Just Say Yes 3/?
anonymous
July 3 2009, 07:51:14 UTC
Ahahah this is confusing to write, but that could just be me. I only hope it isn't confusing to read. Also, in the first bit, 'children' doesn't necessarily refer to people under eighteen. WARNING: The kinky stuff starts here. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Ivan sighed as he murmured to himself. "They'll be alright...it's not your fault." Lies, and not pain, but they comforted him somehow.
And then the frigid blade of a knife burrowed into his shoulder, and he screamed. He twisted his wrist, and blood spewed out, splattering allover his back and face and stomach.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered huskily, and nodded.
"Good."
The knife left trails of blood up and down his back and arms, and paused at one hip. It was thrown across the floor, and Ivan found himself being hauled up by one of his stinging arms.
A mouth closed on the dripping appendage, and he hissed as a tongue flicked across the raw flesh. "Shush," he told himself.
He kissed himself and tasted blood and vodka. The rope around his neck tightened, and fear caught hold of him.
"Wait," he began, but it was too late, and he choked on the belated protest.
Lights prickled into his vision, but his eyes were closed behind the blindfold. He tried coughing, but it only strained his lungs more. He wouldn't turn loose of the rope that was slowly killing him.
Tears burned their way out of his pounding skull and onto the blindfold. In the distance he could hear himself laughing.
"Isn't this fun, Ivan? Doesn't it hurt, Ivan? Are you feeling any better?"
Also, in the first bit, 'children' doesn't necessarily refer to people under eighteen.
WARNING: The kinky stuff starts here.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ivan sighed as he murmured to himself. "They'll be alright...it's not your fault." Lies, and not pain, but they comforted him somehow.
And then the frigid blade of a knife burrowed into his shoulder, and he screamed. He twisted his wrist, and blood spewed out, splattering allover his back and face and stomach.
"Does it hurt?" he whispered huskily, and nodded.
"Good."
The knife left trails of blood up and down his back and arms, and paused at one hip. It was thrown across the floor, and Ivan found himself being hauled up by one of his stinging arms.
A mouth closed on the dripping appendage, and he hissed as a tongue flicked across the raw flesh. "Shush," he told himself.
He kissed himself and tasted blood and vodka. The rope around his neck tightened, and fear caught hold of him.
"Wait," he began, but it was too late, and he choked on the belated protest.
Lights prickled into his vision, but his eyes were closed behind the blindfold. He tried coughing, but it only strained his lungs more. He wouldn't turn loose of the rope that was slowly killing him.
Tears burned their way out of his pounding skull and onto the blindfold. In the distance he could hear himself laughing.
"Isn't this fun, Ivan? Doesn't it hurt, Ivan? Are you feeling any better?"
"Please...stop..." he croaked.
"You sound like our children."
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