The Unsuitable Slave. (NC-17) Part 8/34
This chapter : Please take note of the warnings, this is a dark and nasty chapter, there is nothing fluffy or forgiving here, do not read if you do not want to ...Non-con, underage, first time, graphic violence, self harm, slavery, references to genocide.
Jared woke to the sound of soft argument and the loud creak of the bed above him. “No.” Ethan was firm.
“Please.” Jensen’s voice was child-like, pleading with Ethan.
“We have both outgrown this Jen. It is inappropriate and unhealthy.”
“I need you.”
“You have me, always, but this, this is dependence. You will always use me and I will always crave it.”
Then give in, come back to bed Ethan.”
“I don’t want us to need it any more. I shouldn’t have come.”
“I can’t be alone. Not right now.”
Jared heard heavy breath and the sound of gentle suction, the slide of their lips on each other, then Ethan again “How many dead?”
“They took all their prisoners and raided our hospitals, all our injured, in the night. They built a pyre, the size of a mountain. The flames lit the sky for miles. The screams of the dying ... the smell…. and we couldn't reach them, couldn't stop it.” There was a heavy pause, “There are no bodies to return, just lists to be made of the ones that cannot be found.” The Prince’s voice was cracked, broken. “It wasn’t the worst of it Eth. There is far worse.”
"I know. Of course, I knew right away.”
“Just stay with me until morning. I can order you to.”
“No. You can’t and you won’t. You have Child now. You can put it in your bed and share some damn warmth with it, because what it has now is downright cruel and I never would have thought it of you.”
“I can't bear to look at it. You don’t understand.” Jensen sounded tearful.
“No I don’t, and you will not let me in. So sort it out. Deal with it and sell it, or deal with it and make it presentable. My offer still stands.”
Jared squeezed his eyes shut and lay still as Ethan left. He feigned sleep even as the warm breath of his Master whispered over him and he felt an emerald stare burn into him.
Long after the presence had left him Jared lay with his eyes closed and the words that had been spoken haunted him “They built a pyre.” It could not be true, surely it was a trick, a ruse to draw him out, but the distress had been real and the smoky tinge of roasted meat lingered where Jensen’s clothes lay.
***
Sunrise found Jensen pacing at the bay window, not a glance to his dishevelled slave. Jared was at loss, his stomach roiled with fear of his Master’s mood and of the punishment he knew was due. He had no permission to speak, or even be seen. He had no clue what he could do to make things right.
The sounds of shouting, quick footsteps in the halls and an insistent, heavy hammering at the door relieved the problem. His Master took off at a run. He left Jared in chains, yet unleashed, and with the door ajar. Jared did not move from his position until the hours had passed, his throat was sore with thirst and his stomach contracted in pain. He crawled awkwardly to the bathing room to use the cubicle and draw a little water from one of the basins. He felt weak and it was exhausting. He rested in the room’s warmth before making his way back to his self-imposed place at the base of the iron bed. He couldn’t help feeling a sliver of hope that the Palace was under attack. That his army was here to rescue him, but he knew it was a pipe-dream. He wondered if he was allowed to look from the window but he was sure his unleashed state was an oversight and had no wish to incur further wrath.
He could see sky. The clouds drifted and made shapes. His mind floated with them, inventing worlds and stories. He remembered a time, far distant when his mother had been brought, in a bath chair, to the Palace Lawns. He had settled in her lap and they had looked to the blue and named the shapes on the horizon. She no longer left her bed. The Queen was but a ghost, resting on silk and lace, waited on by an anxious, grey nurse. Jared wondered if she was still alive. There would be nobody to bear the news to him when she died and no way to say the final farewell. He wondered if his young sister, the Princess Meghan would speak his goodbye for him. In his heart, he knew she would.
Jared gradually became aware of a deep silence settled over the entire fortress. No sound of footsteps, no distant child’s laughter or bustling crowd. The fluttering ensign dropped below his sight and a single bugle called a clear and slow lament. A human wail started in the grounds below the window and grew in force joined by sobs and subdued chatter. Hushed footsteps restarted in the hallways, He understood that shoes were not being worn and thought he understood why.
Jared waited for his Master to return.
***
A burly slave trailed behind Jensen with a large dog cage which he placed in the room. Jensen did not speak, simply flicked a hand in dismissal, locked the door after him and turned to Jared. Green eyes were tinged red and burned bright with emotion. His face was stone-grey, full of cold threat, lips drawn into a snarl. He bore down on the younger man and Jared scuttled backwards hitting his back on iron. He pleaded for forgiveness, repeating it in terror. Fingers gripped like steel and he was flung across the room to the leather-topped bench.
