The Mist and the Lightning

Chapter 12            

  About four o’clock in the morning they returned, and Kors jumped up on his couch. Nik walked into the room very confidently, he was without his crutch, which Kors had become so accustomed to lately that he even put up with it. Nik’s face, as always, was covered by a mask, but Kors immediately realized that his son had removed the bandages. Kors noticed it instantly, as soon as he saw Nik and how his hair, now unrestrained, scattered on the sides of his face, obscuring the entire right side of his face. And it was the same, no matter how Kors combed it and smoothed it. What was the point of cutting his bangs if it instantly grew back? And Nik, apparently, didn’t want to be any other, only shaggy. Kors also saw that Valentine was wearing a leather band over his helmet that limited his vision, exactly the same as the blue cleaning slave in the Limit. Now Valentine could only look at his feet. Arel was leading him on the chain. Kors looked at them in surprise. “Where have you been?!” “In my Limit,” Nik answered calmly and without any tricks, and Kors couldn’t believe his ears: “In the Limit? But how?!” “A local old witch used to live here not far away. Well... she was also stirring up all sorts of drugs, she was very bad at it. But the Port remained in her cave, I already opened it before and went to my Limit,” Nik explained in detail. “But why didn’t you take me with you?” “Did you want to?” “N-n… I don’t know, probably not…” “Vitor, we didn’t stay there for long, I just needed to recover a bit. I will take you there next time. My word!” Nik promised. “To recover? You have taken off your bandages! Did you take Black Water there?” Kors bombarded him with questions. “I have recovered,” Nik repeated evasively, “and now I will continue your training.” “Now? At four in the morning?” “Why not?” Nik turned away and began taking his damned tools out of his bag and laying them out on the table. Prince Arel approached Kors. He saw Kors take the coverlet and pillow from his bed. And Kors shrank a little, expecting that Arel would now take them away from him, and even hit him for taking his belongingswithout asking. But Arel didn’t. In his commanding manner and slightly drawing out his words, he said to him: “Wake up, Vitor, wash your face and don’t forget to brush your teeth,” the prince laughed, took from the bedside table a decanter filled with water, and, taking a big sip, forcefully splashed all this water from his mouth right into Kors’ face, dousing him with cold spray. Kors didn’t have time to cover himself. Arel’s actions were always abrupt and unpredictable for him, and he closed his eyes, quickly bending his head down, and tried to wipe his face with his palm. Arel collapsed onto the bed, and Valentine immediately began to take off his master’s boots. When he finished, he got down on all fours, habitually pretending to be a bedside table. “Valentine, get out of the room!” Arel ordered rudely. And Valentine, hurriedly getting up and stretching his hand forward, walked a little hesitantly towards the door. It was noticeable that, being limited by a leather strip pulled low over his eyes, he could still poorly navigate in this room. Kors wiped himself with the covers and said as indifferently as he could: “Arel, your jokes are stupid,” of course, he was very unpleasant, but he tried not to show it. Arel constantly humiliated him. “He will finish me... finish me. He’s going to torment me,” thought raced through his mind, but Kors tried to pull himself together. “You know, prince, your act is the level of a bully in elementary school, nothing more. In my school, I remember, there were a couple of these jerks who, in their opinion, “had fun”. I quickly put them in place. I don’t answer you, Arel, only because I myself voluntarily agreed to endure this... training.” “I didn’t go to school,” Arel said, and affectionately tickled Kors with his invisible fingers under his chin, stroking his throat. Kors froze, and Arel laughed contentedly and let him go. “Unfortunate, you were even deprived of this smallness,” Kors said through force, “your tyrant father kept you in your castle as in a prison – without friends, without communication with other children.” Arel lit a cigarette: “Vitor, do you remember how you threatened me that you would make me your slave?”, he suddenly