Wander and Conquede 1

"Get undressed."

The poor boy complied quicker than I figured he would. He slid the tatters of his torn shirt from his shoulders, and I could see the blood from his back dripping down his arms.

The boy sobbed quietly as he removed his pants, untying the rope belt around his middle. His pale skin gleamed in the dim light of the room and I grinned.

“Get onto the bed.”

Again, he complied. I climbed onto the bed beside him and ran a hand down his back, feeling his blood soak through my fingers. He whimpered and drew in a shaky breath.

“Beautiful…dikos mou kalloni,” I whispered to him, and I felt him shudder. I brought my hand down to cup his beautiful behind, loving the feel of his blood-soaked skin beneath my fingertips.

He lay his head down on my shoulder and I couldn’t help but smile.

When I pushed him down to lay on the bed, he flinched and clenched his eyes shut from the aggravation of the whip wounds on his back.

“Your gods have forsaken you…and your life has been turned over to me.”

The poor boy looked so scared. I grinned again and spread his legs harshly, revealing his most private area.

Definitely a virgin…still pure, innocent…Perfect.

“Your gods have forsaken you!” I growled into his ear and pushed myself into him, laughing manically at his intense scream of pain.

Tears streamed down from his sleepless eyes and he sobbed openly, afraid to move with the intense, raw pain shooting up his spine.

“Do you believe in your gods anymore, pitiful wretch?” A sadistic smile spread its way across my face as I looked down at him, and the boy met my gaze with fear in his beautiful violet eyes.

“I…” he began to speak, but with that hesitation in his voice, I knew he would lie to me again. Careful not to pull out of him, I sat up and glared down at him.

“Do not lie to me, haven’t you learned that yet? Fool!” I backhanded him harshly, leaving a vicious red mark on his beautiful face, a stark contrast to the ghostly white porcelain of his skin.

“Please!” The boy finally cried, his auburn hair stained darker by the wet of his tears.

I grabbed him around the neck and growled low in my throat. I tightened my grip and pulled out of him, slamming my hips back into his with vigor. I waited for his yelp and sobs to subside before I spoke.

“Never—” I thrust into him, and he yelped in pain, tears falling freely from his tightly clenched eyes. “Speak—” I let go of his throat, for his beautiful face was turning a pretty shade of crimson. “Without being—” I thrust into him again, this time hard enough to rock the bed frame against the wall. “Spoken to!” I pushed into him again.

I could feel the boy shivering and sobbing against my body, but I didn’t relent. I continued my brutal assault on his tattered body, content to let him suffer as he was.

He was quiet, at least, aside from his strangled sobbing. I assume the rape wasn’t as painful as it was at the beginning, for the blood wrought from my harsh ministrations worked quite well as a lubricant.

At long last, I came into him, and he began to sob again—and I’d been foolish enough to think his tear ducts had run dry. I pulled out of him and stood up, wrapping my robe around me and tying it in the front.

I looked over at him on the bed, and the sight was pathetic. He lay there as I left him, bloody and panting. As it was, though, the sight was altogether very arousing.

“I expect you in my bedroom in two hours.”