The pain helped keep me centered, made me better able to silence the monster in my mind screaming to get out.

After several of my excursions, learning the passageways, when was the best time to venture into them, when the doggen were least busy, I became emboldened. Rousing from my daytime slumber on the palette in my chambers, I knew that the dim passages would allow me free reign without fear of the sunlight. The drafty castle became colder over time but it wasn’t until I caught the remnants of snow on the ground that I noticed. The beast roared to life as I was taken back to the night of my attempted and unsuccessful escape from the mistress. The view of the moon as I was tackled to the snow blanketed ground. The beauty of the landscape as I was dragged back to my nightmare. Fangs elongated, chest heaving as the walls began to close in around me, I slammed my fists into the walls to keep them at bay. Just as I was about to sprint from the passage in a mindless rage, the sound of soft, tinkling keys hit my ears, pulling me from the brink. Momentarily distracted, I stilled. Listening intently, I was moving before I realized it. Back up the passage from winst I came, I didn’t stop until I could hear the sounds clearly. The beautiful melody came from a small room full of books and a few instruments. I could see through a crack in the passageway wall, a doggen speaking softly to two young. My eyes transfixed, I had not seen any young of my race since prior to my own transition. A very young male and slightly older female stood, attention rapt on the female doggen sitting at the harpsichord. She was speaking softly to them, explaining that in a fortnight, their parents would be hosting a solstice ball and that they would be singing songs for the guests. Both young seemed to puff with excitement at the idea. I held my breath, so intrigued at the scene playing out before me, for fear of being discovered, not breathing again until her fingers began to play over the keys. As the melody filled the air, my eyes closed. Crouched down in the corner of the passage, I listened, letting the sound of the doggen’s voice harmonized with the tune she played wash over me. I was transported to a different time, a life lived by a being that no longer existed. But I knew the words. Straining to hear every chord, my heart pounded in my chest. This song was old. Traditional. I was a young servant boy, crouched down, much like I was this day, hiding from my duties so that I could listen to the music playing during the raucous extravaganza. Music playing in the castle I served as a young servant boy was always something that spoke to me… I hadn’t heard a note in over a hundred years. That thought sat heavy on my chest. What else had I missed? Would I never know again? The young servant boy was long dead. No remnants of him remained. I was a monster now, inside and out. I did not deserve these simple pleasures. I was tainting the purity of the moment by my eavesdropping. Darkness overtaking my mind, I moved back through the passage soundlessly, then to my chambers. That evening, when #Phury arose, he mentioned the solstice ball, and that our hosts had invited us. I could only scowl my response to him.

And yet, the next day, at the same time as the previous, I squeezed my massive body into the corner of the passageway outside of the library and listened to the music lessons. The organ in my chest seemed to thrum along with the tune. It was the only way I knew the thing still beat. I returned everyday. When the soft voices of the young joined the song, I found the corner of my scarred lips twitching oddly. When I caught myself humming along to the tune, I would press my lips together, quieting the sound I emitted. I began to live for those precious moments everyday where the music allowed me to escape within my own morbid mind. I had to wrestle with my own objections, reason away my reservations. I was hurting no one. No one had to know. Nevertheless, I was careful not to be seen. Or at least, I thought I was.

It was getting to be later in the evening as the lesson finished. The young left the library with the doggen and I turned to move quietly back towards my room. I was halfway down the dimly lit hall that lead to the room I was given, when a came up short. Two small beings stood before me, having been quieter than mice and given me a scare I wouldn’t have expect, which told me I had become careless and let down my guard. Dropping my eyes, I kept my head bowed, not wanting to frighten the young by the look of me. I stilled on spot, anticipating and readying myself for the worst. Surely they would inform someone that they knew I’d been watching. What other reason would they be here? “Who are you? Do you like our singing? We could hear you singing too.” The questions came in rapid fire succession, two from the younger boy, the last statement from the female. I knew the subtle differences in their small squeaky voices by now. Keeping my gaze on my feet, my voice low, I was compelled to answer them, for what reason, I couldn’t name.] My brother and I are guests of your father. You both sing very well. My apologies. I am sorry. I will not return to listen. [To my shock and horror, they moved closer. Needing to keep them at least in my periphery, I lifted my head, stealing myself for the screams that were sure to follow. Surely my brother and I would be gone by the setting of the sun. What I found instead, were tilted heads, curious gazes, faces screwed up in thought…innocent curiosity, my chest thumped with an ache that I could not name. “Someone hurt you. They were bad.” It was the girl that spoke. Throat closing to constrict my voice, my eyes burning in response to her words, I could only nod. I noticed the boy’s curious gaze fall to the heavy black bands marking my wrists as he frowned, echoing the girl. “Very bad.” I could not speak for fear that I would crumble at the feet of these young who in one sentence had shown me more compassion than any I’d come across in my long cursed life aside from the male who called himself my twin…and the gentle servant girl I’d never forgotten the kindness of. “Will you sing with us?” Confusion mixed with my shock at this next request, and my mutilated expression must have communicated this because the girl rushed on to explain. “Miss Darla would never tell us if we weren’t singing it right and we want mahmen and papa to be surprised so we…need someone else to…tell us the truth.” The hope in her expression was almost too much to take. When I nodded my assent, the smiles they gifted me with almost split my chest in two. That moment I knew there was some good in this wretched world, even if it only lived within these two, kind souls.] Tomorrow, after your lesson. You can come here and we will sing. But it can be only tomorrow. You cannot get in trouble because of me. [With a squeal I thought would surely notify the household of our whereabouts, the ruffle clad girl and dapper dressed boy bounced passed me, further down the hall, obviously knowing exactly where they were headed. I stood for a few moments, blinking in disbelief as they disappeared around a corner. Was I drugged again? Hallucinating? That had to be it. Scowling at the floor in front of me, I made my way down the remainder of the path, exiting into the hall, crossing it and entering the chambers. Replaying the interaction with the young kept my mind occupied through the night and into the next day. Had it happened? Or was I so preoccupied that I’d dreamed it? Would I meet the young after the lesson? As I bathed then dressed in the early morning hours, the fact that I had not slept barely registered. I was so curious about what the day might hold for us, I barely heard any of the words #Phury had spoken at his visit just before dawn. There had been more mention of the ball, but I had tuned it out immediately. A fleeting thought passed across my mind, if I attended the ball I could see the young perform… but dismissed the idea immediately. The young may not have looked at me with judgment or disgust, but that did not mean that the guests at the solstice celebration would not. I was not under such delusions there.

Still, by mid afternoon, I was making my way down the passage. Stopping just before I squeezed into my usual spot, I picked up a piece of parchment that was laying on the ground. If there were words written on it, I wouldn’t know what they said, but I did not think this was the case. Random markings in different colors marred the page. I was not sure what if anything it was supposed to be, but I knew that it was the most beautiful drawing I had ever seen. Folding it carefully, I slid it into the pocket of my breeches and curled myself into the corner as I heard the young and doggen enter the room beyond the wall, drying my wet eyes on my sleeve. As the lesson progressed, I mouth the words to the song, wanting to practice myself before our secret meeting. When the doggen drew the lesson to a close, my pulse jumped. I could not name the feelings churning within me, but to say that they were good. Unfamiliar, unknown, but there was no dread. No fear. Those I knew. These were the opposite. Quieter than I had been before, I returned to where I had encountered the young the day before and lowered myself to the floor, sitting with my back to the stone. In moments, as promised, they appeared. I did not know if I was nervous or something else all together, nor did I know how to begin. The later I did not have to concern myself with as both young leapt into conversation talking one over the other as they too sat, facing me. I watched in wonder, barely catching what either was saying as the rattled on, until they talked themselves out of breath. Both looked at me in such delight at just having delivered the news of the world to me an odd rumbling noise parted my disfigured lips. Whatever the sound, it caused their grins to widen as my brows furrowed.] We should practice if you wish. [Inclining my head when they both nodded rapidly, I cleared my throat, closed my eyes, and sang. Their voices joined right in as we recited the first verse we three had memorized. It was as I sang the second verse that I noticed my voice stood alone. Opening my eyes, I met the looks of both children, gaping slack jawed at me. Scowling, I dipped my head.] I am sorry. I must have it wrong. [The girl barely shook her head as the boy’s voice whispered. “Beautiful” Heat suffused my sallow features as the girl nodded. “Like an angel.” Not knowing what to say or do, I hurried from the hidden hall and rushed to my room, chest heaving as if I had run a long distance as fast as I could. The elated feeling I had experienced earlier, fell like a lump in my stomach. I should not have agreed to meet with them. It was reckless. Careless.

And yet, the next day, I was compelled once more to the lessons. I would remain and observer. Only listening. I would not interact with the young again. With these self imposed rules in place, keeping boundaries, I could listen to the last few lessons before the ball. That lasted one day as on the next, although I had left my hiding spot before the end of the lesson, both young stood, small hands on small hips, aiming stern looks in my direction when I rounded the last corner of the passageway to my room. The looks they gave me had me ducking my head so that they could not see the ticking at the corner of my lips.] I am sorry, young miss. Young sir. I am not used to nice things being said to me. Should not have run off and left you. [They looked at each other and seemed to deem my apology worthy, because they both plunked down on stone floor as if ready to get back to business. How could I refuse them when they looked at me so expectantly? Settling myself before them, I cleared my throat as I had before, and began to sing. We made it through the entire song this time, all of us exhaling in unison on the last note.] You are both doing very well. I think you will make your mahmen and papa very happy. [The compliment that was strained at first, as I knew not how to give one, was choked at the end. The idea of a home with a mated pair, happy, thoughtful young, was one I had never experienced and never would. Clearing my throat for an all together different reason than before, I closed my black eyes for a moment before continuing. I did not want them to think they had done anything in error, which in itself was a completely foreign concept to me. Caring about how others felt in regard to me.] You will be the talk of the celebration tomorrow night. [With a firm not after meeting each of their hopeful gazes, I pushed to my feet, needing to escape, but wanting my departure to be less abrupt that the last.] May the Scribe Virgin bless you both tomorrow. [With a final glance, I nodded, and was on my way. I knew I likely would not see them again and that pit sank back into my stomach. How odd that I had barely known these young, and yet, I knew that as my miserable existence stretched before me, I would not forget them.

I did not venture to listen to what I knew would be the last practice before the ball. I knew that with preparations under way, the doggen would be scurrying through the passageways endlessly. Only a few times during my visits had I scared any of them. I did not want to disturb any of the happenings of the day. The voice whispered through my mind telling me that it was because I wanted to preserve my memory of the young as it was, to which I could only grimace. It also told me to be ready. Something was coming. Do not find comfort here. Heeding the ominous warning, I gathered one change of the clothing I had been given, and tucked them into a small rucksack with the drawing the young had left me.

#Phury stopped by my room as the sun set early on the eve of the winter solstice. Our raced loved the fall of the longest night. He asked once more if I wanted to join him for the festivities. He was dressed as any formal male of the glymera would be, and the attire turned my stomach. After many a celebration the mistress would bring her harem of males down to my cell to use me to top off their night. Shaking my head rapidly, I swallowed against the bile that threatened to rise. I knew the looks I would receive if I was idiotic enough to show my ruined face. Fear, judgment, disgust, pity… I wanted none of it. Another boon of our stay at this home however, was that #Phury was now fitted with a false wooden leg and was walking almost seamlessly with the help of a sleek, black cane. That alone was worth being in a glymera home. It would help in our future travel.