said, “remember?” Kors remembered. Strongly worried about getting a reflection of his actions from Nik, he completely forgot about Arel. Yeah, it was very thoughtless –to threaten him then like that. “You promised me to cut something out of my ass, so that I could no longer squeeze it, and so that all the shit would fall out of me. Some restraining muscles. Well, remember!” “Forgive me,” Kors said humbly, “forgive me, please, for those thoughtless words!” He started shaking involuntarily. “No, no, Nik won’t let that happen to me!” “You are trembling so much,” Arel was very pleased, “now live with it and wait. What saves you now is that Nik will take care of you, but don’t forget about me too.” Curling into a ball, Kors remained silent. “Vitor, lie on your back and don’t move,” said Nik, finishing his preparations. He calmly waited for Kors to obediently carry out the order. Seeing that Kors lay down, he approached, and, carefully kneeling beside him, bent over Kors, bringing a thick needle to the bridge of his nose. Kors understood everything: “No, please, don’t do it!” He pleaded. “Please, take it away!” But Kors didn’t raise his hands to his face to protect himself. He pleaded, but didn’t resist, because he knew it was pointless and would only make things worse. They will end up doing whatever they want with him anyway, because they have the power and he doesn’t. And all the prayers are absolutely in vain. But he was so scared that he couldn’t remain silent, showing weakness. And because of this, he became disgusted with himself. “Come on, you said you were ready to change,” Nik said very calmly. “You said you wanted to study. You told me that I was a bad student, so let’s see what you are!” “How long will I have to wear them?” Kors whispered in some attempt to clear up the hopeless situation. Panic washed over him. “It will be up to you,” Nik said, and drove the needle deep into the bridge of his nose. Kors was sitting on his bedding, his head bowed low, and now iron shutter glasses were tightly fitting to his eyes. “Why did I only mess up with you? What for?” He said bitterly. “Why?” Nik asked. Kors could hear him standing near the table, his bottles clinking a little. “Vitor, answer yourself honestly! Don’t tell me you did it to help your son and bring him into the world of true blacks! You like to fuck with me! That’s all! And in addition, you wanted to get power from the Demon! You just got afraid!” “I’m not afraid anymore!” “You are afraid.” “No, I’m not! I endure everything from you!” Kors shouted in despair. “Aren’t you used to enduring?” “No, I’m not!” “Lucky for you, you got a good fate.” “It means I deserved it!” Kors straightened his shoulders with some kind of doomed pride and raised his face, turning approximately in the direction from which he heard Nik’s voice. “Think about it, and don’t forget to ask why you’ve been treated this way now.” “It’s just that you enjoy torturing me!” “Would you like to torture us like before?” “I would like, as before, to love you and take care of my dear boy! Give me back my boy!”  “Return him,” Nik said, “I don’t mind, take him back.” “How?! I’m tied and blinded!” “Don’t know how? Then shut up!” Kors fell silent, and Nik said: “Say a word, I’ll pierce your tongue and fasten it. Do you understand?” Kors nodded convulsively. He heard Nik coming up to him, shoving a glass into his hand. “Hold it, drink and relax. We will be loving you.” “I love you too,” Kors answered him mentally and, taking the offered wine, took a long sip. Nik and Arel fucked him in turn and at the same time. He could tell them apart, felt Nik’s hands as he squeezed him, and felt the absence of a finger on his hand. Kors really continued to love them and was afraid. But he was more afraid of Arel, because Nik was affectionate with him, and the prince could start fucking him and then hit him. Arel beat him, but still not as hard as before. He could just fuck and then kick him off the bed like a used thing. And Kors, crawling back to his post, endured it. Having played enough, they didn’t leave him alone, but stuffed a long and thick dildo into him like a plug. It was especially painful for Kors if Arel did it. He pushed this thing very roughly and as deep as possible, and Kors had to endure this stick inside for as long as they themselves didn’t use him. But they didn’t take away the coverlet and