Torturous Teasing
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Zai sat on his haunches and regarded his prey with sharp acid yellow eyes. The moon above them was a perfect half disc, bathing the scene in silver light. The boy was knocked out of his body by pain and partial asphyxiation, his mind gone for the mean time. But Zai though he liked the flavour of this mind. The boy was strong, mentally at least, and had managed to cling on to consciousness when many other were already drooling vegetables. When most humans saw Zai, they painted his faces with whichever of their fears fitted the best. Devil, zombie, rage, stranger, death, but this boy, this pale shredded thing that was displayed before him, had seen him. Actually seen him. That alone was enough to put him high on Zai's list of things to be interested in.
The lithe cat demon had made an awful recruiter despite his healing powers, and was far too fond of killing his charges. Shindae said he was sick, fucking his still living prey even while killing them again and again, but Zai knew there were worse proclivities than his own. And anyway, none of the demons he lived with knew about the empathy thing. Empathy was not a skill that demons advertised. It was rare and it was looked down upon. Had Zai ever told the palace he was an empathy, he could of expected a job washing dishes. At best.
But Zai's empathic skill was as twisted as his sexual desires. He didn't feel exactly what his victims felt, but a dulled down version. So the deeper the pain he caused, the better his resulting ecstasy. The boy before him had turned out to be a resilient soul, and Zai had been brought to ever higher peaks by the wounds he'd wrought into the boy's skin. And when he'd snapped the boy's arm, and he hadn't blacked out. Zai closed his eyes and sucked in his breath to remember that spike of pleasure than ran through him from the back of his skull to his crotch.
The moonlight illuminated the boy. His skin was marked everywhere with welts and puncture marks, blood dripped and pooled in the hollows of his body, collar bone, fingers, crotch. Blood stained the grass and the earth below the boy and he was marked with a dozen scratches and patches of dirt. Zai's own cum dripped with blood from his cheeks and the boy's own seed was splattered on his chest and shining in the moonlight. The sight made Zai smile.
Dawn was coming, and Zai, like most demons, was a creature of the night. For a while he set about healing his new toy, lapping at the large slices left by his claws and sucking at the boy's wrists until bones realigned and set themselves together. He left the small punctures, he enjoyed the little triangular marks left by his claws on the boy's pale skin. The boy looked little better when healed, blood and sweat and mud and sperm still staining his skin. Zai crouched over the boy and took the opportunity to look at his face.
Sleeping the boy looked almost peaceful. His black hair was a mess, his features slack and ghostly in the moonlight. But he had soft skin, high cheekbones, a good strong jaw, a narrow nose. Zai bent over his prey and kissed the slack unconscious lips, soft against his short fur. He smiled. The boy tasted somewhat of fear and anger, but underlying that was a thick rich current of an almost savoury sweetness, like spiced fruit and red meat. Zai stole a second kiss, just as good as the first.
The sky was getting lighter now, the moon halving jumped across the sky and in the near distance, birds were twittering awake. Zai stood and wrapped his cloak about his shoulders, pulling up the hood. He' been playing with the Chain of Possession before the boy had arrived. Zai had been carrying it around for a while and wondered if it meant something. Without consciously deciding to do so he wrapped the chain about the boy's neck where the ends sealed themselves. Zai picked the boy up, his strength belied by his slender frame, and slung him over one shoulder.
He could easily have stolen a house. He did sometimes, where he wanted somewhere to sleep for just the night, killed a family and ran amok in their possessions, but he'd gotten a bit sick of it. So he passed through the thick hedge, away from the road, and started off across a field where the cows were all huddled at one end. One of their number lay dead in the field already, ripped apart by Zai while he was bored. It's blood soaked the ground black. The boy wasn't heavy, and Zai moved quickly in the near silence before dawn, across fields and little wooded outcrops to the broken down barn he had settled in for the meantime.
I was nervous as I waited for Zai to come back to the house. Shindae had dressed me and it was obvious that the big demon had a flare for the dramatic. A knee length kilt, pleated, in a heavy black wool and furnished with a chunky leather belt. The hardware was all brass, a couple of cogs and pipes making up the buckle and keepers. The boots were tall with big square silver buckles running up the sides, and the shirt was, in comparison to the rest of the outfit, an almost transparent grey...
I opened my eyes and got instantly confused. My hand was curled in front of my face, and my wrist was bruised. Another hand sheltered mine, slender with short dark fur and tipped with sharp black claws. My back was warm and I could feel hot breath on the back of my neck. Everything ached, I hurt all over and my ankle twinged from the fall. Something had gone very wrong with my life in the last twelve hours. I seemed to be missing huge chunks of time, and what I could remember was too painful...
Zai sat crossed legged on the blanket and watched the boy with shuttered eyes. Through his eyelashes he stroked the boy with his eyes, following the lines and curves of Toby's body. He'd wrapped his cloak around the narrow shoulders and all the boy had done since was sit and snivel, rocking every now and then. Zai's attempt at earlier conversation had established that the boy Toby was not talking to him, apparently wrestling with some inner torment. The soft half-light after sundown had...
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It feels good to be out of the close and I find myself humming happily along to the tune of an unknown music. I hear Master walk up behind me and smile happily to myself. How could this be any better. Using a gin sue knife I sliced open the stake packageing and seasoned them on both sides before sliding them into the buttered cast-iron skillet. The smell was heavenly mouthwatering. As the stakes sizzled and browne in the pan I start to move away from the stove and grab the green beans. Hands...
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