Days Without Sun

Drifting

Misaki lay on his side curled into a fetal position on the bed in Korovin's playroom.

A tear slipped from his eye and rolled down his cheek following a well-worn trail that had been traversed by all of the others he'd shed already that day. Misaki wondered how many tears he might have left in him.

After what he'd just endured he was surprised really, that any remained.

Despite the pain it caused him, Misaki curled himself tighter. He could hear his torturer singing happily off key as he showered in the next room. Considering what the man had just done to him, the sounds of his own screams still ringing in his ears, this cheerful noise from his captor was an abomination.

Misaki painfully, slowly, moved his arms up, to cover his ears with his hands. He closed his eyes against the blood stained sheets that he lay amongst, against all the terrible visions of what had been done to him, images he feared that had been seared into his memory forever.

The anguished youth wished that he could curl into himself completely, make himself so small he would simply disappear. He had given himself to the man as he'd promised, but that wasn't enough for his captor. Soon after he had submitted, Korovin had flown into frenzy, and had taken what he wanted... and taken... and taken...

It had lasted for hours.

There wasn't an inch of his body that wasn't in pain at the moment. Misaki's scalp still stung from where his hair had been so brutally yanked. His back and torso burned with the raw oozing marks left from Korovin's sharp, raking fingers. In fact, at one point the man had paused to clean scraped skin out from under his nails: they'd collected so much it was affecting his grip on Misaki's blood and sweat slicked flesh.

In addition to this, Korovin had bitten Misaki all over and his slender form was now covered with dark purple bruises, many of them weeping where cruel teeth had broken his skin.

Misaki couldn't run now even if he wanted to. The sadist had even bitten the soles of his feet. From the way they were throbbing the shattered youth doubted if he'd be able to walk. Not that he would have been able to walk anyway. Misaki could feel the fluids still leaking from his torn and battered ass: blood and lube and cum. The pain from his captor's multiple assaults pierced clear into his bowels and filled his low belly with an excruciating ache.

Another sob, in what seemed a never-ending string, lodged in Misaki's cock-bruised throat and he choked on it.

In the time they had been together, Usagi-san had never asked him to minister to him the way the he had been forced to attend to Korovin's vile member.

Misaki moaned softly, wishing now that he had. He'd known that Usagi-san had desired it and he had planned to do it someday. Misaki's grief intensified thinking of the first he'd just "willingly" lost to his tormentor. He resolved right then he would drink Usagi-san dry when they were reunited, until the flavor of his lover obliterated any memory of Korovin's spoiled seed.

As if in agreement with this thought, Misaki's stomach hitched. He gasped with pain as his anguished body was wracked with heaving spasms. Weakly, Misaki tried to push himself up as his stomach clenched and all the cum his captor had spilled down his throat traveled back up it.

Misaki retched, until he thought his own stomach might be coughed out as well.

A thick string of seeded saliva hung from his split and swollen bottom lip. Stiff fingers scrambled to bunch the stained sheets over the mess, sure that such an act of rebellion would merit yet another painful punishment and fearful if Korovin saw it, he might be forced to swallow it back down again.

In his devastated state, even this simple action was too much. Misaki collapsed, gasping. His hands twitched with indecision as to which tender part they should grasp in an attempt at self-soothing... there were just so many.