He exited my room and I began to pace the length of it, an odd swirling in my gut. Not for myself, but…nerves, if I had to try and name it, for the children’s performance that I knew would be towards the beginning of the evening. I cleaned several apples to the core as I paced, scraping them clean with my fangs. I didn’t pause until I heard the smallest rapping of a knock on my door. Curious as a sudden feeling of dread settled over me, I could not fathom a reason for the summons. Even so, I opened the door the smallest of space, I saw no one as a frown creased my brow. In the next second,my head snapped down as both young began to talk over each other, their excited words tumbling forth in an avalanche as they shared their excitement about their rousing success with me. Features smoothing, I opened to door, crouching down to their high to better listen. The moment I did, they flung themselves at me, wrapping there small arms around my knees. Arms snapped out to brace myself on the door jam and not tip over, I froze, mind and body. Terror froze my veins, the fear of the taint, the dirt their innocent, pure beings could contract by a touch…Even touching them to dislodge them could make it worse. A commotion down the hall had my instincts snapping my mind from the frozen terror. In one smooth motion, I had removed them from me and leapt over them, crouching protectively in front of them, fangs bared as a growl rumbled my chest. I heard the small gasps of fear behind me as the master of the house rounded the corner, accompanied by his guard, Phury behind them all. Belatedly, I realized what the scene they had come upon could look like, and it was in no way favorable to me. I knew that to move, would be to forfeit my life. Of course the young leaving the ball in their excitement to find me would not go unnoticed. As the heirs of a family of worth, they would be monitored at all time. Things I should have realized when I found them at my door alone. This too was my fault, but worse was the look of disappointment on #Phury’s features as his eyes fell downcast, obviously assuming the worst of his barbaric twin. Not that I could blame him. The young likely saved my life as they ran towards their father, both jabbering on. The guards were on me in the next moment. It took everything in me not to fight back as they slammed my face into the cold stone floor. One word rang louder than any other as the children sought to explain to a father who would not listen to them. “Friend". Black eyes rose to get one last glimpse of the kindness I had never dreamed to experience. Even as the young boy stretched his tiny rounded hand towards me, tears tracking down his sister’s cheeks, I knew we would be gone by the morrow. The loathsome, hate filled look of disgust in the father’s eyes was one I was much accustomed to from the glymera, I had been on the receiving end of it for a century. I would be judged as naught more than a monster forever. #Phury spoke in hushed tones apologizing for things that never were while pleading for my worthless life. He should not have bothered. Those few moments of what I now knew were happiness were the brightest I had experienced since my transition. I would be content to let them carry me unto the Fade. #Phury was as big a fool as I if he thought my life worth bargaining for. Even so, uncertainty crossed over the master’s features before his disapproving scowl fell back over his face and he nodded, telling us to leave at once. #Phury limped to his room and only then did I speak out.] The bag! [Was all I could get out before a fist collided with my exposed cheek. Gnashing my teeth, I hoped with a depth that I did not know I could possess that he had heard me, understood my meaning. When he reemerged from our ajoined rooms, my body went lax with relief when I saw not one, but two bags tucked under his arms. The master had a doggen ushering the children from the hall as the guard drug me to my feet, keeping my arms pinned behind me, my body shaking with the restraint it took to remain imprisoned, something I promised myself I would never allow to happen again. They had no inkling as to how easily I could escape them, but there was no reason to make the horrible situation worse, the voice was trying to whisper me calm in my mind. His head ducked to speak with #Phury, casting furtive glances in my direction, I kept my head bowed as my insides tore themselves apart. Both males clapped each other on the shoulder, #Phury bowing before the guards turned me and we headed away. Out into the cold we were ushered to a carriage as the moon illuminated our path. Once inside the coach, the doggen whipped the horses into action, the sound of leather on hide making me flinch, curling further into the corner. Eyes squeezed shut as I worked to steady my ragged breathing, I ignored #Phury’s litany of questions about the young and what had happened. I might tell him eventually, but for now…reaching for the pack, I thrust my hand inside, searching until I found the only gift I had ever received. Carefully unfolding the parchment, I gently caressed a finger over the markings, not caring that #Phury was watching me so intently. When I knew I could breathe again, I closed my eyes, leaned my forehead to the cold glass of the carriage window, and I sang the hymn thanking the Scribe Virgin for this longest of winter’s night.]

#End #BeforeTheAwakening #Chapter18 #TheSong

[imazsadist-blog]

#TheSong #BeforeTheAwakening Chapter 18

#BeforeTheAwakening #Chapter18 #TheSong (Dedicated to @TimelessKate and @KoldestKhy. I know you've had a rough year, Katie. I hope this brings you a moment's respite and joy. Khy, Thank you for your unwavering support, it means more than I can say.) [The first few days at the estate of #Phury’s acquaintance, I spent hulled up in the room I'd been given. Trays of food that were left at the door of the room went untouched, except for the green apples, oranges and bananas that would be put upon the tray as an afterthought. Berries went untouched. There was no barrier to insure their safety. After a thorough inspection to ensure that the skin or peel of each piece was unaltered, I deemed them acceptable to ingest. On the third night, all that I found as I peeked through a crack in the door to be sure that no one was around when I retrieved the tray, was a small mountain of the fruits. With a grunt, I took the entire contents of the tray into the room. Clothing was also left, freshly laundered in a stack outside of the door each night. After being left naked for, what I had learned was one hundred years, the threads often felt heavy, rough and confining over my flesh, but I preferred having as much of myself as possible covered. I only disrobed to bath. That task I took to regularly, often rubbing my skin raw, futily attempting to rid myself of the filth, the rot of the mistress. I knew I would never be rid of it, however, the abrasions on my flesh were a welcome reminder that I lived. #Phury came and visited, spoke to me at the beginning and end of each night. I did not know why, the topics he spoke of held little interest to me. I did not much care for the chatter of finding the young abandoned king. Did not have interest in interacting with the males he spoke with of such plans. I knew that whatever plan he made next, I would be beside him, do what was necessary, but discuss it? Nae, that was not required for me. When the beast sharing brain space stopped railing at my skull that we needed to escape because the chambers I inhabited began to feel like my cell, I began to venture out of my room. First, I would step into it hall, inspect my surroundings, then return to my chambers. Eventually, I wandered to the end of the hall then back. If ever I heard a sound, I would duck into an alcove or behind a tapestry. I did not enjoy the startled looks of terror on the faces of those who encountered me, and did not wish to give any doggen an unnecessary fright. On one such occasion as I skulked in the shadows, I discovered the doggen passageways. Tentatively, I entered, my heightened hearing attuned to any sound that might signal an impending discovery. I found I was able to move more freely than before through these passageways. The space was confining, my broad shoulders often scraping along the jagged stone walls, but I barely felt it. The pain helped keep me centered, made me better able to silence the monster in my mind screaming to get out. After several of my excursions, learning the passageways, when was the best time to venture into them, when the doggen were least busy, I became emboldened. Rousing from my daytime slumber on the palette in my chambers, I knew that the dim passages would allow me free reign without fear of the sunlight. The drafty castle became colder over time but it wasn't until I caught the remnants of snow on the ground that I noticed. The beast roared to life as I was taken back to the night of my attempted and unsuccessful escape from the mistress. The view of the moon as I was tackled to the snow blanketed ground. The beauty of the landscape as I was dragged back to my nightmare. Fangs elongated, chest heaving as the walls began to close in around me, I slammed my fists into the walls to keep them at bay. Just as I was about to sprint from the passage in a mindless rage, the sound of soft, tinkling keys hit my ears, pulling me from the brink. Momentarily distracted, I stilled. Listening intently, I was moving before I realized it. Back up the passage from winst I came, I didn't stop until I could hear the sounds clearly. The beautiful melody came from a small room full of books and a few instruments. I could see through a crack in the passageway wall, a doggen speaking softly to two young. My eyes transfixed, I had not seen any young of my race since prior to my own transition. A very young male and slightly older female stood, attention rapt on the female doggen sitting at the harpsichord. She was speaking softly to them, explaining that in a fortnight, their parents would be hosting a solstice ball and that they would be singing songs for the guests. Both young seemed to puff with excitement at the idea. I held my breath, so intrigued at the scene playing out before me, for fear of being discovered, not breathing again until her fingers began to play over the keys. As the melody filled the air, my eyes closed. Crouched down in the corner of the passage, I listened, letting the sound of the doggen’s voice harmonized with the tune she played wash over me. I was transported to a different time, a life lived by a being that no longer existed. But I knew the words. Straining to hear every chord, my heart pounded in my chest. This song was old. Traditional. I was a young servant boy, crouched down, much like I was this day, hiding from my duties so that I could listen to the music playing during the raucous extravaganza. Music playing in the castle I served as a young servant boy was always something that spoke to me… I hadn't heard a note in over a hundred years. That thought sat heavy on my chest. What else had I missed? Would I never know again? The young servant boy was long dead. No remnants of him remained. I was a monster now, inside and out. I did not deserve these simple pleasures. I was tainting the purity of the moment by my eavesdropping. Darkness overtaking my mind, I moved back through the passage soundlessly, then to my chambers. That evening, when #Phury arose, he mentioned the solstice ball, and that our hosts had invited us. I could only scowl my response to him. And yet, the next day, at the same time as the previous, I squeezed my massive body into the corner of the passageway outside of the library and listened to the music lessons. The organ in my chest seemed to thrum along with the tune. It was the only way I knew the thing still beat. I returned everyday. When the soft voices of the young joined the song, I found the corner of my scarred lips twitching oddly. When I caught myself humming along to the tune, I would press my lips together, quieting the sound I emitted. I began to live for those precious moments everyday where the music allowed me to escape within my own morbid mind. I had to wrestle with my own objections, reason away my reservations. I was hurting no one. No one had to know. Nevertheless, I was careful not to be seen. Or at least, I thought I was. It was getting to be later in the evening as the lesson finished. The young left the library with the doggen and I turned to move quietly back towards my room. I was halfway down the dimly lit hall that lead to the room I was given, when a came up short. Two small beings stood before me, having been quieter than mice and given me a scare I wouldn't have expect, which told me I had become careless and let down my guard. Dropping my eyes, I kept my head bowed, not wanting to frighten the young by the look of me. I stilled on spot, anticipating and readying myself for the worst. Surely they would inform someone that they knew I'd been watching. What other reason would they be here? “Who are you? Do you like our singing? We could hear you singing too.” The questions came in rapid fire succession, two from the younger boy, the last statement from the female. I knew the subtle differences in their small squeaky voices by now. Keeping my gaze on my feet, my voice low, I was compelled to answer them, for what reason, I couldn't name.] My brother and I are guests of your father. You both sing very well. My apologies. I am sorry. I will not return to listen. [To my shock and horror, they moved closer. Needing to keep them at least in my periphery, I lifted my head, stealing myself for the screams that were sure to follow. Surely my brother and I would be gone by the setting of the sun. What I found instead, were tilted heads, curious gazes, faces screwed up in thought...innocent curiosity, my chest thumped with an ache that I could not name. “Someone hurt you. They were bad.” It was the girl that spoke. Throat closing to constrict my voice, my eyes burning in response to her words, I could only nod. I noticed the boy’s curious gaze fall to the heavy black bands marking my wrists as he frowned, echoing the girl. “Very bad.” I could not speak for fear that I would crumble at the feet of these young who in one sentence had shown me more compassion than any I'd come across in my long cursed life aside from the male who called himself my twin...and the gentle servant girl I'd never forgotten the kindness of. “Will you sing with us?” Confusion mixed with my shock at this next request, and my mutilated expression must have communicated this because the girl rushed on to explain. “Miss Darla would never tell us if we weren't singing it right and we want mahmen and papa to be surprised so we...need someone else to...tell us the truth.” The hope in her expression was almost too much to take. When I nodded my assent, the smiles they gifted me with almost split my chest in two. That moment I knew there was some good in this wretched world, even if it only lived within these two, kind souls.] Tomorrow, after your lesson. You can come here and we will sing. But it can be only tomorrow. You cannot get in trouble because of me. [With a squeal I thought would surely notify the household of our whereabouts, the ruffle clad girl and dapper dressed boy bounced passed me, further down the hall, obviously knowing exactly where they were headed. I stood for a few moments, blinking in disbelief as they disappeared around a corner. Was I drugged again? Hallucinating? That had to be it. Scowling at the floor in front of me, I made my way down the remainder of the path, exiting into the hall, crossing it and entering the chambers. Replaying the interaction with the young kept my mind occupied through the night and into the next day. Had it happened? Or was I so preoccupied that I'd dreamed it? Would I meet the young after the lesson? As I bathed then dressed in the early morning hours, the fact that I had not slept barely registered. I was so curious about what the day might hold for us, I barely heard any of the words #Phury had spoken at his visit just before dawn. There had been more mention of the ball, but I had tuned it out immediately. A fleeting thought passed across my mind, if I attended the ball I could see the young perform… but dismissed the idea immediately. The young may not have looked at me with judgment or disgust, but that did not mean that the guests at the solstice celebration would not. I was not under such delusions there. Still, by mid afternoon, I was making my way down the passage. Stopping just before I squeezed into my usual spot, I picked up a piece of parchment that was laying on the ground. If there were words written on it, I wouldn't know what they said, but I did not think this was the case. Random markings in different colors marred the page. I was not sure what if anything it was supposed to be, but I knew that it was the most beautiful drawing I had ever seen. Folding it carefully, I slid it into the pocket of my breeches and curled myself into the corner as I heard the young and doggen enter the room beyond the wall, drying my wet eyes on my sleeve. As the lesson progressed, I mouth the words to the song, wanting to practice myself before our secret meeting. When the doggen drew the lesson to a close, my pulse jumped. I could not name the feelings churning within me, but to say that they were good. Unfamiliar, unknown, but there was no dread. No fear. Those I knew. These were the opposite. Quieter than I had been before, I returned to where I had encountered the young the day before and lowered myself to the floor, sitting with my back to the stone. In moments, as promised, they appeared. I did not know if I was nervous or something else all together, nor did I know how to begin. The later I did not have to concern myself with as both young leapt into conversation talking one over the other as they too sat, facing me. I watched in wonder, barely catching what either was saying as the rattled on, until they talked themselves out of breath. Both looked at me in such delight at just having delivered the news of the world to me an odd rumbling noise parted my disfigured lips. Whatever the sound, it caused their grins to widen as my brows furrowed.] We should practice if you wish. [Inclining my head when they both nodded rapidly, I cleared my throat, closed my eyes, and sang. Their voices joined right in as we recited the first verse we three had memorized. It was as I sang the second verse that I noticed my voice stood alone. Opening my eyes, I met the looks of both children, gaping slack jawed at me. Scowling, I dipped my head.] I am sorry. I must have it wrong. [The girl barely shook her head as the boy's voice whispered. “Beautiful” Heat suffused my sallow features as the girl nodded. “Like an angel.” Not knowing what to say or do, I hurried from the hidden hall and rushed to my room, chest heaving as if I had run a long distance as fast as I could. The elated feeling I had experienced earlier, fell like a lump in my stomach. I should not have agreed to meet with them. It was reckless. Careless. And yet, the next day, I was compelled once more to the lessons. I would remain and observer. Only listening. I would not interact with the young again. With these self imposed rules in place, keeping boundaries, I could listen to the last few lessons before the ball. That lasted one day as on the next, although I had left my hiding spot before the end of the lesson, both young stood, small hands on small hips, aiming stern looks in my direction when I rounded the last corner of the passageway to my room. The looks they gave me had me ducking my head so that they could not see the ticking at the corner of my lips.] I am sorry, young miss. Young sir. I am not used to nice things being said to me. Should not have run off and left you. [They looked at each other and seemed to deem my apology worthy, because they both plunked down on stone floor as if ready to get back to business. How could I refuse them when they looked at me so expectantly? Settling myself before them, I cleared my throat as I had before, and began to sing. We made it through the entire song this time, all of us exhaling in unison on the last note.] You are both doing very well. I think you will make your mahmen and papa very happy. [The compliment that was strained at first, as I knew not how to give one, was choked at the end. The idea of a home with a mated pair, happy, thoughtful young, was one I had never experienced and never would. Clearing my throat for an all together different reason than before, I closed my black eyes for a moment before continuing. I did not want them to think they had done anything in error, which in itself was a completely foreign concept to me. Caring about how others felt in regard to me.] You will be the talk of the celebration tomorrow night. [With a firm not after meeting each of their hopeful gazes, I pushed to my feet, needing to escape, but wanting my departure to be less abrupt that the last.] May the Scribe Virgin bless you both tomorrow. [With a final glance, I nodded, and was on my way. I knew I likely would not see them again and that pit sank back into my stomach. How odd that I had barely known these young, and yet, I knew that as my miserable existence stretched before me, I would not forget them. I did not venture to listen to what I knew would be the last practice before the ball. I knew that with preparations under way, the doggen would be scurrying through the passageways endlessly. Only a few times during my visits had I scared any of them. I did not want to disturb any of the happenings of the day. The voice whispered through my mind telling me that it was because I wanted to preserve my memory of the young as it was, to which I could only grimace. It also told me to be ready. Something was coming. Do not find comfort here. Heeding the ominous warning, I gathered one change of the clothing I had been given, and tucked them into a small rucksack with the drawing the young had left me. #Phury stopped by my room as the sun set early on the eve of the winter solstice. Our raced loved the fall of the longest night. He asked once more if I wanted to join him for the festivities. He was dressed as any formal male of the glymera would be, and the attire turned my stomach. After many a celebration the mistress would bring her harem of males down to my cell to use me to top off their night. Shaking my head rapidly, I swallowed against the bile that threatened to rise. I knew the looks I would receive if I was idiotic enough to show my ruined face. Fear, judgment, disgust, pity… I wanted none of it. Another boon of our stay at this home however, was that #Phury was now fitted with a false wooden leg and was walking almost seamlessly with the help of a sleek, black cane. That alone was worth being in a glymera home. It would help in our future travel. He exited my room and I began to pace the length of it, an odd swirling in my gut. Not for myself, but...nerves, if I had to try and name it, for the children's performance that I knew would be towards the beginning of the evening. I cleaned several apples to the core as I paced, scraping them clean with my fangs. I didn't pause until I heard the smallest rapping of a knock on my door. Curious as a sudden feeling of dread settled over me, I could not fathom a reason for the summons. Even so, I opened the door the smallest of space, I saw no one as a frown creased my brow. In the next second,my head snapped down as both young began to talk over each other, their excited words tumbling forth in an avalanche as they shared their excitement about their rousing success with me. Features smoothing, I opened to door, crouching down to their high to better listen. The moment I did, they flung themselves at me, wrapping there small arms around my knees. Arms snapped out to brace myself on the door jam and not tip over, I froze, mind and body. Terror froze my veins, the fear of the taint, the dirt their innocent, pure beings could contract by a touch...Even touching them to dislodge them could make it worse. A commotion down the hall had my instincts snapping my mind from the frozen terror. In one smooth motion, I had removed them from me and leapt over them, crouching protectively in front of them, fangs bared as a growl rumbled my chest. I heard the small gasps of fear behind me as the master of the house rounded the corner, accompanied by his guard, Phury behind them all. Belatedly, I realized what the scene they had come upon could look like, and it was in no way favorable to me. I knew that to move, would be to forfeit my life. Of course the young leaving the ball in their excitement to find me would not go unnoticed. As the heirs of a family of worth, they would be monitored at all time. Things I should have realized when I found them at my door alone. This too was my fault, but worse was the look of disappointment on #Phury’s features as his eyes fell downcast, obviously assuming the worst of his barbaric twin. Not that I could blame him. The young likely saved my life as they ran towards their father, both jabbering on. The guards were on me in the next moment. It took everything in me not to fight back as they slammed my face into the cold stone floor. One word rang louder than any other as the children sought to explain to a father who would not listen to them. “Friend". Black eyes rose to get one last glimpse of the kindness I had never dreamed to experience. Even as the young boy stretched his tiny rounded hand towards me, tears tracking down his sister’s cheeks, I knew we would be gone by the morrow. The loathsome, hate filled look of disgust in the father's eyes was one I was much accustomed to from the glymera, I had been on the receiving end of it for a century. I would be judged as naught more than a monster forever. #Phury spoke in hushed tones apologizing for things that never were while pleading for my worthless life. He should not have bothered. Those few moments of what I now knew were happiness were the brightest I had experienced since my transition. I would be content to let them carry me unto the Fade. #Phury was as big a fool as I if he thought my life worth bargaining for. Even so, uncertainty crossed over the master’s features before his disapproving scowl fell back over his face and he nodded, telling us to leave at once. #Phury limped to his room and only then did I speak out.] The bag! [Was all I could get out before a fist collided with my exposed cheek. Gnashing my teeth, I hoped with a depth that I did not know I could possess that he had heard me, understood my meaning. When he reemerged from our ajoined rooms, my body went lax with relief when I saw not one, but two bags tucked under his arms. The master had a doggen ushering the children from the hall as the guard drug me to my feet, keeping my arms pinned behind me, my body shaking with the restraint it took to remain imprisoned, something I promised myself I would never allow to happen again. They had no inkling as to how easily I could escape them, but there was no reason to make the horrible situation worse, the voice was trying to whisper me calm in my mind. His head ducked to speak with #Phury, casting furtive glances in my direction, I kept my head bowed as my insides tore themselves apart. Both males clapped each other on the shoulder, #Phury bowing before the guards turned me and we headed away. Out into the cold we were ushered to a carriage as the moon illuminated our path. Once inside the coach, the doggen whipped the horses into action, the sound of leather on hide making me flinch, curling further into the corner. Eyes squeezed shut as I worked to steady my ragged breathing, I ignored #Phury’s litany of questions about the young and what had happened. I might tell him eventually, but for now...reaching for the pack, I thrust my hand inside, searching until I found the only gift I had ever received. Carefully unfolding the parchment, I gently caressed a finger over the markings, not caring that #Phury was watching me so intently. When I knew I could breathe again, I closed my eyes, leaned my forehead to the cold glass of the carriage window, and I sang the hymn thanking the Scribe Virgin for this longest of winter’s night.] #End #BeforeTheAwakening #Chapter18 #TheSong

