The most cruel those to whom cruelty was done

My feet are pounding on the bare stone as I run along the corridor, finally reaching were I had seen the unguarded entrance.

But it is gone.

I don’t mean it is guarded, I mean it is gone. For now there is a brick wall in its place. It is all too much and with that I sink to my knees, tears streaming down my face. I am alone for what seems like a day but must be only hours before a group of three vampires find me. They were looking for me having found Thorn, dead I presume at this time. They overpower me easily despite my struggles for freedom and soon enough I find myself hanging cuffed, spread, blindfolded, and upside down in a cell in the dungeons.

All that I can remember for a time then is pain, immeasurable pain. I hope to die but no, somehow each time I faint I come back to myself to find that I am alive. I faint once more but come awake to find that I can see. But the light is blinding and I must close my eyes once more. When I finally can open them and not be blinded by the light I think that finally I am dead, for there stands Thorn. “I’m dead,” I gasp out, my voice raspy from its lack of use these past days, and from screaming myself hoarse.

He smiles and moves closer, pinching my nipple. “No you’re not, nor am I. Do you think this would hurt if you were dead?” With those words he drives his hand onto my backside covered with whip marks and bruises as it is. I cannot keep in a howl as I begin to struggle once more.

“You’re dead. You have to be. I killed you!” I scream at him at the top of my voice. He laughs, smacking me hard once more.

“Neither of us is dead. Something you will soon regret, for I will have pleasure breaking you since you are not already broken.”

“No you won’t!” I shouted at him, sounding angry rather then scared, which was how I felt. “I’ll kill you and this time I will succeed. But perhaps first I’ll castrate you.” By that time my voice had gone cold but also a crooning overly sweet sound.

He laughed and moved away from me before walking until he stood in front of me, running his hand over my thigh and to my cock. “What a wonderful idea. Did you know that at one time all male slaves were castrated? To make them more obedient, you know like dogs or horses. Geldings, not men.”

Fear washes through me at those words until I remember the words he spoke while he thought me unconscious. “No you wouldn’t,” I said, sounding rather confident once more.

“Oh and why not?” he asked me, his own tones as crooning and sickly sweet as mine had been before.

“Because you like it when I respond to your touch. That’s why,” I said with a smirk looking up at him as I did so. But he just laughed.

“Oh you think I wouldn’t give up that pleasure to have you docile and obedient? For I would, and will,” he said and with that he showed me what he held in his hand: a knife.

Fear coursed through me but I still believed that he would not castrate me. Perhaps cut me but not that.

“You won’t,” I said once more but I sounded slightly more hesitant as I said that. He smirked, trailing his other hand up my side and over the hollow in my pelvis until it rested just below were my limp member was.

“Oh but I will,” was his reply in a voice so seductive so full of lust that, despite my fear, fire begins to build in my groin. He laughs at that and begins to stroke my now slightly hard member and I was unable to stop myself from responding. Humiliation as well as fear build inside me at the look on his face. But then suddenly he digs his fingernails deep into the flesh at the base of my cock making me scream in pain and having the added effect that my cock was limp once more.

"In fact I think I’ll do it right now," he said with a smirk as he changed his grip on my cock, pulling it down to expose the small flap of skin which was strung from the base of my cock to my balls, his other hand dragging the knife along my flesh the flat side against my skin.

“No,” I gasped out, at last believing that he might do so. But I didn’t want to and still tried to cling to my belief.

“Yes… Yesss…” He crooned and with a wicked grin he sliced through the skin that covered my Vas Deferens, the name of which I only learned later. At the time I thought of them as the things that carried my sperm.

“Savor your last few moments as a man, Slave,” he crooned oh so sweetly, like a sweet poison, while he stood there above me as I tried to muffle my whimpers of pain through my lip; for, of course, being extremely sensitive, it was also extremely painful.

With those words, he slit the first of the two tubes. They split under the knife like a taught rubber band. I could not help but howl at the pain that produced. And when he began leisurely sawing away at the second, the howl turned to a scream which ended when the second parted fully, for I had passed out.

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All coments will be arpeciated good Sir's and Mistres's