Jensen’s first sentence was like a blow to the gut. “We executed Captain Kane.”
“No!” Jared’s heart shattered.
“Shut up! Bend over and spread you legs.” Jared couldn’t move and Jensen kicked his legs apart, attaching his cuffs to the loops on the bench.
“No, no, no, no, please Master.” Jared was shaking. Jensen forced the slave over the bench at his waist and stretched his hands tight to the far end of it.
Prince Jensen's voice was barely controlled and menacing, “I can do whatever I like. Shall I burn you alive or chop off your hands? Is it fun? Your countrymen seem to think so.”
“No, Master.” Jared fought to control his breath. He turned his head to the side but he could not see Jensen from his position.
Jensen stepped back and removed his belt. Jared sensed him pausing, “Did you learn anything, Child?” Jared closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, to find a suitable answer but he was not sure that Jensen was referring to his slave’s failure. There had been overheard conversation as well as the discovery that the Nation was in mourning. He was silent too long. There was a whistle of displaced air and the rigid leather belt hit him viciously on the back of his thighs. He gave a high pitched cry of surprise and hitched his breath with the sting. His hair was twisted in Jensen’s fist and his head raised painfully to look at the furious man. “Thank me” His Master hissed.
“Th, thank you, M m master,” Jared stuttered. His muscles tensed with the unconscious effort to escape the ties and strong fingers. “Please,” he begged, but he knew there would be no reprieve.
“What did you learn?”
Jared had no time to think. He could only answer honestly. “I learned I had nowhere to go. I learned my place is by your side. I learned that I am yours.”
“How many lashes should I give you?”
“I no longer have an opinion Master.”
An open handed slap landed on his upturned cheek, clipping his lip and drawing blood. “Don’t disrespect me.”
Jared faltered.
“So be it.” A ball was forced behind his teeth and the strap fixed on the back of his head. He felt the slide of leather against his back before Jensen raised his arm high and with muscles taut, began a relentless assault.
There was no mercy as the welts burned deep into his thighs and again on his bare ass, lashes rained down on his back and shoulders. As lashes criss-crossed his bare flesh, the sticky seep of blood dampened his skin and dripped. Tears and snot slid wet down the slave’s face and he whined his distress. Jared lost count in his head at twenty, the agony engulfed all of his senses and he felt his body give way, held only by the cuffs. He became silent.
Jensen hadn’t spoken again. There was the sound of panting as he unleashed his full force in each strike and a suggestion of a hitch and a whimper in his breath. Eventually the belt slipped to the ground with a sickening wet thump and Jensen leaned breathless beside his slave. He lifted his slave's head once more and looked into the traumatized, pale and tear stained face. Jared’s eyes were barely focused but he could see tears and wretchedness on his Master’s face. Jensen broke the silence. “Why are you still so beautiful to me?” Jared’s head fell limp and Jensen cradled it in his hands. He leaned in and licked at the blood around the gag. He kissed Jared's eyelids and his cheeks and then licked around his jaw and around his neck, above and below the collar. “Why do you do this to me?”
Jared drifted in and out of awareness. He felt the hot sting as Jensen ran his hands over the lashes on his back and the soothing wet slick of his tongue that followed in their wake. He felt a cool wet cloth and the slide of ointment over burning skin. His eyes snapped open in horror as he felt his wounded ass cheeks being parted and oiled fingers chasing the rim of his puckered hole. His body found a renewed vigor to strain and wriggle in his bonds and he mewed behind the gag.
“Ssh. You’re mine. You made the deal. You consented to this.” Two fingers rammed forcefully inside the tight rings of muscle and Jared tried to move his hips away from the violation that bruised and scraped the delicate flesh, but he found only the bench. His cock rubbed against the smooth, sweat slicked leather and unwelcome sensation coursed through him.