[imazsadist-blog]

The Respite #BeforeTheAwakening

Solo #BeforeTheAwakening Chapter 17: The Respite [The weight of what I had done pressed heavier upon my shoulders with every step I took along the path toward where #Phury determined that a carriage would be waiting for us. I couldn't deny the zing of the fresh blood I had taken into my body. The only comparison I had was that of the feedings the Mistress would force upon me. This was different. The blood had not been forced upon me from her vein, but taken by my own force from an unwilling victim. A human. I was the monster they feared in the night. The savage beast the Mistress had reduced me to. Ruined before I even knew how to live. The kill had exhilarated as much as the blood and I loathed my existence because of it. Snarling as a hand landed on my shoulder, rousing me from the dark depths of my macabre thoughts, #Phury held up his hands in an attempt to placate before gesturing toward the carriage at the end of the trail before us. He spoke low, no doubt try not to “spook” the animal, explaining that the doggen driving the coach would take us to the home of another family of vampires. The idea of being among others of the race had me blanching where I stood. The hated look of pity on the male beside me was the only thing that kept me moving. I loathed that look. I needed no reminder of the clueless, dangerous creature I was. Without a word, I followed the male to the carriage and climbed in behind him. Curling up as small as my large body would let me into the corner of the interior, my rear end on the floor. I was not worthy of an actual seat. I stared sightlessly into the night as we moved through the countryside trying futilely to block out the chaos of my mind. The gaping pit in my gut was all too close to the raw feelings of helplessness I had felt in those first years after my transition. When my heart still beat and I had no idea what evils the world held. I was all to versed in the injustices of the cold cruel universe held now, only instead of being the bearer of these crimes I was now the reaper. The whispers of the voice telling me that she would have been killed by the other man’s hand regardless of my interference did nothing to ease the self loathing within. Nothing I touched would ever be the better for it. The shiver of the male on the seat only reinforced the thought as my mere presence chilled the air within the carriage. The pain that radiated into my body as we traveled along the rough road, jostled to and fro was a welcome distraction. Physical pain was a familiar friend, far easier to handle than the torturous agony my broken mind was capable of. The soft tones of #Phury’s voice as he spoke of the family we would briefly board with was an unexpected balm as well. I did not exactly listen to the information he relayed, I had no interest in that. I guessed he only spoke to fill the air with something besides ice. What I did listen to was the timber. The ebb and flow of his words as he spoke in the language of the race. The calming effect soon had my head lulling to the side, my head resting on the seat beside me. I knew that to sleep in the presence of anyone was a weakness I could nae afford, even as the voice whispered again that this male was safe. The only exception. When I next blinked the sleep from my eyes, I found the carriage stopped, a dull ache radiating through my body from the being curled into the cramped space I had shoved my form. #Phury’s next statement confirmed what I had already guessed. Pushing to kneel I watched at the ready to offer him my arm, only if absolutely necessary, as the hobbled male exited the carriage. The voices of males I did not know joined his as formal greetings and introductions were exchanged. I stilled in the interior as waves of dread and fear crashed upon my shoulders. I had not long ago escaped my prison of chains, by the wealthy of my race. Was I really going to willingly step back into their clutches? The voice tried to reason that we were safe here but a much louder part of my mind was banging against my skull. Run. Run! I did not know these males or what lay behind the walls. What females might look upon me with the hunger the Mistress had time and time again. It was as I was about to force my body into action and flee from the opposite door of the carriage that an arm reached back in, grabbing at my forearm. My feral growl vibrated the glass of the door, fangs flashing as #Phury ducked his head back inside. In harsh, hushed tones he spoke, beseeching me to trust him. That he would do me no harm. I stared into the citrine pools of his eyes for what felt like a lifetime before my body lurched forward. Eyes scanning everywhere as my body unfolded, stepping onto the hard earth, I ignored the gasps of the males as I came into view. I knew not what I looked like, nor did I care, but I had felt the wound that mared my features. Knew that the outside reflected the hideousness that I housed within me. Good. I did not want to look as if I could be approached for idle conversation. #Phury was the male for that job, not I. I scanned past the pitied looks on their faces, only belatedly relieved that it was not a look of lust or hunger they wore, as I made note of every door and window I could spy within the walls of the estate. I would not be held captive again. Both males watched me, taking my measure, I was sure, or at least that is what I would have been doing had the roles been reversed, before waving #Phury and I toward the front doors. I walked beside the male who claimed to be kin, keeping my pace slow with him as his crutch hit the dirt, then stone path which each labored step. He was a touch faster since his feeding. For him I was thankful. Looks that held more knowledge than was spoken passed between him and our hosts as we walked and I knew that I would be the topic of discussion well into the morning hours. I cared not. The night sky was beginning to lighten far off on the horizon as the doors were pulled open. Doggen bowed low in welcome as we stepped into a tiled foyer, just as a team of servants rushed outside to affix the shutters over the windows to guard against the light of the coming day. I watched with an odd curiosity, faded memories of the time before my transition into hell, when such a task was one of my chores, tried to push to the forefront of my jumbled mind. The sound of the name #Phury insisted on calling me, claiming it to by mine own, had the vague memory dissipating before it was fully formed, pulling me back to the present. Snapping my head toward the male, I gave a noncommital grunt as I followed the trio down a hall then a staircase to the underground chambers in which we would spend our day. I tried to push back the panic that came with the thought of being trapped underground once more, telling myself that surely, I would not be put in a cell. Although I would not blame them if that were the only quarters they deemed appropriate for an animal. The knot in my shoulders lessened slightly when the older of the two males pushed open a door to a large well appointed bedroom and then another door to the room beside it. Entering the room behind #Phury, our host and his, son, I thought I recalled it being said, as he showed us the bath chamber that adjoined both rooms. As the males of the house offered us last meal, I made brief eye contact with #Phury and shook my head once before turning my back to them. They were no threat to me at least in a physical sense and I was finished with niceties. I left #Phury to take the invitation or make excuses not to join them. There was no way I would take a meal prepared by anyone. Never would that vulnerability be forced upon me. When I heard the heavy door close behind me, my spine straightened before relaxing incrementally when #Phury spoke anew, stating that he would be retiring to his room for the day. I did not respond until he was about to close the adjoining bath chamber door. Swinging my head in his direction, I caught the slight shock in his face as he turned at the same time to meet my gaze as if sensing my movement.] Leave it ajar. Please. [My voice was a rumble, the chords still finding their use in forming real words, not just the roaring, grunting noises that were all the sounds I made for so long. Without a word, he inclined his head leaving the door open a sliver, the candles within the small room lit. Gathering the bedding from the large four post bed in the center of the room, I carried them to the far, dark corner of the room. The linens smelled fresher than anything I had ever scented. Crisp, clean, soon to be sullied simply by my tainted body laying upon them. With a short shake of my head, I curled my body upon the pile. My back pressed to the warm stone wall behind me, eyes on the door that lead to the hall. This is how I would spend the encroaching hours of light. Not in slumber, but on guard. For myself. For the male who had saved me and even now deigned to help my sorry soul. His good deed would not go unreturned. I would guard his life with my own for as long as the six chambered organ caged in my ribs pumped black blood through my veins.] End #BeforeTheAwakening

