Alter story

For the next few days, I've got a feeling of constant déjà vu. I started to notice, that every morning my smile was getting more and more cynical and ironic. Walking from my room to the hall full of guests was like climbing a scaffold. My torturers were always full of indifferent cruelty and disgusting lust, that I embraced with my whole body in poisonous waves, until I was full and even beyond that. Something, somewhere... was not a coincidence. But my happy owners, I mean Masters, now were also my guardian angels. And in these days, in which I pleased the friends of my enemies, the sacramental phrase "everything is under control" was making even more sense. They would always stop the guests that got carried away, for instance, when they were about to start extinguishing their cigarettes against my bodies, ignoring the fact that I wasn't some kind of ashtray, or others were about give me an enema with Coca-Cola, after stuffing my butt with Mentos. I must remain silent, not that I've got much to say, anyway, I suffocate, silent screams twist my face, leaving a wrinkle between the eyebrows, above my wet eyes. Only when the absolute clusterfuck burned trails of tears under my eyes, unleashing all my emotions, I begged on my knees in tears, trying to find the people in the room, the ones to whom I addressed my begging - my Masters.

At the times when the bunker was free of orgies, Masters would come visit me from time to time. It was called training. A light entertainment, during which I must do various tasks quickly and without too much thinking, may it be "get the ball and shove it up your ass" or "die", which meant that I must close my eyes, stop moving and making sounds, while my Master fucks me or tingles with a feather. I was even praised twice for my success. But not immediately. The first time it was a hot cup of tea, that waited for me in my room I usually sleep in, the once I return to on my wobbly legs after a "long day at work". The second time was when my Masters simply were in the mood. They'd got a few drinks, I don't know with or without the reason, but back then, they taught me to love pain in stages.

I was learning to perceive pain differently, to glide on its waves and doing it with style. I felt like roaming blindly, descending even deeper. It was so disgusting, so powerful, that it made me think that something was shifting it my DNA or in my brain, shattering every familiar way of thinking, associations, schemes. The adrenaline rush, the enlarged pupils that overlapped the iris, it was so easy to fall out, shattering into insanity, the flashes, the insane heartbeat, into brave revelations. The reward - the ability to tune and fall into this sweet gooey filth. The drug, extracted through pain, through submission. The subspace gave freedom. Lame, dry, illogical. Bound, worn, cold, I flew away from all this shit for seconds, minutes, hours. And my Masters gave me the opportunity to fully enjoy it, not snapping me out of it, they just let me rest. And it's hard to believe that, but the next two days passed similarly, the days, when I simply couldn't feel my pitiful existence, or even worse, simply enjoyed it. The second time, that state of mind was much more pleasant than before, when I had been hanging upside down above the aquarium in front of all these fuckers. Masters wouldn't disturb me, only Gero would come by a couple of times to bring me food. I was starting to suspect that my Masters were simply drinking themselves to death. But alas, that never happened again, and everything continued as it always had been. The path from my room to the hall became familiar, just like toys and tools, just like the people that would always greet me with joy. I exist for these hands, foreign and not so. That's up to them to decide. And I can't figure out if it was making me stronger or weaker. I simply exist, live, breath, cum. I try not to think too much, when it begins, when it repeats over and over. I am ready to disappear into the abyss, I'm not afraid and I don't care. Such a terrible word - a habit.

I was aware that I was succumbing to it, but simply speaking, I was just tired. That bastard in my head would soothe me before I fall asleep, trying to warm up under the blanket, with arms holding my shoulders, - Relax, you can't do anything. I know, that's it will only get more interesting in the future. There was not a person who would grant him the one-way ticket, but them. And if you've got nothing left to lose, bet on red.

***

- Follow, bitch, to my voice!

He had to follow his Master with small steps, since his legs were cuffed by leather rings, connected with a chain that rubbed against the concrete floor, producing an unpleasant metal sound. His hands were locked similarly in front of him, allowing him as much freedom as a creature needed to follow his Master on his fours. There was no collar. But the most distressing thing was the black blindfold on his eyes that completely robbed him of vision, and even Nicky could take it off by himself, his Master's order forbed him to "don't you dare even touch it with your finger, you whore", Nicky kept that line in his mind, thinking that the risk wasn't worth it. He followed, carefully listening to the sure footsteps in front of him and quickened the pace, afraid of lagging behind. Master was whistling some joyful tune, and the bitch felt the concrete below its legs was getting colder and colder, and the small stones, that were so rare in his bedroom, were now more and more frequent.

