#17 - "Daddy, Aren't You Proud?"

Soul-Violence Warning:

__________________________

I cannot sleep.  I’m so concupiscent, strung out, desperate for sex that I tried to pound myself off, but the training from my father held true and I couldn’t climax until I bit myself bloody.  Monster.  I can only peak when there’s pain.  Since I made the old man strangle on his own tongue it’s been other people’s pain that let me ease myself.  Scorch it, I came on the old man’s pillow when he died.  I’d been aiming for his face but the paroxysm made me miss.  He still smiled.  He’d taught me that, linked my sex with pain and death.

Limyé, I’m sure you will have to vomit at what I am about to write.  You do not understand how twisted I am.  I’m your patient, at your insistence, so here is what set me off.  Pel.  I am not allowed to love.  I am not allowed to do anything but use and rape.

I had him in my dungeons for months and trained him to beg for pain, just as I had been, though my father was careful not to maim me physically.  In my world I had truly just begun to maim him.  I would go down and have sex with his restrained body, even as he raged at me and cursed me and then would begin screaming as his body would respond.  I could bring him to the point of coming and hold him there, wouldn’t let him climax, until he was crazy and, as I was taught, only allowed to peak while in pain.

I had just gotten him to the point where I was buried in him as deep as I could, holding my favourite knife to the smallest joint of his left hand and he’d been screaming for release, alternating with begging me not to maim him, until he begged me to take the joint.

So I did.

That cleaned bone lies in my world, in a jewel case made specifically for it, with space for every bone in that hand down to the wrist.  Cylak have a terrified horror of physical deformity.  In my world he will never be accepted as Stag Lord, even if that devil Hand, shadow of me has saved him.

Just writing this has allowed me to climax three times, even though I have had to bite on both my forearms to trigger the last two.  My penis feels raw inside, scorched clean of sex. I stink of semen and I imagine telling this to oh-so perfect Pelahir in this world, that innocent man who loves Ahrimaz enough that he’s willing to train with his likeness.

I imagine hurling those words at him, scarring that perfect face with the understanding that I broke his other self in my world.  That man, that magnificent warrior, that astonishing body, I could use and he would beg me to hurt him, enough so that I could love him. 

I broke him and I could love him to death. 

*

The pen nib broke under the pressure of the Emperor’s fingers stabbing metal splinters into the index finger, splashing blood and ink across the page. His hands clenched in the mess as he remembered that sweet climax, that scream that tore through his orgasm like love, like kindness, like power.

He lifted his bloody hand to the candle flame and prayed, his guts twisting as he felt the power of God roar through him.  The candle flame answered his prayer and jumped from the wick to his bleeding fingertip and he set the flame on the tip of his own erect penis, either as reward or punishment, he could no longer tell.

His scream doused the flame as water puddled from the air to snuff the fire dancing over his hands and his lap.  He sat, staring into the darkness, at the water that had soothed his burns and somehow soothed his ink-filled wounds that he had so brutally cauterized.

Tears ran down his face and he just knew that outside, it had begun to rain; a gentle hand of rain blowing over the Vale and the trees there, filling the Veil of the Goddess to a silvery sheet, blessing the river below.

He raised his arms to his face, left and right, bit his calluses bloody, struggling to climax yet again even as he knew he wouldn’t be able to.  Then he sagged in the chair, covered in sweat and a bead or two of blood still, feeling the harsh edge of the wooden chair bite into the backs of his legs.  Unburned, he thought fleetingly.

“I was become the monster who eats pain,” he whispered to himself in the darkness.  “I devoured everyone’s agony and it tasted so sweet. Daddy, aren’t you proud of me?”