[imazsadist-blog]

Into The Night, Before The Awakening. Part 16

[As dusk settled in at the close of the next day, I came awake as a wave of panic washed over me. The scream died in my throat as my eyes came into focus. The Mistress was not hovering over me. I was not chained to the slab. I was curled up in the corner of a hay strewn shack, the soft even breathing of the male named #Phury filled the small space between us. Awareness settled over me, but my six chambers never settled. I was not in my prison, but the male planned to feed tonight. Had made arrangements for a female to arrive. I had to leave. Pulse pounding, I reached for the tattered clothing he had acquired for me, quickly but quietly pulling them onto my emaciated form. The word “brother” was still as foreign to my mind as was the stranger himself, but a sense of owness because he had rescued me already had me planning to return to the shack after taking the reprieve I was planning to give him privacy while he fed. My stomach rolled at just the thought of witnessing the act. Pushing down the next wave of unease that threatened, I finished dressing, pushing my large feet into the boots that squeezed them too tightly. I welcomed the bite of pain finding solace in it. The new ache joined with the rest that riddled my body, assisting me in finding the focus needed to find my bearings and leave. Cautiously peering through a crack in the doorway, I ensured that darkness had settled, slipping out of the door just as #Phury shifted on the plat he slept on. I made my way a few paces across the land quickly, blending into the darkness of the surrounding trees instinctively, not wanting to be seen and knowing that no one would want to see me. I did not know how I appeared, but I had felt the gnarled line down my face, knew I would look as horrific as I felt on the inside. All the better. I needed no one to see or know me. The air around me grew colder as I trod through the shallow treeline that separated the edge of the farmland the shack sat on and the small town. I stuck to the shadows of the buildings lining the few roads of the town, jaw clenched, hands fisted at my sides as my awareness flared. The newness of everything around me was an assault to my senses. I had spent the last century confined to the same four walls, with my knowledge of the world around me prior to that limited to the castle in which I was but servant boy. The scarse memories were but a shadow in the back of my warped and muddled mind. Carriages along the streets here looked different from the hay wagons I had bailed in my youth. The lamps in the store fronts different than the candles that lined the stone walls of my captivity. There were few humans roaming the streets as evening settled to night and I noted them cross to the far side of the street from where I watched, wondering if they could sense the monster that lurked in the dark. I would wander the desolate alleyways for a few hours then return to where #Phury would no doubt have sated his hungers. Ignoring the pit of emptiness in my gut, I ventured further into town, drawn curiously to where there seemed to be some activity. One establishment on the corner of a block toward the edge of town was teaming with bodies, raucous laughter and chatter escaping into the cold night as people filtered in and out of the door. I could not tell what was happening inside the building, but I was intrigued. Keeping to the shadowed alley across the road, I leaned my back to the stone wall, watching the interactions of those on the street and the patrons inside through the windows. I had never known much of humans. They seemed content to be oblivious of the world around them, the predators that walked among them in the night. Weak fools. I do not know how long I observed the humans when a distressed sound pulled me from my thoughts. Slowly moving from my position toward the sounds of a struggle at the far end of the building across from me, I venture across the road to the adjacent alley with a speed I had never exerted before. The quiet that settled over me had the voice awakening to tell me that this was right. My purpose was to hunt. Protect. Eliminate all threats as there was no monster scarier than I. Focusing on on the scuffle I could hear but not yet see I stalked with an instinctual call that lead me forward. The noises were of a feminine nature and as I rounded a rubbish pile, the scene became clear. The man that pinned her to the ground with his body. He was large, but rounded, no discernable muscle, only his weight restraining her smaller form as her arms flailed. A sour stench permeated the air and I could see her small fists pounding at his back had no affect as he attempted to rut again her. I scented the salt of her tears on the night air as visions of my body's own violation flashed in my mind. The animalistic growl that rumbled from my chest drew her attention as I loomed behind the man over her. Fear thickened the air as her eyes flared wide, her pleas falling silent as she froze in fear. Frost formed on the ground at my feet as my fangs punched from my gums. I tore the disgusting excuse for a human being from her body, lifting him with one hand at the back of his neck. No sooner had he registered that I had interrupted his assault that I lunged. Fangs tore at his throat, the metallic taste of his blood barely registering on my tongue as it poured from his jugular down the front of him. I had no interest in feeding, but the scent of blood awoke a deeper, darker part of me. Dropping his limp body to the ground as his lifeblood emptied, my head turned slowly toward the woman on the ground. She couldn't even scream. The fear pouring from her had my gaze honing in on the pulse hammering at her throat. Sucking in the terror through my nostrils, I drank it in, the response learned from the few times I was able to frighten the Mistress. Wrenching her from the ground in one quick movement, my large hands braced her shoulders, the small contact all I could stand. The noises she made now were that of prey. Small whimpers, the fight she'd exerted against her attacker now drained from her as I held her before me. The darkest part of the monster I knew that I was deep down inside took over. Striking at the vein that pounded beneath her flesh, my fangs pierced true. Her blood was not as rich as that which the Mistress had forced down my throat, but then human blood would be weaker. Hunger from the depths of my gut had long pulls of her coppery blood coursing down my throat, my hands clenching around her slender shoulders. It was not until her head lulled limply to the side that I stopped, noticing that the blood no longer pumped from her vein. Dead. I had drained her completely. Releasing her lifeless body as if my palms had been scorched, self loathing churned my stomach, only the flexing if my throat kept the contents of that which I had just drank down. I was the animal the Mistress had made me. I did not panic. I did not care if I was caught by the humans. Killed for being the monster I was, taking an innocent life in the night. I stared down at her lightless eyes, horror still etched on my face and knew. I knew that I would never mend from what I had become. Only the voice calling forth the question of what would happen to the male who saved me if I did not return to warn him of what would be an impending hunt when the bodies were found, had my feet moving from where they had rooted in place. Slinking through the arteries of alleys, I fled the town into the woods and back to the shack. Bursting through the door, I found #Phury alone and pacing, the few belongings he had acquired packed in a bag at the ready. Chest heaving to catch my breath, I glanced around for the female, finding only an unknown scent lingering in the air.] We must leave this place. [As if he already knew, he masked his features, but I had caught the disappointment before he hid it from me. With one decisive nod he lifted the sack to his shoulder and extinguished the lone lamp. Shoulders set defiantly, I stomped from the shack. I would not blame him if he decided I was too much of a burden to travel with. I had nothing and no one and did not deserve to live. I was surprised when he caught up and met my pace, noting that his skin had regained some color, the crutch under his arm moving with ease as he hobbled. He had fed from a female of the race. He had needed it. Even as my mind warred with hatred and anger, I found concern for the wellbeing of the male at my side. “There is a coach waiting at the edge of the farm. We are moving on to another place. One where more of us reside. I have an acquaintance there that will take us in.” The sneer I turned to him bared my fangs.] You are a fool to continue with me. [As much as I wanted to rail at him, abandon him, I had no guide in this world and had proven tonight that I could not go it alone. I would, in time, learn enough to do so. Then I would relieve this male of worth of the burden that was myself. For now, I would see him safely to his acquaintance, then meet the sun.]

[imazsadist-blog]