pillow from him, and he still lay on his soft bedding. Blinded, he lost track of time, but it seemed like a couple of days have passed. Kors tried to determine the time of day by the loud bird that whistled outside the window only in the morning. Nik didn’t call Verniy, but he took Kors to the bathroom and toilet. He pulled him by the chain, and Kors followed him on all fours, or if Nik was too lazy to get out of bed, he would give Kors a bottle to empty himself. From time to time, Nik made for him the sweet drink of the unclean ones, gave him wine and gave Kors injections. He took care of his natural needs, yes, not too diligently, one might say, so-so, but he did so not out of malice, but simply because he himself was messy and stupid. Nik couldn’t take care of himself properly either. Kors knew his nature too well and was grateful to Nik just for this little thing, realizing that Nik himself was sincerely sure that he was taking good care of Kors. But time passed, and Nik still didn’t release him and didn’t let him go anywhere. Kors obeyed them implicitly. It was hard for him, but he endured, not asking for indulgence. He believed that sooner or later it would end, because they couldn’t stay in this house, in this room forever. On the one hand, they tormented and limited him, and on the other hand, they gave him incredible sensations of pleasure from their caresses. Crazy orgasms overcame all the torment, Kors felt that if Nik told him now, as he once told Arel: “I allow you to come”, Kors would come. He would have come just from his word.   One day, when Kors was lying on his bed, trying not to move, so that the stick inside would not bite into his insides more, and “his boys” were resting on the bed, he heard Nik call out to him in a low voice: “Vitor?” Kors slightly raised his head, turning his face in his direction. He didn’t have the strength to get up and sit down. He heard Nik get off the bed and sit down next to him.  “Vitor, well, try...” Kors felt the gentle touch of his lips on his own ones, no longer covered with bandages. Kors felt his soft, always so sweet, as if slightly capriciously poutedlower lip, and the metal of the rings in it. He choked with happiness and the pleasure that flooded over him, answered with all the passion and dared to timidly touch Nik’s face, his scarred cheek, not feeling the usual crack and unevenness of dead skin under his fingers. Kors’ heart pounded wildly. He realized that the treatment, his treatment helped, and Nik was no longer disfigured! How Kors wanted to see him now! To confirm his feelings, he quickly ran his fingers under Nik’s bangs, across her forehead, feeling only smooth skin. And, since Nik didn’t push him away, Kors grew bolder and began feverishly stroking his face with his hands, feeling, bumping only into the piercing in his nose and lip, but no longer feeling the dent from the scar. He wanted to scream and cry with happiness, but Nik forbade him to talk. And, although his tongue was not limited by anything, like Arel’s one in the past, Kors was very obedient without restrictions and screamed only in his thoughts and never aloud. Nik let him stroke his face, he didn’t let him see him, but he let him touch him. Kors began to pull Nik towards him, simultaneously spreading his legs. He wanted Nik to pull the stick out of him and stick his cock in, alive and warm. Nik succumbed, pulled a dildo out of Kors and began to fuck him. With the same passion as Kors gave himself to him, Nik took him. Breathing heavily, he moaned, sometimes his singas he was getting completely carried away. Kors imagined his face, remembering it as handsome as it had been in the Limit. He clung to him, hugging him, and Nik smelled so sweet of death, and even stronger than before. Kors howled and whimpered, it seemed to him that not only sperm would now spring out of him, but all his insides, all his essence, everything would break out of him, from his physical body, through this small hole. He was literally twisting and bursting, it seemed that his cock would not withstand such tension and would burst, tear to shreds, and all of it would splash out on Nik, and, mixed with him, would return back to Kors with incredible pleasure when Nik, hissing, came into him. It was a unity of nonhumans. And after that, Kors felt like had died, left his physical shell, devastated it and gave