“Do you think my people consented to what they got? Do you think they wanted it?” Jensen's tone was vengeful and bitter. Fingers withdrew and the blunt thickness of Jensen’s shaft was forced in. It felt huge, surely an impossible fit as it forced the clenching muscle, but it found a way and tore inside. The pain was unbearable and the young slave bit down on the ball in his mouth with a high pitched squeal. His most intimate passage was stretched and filled, hands grabbed harshly at his hips yanking him onto the unwelcome cock. There was the tiniest relief at finding Jensen had made an effort to slick his length with oil, but it was never going to be enough. It stuttered and stopped then scraped and burned its way deeper. As Jared felt he would split, Jensen withdrew, only to drive himself viciously deep, his balls slapping against Jared’s wounded globes with agonizing sting. Jensen fucked callously, claiming Jared in every stroke, grinding flares of pain into his tender, stinging flesh. He bit a necklace of purple rounds on his neck and when that was covered in bruises continued on the curve of his shoulders. He thrust into him, fucking him raw until it was over with an animal cry and a splash of wet warmth inside him. Jensen withdrew and come dripped, with the ooze of blood, down the inside of Jared’s thigh. He felt his gag and cuffs being released and fell limply to the floor.
In one last, humiliating gesture Jensen gathered his strength and dragged his slave to the dog cage. He pushed and kicked at him until Jared was trembling uncontrollably on the floor of the barred kennel, covered in sweat, bruises, blood and come. Jensen locked him in and staggered into the bathing room.
***
When Jared came-to he was curled in a tight ball on the floor of a metal cage. Searing pain tormented every inch of his flesh, his asshole was raw with agony, shooting pains sliced through his insides and up into his stomach. Every movement was an excruciating torture. There was an itchy crust on the inside of his legs and the sensitive skin of his crotch was chafed. Fingerprint bruises and purple bites decorated him.
The cage was closer to the fireplace than he remembered and he was at least warm enough, without being hot. A cup of cordial had been placed through the bars. He reached to it and drank greedily, wincing as it touched his sensitive lips and then scrunching his face as he registered the bitter taste. He raised his head slowly, groaning at the ache.
“It will ease the pain.” the comment was whispered in a shaky voice.
Jensen was sat on the floor by the fire. His knees were drawn to his chest and his arms circled his knees, drawing them tight and making him appear small. His face was pale, freckles standing starkly against them. His eyes were wide and red rimmed. His hair was messy but not mussed and Jared realized, with a start, that it had been cut, not neatly but in untidy clumps, as if it had been grabbed in a frenzy and shorn with a razor. His Master was rocking back and forth, agitated and nervous.
“My father loved your Queen. He would have done anything for her. She is so beautiful. She has the most incredible eyes.” Jensen bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed.
He squinted at his Master through blurred eyes and distracting pain. There was something bothering him about the way that Jensen was sitting, some warning sounding in his mind, but his senses were hazy. “I feel so tired,” Jared said. He thought Jensen looked sleepy too and wondered, why, after all he had done, he cared.
“I met her once. I wanted her to be my mother and I played with the Prince. I never wanted anything as much as I wanted Jared. I cried when he left. I cried every day for a week and I cried again when the Queen got ill and could not marry Papa.” Jensen’s breath was erratic, there was a stain pooling on the floor around his feet.
“Papa died today. Lord Morgan took his hands and sent him back bleeding. Said he shouldn’t have tried to take what wasn’t his. He couldn’t be saved. Maybe the Queen will join him soon. They can be together.”
Jared’s eyes filled with tears but they were not for his own pain.
Jensen had stopped rocking and seemed instead, to be swaying. We lost it all at De’ith. We lost our last hope and the one we counted on most.” Jensen rubbed his face in his hands. “We lost Prince Jared. Killed at De’ith they said. Ruined him and returned a charred body, identified and neat. Lord Morgan will marry Princess Meghan and this will not stop until he has destroyed us. I couldn't stop any of it, I had the most potent weapon in my care and I didn't use it. Now it's worthless.” Tears were sliding down freckled cheeks in rivulets.
The green-eyed Prince crawled unsteadily to the cage and reached in to touch Jared’s face with delicate fingers. He tipped his head and stared at him. “You know, you have your mother’s eyes.” A large drip of blood hit the floor of the cage. Jared registered the deep stains on the cloth of Jensen’s tunic and gripped his Master’s hand tight to prevent him retreating.
Jared yelled for help as loudly as his abused body would allow him. He clawed at the cage, rattling and banging and when it would not unlock and when Jensen was leaning on the other side of the bars, too weak to fight him, Jared reached through, tore at the fabric of his tunic and awkwardly applied makeshift tourniquets.
The rattle in the door seemed to take an age. Then there were hands snatching Jensen from him “What did it do? Get it off him.” Angry eyes peered at him.
