Xaxac Ch. 16byOnce-ler©
It was a few days until I was allowed back to the arena. When I went back, it was far after everyone else had left. My master sat at one of the tables, drinking absinth and holding me like he was afraid he was going to lose me. I hadn't had any frost in a couple days, and this place was making me twitchy. I'd come to associate it with my high, and I hated being there sober- it felt wrong, it felt off. Everything was off somehow... a tension hung in the air that made me far more jittery then the drug ever had.
The torchlight gave everything that overexposed, shadowy look- to many crevices for me to be as jumpy as I was, to many places to hide. The massive door opened and closed with a thud, and in came the medic, her eyes always half-closed, her face expressionless. I wished for some of whatever she was always on- it seemed that nothing got to her, but in her profession, I'm sure she saw a lot of things. Behind her was the mass of stitches that was Tao; he looked like a rag-doll someone had cobbled together. His jaw was held in place by four lines of red thread. The gashes across his chest had been closed, and stitched tightly, but when it rose or fell with his breath, the gashes could be seen- a scar was already forming in neat little lines. He had more scar tissue then flesh. His hair had been cut and now lay stiffly across his head, his eyes were sharply focused on me with a hatred I had never seen before.
"Lycan," he hissed.
"Lapin," my master corrected.
"That rabbit!" Tao pointed at me, and I shrank back.
"I think he's ready to go into the ring tomorrow." My master pulled me into his lap as the medic sat down, "If I hadn't pulled him off you, you would be dead. You're the best fighter I have. You managed to win enough at it to buy your freedom- and you were expensive. Xaxac can't lose."
"How do you have something like that?" He hissed through me.
"You didn't know?" My master sipped, laughed, and tightened his grip on me, "I told you."
"You didn't tell me he was a shifter."
"I'm fairly certain that I did." There was a cockiness, an arrogance in his voice that relaxed me, "And I warned you before you ever went after him that it was a bad idea. You didn't listen. And now you look like a quilt."
""I want an hour with him." He reached down and jerked me up by the robe with one hand as he slammed his other on the table with such force that the wood bowed. I went limp against him and stared at my master with pleading eyes. I knew that if I went with him, he'd hurt me, kill me-
Wait, no, he wouldn't. I almost killed him last time. If he tries to kill me, I'll kill him. That... that makes sense. It would be easy. He's already ripped to shreds. My master nodded at me- he always seemed to know what I was thinking, and took his time moving to the dent Tao had made. In it, there was a pile of coins that he went to great length counting.
"Suit yourself," He smiled and turned his gaze to me, "Xaxac- stay alive."
And we left. I had never known what was behind the side doors that lined the room, but apparently, they were bedrooms, probably barracks for the fighters. I kept forgetting how lucky I was to sleep with my master- most of the slaves made do on straw beds in cramped spaces like these- most of the rooms were probably shared- Tao had his own because he was not a slave anymore. His tattoo had a mark through it- they must do that when you go free so no one tries to turn you back in- so he had already had a scar... not that it mattered to him. He had dragged me roughly, and held me by the hair, lifted me off the ground and stared at me.
"You did this to me!" he hissed.
I didn't know if it were a question or a statement. My head was burning, I wished the damn hair would come out and just let me fall. I reached for his wrist and tried to support myself with my arms so that it wouldn't hurt so damn bad.
"How!?" He screamed and shook me, "How did you do that!?"
I stared at him, wishing that he would drop me. But he was going to get his money's worth. Instead, he threw me, and I felt my head connect with the wall before I slid down onto his bed. I saw a blinding light and stars floating past. I rubbed the spot- the skin hadn't broken.
"How did you change like that?" He demanded.
"I don't know," I wasn't looking at him. I really didn't. I pulled my knees to my chest and took a deep breath, "I'm not supposed to do that. I didn't mean to hurt you... you wouldn't stop bashing my head and... and I couldn't think at all... and everything went bright white... blinding... and then it happened... and before I knew what happened... it was done... and I thought... I thought you were dead."
"You're a fucking monster!" he screamed.
"And you're not even a- a wolf or a panther- you're a fucking rabbit!?"
"I was ripped to shreds by a FUCKING RABBIT!" he screamed so loud that I tried to cower, but I was already as compact as I could make myself.
"I should kill you," He leaned over me, nearly pressing his sewn-up face to mine. I lowered my knees and allowed him to crawl over me, pinning me, to the bed and the wall.
"Why didn't you heal?" I asked in my small voice, for the first time, staring into the eyes of someone who wanted to hurt me. I couldn't look away.
"Because I'm not a fucking shifter!" He spat the words at me.
