“Okay,” said Paris, “Ad has refused to go with me, I leave him for my own reasons. But he has to be punished for that, doesn't he?” asked Paris in space.
“Let this dude go,” Ad growled. “I won't do anything in front of him.”
Eugene hit Ad on the back with a whip.
“You don't!”
Ad flinched from abounding. Paris gleefully, angrily nodded, and sat down in the chair.
“Let Al go. I want to see what I'm paying for.”
Aletta pulled the needle, releasing the beast.
Paris took a cup of unfinished coffee. Creeping music on the background flowed around the room. Ad sat still. Alon sat in front of Ad.
“Are you sorry you refused to master Paris?”
Ad didn't answer. Alon opened the boy; he began to resist, the beast began to whip Ad on the hands, getting in the face, twisted his hair in his hand and looked into the face.
“Are you sorry you refused to master Paris?” repeated Alon.
“Well, let's say, no,” Ad responded sarcastically, “if you beat me, I won’t start to regret, and even if I do, I still won’t go anywhere.”
“You will start to regret and go,” Alon dangerously said. He couldn't tell otherwise, he needed the boy to leave.
Paris closed his eyes again, swore softly. He seemed to hear, as in Ad snapped, turning on, a program “start to regret - will leave”. Therefore, one could kill him, but he wouldn’t start regretting. Paris was glad that he decided to stay for the first punishment, just in case, he would be able to stop the murder, which would not forgive Antey, tormenting all locals.
Alon began to whip Ad. Ad was twisting familiar, he was used to god whipping him, and perceived it as a welcome caress. Alon squeezed the throat of Ad, shook him. Ad swallowed under the fingers of the beast.
“If you don’t go, I will kill you,” Alon breathed out in the ear of Ad.
“You are my god, my life is yours,” hardly audible gasped strangled boy, opened the eyes, that he had just closed. Ad decided to die, seeing Alon, the boy rested his hands on the man's chest, involuntarily caressing him. Alon released the throat of Ad, he thought, what to do with the boy, he didn’t want to beat him. He wanted to cuddle, but if he didn't show the punishment, he'd be replaced by someone else. Like Eugene. And even though they cannot mutilate his body, they can mutilate his soul. Alon stood up, spread Ad’s legs, stepped on his genitals. The boy screamed, ran away, trying to push the leg of Alon off himself. Alon pulled Ad’s hair to his groin. Ad churred.
“I'll come down when you're sorry.”
Ad burst into tears. Paris raised his eyebrows philosophically. Breathtakingly beautiful. The boy let Alon into himself, began to immerse him in pleasure, trying to soften skillfully. But Alon remembered about Eugene; he began peck rhythmically on the genitals of Ad in the rhythm of the music. Ad was trying to break free, pushed Alon's leg off. The beast caught the boy's hand, squeezed the little finger on the fracture.
“Regret?”
Ad didn't answer, continuing to caress the penis of Alon. The man dragged Ad away from him, giving him a chance to speak. Ad cried.
“Are you regretting?”
“No…”
Alon implanted Ad on the cock and broke his little finger. Ad choked with pain; the plugged throat quenched the cry. The boy bit the man’s cock, wincing in pain. Everything ached the fracture, the throat, the genitals. The man poured out, went out and sat down in front of the boy. Ad was crying, keeping his eyes down. Trying to push the man's leg off his genitals with his second hand. The boy cried out woundedly.
“It hurts! You're hurting me!” hysterically beautifully yelled Ad.
“You'll hurt more if you don't start to regret,” promised Alon.
“My god,” wept Ad.
“I'm regretting,” Alon suggested.
Ad was crying out, weeping, and didn’t speak. Alon started inserting his broken little finger back in. The boy poured out, shuddering.
“It hurts! My god, that hurts so much!” Ad woundedly prayed.
“I'll break all your fingers, and grow back, and start to break them again,” cried Alon. “And grow them again!”
“Your will is my law,” Ad cried.
“I want to hear that you're regretting.”
Ad kept silent.
“Well?” Alon shortly asked.
“I am... not!!!” Ad cried.