“Need help.” muttered Jared. He closed his eyes and let himself slip into the black.
Part Nine
{C}{C}Back to Part Seven
{C}{C} Masterpost
Jared woke to the sound of soft argument and the loud creak of the bed above him. “No.” Ethan was firm.
“Please.” Jensen’s voice was child-like, pleading with Ethan.
“We have both outgrown this Jen. It is inappropriate and unhealthy.”
“I need you.”
“You have me, always, but this, this is dependence. You will always use me and I will always crave it.”
Then give in, come back to bed Ethan.”
“I don’t want us to need it any more. I shouldn’t have come.”
“I can’t be alone. Not right now.”
Jared heard heavy breath and the sound of gentle suction, the slide of their lips on each other, then Ethan again “How many dead?”
“They took all their prisoners and raided our hospitals, all our injured, in the night. They built a pyre, the size of a mountain. The flames lit the sky for miles. The screams of the dying ... the smell…. and we couldn't reach them, couldn't stop it.” There was a heavy pause, “There are no bodies to return, just lists to be made of the ones that cannot be found.” The Prince’s voice was cracked, broken. “It wasn’t the worst of it Eth. There is far worse.”
"I know. Of course, I knew right away.”
“Just stay with me until morning. I can order you to.”
“No. You can’t and you won’t. You have Child now. You can put it in your bed and share some damn warmth with it, because what it has now is downright cruel and I never would have thought it of you.”
“I can't bear to look at it. You don’t understand.” Jensen sounded tearful.
“No I don’t, and you will not let me in. So sort it out. Deal with it and sell it, or deal with it and make it presentable. My offer still stands.”
Jared squeezed his eyes shut and lay still as Ethan left. He feigned sleep even as the warm breath of his Master whispered over him and he felt an emerald stare burn into him.
Long after the presence had left him Jared lay with his eyes closed and the words that had been spoken haunted him “They built a pyre.” It could not be true, surely it was a trick, a ruse to draw him out, but the distress had been real and the smoky tinge of roasted meat lingered where Jensen’s clothes lay.
***
Sunrise found Jensen pacing at the bay window, not a glance to his dishevelled slave. Jared was at loss, his stomach roiled with fear of his Master’s mood and of the punishment he knew was due. He had no permission to speak, or even be seen. He had no clue what he could do to make things right.
The sounds of shouting, quick footsteps in the halls and an insistent, heavy hammering at the door relieved the problem. His Master took off at a run. He left Jared in chains, yet unleashed, and with the door ajar. Jared did not move from his position until the hours had passed, his throat was sore with thirst and his stomach contracted in pain. He crawled awkwardly to the bathing room to use the cubicle and draw a little water from one of the basins. He felt weak and it was exhausting. He rested in the room’s warmth before making his way back to his self-imposed place at the base of the iron bed. He couldn’t help feeling a sliver of hope that the Palace was under attack. That his army was here to rescue him, but he knew it was a pipe-dream. He wondered if he was allowed to look from the window but he was sure his unleashed state was an oversight and had no wish to incur further wrath.
He could see sky. The clouds drifted and made shapes. His mind floated with them, inventing worlds and stories. He remembered a time, far distant when his mother had been brought, in a bath chair, to the Palace Lawns. He had settled in her lap and they had looked to the blue and named the shapes on the horizon. She no longer left her bed. The Queen was but a ghost, resting on silk and lace, waited on by an anxious, grey nurse. Jared wondered if she was still alive. There would be nobody to bear the news to him when she died and no way to say the final farewell. He wondered if his young sister, the Princess Meghan would speak his goodbye for him. In his heart, he knew she would.
Jared gradually became aware of a deep silence settled over the entire fortress. No sound of footsteps, no distant child’s laughter or bustling crowd. The fluttering ensign dropped below his sight and a single bugle called a clear and slow lament. A human wail started in the grounds below the window and grew in force joined by sobs and subdued chatter. Hushed footsteps restarted in the hallways, He understood that shoes were not being worn and thought he understood why.
Jared waited for his Master to return.
***
A burly slave trailed behind Jensen with a large dog cage which he placed in the room. Jensen did not speak, simply flicked a hand in dismissal, locked the door after him and turned to Jared. Green eyes were tinged red and burned bright with emotion. His face was stone-grey, full of cold threat, lips drawn into a snarl. He bore down on the younger man and Jared scuttled backwards hitting his back on iron. He pleaded for forgiveness, repeating it in terror. Fingers gripped like steel and he was flung across the room to the leather-topped bench.