"That's why I heal..." the thought had never occurred to me. I knew that I healed faster then other people, but I was supposed to heal- I wasn't supposed to shift- but they were the same thing. That's why everyone was so amazed by it- that's why I couldn't eat meat! Rabbits couldn't eat meat. It's why I can see in the dark- it's why I'm so different. Where did I come from? Why am I like this? Were there others? He said something about wolves, and panthers.
"Yes that's why you FUCKING HEAL!" he screamed in my face.
That's why my hearing was so good. Why that caused a ringing in my ears that didn't fade.
"And now, I'm going to hurt you," he laughed, "You have no idea- well, of course you don't, you're an idiot- how long I've waited to get you to myself. I don't care if it takes half my fucking earnings, I'm going to get you as often as I can, and I'm going to push the limits of your fucking healing ability. I want to see what all that fuss is about."
I had been looking so intently on his face that I hadn't noticed his hand travel to the bedside table. I didn't notice the knife until it was in my chest, slashing at it. I screamed, but there was nowhere to go- he still had me pinned.
"How does it feel, little bunny?" he asked, as he grabbed my throat, trying, I think, to cut off other screams by choking me as he plunged his knife back in, cutting and ripping through my flesh.
He backed up and spun me, pinning me down, the blood soaking through his blankets and coating the straw underneath, pushing me down as I tried to breath. He stabbed something important, it wasn't his grip, even when I got a breath, it wouldn't stay down- I felt like I was drowning again, my lungs felt heavy. He pulled his hand away and I coughed- liquid. Blood. My blood was filling up my lungs. I pushed myself to my arms and tried to steady- tried to cough it up. Every convulsion sent a new wave of pain.
I screamed again as the sharp point dug into my back. I fell, leaving my bloody hand-prints down the wall, as he plunged new wounds, breaking new skin, over and over. I couldn't breath. My eyelids were getting heavy- I couldn't fight back like I had wanted to. I shouldn't have let him stab me.
"Don't quit on me yet, bunny boy," he laughed, "We're just getting started." I tried to focus on him- he had one of the torches that had lined the wall in his one hand, and was sitting the knife down with the other. I had scrambled, but couldn't pull myself up to escape from him. He helped me along, hauling me roughly to a sitting position. I coughed up more blood- when I did, the wounds spurted like fountains. I couldn't do it much longer, I knew that.
When he pressed the burning oil to my chest, I didn't even have the energy to scream. All that came out was a painful hiss- I could feel it burning through the wound he pressed it against, all the way through to my lungs, my heart sped up to combat the pain, and I clenched my fists, my entire body, and I coughed again. More blood- but this time- the air stayed inside. It was just like before- I was drinking the air and my body wanted it. I coughed up more blood- kept more air. The fire fixed it? How the fuck did that work?
My vision was clearing, he was relighting the torch on another and placed it back in it's proper slot on the wall. My back was still gaping with stab wounds, but they were beginning to heal.
"Don't look so sad," he towered over me again, the bloody knife in his hand. He ran it across my throat, gently, to gently to cut, I tried not to cough and slit my own throat. He moved it to my jaw, and I burst into another coughing fit. Some of the blood hit him on the face- I expected a fit of rage, instead, he smiled, and traces from my ear to the corner of my mouth with the blade, gently, while I shivered, "I paid for a whore. You know that, right? So smile- or I'll cut you one- from ear to ear." He traced the other side, from the corner of my mouth to my ear, and I swallowed, then coughed again.
"Tao, sir," I tried, had to pause to cough up more blood, "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"Sorry?" He asked. He ran the knife down my robe, separating it, and cutting through the belt. When he got to the words, he was just above my abdominal, and the force of my apology was to much for him- he slid it into the muscle and I screamed again. He pulled it out, a clean cut, and kept going, "You're sorry that you scarred me for life?"
He had come to my tights, and pulled them up, so he could cut the fabric without cutting into my skin. Every time I took a breath I lost more blood. By the time he asked the question, he was holding my balls with the flat edge of the blade. I whimpered.
"God yes!!" I screamed, "I've never regretted anything more!"
"Do you think if I castrate you?" He asked, grabbing my nuts and pulling them so hard I felt a wave of nausea run through me that I tried desperately to suppress, "You would grow back?"
I didn't know what 'castrate' meant, but it wasn't hard to figure out looking at the situation. I whimpered in fear and stared at him, felt my blood pulse, felt the nausea almost overpower me, felt the fear coursing where my blood used to be.
"Tao, sir, please," I begged, tears welling up.
"Answer me." He insisted, and twisted. The bright lights hit me again and I knew I was going to be sick. I turned to the side and felt my body heave- but managed to suppress it.
"I... I don't think they would," I knew I sounded panicky, "Please, sir, please, don't do that."