Out of the Cave, Before the Awakening 15

[This losing consciousness was getting fucking old. When I came to, the male, Phury he had called himself I thought, was propped up against the wall, lit only by the dying embers of the fire. The sky outside the the cave was fading to twilight once more, telling me I'd slept the entire day. Moving slowly, I stretched my limbs as I sat, the minor aches and cramps barely registering. They were the same I'd felt night after night when awakening on the palate in the corner and my cell. I blinked a few times, my vision adjusting to the increasing darkness. He spoke low once he watched me rise. I was expecting another story, more details of what had brought him to me. My pounding skull was thankful that he merely pointed to the pile of clothes he pointed to beside me that I had not noticed until that moment. He further explained that he had dematerialized to the closest town, acquired clothing for us both, fed and returned. My head snapped up when he spoke of feeding so nonchalantly. Visions of the Mistress having my chained down as she opened her vein over my pried open mouth flooded my vision. With my heartbeat pounding in my ears, hands shaking, I took up the breeches and shirt beside me. Concentrating on the methodical acts of donning the items to push away the threatening nightmares. Having not worn anything in so many years, the task itself seemed daunting, having to figure out how each item was worn. I centered myself with the slow steady intake of air into my lungs to regain my composure. When I was dressed and saw only the male across from me, I noticed that he had also somehow bound the stub at the end of his leg in fresh dressings and had a long stick at his side. My brows rose in surprise at his resourcefulness. As rescuers went, he would be a worth travel companion. My voice, rough from lack of use, surprised me with its deep rumble. I asked if we would be departing this night and he said that we would. He informed me that he had procured a rented room in the outskirts of the nearby town that would serve as our shelter for the next day. From there we would travel on. He asked if I could dematerialize. I shook my head, holding his gaze with defiance, awaiting his disappointed that as a male well out of his transition, this was not a skill I had mastered yet. He merely stated that my predicament was as he had expected, knowing that as a slave there would be no one to allow or teach me the skill. At the mention of my slavery, I looked at my wrists for the first time since my escape. My hands rubbed forcefully over the opposite wrists of their own accord, nothing but getting the marks off mattered. The sound of one word repeated over and over at higher volume eventually had my head snapping up. “Zsadist!” it was the male, Phury, pulling me from my focus. He let out a harsh breath and took a step toward me. I hissed, flashing fangs when he got too close and he halted immediately in his tracks. He told me that I was bleeding and slowly held out a swath of cloth. Brows furrowing at his claim, I looked back to my wrists belatedly realizing that I had in fact, rubbed the flesh of my wrists raw. Snatching the cloth from his hand, I dabbed at the dripping blood until I began to heal. I scowled seeing the haunted pitied look on his face, throwing the cloth to the ground before striding out of the cave. After a few steps, I stopped, hearing the grunts of exertion behind me as well as the thump of the hand made crutch as the male, Phury, hobbled behind me to keep up. I kept my pace slow, even with his. He could after all decide at any moment that I was no longer in need of rescue, dematerialize and go along his way. I did not know if there was truth to his claim of being mine blood brother. I knew nothing of the family to which I was born. The idea of kin, nae a twin brother was as foreign as freedom to me. I did not know if this male planned to remain my traveling companion or would see that I had escaped the Mistress then our paths would part. I could only take one literal and figurative step forward at a time. I knew nothing of the world outside of the four walls of my cell. I needed to learn enough to blend into the shadows of the night. Survive. That is all of the plan I could fathom. I don't know how long we walked through the forest, my mind whirling with newness and nothingness. When Phury stumbled on his path a third time, I straightened my spine, gritted my teeth, and looped an arm around his waist, supporting him as he tried to continue on, my skin crawling from the contact of another being all the while. We made quite the pair indeed. Both of our breathing became labored as we broke from the treeline to a wide open field. His from exertion, mine from trying to keep the nauseous feeling churning in my stomach at bay. His voice was quite when he told me that the farm with the shed we’d bed down in for the day was just across the field. Together we crossed the land in silence. The sky in the distance horizon was just beginning to lighten as the shadowed outline of the small hovel came into view. I had never seen a more welcome sight. I pushed through the wooden door, helping Phury settle onto the small cot in the corner. I took one blanket from the pile on the edge of the bed, crossed the room and laid it on the floor. Sitting in the darkest part, I removed the footing the male had given me to relieve the ache that had begun as we walked from wearing such things on my feet. I heard him shift on the bed, assumed he laid down and then he spoke. “I have arranged for you to feed tomorrow night. The female will arrive shortly after sundown.” My head snapped up, an immediate] No! [Pulled from me. Phury continued on as if I had not spoken saying that I needed the nourishment. Pushing back to my now bare feet, I closed the distance between us, looming over the male, my fangs extended. My voice was calm and dead as I spoke, the temperature in the air dropping several degrees.] I will not feed. [Still he lifted his chin defiantly, meeting my eyes. Whatever he saw in my gaze had him flinching visibly before letting out an exasperated sigh and nodding once. I knew he did not agree with my statement, but there was no way I would take the vein of a female of the race. Aside from the poison already coursing through my veins, I would never be able to stand an part of metouching a female. The thought alone had my stomach churning, blackness threatening at the corners of my vision. I shook my head, determined not to pass out again. I walked the perimeter of the room, checking the latches on all the shuttered windows and the lone door before returning to my corner. I knew not what the sun set would bring, but the day was dawning on my second day of freedom, the voice that had been quiet, whispering across my mind as sleep took me, that there would be infinitely more to follow.]

[imazsadist-blog]

The Stranger, Before The Awakening 14

[The night was clear as I wandered the forest that first night. I had no idea that my vision would be so keen even as the clouds blocked out the moon. My bare feet were silent as I moved through the brush. I let the sounds and scents surround me, focused my hearing and waited. In almost no time I had snatched two fair sized woodland creatures from their dens, snapping their necks before they'd even realized what had happened. A more merciful demise than my own life had ever known. I was not sure what they might have been called but I knew they would provide sustenance. Gathering an armful of downed branches, I carried my load back into the confines of the cave, wracking my brain for the menial skills I had from my pre-transition life as a kitchen servant. I did my best to build a circle of rocks before setting the branches and twigs within. Striking rocks together I soon had a small flame burning it's kindling. Another stone I sharpened on the wall of the cave before using it to skin the fur from the carcasses of the creatures I had hunted. After spearing the bodies with thin branches, I held them over the flame. The scent of cooking meat soon permeated the air, rousing the stranger from his slumber. I sat and watched, cooking the meager meal as he struggled to push himself to a seated position. I was still while he assessed his body, watching the realization of his missing limb dawn across his strong face. When his head rose, his eyes finding mine, I inclined my head slightly before returning my attention to the meat I spun on the stick over the flames. He did not speak at first. Assessing me as I had him. I still knew not who he was. Why he assisted me in escaping, but I knew that in his precarious position, he was no threat. The scent of cooked meat had familiar pangs of hunger awakening anew. It was a guess that the meat was cooked enough, when I withdrew it from the flame, unable to resist the tantalizing scent any longer. Eyes locked on strange citrine colored gaze, I crept slowly toward him. When I was still out of arms length, I extended one of the skewers. Pain etched on his face as if even the small motion of reaching for the stick hurt, he just as slowly took it from me. We both dug in, the exertions of the past few nights draining us of any strength, the sustenance needed to refuel my body as I was sure his did too. Even so, I hesitated in bringing the food to my lips. The voice assured me that I have caught and prepared the food. That only my hands had touched it and that it was not tampered with. After taking a breath to push back the panic, I began to eat. All too soon my fangs were scraping the last bits of meat from the bone, the ache in my gut temporarily muted. Tossing the remains into the fire, I settled on my haunches as the stranger finished his meal, eating much more meticulously. I was curious as to his reasoning for the rescue. Wondered things about him. But I would not speak first. He could explain himself or not. The voice had already formulated my next plan of action. I needed to move on from this place. I did not know if I would still be hunted, but remaining in this place was not wise. The voice had also decided that we owed this stranger assistance in leaving this place, in repayment. There was also the matter of my lack of covering. The cold air didn't bother my bare form, but I know that I could not live in the wilderness forever and anyone I came in contact with, human or vampire would be offended by my body. I knew of the talents of our kind in altering the thoughts of humans, but it was not a skill I had an opportunity to learn. Assuming the stranger had this talent, for that alone he would be an asset. Clearing his throat, the male settled his back as best as he could against the wall of the cave behind him. Speaking slowly he asked if I could understand him. My brows furrowed at the peculiar question, not knowing what he knew or thought of me, wondering for the first time if his intent was to rescue me or if I was a victim of circumstance. When I nodded he blew out a breath. I listened as he spoke, first noticing the cultured lilt of his words, much like that of the Mistress. Then his words soaked in. He spoke of a kidnapped young. A twin. A family who grieved for a loss. A second brother growing up in a home with a ghost and a curse, who as a transitioned male went out on a mission to discover what became of the kidnapped babe. I wondered as he spoke why he was telling me this tale, when we needed to be planning our exit, how this male would move, where we would go… When he turned to whispers of a blood slave kept by one of the females of a first family in the glymera, my eyes snapped to his. Pulse pounding in my ears, I could barely make out the rest of his words. I thought I heard him call himself Phury son of Aghony. He spoke the word brother. Between the pounding in my skull I heard, “given name” and Zsadist first born son of Aghony. It took some time before I realized I no longer heard the timber of his voice mixed with the pulse beating in my ears. Even longer to realize that I could see my breath in front of me, the cave having fallen into darkness as a frost snuffed out the flame because of the chill radiating from my body. Looking down I belatedly realized that blood dripped from my palms having fisting my hands so tight, I broke my own flesh. A stray thought of surprise drifted across my mind when I noticed my blood was not black. As the pounding subsided, the weight of Phury words set in, and with it the familiar numbness of survival. Bolting from my crouched position, I barely made it outside of the cave before the contents of my stomach emptied itself on the rocky earth. Body weakened once more, I crawled my way back inside, my last thought being that if I was not far enough inside, the sun might find me and it would all be over, but at least I now knew my name.]

[imazsadist-blog]

A First Breath Of Freedom. #BTA13

[The gasp of breath I took told me I was still alive. The immediate pain that coursed through my body told me much the same. When the repeated breaths I took didn't feel like my lungs would collapse with each intake, I rolled to my back. I instantly regretted the decision when the pain redoubled, spiking across my tattered flesh. Pain I could handle, I have been for as long as I could remember harboring pains much worse than those stinging my back and face. I laid there, breathing until I pushed to excruciating feeling down to a dull ache. The cold that wrapped around me helped. Laying there, I could soon see my breath puff from my lips, the chill running down my naked body all the more comforting. The memories awakened then, the male, the beating, the stranger who had risked his own life to--- My head snapped up when a groan echoed through the, I could only describe it as a cavern, having no recollection of things in the world aside from my cell. Pain forgotten, I sprang to my feet on immediate alert for any threat. I ignored the voice that was maniacal in its glee that we were finally free, only agreeing on one point. Whatever this fresh hell was I refused to return to the other one. I would die before I was recaptured. Crouched with my back to the wall, I scanned the interior for the source of the noise, my eyes falling on a crumpled heap on the other side of the cave. I stepped cautiously toward the lump of male, that much I could tell of it. The scent of blood overpowered the salty sea air the closer I got. My brows were drawn in confusion when the male seemed to rouse, his large hands reaching for his lower leg drawing my attention to where only a stump remained. My eyes shot wide when the male screamed, the sound vibrating off the stone walls. This was the stranger that came to my aide… and hacked off his leg to make our escape.] Why? [My voice, a raw scratchy rasp, was foreign to my own ears from nonuse. The mass of hair lifted from the ground as piercing yellow eyes met mine, an agony I had felt myself etched on his strong face. He whispered one word, “brother” before his head fell back to the ground, unconscious. Reeling back, my hands flew to my own long hair as confusion clouded my mind. How? When? I couldn't form a full question before another piled on top of it, then another. The madness that had been my companion for so long bounced around in my skull making my head throb. Hands fisting in my hair, I tore at it continuously as I paced the cave, dropping fistfuls of the long strands to the ground, the new pain going unnoticed as my mind spun. Part of me wanted to flee immediately, it didn't matter. That one word didn't matter. I had been lost, abandoned, abused for so long. Surely no family would leave one of their own to be subject to that. It was black outside of the cave, surely I could make it a fair distance before the sun drove me into hiding again. The voice told me I was a fool. I didn't know where I was or where to go. That this male had saved me, so brother or liar, I could at least assist him in his now hindered state. Cursing my addled mind, I walked to the mouth of the cave, surveyed the surroundings. A small ledge dropped off after a short distance down into the crashing waves. A narrow path led around the cave toward a forest I could barely make out in the distance. This male would be stranded. I had no knowledge of what threats or dangers lie in the outside world, having spent every moment of my life since transition in slavery. I did not want to admit it even to myself, but the company of this stranger might be the only thing that kept me from the Fade. My head fell forward, hanging as the weight of this dire situation fell onto my battered shoulders. I didn't know enough to think on the unknowns. For once, I was thankful for the animal I had become. Working only on instinct, I wandered a short distance from the mouth of the cave, my ears open to any approaching threat even as I listened for sounds of the male awaking again. I began gathering sticks, stones, anything that could become a weapon, as well as searching for sustenance. The male would need to eat, his injuries more severe than the beating I had taken, even as my back pulsed in painful reminder. It seemed the voice and I had come to an accord, this was not the end of me, it was the beginning. Survival was the only option left.]