Jensen’s first sentence was like a blow to the gut. “We executed Captain Kane.”
“No!” Jared’s heart shattered.
“Shut up! Bend over and spread you legs.” Jared couldn’t move and Jensen kicked his legs apart, attaching his cuffs to the loops on the bench.
“No, no, no, no, please Master.” Jared was shaking. Jensen forced the slave over the bench at his waist and stretched his hands tight to the far end of it.
Prince Jensen's voice was barely controlled and menacing, “I can do whatever I like. Shall I burn you alive or chop off your hands? Is it fun? Your countrymen seem to think so.”
“No, Master.” Jared fought to control his breath. He turned his head to the side but he could not see Jensen from his position.
Jensen stepped back and removed his belt. Jared sensed him pausing, “Did you learn anything, Child?” Jared closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, to find a suitable answer but he was not sure that Jensen was referring to his slave’s failure. There had been overheard conversation as well as the discovery that the Nation was in mourning. He was silent too long. There was a whistle of displaced air and the rigid leather belt hit him viciously on the back of his thighs. He gave a high pitched cry of surprise and hitched his breath with the sting. His hair was twisted in Jensen’s fist and his head raised painfully to look at the furious man. “Thank me” His Master hissed.
“Th, thank you, M m master,” Jared stuttered. His muscles tensed with the unconscious effort to escape the ties and strong fingers. “Please,” he begged, but he knew there would be no reprieve.
“What did you learn?”
Jared had no time to think. He could only answer honestly. “I learned I had nowhere to go. I learned my place is by your side. I learned that I am yours.”
“How many lashes should I give you?”
“I no longer have an opinion Master.”
An open handed slap landed on his upturned cheek, clipping his lip and drawing blood. “Don’t disrespect me.”
Jared faltered.
“So be it.” A ball was forced behind his teeth and the strap fixed on the back of his head. He felt the slide of leather against his back before Jensen raised his arm high and with muscles taut, began a relentless assault.
There was no mercy as the welts burned deep into his thighs and again on his bare ass, lashes rained down on his back and shoulders. As lashes criss-crossed his bare flesh, the sticky seep of blood dampened his skin and dripped. Tears and snot slid wet down the slave’s face and he whined his distress. Jared lost count in his head at twenty, the agony engulfed all of his senses and he felt his body give way, held only by the cuffs. He became silent.
Jensen hadn’t spoken again. There was the sound of panting as he unleashed his full force in each strike and a suggestion of a hitch and a whimper in his breath. Eventually the belt slipped to the ground with a sickening wet thump and Jensen leaned breathless beside his slave. He lifted his slave's head once more and looked into the traumatized, pale and tear stained face. Jared’s eyes were barely focused but he could see tears and wretchedness on his Master’s face. Jensen broke the silence. “Why are you still so beautiful to me?” Jared’s head fell limp and Jensen cradled it in his hands. He leaned in and licked at the blood around the gag. He kissed Jared's eyelids and his cheeks and then licked around his jaw and around his neck, above and below the collar. “Why do you do this to me?”
Jared drifted in and out of awareness. He felt the hot sting as Jensen ran his hands over the lashes on his back and the soothing wet slick of his tongue that followed in their wake. He felt a cool wet cloth and the slide of ointment over burning skin. His eyes snapped open in horror as he felt his wounded ass cheeks being parted and oiled fingers chasing the rim of his puckered hole. His body found a renewed vigor to strain and wriggle in his bonds and he mewed behind the gag.
“Ssh. You’re mine. You made the deal. You consented to this.” Two fingers rammed forcefully inside the tight rings of muscle and Jared tried to move his hips away from the violation that bruised and scraped the delicate flesh, but he found only the bench. His cock rubbed against the smooth, sweat slicked leather and unwelcome sensation coursed through him.