He laughed, and ran his blade across the underside of my sack, pulled taunt as it was, and I stopped trying to breath. I held perfectly still, hoping that my pleas had been heard.
And he let me go. He let me go. I breathed a sigh of relief and didn't cough it back up. He let me go. I even forgot my wounds in that moment of rapture.
It didn't last long. He gave me time to breath before he hit me, with all his strength, in my tender balls, that had just returned to shape after he stretched them. It didn't even hurt somuchas it confused my body. I contorted, trying to escape the pain that seemed not to stop. I turned to my side, knowing that there was no way to contain the nausea this time, and emptied my stomach over the side of the bed. Everything inside me tensed up. As soon as I felt the wave pass, the tears that had welled up began to freely flow. The intense pain was gone, but there was a tenderness, a soreness that was almost as bad. There was no comfortable position I could take. I spread my legs trying to get some relief, and propped myself up to get away from the puddle I had made, but before I could move, he grabbed my tender sack in his giant hand and squeezed.
I know I cursed, but I can't remember what I said. I fell, my face against the rough straw, and tried to stop twitching- it only made the pain worse. I cried, I may have begged, but he made it clear that he would only stop when he was ready. He pulled me roughly back in the death grip he had, and I had no choice but to move with him.
"Turn around," he commanded.
It was taking all my concentration just to breath. I didn't know if I could twist myself like that, but I tried. I got halfway before he grabbed me by my shoulder and threw me the rest of the way. He moved his hand with the twist in some small favor, so at least he wasn't trying to twist them off- which I had been afraid of. I landed rough on my ass and dub my hands into the sheets. There was still blood seeping from my wounds, but not as much. He licked the burnt stab wound across my chest, smiled up at me. Then, he really let me go.
I screamed again. For some reason, it hurt just as bad when he let go of them. I couldn't keep myself from convulsing so bad that the bed thrashed, and he had to hold me down.
"Look at that," he laughed, and I did- then wished I hadn't. My balls were swollen, at least twice what they were before, and had turned a deep purple- a bruise. No wonder they were so tender. I was crying. He licked one of the streams that was seeping down my face. Then, he reached behind me, and slid me down onto my back. I had no interest in keeping my legs together. When he took his hand away, the blood from the stab wounds covered it. I thought he was going to wipe it on the sheet, but instead, he wrapped it around his cock and started stroking himself.
This was a long fucking hour.
He pushed my knees to either side of my head and I whimpered as the skin that had been scabbing up twisted and broke open anew. He moved his cock, soaked with my blood, and slammed into me, bearing hard, his hands still wrapped around my ankles. I had no defense and just balled up the sheets as he pounded- ripping me open from the inside the way he had ripped me open on the outside. Every time he slammed into me, his abs bounced against my tender nuts, and he seemed to get off on the scream it elicited. At least I had stopped thinking that I was going to die. But there was no way in hell I was walking out of here.
He pounded with what seemed to be no rhyme or reason, he would quicken his pace, then slow to a crawl. He would pull all the way out, watching my sphincter stretch, and then slam in to the base. I cried until I was so dehydrated, nothing else would come. I watched him, watching me, delighting in my pain, and I realized something that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
I should have killed him. From the moment he saw me, he wanted to hurt me, and now, he was right, he would. Every chance he had, every cent he had, he would use to hurt me. And I was still losing blood. My ass had ripped, and was continuing to rip, no matter how I tried to push for him. Everything on me and inside me hurt. My organs hated me for letting this happen. The rage that had built in me before was building again.
And the door opened. My master stared at me- at the blood stained sheets, the bloody hand-prints on the wall. And in one of the strangest moments of my life, he and Tao, at the same instant, screamed my name.
"Xaxac!?" My master screamed in alarm and surprise.
"Xaxac," Tao hissed, full of passion and hate as he finally spilled his seed inside me. It seeped, into my wounds, hurting me more with the salty stinging. He pulled out, spent, and turned to face my master.
"I was coming to tell you that your hour is over," He informed him coldly, "And I've come to retrieve my slave."
He pushed Tao to the side and tried to pull me up- but I couldn't stand. I lost my footing and stumbled into him, hissing in pain as I went.
"You're covered in blood," he more or less carried me, threw one of the shirts from the next room over my shoulders, then took another for me to sit on, "Don't touch anything until we get to the bathhouse."
"Can I?" I asked, grimacing as I sat down, brushing my swollen balls against the seat, "Take a cold bath this time?"
"You've never wanted a cold bath in your life."
"I do this time."
"I suppose," He wrapped an arm around me and pressed me close to him. I nuzzled into him, so glad to be back where I belonged.