[imazsadist-blog]

The Escape

[I came awake from my fitful sleep, curled in the corner, to the sounds of screaming and screeching as the heavy cell door slammed opened, booming off the stone wall. It richocheted ochetted back and was caught by a male I had never seen before. Dressed in finery I had only seen briefly on some of the males the Mistress would bring with her. His face was tight with angry, eyes bulging when they found me in the corner, a vein in his forehead pulsing. He took long strides into the room, the Mistress fast at his heels, pleading with him, words spilling from her mouth so rapidly I could barely catch them. When the male stopped, she almost ran into his back. Pivoting quickly, he backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling across the stone floor. I only enjoyed the strike from a pause as my body huddled into itself, trying to make my form smaller as this male barrelled towards me. My first instinct was not to attack and I cursed myself for that. This was different from my attempted escape in that the attack was coming at me. He roared for the guards and they responded immediately. Men that had pinned me in other ways now knelt my shoulders, knees and hands to the harsh stone as others wrapped chains around my ankles and wrists. Bound like a wild boar, I was dragged from the cell, down the same hall through which I had once attempted to flee. I felt flesh being torn from my limbs but barely registered the pain. My mind had recovered from the initial shock, and the voice seemed to have taken the reigns. Possibilities began to form, listing likelihoods, potential outcomes. While all I wanted was to let this male end my miserable excuse for an existence, the voice was creating a plan. If I was taken outside and unchained, I was supposed to fight my way free. While the voice ran the scenarios through my mind, my body was dragged. Eventually the outer door was breached and the moon shown mockingly down upon the scene. My shackles were secured over a long wooden beam where I knew horses would have been tied when needed. I was forced to kneel it piles of their droppings. I was restrained so that I could barely turn my head to see what was happening around me but I could only assume that the Mistress's secret had been discovered by her mate, and I was now to be made an example of. He would never realize that hurting me would never hurt the Mistress. I knew she stood near as I could scent her. The stench of fear and hatred I knew well, and I knew that if I glanced to the side her eyes would be boring into mine, enjoying what was going to happen to me, even as she feared for her own consequences. I let the bitter frost of cold seep from me, trying to find that static place inside my mind that I went to whenever the abuse was coming. It was an awareness without feeling, a numbness. Even before the first whip cracked across my back, I heard it split the air and kept my breathing level, my body relaxed. The leather tore strips of flesh from my already raw back. I remained motionless with every strike which only spurred the male on further. His screaming grew louder as the hits intensified. As blood poured from my back in rivers, my head began to lull to the side. I imagined this was the quiet of death and I was ready to embrace it with arms wide open. Two things happened at once. A roar both foreign and familiar to my ears tore through the air and the whipping stopped. I blinked in and out of consciousness, helpless in my bindings and I heard clang of steel on steel over and over again behind me. I was blind to the battle taking place behind as I fought to stay aware. I could not gauge the passage of time, only knowing that eventually, the storm quieted. I heard the clang of metal on metal close by just before my arms fell limp in the shackles. A growl vibrated my chest when the gallow was flung open. Knowing my only chance was now, I pushed to unsteady feet, shaking away the blackness that threatened to engulf my sight. I spun to defend myself ready to fight when I meet the glowing citrine eyes of an enormous male. I had heard the word wharrior whispered in the dungeons. This must be one of them sent to finish me for the Mistress's crimes. His muscled form was evident even under his nobelmale's clothes and he towered over the remaining guards that attempted to regain their feet. He whispered the word, "brother" a million emotions I could not name playing over his face as my eyes narrowed in suspicious. He made no move to harm me, but urged me to move. I had already noticed the fallen males regrouping, so moved toward the direction this wharrior indicated. After a few steps, I stumbled but quickly pushed back to my feet. An arm went around me, the touch on my decimated back awakening the monster within. I pushed the arm away, turning my head, I bared my fangs in a snarl. The whip struck across the side of my face from behind. Roaring to the sky, I pivoted to fight, only to be dragged back by the male who persisted on aiding me. I did not need his help nor his command to move, for glancing at the group of males now advancing toward me, and the lightening of the sky, I know retreat was my only hope. I moved at a stumbling gait, unable to pay any attention to the odd word the voice had whispered across my mind, hope was a word I had lost meaning for ages ago. My teeth ground together as the male continued to guide me by the arm, only to pull me to a sudden halt when we reached the cliff's edge. I hardly understood what the male was saying to me, his words falling so rapidly, my blood deprived brain could barely grasp them. I heard, jump, swim, cave, as I tried to shake the fog from my brain once more. The voice had decided to trust this male, so in no time we were stumbling down the rough terrain. We ducked and dodged arrows and spears that rained down upon us, until the male at my side, stumbled. Holding onto my arm as he was, we both feel forward, over a steeper embankment. I barely caught his forearm into, glancing up to see his lower leg twisted in a snarl of roots. My chest heaved as I prepared to plummet to my death. After eternal moments of the male trying to work his leg free, I could only watch and hold on as he used his free hand to unsheath a long dagger at his side. I tried to scream my protest when I realized what he would do, but in four, quick hacks in rapid succession, as the dawn broke over the sky, we were tumbling through the air, the ice salt water below, cocooning us from the rising sun. I knew the male was beside me as I sank, a calming darkness, the silence of the ocean surrounding me. As I gave into the darkness, one thought remained, at least I had died free.]

[imazsadist-blog]

The Frost

[My failed attempt at escape did not ruin me any more than the Mistress already had. I had destroyed many of her guards during the battle. Drank in their fear as the light left their eyes. That feeling of power unlike none I had ever felt before drove me now. After being utterly powerless for so long, I now knew what it felt like to have the ultimate control over the existence of another. The thirst for death, theirs not mine, had me rising from the stone slab after the last Mistress visit. Made me relearn the movements of my body after I had been so badly mangled. Broken. As I filled my head with visions of my one glimpse of the moon glowing down on the snow blanketing the earth, I filled the room with the cold that seeped deep into my soul. These were the conditions I used to train myself. I could no longer hide my makeshift weapons around the room. Drugged and shackled at random intervals, the guards would cautiously enter, searching every corner, high and low, removing anything that could even remotely be used as a weapon. The luxuries of blanket and pillow I had once possessed were no more. The stone slab and a chamber pot were all I was allowed. Fools. My bare hands were all I would need the next time. No utensils were provided with my meals. I ate like the animal they caged me to be. I was still bathed for the Mistress, but her visits too had changed. No longer did an array of males accompany her. Two guards stood by the door when she entered, but nothing more. She glared daggers at me as she took what she wanted from me, instead of closing my eyes, I kept my empty, blank eyes glued to the ceiling, unblinking. The room reached subzero temperatures whenever she was in my presence, frost forming on the shackles that held me. I drank in the hate masking the fear that poured from her as she exercised her sense of control. We both knew better. The tides had changed. She kept me now, not out of lust and greed, but out of fear of being found out. If her mate or worse, the governing class found out about her dirty little secret, she would be held accountable. I listened to all the whisperings of the guards as I healed, unbeknownst to them. The healer that was sent to assess my damage after my attempt had uttered the word wharrior. At a nod from the Mistress, he had been silenced on the floor before me. I had watched all of this through barely slitted eyes, keeping my breathing shallow and even, my heartbeat a slow lub as to feign unconsciousness. I knew not what he meant, only that there was in fact, a reverence in his tone that I could not place. Had never heard before. Surely he had not been referring to me. I was but a slave. Although the actions of the Mistress spoke of something else. If what he had said was true, I was a liability. These thoughts had not formed initially. Only after I had healed completely had the voice whispered them across my mind. Prodding me to think, draw conclusions based on assumptions and bare scraps of information. Feeding the madness. Two realizations swam up through the whirlpool of thoughts whirling around in my brain. There was a chance that my risk would come to outweigh my reward and I would find my nightmareish existence at an end. The feudalist of thoughts was that if I attempted to escape again there might be the slimmest chance that little effort would be made to stop me. I knew it for the dangerous hope that it was, but the voice would not let me snuff out the embers that kept it burning.]

[imazsadist-blog]

Still Alive

That fucking bitch. [The first thought that came with consciousness before the pain exploded from every nerve of my body. The blood pounding like rivets in my temples had my stomach revolting. Heaving continuously, it took all the effort I could muster to turn my head, preventing me from choking on the bile that burned up from the inside as my flesh screamed on the outside. The Scribe Virgin had not answered my prayers for mercy. Just like the other cunt in my life, she had denied my only plea. I cursed the mother of the race with every breath I took even as the voice awoke, whispering across my mind that this was good. That vengeance would be ours. I cursed the voice too. I was done with it. All of it. My life thus far had been nightmare upon nightmare unfolding before me. I was only in my first century and I could not fathom existing outside of this hell. There was nothing for me. For the first time since my transition, I let the anger, hatred, frustration bubble up and out. It hurt as my head fell back to the stone behind me. The screams that erupted from my larynx vibrating the walls. I hoped everyone in the castle could hear me. The Mistress, her mate, the guards who had recaptured me, sentencing me to this fate for no other reason that loathing. Theirs. Mine. Hers. Only subsiding when my throat was raw, the echos of my anguish reverberating off the walls, I sucked in sharp gasps of air. The act only increasing the burn in my abused windpipe causing the pain on the inside to match the throbbing over every inch of my outside. The myriad of pains morphed and ebbed so completely, I could not discern the specific damage done. I could however drink it in, cocoon it inside, feed on it. I was alive and they would all pay for it. I clenched my fists noticing for the first time, that I was once again chained to the stone slab. Through the throbbing ache when I flexed my muscles I noticed restraints at every joint. Wrists, elbows, shoulders, knees, ankles, waist, neck. Swallowing, in an attempt to wet my arid throat, I felt the cord there restricting my windpipe. "You certainly know how to signal that you have awakened." When I heard her voice I wished that the damage done to me had taken my hearing. Her voice was like a thousand nails hammering into my body at once. The cold hatred that infused my body was like the frigid snow I had recently yet only briefly experienced. The air in the room seemed to flee, the temperature plummeting seemingly in response to my reaction. The shocked hitch of her breath was almost as satisfying as the stench of her fear that suffused the atmosphere overriding the scents of her warring hatred and lust. The fact that she was more afraid of me than anything else had strength seeping back into my limbs past the pain. I showed no reaction to her words, my jaw clenched tightly, all I did was blink. "You have proven your immense stupidity with that little trick. I had to lie to my mate. Tell him our walls were breached causing the loss of our guards. You have created quite a mess for me to clean up." I heard her approach, barely containing my flinch when she leaned over into my line of sight. "Do not fret. I have taken care of everything. No one who should not know you are here is alive." The evil in her eyes had my own widening as I swallowed hard past a lump. I had not felt remorse or pity since my first days, however, knowing what she implied, that the boy from the hall was no longer, had the long dead organ in my chest turning to ash. She laughed in my face as the realization I had come to must have shown, my teeth grinding to cracking as she went on. And on. And on. "I thought to allow you to heal before my next visit." Laying her hand on my face, all I could think of was biting it off at the wrist. "But why should I be punished for your bad behavior?" The slap she landed resounded in the room, reawakening the ache in my skull tenfold. I blinked. Her following laughter was manic. I stared at the ceiling as she salved . When she dropped the ornate robe she wore and climbed atop me all I felt was the weight of her form settle over me. In that moment I bone deep feeling of exhaustion coursed through me weighing me down. I was so tired. The Mistress began to moan, moving over me as I laid there helplessly. For the first time, I watched her, my eyes holding her's letting her see the hatred, rage and menace in my ebony eyes. I let her see my intentions if ever our roles were reversed. The pain redoubled from the contact of her body against mine, but I used it. Drank it in like what I imagine a fine wine would taste like. Transformed it into the hatred she could see. She moved faster, not drawing it out as she usually did. The lust in her eyes morphed to fear as she came on a gasp. She did not even muster another slap for me as she dismounted. Ice almost formed in the air from how low the temperature had dropped. The shiver that raked her body was not one of pleasure as she snatched up her robe and fled the room. Resting my head back against the stone, a strange almost peace settled over me, the voice was almost giddy in my mind. We had unnerved her. Turned the tables. I was the slave but for an instance I had won.] #BeforeTheAwakening

[imazsadist-blog]