Paris looked with interest, not knowing how they lived, without fucking during punishment? It was clear that the boy wouldn’t say that he was regretting. But Paris didn’t say "just punish him for refusing, just punish, he will not regret and will not leave". Still, as far as possible it needed to convince that the punishment should have a purpose. Of course, the man couldn't know that Alon had a purpose. The noblest one.
Alon briefly closed his eyes and broke to Ad one more finger, he held his hand by the wrist, not allowing Ad to touch the fractures, to stroke them.
Ad was trying to release the genitals, but it hurt more. He attempted to twitch when the man lifted his leg, but a new hit nailed him to the floor. Ad was suffocating from tears and pain.
“Such a smallness of, and you speak, that my will is the law.”
“Punish me, my god. I can't leave you.”
“I want to hear that you're regretting and ready to change your mind.”
“I won't even touch you, my god, if you don't want, let me stay with you... I'll say anything, that I’m regretting,” Ad cried, “and I'm ready to change my opinion. I'll say anything, just don't expel me!!!”
“Say,” ordered Alon.
“I'm regretting …”
“I'm ready to change my mind.”
“And ready to change my mind...” Ad repeated.
Paris again had a fit of discord between dream and reality. The slave with a male appearance was confusing. He was able to break the program of Ad but loving to belong to a woman didn’t adorn him. Paris shook his head. Alon stepped away from the boy's genitals, yanked the second broken finger, inserting it. Ad was breathing convulsively, at the genitals with the healthy hand. Alon pulled the boy by the hair to Paris.
“He's willing to change his decision,” said Alon.
“Well done, beasty,” replied Paris absently. Shook his head. The longer he stayed in this madhouse, the closer Paris himself became to the madness, the man threw to Alon more candy.
“Well?” he hysterical asked Ad. The boy was crying quietly. Alon sat down to him and hissed:
“Go.”
“Leave me alone,” it wasn’t clear whom Ad said it to, he was in agony with pain.
“Call him a doctor,” ordered Paris, sharply tilted towards to Ad. “I'll come next week. I hope a week is enough for you to come to your senses.”
Ad didn't answer. Paris gently squeezed his shoulder, then straightened.
“I have some things to do. Please forgive me. I need to tell master Rassen that the boy has been found. I can't stay any longer.”
Aletta followed him.
“Will you be at the yacht club tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yes, Son wants to try out a new boat.”
“Oh, I'll see you there then.”
Paris vaguely moved his head. Aletta shook her head and returned to the room.
“I got it that way...” she started violently, “we can use him whatever we like. And we're getting paid for it. The main thing is that there shouldn’t be any injuries. But we are not supporters of modifications.”
Stine smiled.
“The interesting is something else. It looks like Paris wants to get him to go back to Rassen. I just can't figure out why he didn't just take him away. Why to listen to the slave?” said Stine.
“Apparently, there's a different relationship. A high one,” Amir swore and kicked Ad, who busy with pain.
“We need to call the doctor,” sighed Eugene. “But we can do it later, right?”
The master smiled and went to Ad, pushed him with his foot, dropping him to the floor, bent down and lifted his hips and entered him, suffocating with pleasure.
“Oh my God ... how narrow he is!”
Ad was groaning because of the pain and the hurtful words of Alon. As he felt Eugene in himself, clasped, forcing him to cum. Eugene, practising tantric sex, didn’t understand how it had happened. Too fast. This was even though the slaves begged him to stop, after a few hours of sex. Amir patted the pole with his spoke.
“Al,” he ordered. Alon returned to the pole; Amir twirled the needle, began to rotate it slowly, pulling the balls, as if trying to tear them off. Alon cried out. “You like it, slut?”
“Yes, sir,” he exhaled, looking at crying Ad.
Eugene couldn’t get physically excited, as if he had spent a few hours on the boy. He evilly came out, brought the same gun, got shot in the testicles of Ad. He briefly cried and plunged once again into the pain caused by Alon. Sometimes the boy suddenly began to cry, Eugene believed that it was because of the humiliation, but Ad cried from the words of Alon. The boy stood on all fours, stroking his broken fingers.
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