everything to the Demon to the last drop, and then returned back, filled again, but already with something different, with an alien admixture. And it was fine, and all the humiliations no longer mattered. Time stopped. Obeying the orders, Kors got on all fours, lay down, climbed onto the bed when he was pulled by the chain. He sucked, swallowed, licked and did whatever was asked of him. He didn’t ask for anything himself, but if Nik gave him a drink of the unclean ones or some bread and said “drink” or “eat”, Kors obediently drank and ate everything. If Nik tugged at his chain, Kors crawled on all fours to the bathroom and tried to fulfill all natural needs as carefully as possible. Nik continued to tattoo him. He hammered paint over the patterns he had previously painted with dye on his ankles, wrists, and chest. He didn’t deafen Kors, but Nik and Arel barely spoke, or spoke in their minds, blocking their internal conversations from Kors. “Nik, leave the cigarette” or “Arel, bring some wine” didn’t count. “Someone is coming to see you now,” Nik said, and Kors froze on his couch. He was afraid that Nik would give him to others. In tension, he began to listen to the footsteps in the corridor. There was a knock on the door and Nik said: “Come in.” He didn’t name the guest, but Kors intuitively, with some animal instinct, guessed who it might be, and he was not mistaken. “Hi!” “Hi, Zaf,” Nik answered as if nothing had happened. And Kors involuntarily imagined this sight: a mess reigned in the room, because all these days he had not heard either Verniy or Valentine. Nik didn’t let them in, which meant that rubbish was not removed either. The bed was spread out and crumpled, naked Arel was lying on it, Kors knew about this, and knew that they were without clothes. And Kors, tied to a post, stood on his knees with iron “spoons” before his eyes, with a painted, partially tattooed body, bruised from Arel’s blows, with scratches from Nik’s claws and traces of their bites. Disheveled because Nik didn’t comb his hair, dirty, smelling of sweat, cum and shit, and lost all his aristocratic gloss. “Will you drink?” Hospitably offered Nik to Zaf.   The belt buckle rattled, Nik began to put on his pants. Kors sat with his head bowed and not moving. Nik ordered him to be quiet, and he would not say a word. He heard them drinking and Nik asked Zaf how he was doing. What was the point of keeping up a conversation about business if they could communicate mentally in whole information blocks, and Nik already knew and saw everything? But they seemed to really be people, exchanged a few phrases. They are forced to live according to the laws of this world, should they interact like people? But now it doesn’t seem to bother them. They even had fun. It seemed to Kors that they liked to be human and diligently speak in simple phrases. It seemed to amuse them, just as an adult sometimes takes part in children’s amusements, for example, sits on a horse on a carousel, and he has fun. So Zaf and Nik seemed to be having fun, talking and doing it as if for real, diligently, according to the rules: “Zaf, what’s new in the camp?” “Eh, nothing special, everyone is having fun and drinking, and Marbuel got into a fight with his brother.” “Aha-ha! Because of what?” “It seems they argued who would eat the heart and stomach of a pigeon.” “A pigeon?!” “Yes, because of such nonsense, they are not inferior to each other even in small things.” “Do you lack pigeons?” “We have a lot of pigeons!” “What prevented them from taking another one?” “Well, you see, my Lord, that they both needed this pigeon.” “Aha-ha!” Kors listened how they played “people”, a little clumsily, but according to the rules, and it began to seem funny to him. Now, when all his senses were sharpened, he noticed that all this was not real, but quite realistic. He completely forgot that Nik said:“Someone is coming to YOU now,” and suddenly he heard Zaf ask: “Can I take Vitor to my place for a couple of hours?” And to Kors’ dismay, Nik replied: “Yes.” “Where is your jealousy, Nik? Or are you punishing me like this for teasing you about my friendship with Zaf? Yes, Nik, you know how to reflect!” And it hurt a lot. Kors wanted to howl from being powerless, and at the same time he didn’t want to show his suffering. Let them do what they want. It wad possible that they agreed on everything in advance