Impact Event Ch. 03

He was hard and he hated himself for it, hated that his hardness was visible to her.

"I see the soldier is finally ready for battle, again. Got his courage back, did he?" He said nothing. "Do you want to put it inside me? Is that what you want?"

That was exactly what he wanted but he meant to take the cook's advice. He would play this game wisely. He had to. He willed his stomach to stop doing flips and took a deep breath. "There's nothing special about your cunt. Anywhere warm and wet will do."

She kicked his belly. He doubled over in pain and self-protection. Something grabbed his waist. Eyes shut, he felt himself lifted into the air and thrown over the monster's shoulder. The shoulder dug into his stomach where he'd just been kicked and he grunted as the thing walked. He tried to lift his back but it dug his stomach further into the shoulder so he dropped down again. He could only see to the side of them, what they were passing but not where they were going or where they'd been.

They ended up in a ballroom. Clearly, there was no dancing there anymore. There were metal frames of all different shapes and sizes evenly spaced throughout the floor. He tried to understand the various structures they passed as the monster walked through them.

"This one," the countess' voice echoed in the cavernous hall. The creature stopped but she didn't. He heard her shoes hitting the floor, receding then returning. On her return, a second sound joined the reverb of her footsteps, the sound of wheels. The wheels stopped but still her footsteps rang through the hall. She appeared beside him, holding something, a web of leather straps with a large wooden object attached. "Open your mouth."

He shook his head.and she instantly slapped the monster. It flipped him and lay him on his back. The monster did this so quickly and effortlessly, he felt light, weak and helpless. That other woman had called him a toy. Maybe she was more accurate than he'd imagined. It lifted his leg into the air, lifting his buttocks and lower back into the air as well. Then, it shoved its huge finger into his anus. He barely had time to feel the horror of realizing what this creature was about to do before the pain of him doing it wrenched his whole body backwards. Nor did he realize how widely he had opened his mouth until the countess stuck the wooden thing in it. She strapped it around his head. It had some solid areas that covered his eyes, relegating him to darkness but for tiny shafts of light at the edges of the leather. She took her time about securing it, fastening tiny buckles by his temple and ears. He could only whimper as the tiny lines of light around his blinders disappeared.

"If you don't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say anything." He kicked at the floor, trying to move away from the finger inside him. "If you say something mean, you won't be allowed to speak." He screeched into the gag. "Come, now. This isn't bad at all. I won't move on until you compose yourself. If you want to maintain this position, by all means continue acting like a child. If you'd rather move on and get this over with, you must first calm down. Or maybe you like my man's finger inside you?" He braced his muscles and look long, quivering breaths through his nose. While it would have been impossible to actually become calm, he did manage to steady himself.

Mercifully, the creature removed his finger, though it hurt as much leaving as it did entering. He was lifted to his feet and walked a few paces. He heard squealing sounds and was pushed forward. He felt his neck press against something cold and iron. He wished he'd had the composure to look at the contraption they meant for him in those few moments he spent on the floor with uncovered eyes. With a clink, something snapped to his collar. He arms were undone, both at the same time, and secured above his head in a wide V. Compared to the strength of the hand holding his left arm, the one that took his right arm seemed ridiculously weak. He had to resist the urge to break its hold. The hooks on his cuffs were attached to something. Then, rope wound around his arm, pressing it into some cold metal, marrying the two. The same squealing sounds preceded the placement of his wrists as well as his ankles, the next to be shackled. His legs were similarly bound to some cold metal.

He heard the squealing once more as he felt his arms pulled away from his legs, stretching him and lifting him from the floor at the same time. He thought his arms would pop out of their sockets and he screamed into the gag, as much from fear as pain. It stopped at that. He was completely immobilized but for his head which only had limited movement, most of it side to side. Terror took him, desperate, erratic, insensate terror. The true horror of his gag reached its apex at that moment, as he wanted to apologize, take it back, beg, do whatever it took but could only make muffled noises that bore no resemblance to the words formed in his brain. He would have offered her anything. And he did have something to offer.

A sudden trail of fire shot across his back. He shut his eyes against the blackness behind his blinders. The second time it happened, he heard a crack and realized it was a whip causing his pain. It was different from the other whip. The other one snapped at a single point. This one tore through long stretches of flesh. I felt like his skin was being ripped off his body, taking muscle with it. He strained every fiber of his being to move, to get out of its way, but only caused more pain in his arms and legs for the effort.

It seemed endless, the ripping, burning pain. Every thought left his mind. He had no concept of how long it was happening, time had no sense at all anymore. He screamed into the gag. It was all he could do. Give voice to the pain so it wasn't stuck inside of him, growing.

He felt his strength leave him, abandon him in a slow, constant drain. But not his mind. His mind was only more aware, more conscious with each crack of the whip. His body sagged but his mind sat upright and wakeful. It was the thing he loved most in the world and it betrayed him. He barely noticed, from a million years away, behind a thousand sheets of glass, that at some point, he had stopped screaming. On and on, the vicious, stinging lash ate him alive.

As sudden as it had started, it stopped. He heard shuffling, far off. It was a few feet away but he was so far inside of himself, it may as well have been miles. The collar was released and his head lolled. His back stung and hurt but he welcomed that pain as release. He could have called it soothing. The leather web was removed from his head, revealing its remover, the countess. Drool flowed down over his lip as she lifted his head by his hair. He couldn't focus his eyes. He thought she was being fuzzy on purpose.

"You owe me an apology."

He spoke without thought or intention. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Is my cunt special?"

"It is very special, Mistress." He tried to swallow but got it all wrong. Another line of drool ran down the middle of his chin.

"Say, 'your cunt is special, Mistress.'"

"Your cunt is special, Mistress." His words were quick and flat.

"All you want to do is think about my cunt."

"I do, Mistress."

"Then I'll leave you to it." She left him there, head hanging, watching a small pool of blood collect on the floor.

The cook came in the next morning to feed him. An insistent ache had taken his joints, competing with the pain in his back. He hadn't slept but he hadn't stayed awake, either. He wasn't sure where he'd been.

"I think you mistook me," she said, shoving a bit of food in his mouth. He tried to eat but it felt like lump of cold clay in his mouth. "Don't try to get yourself in trouble. Don't be bad. I only meant you shouldn't be like her dog. Running to kiss her feet when she arrives." He let the food drop from his mouth to the floor. He could still taste it in the back of his throat from when he had tried to swallow it. "Trying to please her however you can. Telling her she's your world and you'd die for her. Don't do those things. Don't be an idiot, either. That was really stupid." He tried to nod. He had no idea if he was successful.

The beast came that night and released his bonds. He was walked to his room. Walking doesn't describe it. Mole held him upright and dragged him. He moved his legs occasionally in a pantomime of walking. He saw the countess walking towards them, heading in the opposite direction. He shot his eyes to the floor as she passed and she slapped his back with her palm as she did. His body went limp at that but it didn't hamper the Mole at all.

He didn't leave his room for three days. In all that time, Mole fed him. He wondered why the cook had done it in the ball room. He wondered if she had asked to. Maybe she had used a favor in order to speak with him. He clung tenderly to that thought as to something warm and soft and living.