- Stop... - Nicky heard obnoxious creaking and a few moments later, he felt a cool breeze of fresh air that scorched his naked skin. Nicky unconsciously jerked, afraid of what his Masters got in store for him. They came out. The outside.

Without a doubt, it was winter. He raised his hands to his face in an attempt to throw away the blindfold off his face and see everything with his own eyes. But his vigilant Master noticed his movements, and the punishment shortly came after. A tangible kick in his butt, gave him the momentum, and in his turn, Nicky's lost his balance and met the snowdrift with his face.

- Fuck, - Nicky spit the snow, he couldn't hold the yell, the cold was so sudden. He was freezing fast.

- Oh, you foul-mouthed bastard! - exclaimed Master, grabbing the flogger from his belt. The whistling sound of leather strips left red marks on his skin, they were scorched with the cold, and the familiar lashing became harder to bear with that new feeling. The lash landed three more times.

Please, Master, I'm sorry, - spoke Nicky, wiping the snow off his face with his bound hands.

His question was answered by the joyful laughter of his Mistress.

- Don't rush it, you're going to see everything by yourself.

Master came to Nicky from behind, took him harshly by his hair, making him stand up.

- Forward!

Naturally, Nicky couldn't see how they moved a few feet away from the bunker and how his Master stopped him in front of a large pine, with one of its branches sticking out. There were a few more smaller ones nearby, covering a tiny glade. There was a thick rope hanging on the branch. The cold was scorching. Master ordered Nicky to raise his bound arms. He clicked the carbines and connected his wrists directly to each other. He ran the rope between them, pulled the rope downwards and stepped away so that he could tie it to the trunk. He pulled the rope so Nicky could only stand on his tiptoes. Nicky was rapidly losing his body heat; he was virtually shaking. Master took away the blindfold and stepped to the woman, positioning himself in front of his prey.

Nicky looked around. In front of him stood his Master in a shirt, his chest unbuttoned, he was also wearing a pair of jeans and an opened winter jacket, his hair was gathered in ponytail, the lash was hanging on his belt. And Mistress wearing warm and soft boots on her feet, tight jeans and a short white fur coat, fluffy scarf and a cute hat with earflaps were also included in her attire. In her hands covered by fur gloves, she held a large steaming cup and a lash, the device that was way harsher than the soft flogger held by Master. Only snow and forest were surrounding their glade, as far as his eyes could see. It was the time of the year, when days quickly turn into dark nights.

The thing that was happening at the moment was his punishment. Yesterday, an accident had happened, that made Nicky blush every time he remembered it. He still couldn't comprehend how that had happened to him. But it had, and that was a fact. While he'd been relieving himself, he managed to lose his footing and fell, overthrowing the bucket that was also his toilet. It wouldn't be a problem, but it happened right in front of his Masters. Masters were dying from laughter, holding on to their bellies, as he tried to get up, only to trip and fall back into the puddle. He was about to cry with his tears full of anger and resentment. Emotions overrun the control of his brain, and he made an impermissible act. He swayed his hand over the puddle with the intention to make it dirty and brushed it off in the direction of his frolicking Masters. The drops of filth didn't meet their destination, but the room instantly went silent. Nicky thought that he was about to clean it all with his mouth, but nothing happened after that. It was angry Gero who was made to clean the mess, and Nicky only took a shower and returned to his room. He had been stripped of his mat and pillow, as well of bowls with food and water. The only things he had was the blanket and that ill-fated bucket.

The woman handed the cup of mulled wine to the young man and dropped the hat and scarf onto the snow behind her. She undid the coat, she was wearing a sweater knitted large underneath, which made a fine contrast to her tender skin, also revealing one of the straps of her bra.

She walked around Nicky, passing the lash from hand to hand.