“Do you think my people consented to what they got? Do you think they wanted it?” Jensen's tone was vengeful and bitter. Fingers withdrew and the blunt thickness of Jensen’s shaft was forced in. It felt huge, surely an impossible fit as it forced the clenching muscle, but it found a way and tore inside. The pain was unbearable and the young slave bit down on the ball in his mouth with a high pitched squeal. His most intimate passage was stretched and filled, hands grabbed harshly at his hips yanking him onto the unwelcome cock. There was the tiniest relief at finding Jensen had made an effort to slick his length with oil, but it was never going to be enough. It stuttered and stopped then scraped and burned its way deeper. As Jared felt he would split, Jensen withdrew, only to drive himself viciously deep, his balls slapping against Jared’s wounded globes with agonizing sting. Jensen fucked callously, claiming Jared in every stroke, grinding flares of pain into his tender, stinging flesh. He bit a necklace of purple rounds on his neck and when that was covered in bruises continued on the curve of his shoulders. He thrust into him, fucking him raw until it was over with an animal cry and a splash of wet warmth inside him. Jensen withdrew and come dripped, with the ooze of blood, down the inside of Jared’s thigh. He felt his gag and cuffs being released and fell limply to the floor.
In one last, humiliating gesture Jensen gathered his strength and dragged his slave to the dog cage. He pushed and kicked at him until Jared was trembling uncontrollably on the floor of the barred kennel, covered in sweat, bruises, blood and come. Jensen locked him in and staggered into the bathing room.
***
When Jared came-to he was curled in a tight ball on the floor of a metal cage. Searing pain tormented every inch of his flesh, his asshole was raw with agony, shooting pains sliced through his insides and up into his stomach. Every movement was an excruciating torture. There was an itchy crust on the inside of his legs and the sensitive skin of his crotch was chafed. Fingerprint bruises and purple bites decorated him.
The cage was closer to the fireplace than he remembered and he was at least warm enough, without being hot. A cup of cordial had been placed through the bars. He reached to it and drank greedily, wincing as it touched his sensitive lips and then scrunching his face as he registered the bitter taste. He raised his head slowly, groaning at the ache.
“It will ease the pain.” the comment was whispered in a shaky voice.
Jensen was sat on the floor by the fire. His knees were drawn to his chest and his arms circled his knees, drawing them tight and making him appear small. His face was pale, freckles standing starkly against them. His eyes were wide and red rimmed. His hair was messy but not mussed and Jared realized, with a start, that it had been cut, not neatly but in untidy clumps, as if it had been grabbed in a frenzy and shorn with a razor. His Master was rocking back and forth, agitated and nervous.
“My father loved your Queen. He would have done anything for her. She is so beautiful. She has the most incredible eyes.” Jensen bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed.
He squinted at his Master through blurred eyes and distracting pain. There was something bothering him about the way that Jensen was sitting, some warning sounding in his mind, but his senses were hazy. “I feel so tired,” Jared said. He thought Jensen looked sleepy too and wondered, why, after all he had done, he cared.
“I met her once. I wanted her to be my mother and I played with the Prince. I never wanted anything as much as I wanted Jared. I cried when he left. I cried every day for a week and I cried again when the Queen got ill and could not marry Papa.” Jensen’s breath was erratic, there was a stain pooling on the floor around his feet.
“Papa died today. Lord Morgan took his hands and sent him back bleeding. Said he shouldn’t have tried to take what wasn’t his. He couldn’t be saved. Maybe the Queen will join him soon. They can be together.”
Jared’s eyes filled with tears but they were not for his own pain.
Jensen had stopped rocking and seemed instead, to be swaying. We lost it all at De’ith. We lost our last hope and the one we counted on most.” Jensen rubbed his face in his hands. “We lost Prince Jared. Killed at De’ith they said. Ruined him and returned a charred body, identified and neat. Lord Morgan will marry Princess Meghan and this will not stop until he has destroyed us. I couldn't stop any of it, I had the most potent weapon in my care and I didn't use it. Now it's worthless.” Tears were sliding down freckled cheeks in rivulets.
The green-eyed Prince crawled unsteadily to the cage and reached in to touch Jared’s face with delicate fingers. He tipped his head and stared at him. “You know, you have your mother’s eyes.” A large drip of blood hit the floor of the cage. Jared registered the deep stains on the cloth of Jensen’s tunic and gripped his Master’s hand tight to prevent him retreating.
Jared yelled for help as loudly as his abused body would allow him. He clawed at the cage, rattling and banging and when it would not unlock and when Jensen was leaning on the other side of the bars, too weak to fight him, Jared reached through, tore at the fabric of his tunic and awkwardly applied makeshift tourniquets.
The rattle in the door seemed to take an age. Then there were hands snatching Jensen from him “What did it do? Get it off him.” Angry eyes peered at him.
“Need help.” muttered Jared. He closed his eyes and let himself slip into the black.
Part Nine
{C}{C}Back to Part Seven
{C}{C} Masterpost