The Escape

[I could not count how many there were. I had the skill once, but no more. Besides, possessions need not know how to count, read, learn. Unbeknownst to them, I had learned something. The voice's urging had me working with painstaking silence, over the course of I did not know how much time. It was all I had to occupy the hours between the nightmares of the Mistress. The obsession to make the weapons that would facilitate my escape helped to further remove my mind from what happened to my body. The methodic scraping of clay on stone, to sharpen the points lulled me into a hypnotic trance that was better than sleep. In this state the voice whispered directives, plans. Formulating when was best to strike, who to attack, how and where. All I needed was an opening. With no clothing for concealment, I carved hidey holes around the room. In the walls, near the platform. I would be as prepared as possible when the timing was right. I sensed an anticipation mounting. The voice told me that the time to act was nearing. I stopped eating all together in an attempt to rid my body of the drugs. I'd been force fed blood periodically, so the lack of sustenance barely registered. I was as strong as I could be, me self inflicted training honing my muscled mass. It was early one evening when I heard the slot in the wall slide open. From my position huddled in my corner, I held two small blades, one in each large palm with the ends laying flush to my wrists. When the darts hit, I yanked them from my flesh as quickly as possible then slumped into a heap. I knew the guards would attempt to shackle my wrists first. As my body was dragged to the platform, I concentrated on keeping my breathing slow and even, not revealing that I was alert, aware. Once hoisted onto the stone slab, it was as if everything slowed down and went silent. The only sound was the beating of my heart. When they reached, in unison for my wrists I jerks my hands upward stabbing them each in the neck before dragging my makeshift blades across their throats. They dropped to the floor like macabre puppets with their strings cut. Noise erupted around me as I rolled to the floor, using the stone platform as cover as darts bombarded my body. Grabbing as many if my hidden weapons as possible, I lept toward the guards now flooding the room. Remaining in constant motion, I slash, kicked and stabbed my way to the door. My body moved with the fluidity of instincts untapped. One after another, the guards fell. As I made my way through the door, I caught sight of the Mistress, barricaded from me, a murderous rage burning in her eyes one which could only be matched by the hatred I knew burned in mine. My choice in that moment was attack, end her and likely myself, or freedom. With a battle cry that shook the walls, I threw as many blades as I could in her direction before pivoting to sprint down the dark hall, fleeing toward what I did not know, "away" was the only instinct I had. The shouts screams and chaos echoed off of the thick stone walls as I ran, eventually dimming the further I went. When I came to a split in the tunnel, I came face to face with a terrified young male plastered to the wall. The scent of his fear slammed into me seconds before I saw him, but unlike the fear of the Mistress that is reveled in, this young's scent cut. Straight to my shriveled heart. I could only hope the hat his fate was better than mine. I could not fathom what he saw as he held my gaze, and pointed down one hall, nodding vehemently. In that moment I respected this young more than any person I had thus far in my existence. Nodding my head in thanks, I headed into the direction he indicated. The sounds of the chase grew closer gaining on my heels, from my brief stop. I moved with a swiftness my body knew without any conscious effort on my part. When the hall ended at a thick wooden door, I knew I had no real choice but to go through it. Barely giving myself the chance to hope that freedom or death might lay beyond, I pushed the heavy barrier open. As naked as I had been every moment since my transition, I stepped out onto the snow laden earth. The cold air pricked my skin like hundreds of tiny blades, burned my heaving lungs as I gulped down the freshest, cleanest air I had ever tasted. Invigorated by the cold, I lumbered across the land, heading towards the trees in the distance. Scanning the night, light by the moon and snow, I drank in the beauty of it, even as in scouted for any threat. The cold blanketed me, seeping into my soul to comfort, ease the fires that blazed within. The solitude wrapped around my dark heart offering a strength I could not comprehend. A feeling of dread stayed with me even as the distance from the castle increased. "Too easy" the voice whispered, I was in accord. After all this time, my departure from the Mistress would not be this easily gained. I spotted them hidden in the trees as they converge. If I had time to guess it would not have mattered, having no concept of numbers. There were many. So many more that the blades I had created. With the last few of my weapons clutched in my hands, I threw myself at them. My defeat was imminent, but I would not be the only one who fell this night. Roaring into the night, I thrashed, stabbed, kicked and fought with every fiber of my being. I would not soon be forgotten even if I passed unto the Fade. When they finally overtook me, one arm hanging from its socket, a leg twisted at an angle that was never meant to be, blood pouring from everywhere, the snow surrounding the battle was painted red and littered with bodies. As they dragged my broken body through the snow, I stared up at the full moon, giving myself over to the pain. The view was the most peaceful scene I'd ever witnessed. The night hushed once more as I whispered a prayer to the Scribe that by dawn she would welcome me home.]

[imazsadist-blog]

The Voice

[The routine had begun again. A drugging. A bathing. A visit from the Mistress, although less males seemed to accompany her now. A food delivery. A feeding. Nothing. She came less frequently from what I could tell. I guessed that her mating had occurred. Assumed that she was unable to get away unnoticed. That was the whole of my sentient thoughts. The rest of my mind functioned on instinct alone. A reaction to a noise, my body telling me when it needed fuel. A deep seeded need to fight, defend, survive. I hate the strength of will that made me hang on. Wanted one dawn to close my eyes to the darkness and cease to exist. There was no end for me aside from that. Lifting my large form from my curled position in the corner, I sat. Stared. I had no possessions. No belongings, but then, neither do other feral animals. For the last space of immeasurable time, I had been staring at the remnants of the food tray that had yet to be removed. I did not know where the thought came from, my mind was rarely my own. But somehow, during my feeble attempt at sleep, the first inklings of a plan had hatched. It was that same voice that screamed for survival at my weakest moments. It spoke more softly now. Schemed. Plotted. Moving with a lumbering gait, I went to the tray, lifted it and moved it back to my corner. Sitting with my legs crossed in front of me, I lifted the clay bowl into my hands. Turning it, inspecting, I nodded in agreement with the voice. I could use this. Wrapping my threadbare blanket around the bowl, I lifted it over my head, coughing loudly to muffle the sounds, I smashed the bowl to the floor. Stilling after it shattered, I listened for a reaction from the guards. When none came, I opened the cloth. Shards of clay now littered the fabric. With a satisfied grunt I lifted the largest piece, running my thumb along the jagged edge, when a sliver of blood blooms on my flesh, I set the piece aside. Dumping the rest back onto the tray. Bracing my hands on the tray, I grip the turned up edge. Tensing my body, with another loud cough, I ripped the length of wood from the tray. After tucking it along with the shard under the blanket, I moved the tray back to the door, lifted the slot at the bottom and shoved the it through. When the guards began to yell and complain, I hissed baring my fangs even though they couldn't see me. When their noise did not cease, I pound my fist to the door, a feral growl erupting from my chest. After several seconds they stopped. Resettling myself into the corner, I uncovered the shard and stick. Studying them, I allowed the voice to whisper through my mind. It cautioned that I couldn't break things often, lest the guards catch on. It indicated that the shard would do nicely to shear a length of hair from my head, that hair then becoming the twine the bind the shard and stick. A weapon. I could make them. Hide and gather them. Then, when an opportunity arose, a path of blood would run in rivers down the halls of my escape]

[imazsadist-blog]

The Madness

[The pain was excruciating, prolonged and unending. The throbbing started in my temples and radiated down every inch of my long large body. Even my finger and toe nails hurt. It was likely only days before the constant pulsing subsided, the gapping holes refilled, my fangs once again present. I begrudged the regrowth as much as I felt the fear that they wouldn't regrow lessen in my gut. I knew that with their return would be hers. Or at least that is what I had expected. Instead I was left alone. After the healing, I became as weak as a newborn fowl. It was an effort to drag myself from the slab to my corner. Even more to use the chamber pot. I saw no guards. No servants. No one. Food was slid into the room at regular intervals. It was only by the type of foods served that I could tell the passage of time. There was no longer anyone sent to clean. No males sent to wash and ready me for use. With fitful rest and the small amount of food I allowed myself, I regained some strength. I had not had blood in I did not remember how long. My thoughts remained sluggish but my body began to work again. So I paced. I walked the perimeter of the room. Over and over and over again. The continual movement kept the stench of the room and my body from choking me. I hated these walls. The Mistress. Myself. I do not know if it was the drugs, the solitude, the madness, the dark, but I began to react to any sound out of the ordinary. Flinching, crouching in battle readiness, but still nothing came. I did not long for touch, but for some sign that life existed outside of my cage. I could smell the vampires in the castle. Knew they lived, but without visual confirmation, my mind spiraled into its own abyss. I never knew when my nails dug into my fisted palms to the point of bleeding until I stepped in the puddles that collected by my feet. Snarled growls erupted from my chest at random intervals, simply for a sound to briefly fill the room. Occasionally, my mind would clear and I would move my body in ways that seemed best for fighting. I do not know how I knew to move that way, only that in a world where I had no choice or control, this felt right. So I moved. And for short bouts of time, my mind quieted. In those few stolen moments, I was less of the animal I had become. The first dart had me snarling, clawing viciously at the sting on my neck, until rivets of blood ran down. The successive pin pricks had my large thrashing form fall like a dead weight as the familiar darkness stole my consciousness. I came to on the slab, banded in place, the coppery warmth of blood dripping into my pryed open mouth had my nostrils flaring, my eyes blinking open. I didn't struggle. I knew it was pointless. The only sound was that of the futile struggling female, being bled over me. Where once there would have been pity for her fate in being forced to feed me, now there was only a sick pleasure at the scent of her fear. Her lot in life would never be worse than mine. I cared not. My glance at her was brief and dismissive, not even seeing what she looked like as I turned my blank stare back to the ceiling. I swallowed her lifeblood, knowing that my strength would return. Hating what that might signal. My fears were confirmed when the Mistress strode from a shadowed corner, her perfumed scent turning the sweet aftertaste of blood in my throat to acid. She looked over my body, sneering in disdain. "Clean and groom him tomorrow," She ordered the guards. Dragging her nails down my chest causing my eyes to flick to her's. "Soon" She whispered. My blank black empty gaze held her muddy pools. Whatever she read in my eyes had her facade faltering before she recovered, schooling her features once more. Still she drew herself together as she strode from the room. The guards and the lamely struggling female followed in silence. She would return. Of that I had no doubt. But she feared what she saw in me now. And that I could use.]

[imazsadist-blog]

The Animal

The sounds of slapping flesh awoke me. As the haze cleared from my eyes, I felt the tugging of the rod between my legs, heard the moans, I took stock of the scene quickly. Several males had accompanied the Mistress this time and their debauchery was in full swing. The smell of alcohol hung heavy in the air. When I was alone, I'd listen to every word I could catch as it was murmured near my room. I'd sit in the shadows and listen. It was the only way I had to collect information. Through the walls I'd heard that the mating would happen soon. That her hellren would move into residence as part of the arrangement. My hopes for escape during transfer had been dashed upon learning that piece of information. The only explanation for a gathering of this many males with the Mistress must be one last hurrah before she would have to feign her role as obedience shellan. When the mistress and her males began their filth before I came out of the drugged state, I always found it harder to remove myself from the scenerio. Glancing down my body, my jaw clenched as I barely contained a growl. I hated when the males put their mouths on me. As if sensing my thoughts, the male in question lifted his head, grinning viciously at me. He took leave to approach the Mistress who was bent over, her mouth surrounding one male as another plowed into her from behind. A low growl bubbled up my throat when yet another set of hands began to pet my body. The males who'd left me, fisted a hand in the Mistress' hair, pulling her head up to speak to her. "Your pet awakes, Mistress, I beg you, let me take his mouth." Her alcohol and lust hazed gaze feel upon me, a dopey yet sinister smile spread as she moaned. "The risk and reward are yours." Releasing her hair he turned back making his way slowly to me as he stoked his member, hate and lust warring in his glassy-eyed expression. With I glanced and a nod at the male who's hands were on me, the both came to stand at either side of my head. My hands fisted in the shackles as the second male took my jaw. The first male crooned at me to be a good slave and take it. The other male chuckled darkly as his hands clamped bruisingly in either side of my jaw prying it open. My arms tensed, hands fisted and straining against the cuffs. The first male brought his member to my mouth, pushing it inside, a triumphant groan falling from his lips. A savage growl bubbled up from my chest as my fangs descended, jerking my head from the other male's grip I tore and ripped my way through the flesh between my fangs, spitting blood and chunks in a macabre spray as blood curdling scream echoed through the room. I did not know or care the damage I had inflicted, I hoped it permanent and debilitating. The underlying sounds of a shrill giggle meet my ears. The Mistress was ever delighted by the show. Her toys had misbehaved and her entertainment had been heightened. My hatred for her boiled as the blows rained down on my skull repeatedly. The blackness was welcome. When next I awoke I wished once more for death. My head pounded in time with the beating of my heart, my skull feeling as though it would crack in two. The ache in my mouth was a fire blazing freely. When I attempted to move I found not only my limbs locked down, but an iron band now braced across my chest. I wanted to scream my anguish as memories assaulted me, but when I attempted to move, I found my jaw fastened shut. I could not pry it open. Moving my tongue around in the confines of my mouth, a muffled panic filled noise escaped when I discovered empty holes where my fangs were. My struggles must have drawn attention because in the next moment the steel door groaned open, the Mistress in all her stiff spine facade walked to my side. Her eyes blazed with anger. "The Duke demanded retribution for your stupidity. This was what was necessary so that I could keep you and you would live." Desperation garbled my anguished cry at her explanation. I could have been free of this life. Passed onto the Fade or into nothingness. I cared not which. Either would surpass this life. But no, this vile selfish being needed her whore. Clueless to the path of my thoughts, the Mistress lifted my upper lip tsking in disgust as she viewed what I could not. "They will grow back. But I can not look upon you with those gaping spaces. Worry not, though" She leaned over, sneering sickly down at me. "When you heal, I shall return. You. Are. Mine." And I was. She held the reigns of my existence. Rode me like an animal. And I was. If there were any doubts left as to what I had become, they were confirmed by my actions and subsequent de-fanging.