- Count! Every lash and be grateful after each. Loud and clear. Let's start with four, - the woman took a swing and hit Nicky at her full force. Quick and sharp, without any preparation. The strips of the lash left visible marks. It was just a test, now she was about to go in full rhythm.

- One! Thank you, Mistress, - Nicky mumbled as loud as he could.

He managed to count every hit, only by the end he was exhausted. The woman's hits were tangible, each one of them left its own marks. She had to repeat the last two hits, until Nicky said his words loudly enough. The marks were burning on his skin, and the cold was sucking all the warmth that remained inside of him. The woman returned to the young man, took the cup from his hands and handed him the lash.

- Fifteen! - he announced, and began hitting Nicky.

- One, thank you, Master! - shouted out Nicky. And everything repeated all over again. Nicky counted the hits, bending his spine under the lash. Soon after, Master took off his jacket and continued on. Drops of blood that separated from the lash landed on the snow, dripping from the wounds on Nicky's spine and butt. Nicky felt he was about to lose his voice. He was shouting out the words, as he was unable to say them normally. Soon, the woman substituted the young man, another twenty hits, although, they were much lighter than the previous one. When Master received the lash, Nicky was unable to count anymore, he bit his lips to blood and it was drooling from the corners of his mouth. The snow around him was stained in sprays of blood. He spoke quietly his gratitude for the first two hits, and then Master barraged him with all the remaining hits, like an unrelenting storm. Nicky screamed so hard, the whole forest could hear him, as it seemed, and afterwards, he completely lost his voice.

Master put away the lash and put a noose on his neck. He lifted him by his arms, so he was hanging, and put a few stones under his feet, about half a foot in height. He landed Nicky on them, placing his spread feet on the shaky base, the chain was stretched between them. He fastened the noose on his neck, so it would strangle him just a bit, unchained his arms and locked them behind. Nicky remained balancing on his wobbly legs, trying not to slip and strangling himself. Afterwards, his Masters just took all their stuff, turned around and disappeared behind the door of the bunker. Nicky was left alone. The forest around him was getting darker and darker. In a short while, the light was no more, and in addition to that, it started to snow, heavy snowflakes landed on his back, deafening silence surrounded him. He was breathing hoarsely, his throat hurt like hell, his arms and legs felt like completely frozen. He was sure that he would go down with pneumonia, if anyone cared to make a return for him. He stood, holding to what was left of his willpower. It was completely dark now. The forest scared him with its eerie silence. The pain was everywhere. And still, there was no one who would take him off. Tears appeared by themselves, somehow, he hadn't been crying while he was lashed. But now, he was feeling much worse and more scared. And he burst into tears, trying to call for his Masters with his hoarse voice. Of course, they couldn't hear him behind the concrete walls and metal doors. He remembered how his Master punished him after a session with guests.

Cold got into the deepest parts of Nicky's body, it was everywhere now, every bit of warmth was taken away. His skin became marble in color, he groaned and cried from the pain, his mind became messy and now he just wanted to fall asleep, to sleep forevermore just by letting his feet off the rocks. He assumed he was beginning to hear things, as he heard a distant canine howl. Are there wolves? Could they smell his blood? He was about to lose consciousness, as he himself didn't want to hold on to it anymore. At that moment, he saw a flash of someone's eyes. With one of his feet, he slipped off the rock, and he was about to do it with his other one, as he realized that he was wrong. It was a flashlight. Master got closer and cut the rope with a single sway. Nicky collapsed into the snow, miraculously ignoring the stones underneath. Master wrapped him into a blanket and carried to the bunker on his shoulder.

 

As he was warmed in the bath, nursed with hot sweet tea, he swore to himself that he would murder these people. Until he would be able to move without crying in pain. He would tell them what sort of bastards they are, he certainly would, he would scream it directly to their faces, when he would be able to speak. Tears were running down his face. He was half-lying in the tub, covering his face with his arms. Why so much pain?! He can't sustain so much of it; everything is so dark and harsh. And painful!

 

Some time later, he was lying in their bed, on soft silk linen, covered in ointments, wrapped in bed sheet. With his nose buried in his Master's chest, he continued silently crying, the woman was hugging him from behind. She was stroking his head and soothing him down.

- There, little one, don't cry, my kitten. Settle down, my dear.