and were again playing a performance in front of him. Allegedly, Nik was jealous of Kors, but in fact ... they just laughed at him for the umpteenth time, it would be very much like they enjoy. Of course, it didn’t look at all like they had agreed and were playing with Kors, fooling him, and why did they need it? But then what was happening? How could Nik give him to Zaf now? What a betrayal! He said that he would train him, made him an obedient slave, and now what? Nik wants to punish him for that terrible evening when Kors, in his thoughtless bravado, really wanted to suck Zaf to spite Nick. “Well, now get what you wanted, catch a return,” Kors thought bitterly, scolding himself. In order not to show Nik his pain, he habitually began to read the quatrain in his mind again and again. Nik unhooked him from the post: “You can get up.” Kors got up. His legs didn’t obey him. Nik covered him with some kind of cloth, like a cloak, put something on his head, completely covering his face. Was it a bag? No! This was a cape! Nik put on him a woman’s cape, as if he were a slave woman. Kors cringed. “Zaf will take you to him like that,” Nik explained, “I don’t want others to see you. You will be his slave.” “What a tall girlfriend,” Arel laughed. And Kors stood crushed, his head bowed low, and was silent. “You can talk to Zaf, I allow it,” Nik said. But Kors said nothing. Zaf firmly took his arm and slowly led him along. Confused in the cape, Kors felt the cool floorboards in the corridor with his bare feet. He barely hobbled, Nik didn’t pull the dildo out of him, and he was in pain. Fortunately, it was not long to go, and when they arrived, Zaf immediately removed the humiliating cape from him. But Kors didn’t know if anyone else was in the room, and he only hoped there wasn’t. “Sit down on the bed,” Zaf slightly directed him, and Kors carefully sat down. Why didn’t you call me? Zafasked. “I’m all right,” Kors barely said, and Zaf ordered: “Lie down on your side.”   Kors immediately obeyed the order and lay down, as ordered by the unclean one. He was in their power, Nik gave him, and, therefore, he will obey Zaf. Zaа gently lifted his leg to the side and pulled out the dildo, but Kors wasn’t happy, although he was relieved from the stick that tormented him. He knew that just now Zaf’s cock would replace the stick, and he would move, which would be even worse. But Zaf was clearly not in a hurry, but for some reason covered Kors with a blanket: “Sit up, have a drink, you’ll feel better,” he said. Kors drank the offered wine. “You will fall asleep for a couple of hours, rest. Anddon’t be afraid, Vitor, I won’t touch you. I have taken not you for this.” “And for what?” Kors asked indifferently. Now he didn’t care anymore, and he was really tired. “I took you to get some rest from them. I can’t take your glasses off, but I can do everything else, and you can just rest at my place.” “But why?” “What – why?” Zaf didn’t understand. “Why are you kind to me?” Kors lifted his swollen face approximately in the direction from which he heard Zaf’s voice. “I like you,” Zaf explained and ran him over his head, straightened his disheveled hair a little, “and I don’t know how much longer they are going to torment you.” “You don’t know?” Kors was embarrassed by his impulse, it was impossible to show weakness. “No, I don’t know,” Zaf replied sadly. Kors wilted, but gathered his courage and said without any intonation: “No, they don’t torment me, it’s training, examination and initiation,” Kors realized that it turned out very unconvincingly.   “In our tribe, young guys also go through initiation,” Zaf said, “not the same, of course, as yours, but also not easy.” “And those who passed it are put plugs in their noses as a reward?” “Yes.” “What about those who can’t get through it? What does your tribe do with them?” Zaf hesitated with the answer: “They are eaten,” he finally said. And Kors covered his face with his hands: “Ooh, it looks like this awaits me! I am a mediocre student, I laughed at Prince Arel that he was stupid, but he was no better. I’m probably dumber...” “Vitor, sleep,” Zaf said softly and carefully, “stop stuffing your head with all sorts of thoughts, lie down.” Maybe Zaf had slipped something into his wine, but Kors really wanted to sleep unbearably. It was as if a soft cobweb wrapped around his head, there were no