[imazsadist-blog]

The Rot

[An innocent female was slain for comforting me. My body a ravaged mess of slashes that had cut to the bone. Exposing ribs. Slicing through muscle. After the forced feeding, though I felt even more tainted than I had before, my body had slowly begun to heal. That it was the filthy from the Mistress' veins now flowing through mine healing me had me loathing myself ever more. Huddled in upon myself my body shook with pent up fury as I slept. My nightmares were no longer designated only to my waking hours. I would jolt awake screaming. The image of the maid's limp falling body burned on the inside of my eyelids. Such a light snuffed out. Because of me. I had become as poisonous to others as the sludge now running through my veins. I would never be clean again. In the week that followed, the Mistress would return even though she could not yet use my body as I was not fully healed. She would weep, then wail at the injustice of being denied her favorite toy. She would have me drugged and chained daily to inspect my body. Her hands running over my raw flesh almost tenderly burned worse than any strike of the whip. Her remorse was not because she had done what she had, but only that she had rendered my body temporarily useless. The emotions that played over her face ranged from sadness to anger to a crazed adoration. The only reaction I showed her was a blank stare. She would get nothing more from what she forced my body to do. I was numb. Empty. I knew that if I could not escape I would die here. With that realization came the freedom that with nothing to live for I had nothing to lose. In five days time, I was healed. The murmurs of the guards told me that this was a quickened pace from what they had seen even among their own. The word warrior again drifted through the air. I knew not what unspoken meaning it held. Only that the maid had called me warrior-sized. If it was in some way an advantage the Scribe Virgin had given me, I would use it. The darkness that was now rooted within me, pulsed at the idea of superior strength in a fight. At the daydream of crushing the Mistress' throat in my bare hands. I was stretching my long limbs, new flesh that had knitted over my torso moving with the muscle, when the darts hit. When I came to, hearing the soft humming, my jaw clenched. She wasn't in my line of sight, but the tug at my hair told me she was brushing it. One of her favorite acts when she wasn't astride me, the intimacy of it had my stomach turning. I must have betrayed myself with movement, for in the next moment, her vile smile hovered from above. "You awake and are well. I confess, I have been eager, my slave." My hands fisted when I heard the opening of the jar. She knew better than to try for a response without the salve now. The shift in weight between my legs was the only thing that told me that what she wanted had occurred. When she dropped her robe my eyes slid shut. I would not gift her with my eyes on her form. As she took up her perch my mind drifted away. It was easier to remove myself from the event when she visited alone. She was no threat and if ever a hand came free she would die before she could know what happened. With other males I had to be more on guard. Not this time. I would not give her the tender reunion she sought. Words fell from my lips in a drugged haze] You will die by my hand, Mistress. What becomes of your life between now and then matters not. In the end, I will watch the light fade from your eyes. My face will be the last you see and you will know that I have won. [She gasped, slapping my face, but her undulating never faltered. I showed her a fang filled sneer, my eyes still shut, just as she called for a guard to hold my jaw closed. Seconds after I felt male hands on my face, I felt the sting at my neck. Her pulls felt like rot festering in my veins. There I laid. A used slab of meat. I knew I was alone again when the steel door closed, the shackles at my wrist and ankles releasing. Opening my eyes to clear the fog, I pushed to sit, swinging my long legs over the side of the platform. With a grunt, I stood stretched and lumbered to the wash basin in the corner. My futile attempt to scrub myself clean would fail but it was all I could do to rid myself of her odor.]

[imazsadist-blog]

Fade to Black

[It wasn’t long before the st4eel door was opened once more. Still dazed from the drugs, I tilt my head, watching from the shadows as a female is shoved into the room. Screaming when the door slammed shut she banged her delicate fists on the door to know avail, pleading with the guards that she did no wrong. Begging for release. She didn't even notice I was there. Her fear poured from her. I rose to my feet as the blood hunger roared to life within me, my fangs throbbed, punching down from my gums of their own accord. With little thought, I stalked toward her. My instincts driving. Where the Mistress would never appeal to me as anything more than a heartless slaver who's blood I would never imbibe, this female looked succulent. She must have sensed my approach, for she spun around, gasping in abject horror, her hands flying to her mouth as she cowered against the door. Trying to shrink in upon herself. The look in her eyes had my head snapping back as if physically hit. This is what I might look like when the Mistress came to me. That terror had me stumbling backwards to my corner, horrified at the animal I had become. I could not stand to let myself take from this female what was so frequently stolen from me. I slumped into my corner. My arms wrapping around my knees when I curled into my usual position. Resting my forehead to my knees, I concentrate on breathing through my nose so as not to scent her, my arms shook as my hands fisted, all the control I possessed kept me from moving. The guards would come get her soon. It hardly registered when the wailing ceased. "It is you isn't it? The boy from the kitchen? I had believed when they said you died in transition. I didn't want the rumors to be true." Her meek voice floated to me, my head lifting to see her taking slow tentative steps toward me. I nodded. Whatever she saw in my eyes had her kneeling before me. Her hand shook as she laid her hand, wrist up on my knee. "If my purpose is to feed you, please. Take comfort at my vein." I meet her eyes, finding only kindness and sympathy there. So unlike the muddy pools that I avoided looking at. Shaking my head violently, I did nothing more than life her wrist, place a chaste kiss over her vein and lay her arm back upon her lap. She had made the offer, but had been forced into the room. I would not disgrace her lifeblood by having it run through my filthy body. I had not noticed the wetness on my cheek until she raised her hand again and brushed it away. "What is done to you here? The tales of the males kept here are terrible." I flinched under her touch until she began making cooing noises of comfort. I imagine the sounds were not unlike those a mahmen would make to her young, though I had never known such a comfort. Tears fell in earnest as her fragile arm crossed my back. The comfort she gave so freely was a gift the likes of which I had never received. In another lifetime we had been familiar to one another. She was a maid, our paths had crossed often. I wept as she held me, letting the pain that had been building every moment of my existence since transitioning, bleed from me. I wished she'd been right. That I had died instead of survived. For that is all I did. Survive. This could not be called a life. Time passed. I do not know how much before the guards entered. They took the female gently from my side, slamming the door behind them. The barrage of darts came seemingly from nowhere and everywhere. In my sorrow hazed mind, I recognized that the sheer volume of points hitting my body could not be a good sign. The world faded to black. I came to locked to the platform once more, the Mistress looming over my body, fury alight in her eyes. Her hand shook around something that I could not see. "You think to deny the gifts I give you?" As she spoke the door opened again, the guards carried in the maid. Her body limp. Dead. "You will not take comfort from anyone! You are MINE!" As the Mistress yelled the last, my roar over powered her words. The walls reverberated the sounds of my furied anguish as I strained against the cuffs, cutting myself to the bone. I screamed until my pulse thundered in my head and then I screamed more. The guards backed away. The Mistress blanched. When I fell back gasping for breath, she looked at me, her facade momentarily broken as a whispered "Your eyes...." passed her decrepit lips. She schooled her features once more ordering the guards from the room. Raising a hand she brought a whip down across my chest. "You will drink when I tell you to!" My skin split and bled as she whipped me again, something inside of me broke.] I will not drink! WATCH ME WITHER, MISTRESS! I feel nothing! You are weak! [I bellowed my hatred so The Scribe could hear. The whip tore open my chest, torso, shoulder, I stared at the Mistress as she rendered my flesh raw. Giving no credence to the pain. When my blood soaked the platform and pooled on the floor, she put a hand down to steady herself, her head hanging as she caught her breath. My body was bloodied but she was broken. She collected herself once more and met my darkened gaze with one of her own. She called for a guard who stumbled upon taking in the scene. She ordered him to hold my head. "You are not permitted to die." Reaching between my legs, she squeezed the heavy hanging sack causing a scream to rip from me. As the guard held my forehead, she bit into her own wrist and bled it over my open mouth. I strained to snap at the delicate flesh just out of reach, but bleeding out had weakened me. The guard's hold was enough to save her. My mouth filled with blood, the choice not to swallow stripped from me. She leered at me as she pulled her wrist away backing from the room. Whatever she saw in my eyes, her subconscious knew not to give me her back again. ] #BeforeTheAwakening

[imazsadist-blog]

The Slow Death

[After that first day, my existence became a rhythmic nightmare. The Mistress would return often and always with other males. Showing off my body as if I were nothing more than a prized object. Her hand would salve me and I was put on display. She was disgustingly aroused by the shame she provoked. That of the other males who stared in awe. In hate. And of my own. The debauchery that followed had me violated in every way possible. Things I had never the time to imagine before my transition. Things I would never willingly attempt or agree to. The males took out their displeasure on me. In me. The first time, I was torn. Body and soul stripped raw. They took turns violating my body as I vomited onto the floor. When they were finished taking their filthy pleasure, my drugged and beaten body was turned over. The pain radiated through my body in ways I had never felt before only increased as the Mistress then took her release, riding her stallion in selfish abandon. Stealing my lifeblood. When they departed, I laid there, shaking in my restraints. Keeping my eyes closed, I listened to the sounds around me. Several guards were charged with cleaning the room. I could only imagine what they thought of the aftermath they witnessed. None spoke to me. I might as well have been a corpse they worked around. Only as they completed the task were my shackles released. The door locked behind them. I do not know why or how I endured. Every time the Mistress would return, she needed the salve to elicit any type of response from my body. And that is the only response she ever received. I was shackled at every encounter. After the first few times, my mind learned to detach itself from the rest of my body. Most times it became as if I looked down upon another's degradation from above. When I could not remove myself, visions of the pain and suffering I would inflict on the males and Mistress would occupy my thoughts. Dreams of the battle I would face, if the opportunity arose, ran on a loop behind my always squeezed shut eyelids as I lay like a slab of meat, being used. I could almost pretend the sounds of slapping flesh, the grunts and moans, we're that of their demise. Verily, a delusion, but one I would rather live than the reality I would face if I opened my eyes. When left alone, I taught myself control of my large muscled frame. I was allowed to move around the room, but was drugged through my food, my mind never fully cleared. Even so, when a guard entered the room, I attacked. Using my body as a weapon, I fought. The only goal being escape. After several broken limbs and bloodied faces, the guards began to wear armor. Drugging darts were shot into the room to subdue me. The shackles on the bed platform could be released, after each defiling without anyone getting close. I was beat after every attack, but only on the palms and feet. Scribe forbid any other part of me be marred, Mistress' orders. The pain became its own entity living inside of me. I wrapped it around me. It was the only sensation I allowed myself to feel. The only control I had. Still I tracked every move the guards made. Looking for a weakness. A way out. The only reason I ate the tainted food was to keep my strength. A survival instinct I did not know I had kept my heart beating, my mind calculating. The days blurred into a haze of dreaded humiliating repetition. On one such night, after the sting of the dart, I had no cover to avoid, stung my neck, the Mistress entered the room. After my drugged and drowsy body was shackled to the bed platform, she approached and perched herself on to the side of my body. She was alone which was strange. Her aire tonight was not it's usual selfish conceited royalty. Her head hung, golden hair curtained her head. She spoke to her hands folded in her lap. "I am to be mated." At these words, my eyes shot wide, my head lifted, trying to shake the fog from my brain, mayhap the nightmare would end. I could return to the kitchen. I would want for nothing more] Please, Mistress, will you release me? [The look she leveled at me as she looked over my body was full of loving, infatuation, a manic obsession. It chilled me to the bone. My jaw clenched knowing the answer before she spoke. "I find that I cannot." She bent then. Licking the flat of my nipple, her hand finding the flesh between my legs. I was numb to the touch down there. Feeling nothing until a rough friction heated the skin. There was no response. She looked up, anger now burning in her gaze. "I am beautiful." Her chin jutting out as if daring me to deny it.] To others. [In my drugged state, the words slipped out before I could stop them. She slapped me across the face. And again, I felt my lip split, wondering if all of my teeth remained. Turning to her, I flashed a bloody sneer] Again. [She gasped, her face flushing in anger as she went for the salve. It happened quickly then. She took up her position above me. As she moved she cried, I heard it. My eyes were squeezed shut, she slapped me repeatedly, not strong enough to force me to look at her. It was the last denial to her I had. If I did not hate this female with every fiber of my being, I might have found an ounce of sympathy for how pathetic her actions were. But I could not. When she finished, she slapped her hands flat to my chest. "You grow gaunt. You need to feed." She left in a whirl of fabric. The slam of the steel door had me letting out a breath. I pushed up on my arm, swiping my hand across my face, surprised when the blood that smeared was still red. I was so tainted it didn't seem possible. Once the shackles were released, I rolled from the platform, finding my corner once more. ]