Nicky though that it was he continuation of his delirium. The woman was feeding him pills and stroking him, and Master was gently hugging him from the front. Turns out, they were capable of it after all, Nicky could not believe it. Unbelieving, he fell asleep. He woke up, realizing that he was hugging his Master, lying on his chest. Master held him with his arm, a beer can was in his other, and he was chatting with the woman. The room was almost pitch-dark, only the TV lit the room with its flashes. Nicky's first urge was to recoil from his Master. But he managed to overcome it, by hearing the woman's voice.

- Our little boy seems to be really tired, dear, - the sound of the inhaled smoke and the woman passed the pipe to Master, releasing the puffs of smoke into the air.

- He really did a great job. He's still holding on, - Master inhaled and released the smoke, Nicky held his breath, afraid of breathing it in and end up coughing.

- Did you notice the notion in his eyes, when he bathed? It looked just like the eyes of a terrified puppy, he was about to kill us, - Master smirked.

- Yeah, I bet he would gladly eat all the shit he splattered instead, - now it was the woman smirking, as she remembered the epic fall of the bucket.

- Clumsy toy!

Nicky jolted, as if he was hit by these words.

The voices fell silent, and a second later, the woman was towering over his face, blowing smoke into his face. He was busted.

- Hi, kitten. Do you mind staying with us for the night?

Nicky couldn't keep himself from coughing. He got a terrible sore throat, despite his neck being wrapped in the warm scarf. The coughs made it even more painful. But he still couldn't manage to answer his Mistress, as his voice hadn't healed yet. She looked in her eyes and slowly shook his head to show his agreement. Then he wanted to crawl away from his Master in order not to be punished for sleeping like that, but Master stopped him with a soft touch of his hand, showing that he didn't mind. And frankly speaking, Nicky was too tired at this point to move anywhere. He shut his eyes, everything still felt extremely surreal to him. He was lying on the soft bed, under a silk sheet, hugging Master's warm body, and he caressed him in return. The woman stood up and brought a vacuum flask from the table. Afterwards, they both fed him broth. It was the first time they were so careful and caring for him. They didn't even say any harsh words. After the broth, Master carried him to the toilet and back. He was afraid to breath, as if with any wrong move, he was about to shatter the seemingly impossible reality. Afterwards, he was sleeping again, and when he woke up, he would be in the tender arms of his Mistress, their lips nearly touching and he was blushing. He ate again, from the spoon that held his Master, the food was getting more tangible than broth, then he would sleep again. He would wake up, fall asleep, eat, drink, go to the toilet, puke a couple times, fall asleep, wake up, cry. And return into the arms that were so warm, that gave him a glimpse of light in his pitch-black world. And the whole night passed like this. And the whole next day.

Nicky was silent and he tried to do everything on demand. He didn't know how to act most of the time. He was afraid of them, he would shudder from sudden movements with his teeth clenched, he would endure the pain, while the woman took care of his lash-inflicted wounds. He would take antipyretics and tons of other pills, tea with honey and mint. If the Masters returned him to his cell after the forest, he would've surely died of cold. He would have nightmares, always nonsensical and full of pain. He would wake up in tears, hugging his Master, and he would soothe him, saying that it's all going to be fine. As soon as he got a bit better, he tried to go to the toilet by himself, and he fell on the floor a few times, before he succeeded. He fell asleep on his way back, on the carpet, a couple steps away from the bed. But Mistress carefully covered him with the blanket, by dragging one of the two off the bed. She smiled to the young man and took off her short robe, revealing her gorgeous young body to the bitch's Master.

 She took a joint from the coffee table and with slow and graceful movements dived into the arms of her partner and her best friend...

A few feet away, behind the iron door, engulfed in the marijuana smoke that was caressed by the light of many screens that were streaming the delights of the loving couple, a young man's voice came.

- Love is strange, - but these words disappeared into nothingness, consumed by the walls that were built in times of some old, long forgotten war. And it was only them who would be the witnesses of the said words, but the whispers of the dreaded man would become an unwavering secrecy, just like all the others mysteries, known only to themselves and the time, that slowly but surely erased them from existence, because walls are quiet. Quiet, just like Gero was.