thoughts, but it was pleasant, because along with his thoughts, his worries and fear disappeared. Dark blue clouds floated slowly before his eyes. They stretched out in long rows in the sunset sky. He saw a flat, endless steppe covered with dry grass, and the ground, dotted with some kind of small minks. Kors relaxed, lay down more comfortably, falling into sweet visions, when he suddenly heard the voices of Nik and Arel, he didn’t see them, but he heard them. Arel said: “He doesn’t change,” and by the way he sucked in air, Kors realized that the prince was taking a drag on his cigarette. “He needs time, not a long time has passed,” Nik objected. “No matter how much time passes, he won’t change,” said Arel, and Kors heard him puff out smoke. “Vitor has lived his life,” Arel continued, “he is many years old. At this age, people don’t change.” (Hearing this, Kors went wild with indignation – well, Arel, I’ll remember it!) “On average, people live fifty or sixty years, and he is fifty.” “But he is a true black,” Nik disagreed, “he is not an ordinary person and can easily live more than a hundred years, which means that now he is not old yet.” “This is only a state of the body,” Arel disagreed with him again, “but the state of mind of true blacks is the same as that of ordinary people, and the lived years leave their mark. I, too, can live a hundred years and even more, my blood is purer than Vitor’s. Then, by your standards, I’m still a child. Do I look like a child?” “No, well…a little…” “We don’t age in body, but we grow up just like ordinary people, and his mind is the mind of a person who has passed his life. He’s old inside, he calls us “my boys” himself, and like all old men, he likes young lovers.” “I love that stern yet loving look of his, when he looks at me like a father,” Nik said, and his hoarse voice became so gentle at the moment when he said this that Kors’ heart beat with happiness. “I also love Vitor,” agreed Arel, (Fuck you, Arel!) “But Vitor has long been fully formed, his life rules and principles have grown together with him tightly, he is full.” “He has a lively mind,” said Nik, “he perceives the new. I don’t believe my Vitor is hopeless.” (And Kors was so grateful to him for those words, especially for “my Vitor”). “Then you need to push harder,” said Arel. “But he is obedient, he does everything. He tries.” “Of course, because he has been serving someone all his life. He knows how to do it and has gone far in his career. In the army, in the Black City, he serves the king for many years. He is accustomed to serve, obey the orders of his superiors and carry them out. I’mtalking about this to you. It’s not that hard for him to follow orders.” (“Arel, I’ll kill you!” Kors thought once again). “He needs to be tied to a post,” Arel continued, “he is used to serving, but not used to physical suffering, not used to the restriction of the body. You need to lift his hands up and tie him high, and let him stand at the pole on his toes.” “He will handle it,” Nik said, “I know.” “Yes, he is stubborn as a ram,” Arel agreed, “but you need to try different options. You know, I’ll come back in the evening and beat him, tie him to a post... maybe this will work.” (“Arel, what?! What?!” Kors literally yelled in his thoughts). And then he heard Nick quickly say: “Damn, he hears us…” And everything collapsed.  Kors jumped up on the bed. “Zaf!” Something large, covered with dark brown, almost black hairs, like thick fur, stirred in the corner. It sat there, curled up in a ball and tucked under itself, folded on both sides of the body, numerous powerful paws. Two dark green round eyes stared at Kors. “I’m here,” said Zaf, “you didn’t get much sleep.” “I have rested, thanks! Take me back please!” Kors decided that if Arel was going to leave somewhere and would return only in the evening, he would have time to beg Nik not to do with him what the prince suggested. No matter how, beg mentally, and if Nik closes his thoughts, then out loud, he doesn’t care! But he will convince him that he is not old and that he will change and learn new things, and there is no need to push harder. Arel is wrong, and physical pressure on the verge of human capabilities will only destroy him. “Zaf, take me back to Nik, please!” he repeated again, he needed to act. Now! “Yes, Vitor, only you will have to put on the cape again.” “Put it on me!”