The Mist and the Lightning. Part 11. Ви Корс

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      Nikto put his fingers into Arel's tight mouth, making him moan in pain.

      Lis went out.

      When he returned to the room the next morning, he saw that nothing had changed. The shutters were still tightly closed, a candle barely glowed in the twilight, the sharp chemical smell of drugs tickled his nose so that his eyes began to water. Nikto was lying prone on the bed, his blond hair sweeping away. Arel sat tied by his wrists to the headboard, the rope still gripping his mouth. He opened his eyelids hard, looking at Lis with a dull look.

      “You motherfuckers!” Lis opened the shutters and the window with a crash, bright light and fresh wind burst into the room. Lis, confidently walking up to the bed, untied Arel and cut the rope that tightened his mouth from behind. He didn’t even try to untie the knots which Nikto made. On the prince's face, where the rope cut into the skin, a dark purple stripe from ear to ear remained.

      Nikto got up:

      “What?” He barely uttered.

      “Come to your senses, Kors is coming!”

      “No,” Nikto murmured, “I know when. Not today.”

      “Get up, let's go to the river. You need to refresh yourself. You need a brainwash!”

      “Did the medicine help you?”

      “Yes, thanks, get up, Arel!”

      “Not on a horse,” he murmured in horror, “no, no,” he whined.

      “Get it out, get it out of him!” Lis said in an orderly tone and turned to Nikto.

      “No, “ he threw sharply, still rising from the bed.

      “Pull it out, you will play with him at the waterfalls, drown him there to hell!”

      This idea seemed to interest Nikto.

      “Ver,” he called, “bring the mask, Arel's clothes, dress him.”

      “Dress him up and get the bump out of his ass, I don’t want him to whine on the way,” said Lis.

      “He will ride with me on the same horse.”

      “Damn, you don’t unstuck even for a second!”

      Ver returned to the room with a bunch of some kind of leather harness, treating Arel like a big doll, and began to busily tighten his body, black with bruises, with belts. Nikto nevertheless pulled out a large ribbed dildo from Arel.

      “I’ll put on him a mask myself,” he said to Ver with unhealthy passion and love in his eyes, covering Arel’s face with a crust of hard black skin.

      “And don’t forget to put on a mask onto yourself,” said Lis gloomily. “How I hate you, you are burnt out, Nikto!”

      “I won't forget,” Nikto said, and Lis watched with disgust as he tightened all the belts on his beloved Arel for a long time and thoroughly.

      Covered with leather clothing like with a shell, Arel moved stiffly, he was shaking. Ver covered his hair with a hood.

      “Dress your second slave soon,” urged Lis. And Nikto dressed and covered his face with a black mask too. “Don’t you also want to shove anything into yourself?” Lis grimaced, seeing that completely collected Nikto and Arel differed little from each other, except for the color of their hair. “Two slaves of the Demon,” Lis said caustically.

      “Lis, you are my slave too. Don’t forget it!” Nikto answered sharply.

      And Lis silently grinned angrily.

      “Want a bell in your nose? Fuck, you will get it instead of the throne!”

      “I already somehow don’t even doubt,” Lis snapped again, “it looks like this is all you can do!”

      Nikto, a moment ago so lethargic, suddenly came up sharply to Lis and grabbed him by the hair from behind, squeezing with a death grip, lifting his face up.

      “Can't you see the limits, Lis?!” He hissed and threw Lis away from him with such force that he, flying half the room, slammed sideways into the wall, slid down, instinctively covering his head with his hands.

      “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Lis hastened to say, “now I see the Demon.”

      “What a fool.”

      “Sorry.”

      “I'll break your head off, Lis, I'll print your fucking redhead into the wall if you don't shut up.”

      Lis knelt down.

      “Do you want me to order Ver to piss in your mouth now for your words? And you will swallow, I swear I will train you!”

      “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don't,” Lis was tense. “I have understood everything, I will no longer say that, please.”

      “Come on,” Nikto passed him, “for the last time, Lis, I don't touch you. Remember. There won't be a second time.”

      They drove to the river, and Nikto put Arel on the Unclean Power in front of him, hugging all the way. Khabir Verniy stayed behind to guard the path, and they, leaving their horses, went down through the grotto to the lake. Lis told Nikto that he had already drowned the prince.

      “Do you know how his ass shrinks when he starts to choke?!” He laughed.

      And in the eyes of Arel, whom Nikto freed from the mask, a sincere fear was reflected and he began to whisper:

      “No, no, please…”

      But, of course, his pleas, like all the previous ones before, were completely in vain. And at first they mocked him for a long time, forcing him to walk along the water's edge on all fours. Nikto drove him back and forth like a dog by the chain in his nose, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. Then he blindfolded Arel with a leather bandage. And having allowed him to get up, he transferred him to the opposite bank of the creek. There they began to dip Arel into the water and fucked him in turns. While one fucked, the other kept the prince's head under the water, lowered. Several times the poor man choked, and Nikto rudely brought him to his senses, pressing on the chest with his knee. Arel vomited water and was in a semi-faint state. With threats, they forced him to try to hold his breath as long as possible. And if he began to sip water too quickly, earlier than needed, as they thought, they pulled him to the beach and kicked him a little, but perceptibly, rolling on the sand. They poked his face in the sand. Then, at last, they played enough, nearly drowning the poor prince four times. Returning to the grass, they sat down to eat. Nikto gave a piece of bread with cheese in Arel’s hand:

      “Eat!”

      He watched with satisfaction as Arel awkwardly held the sandwich with his hand in a wet leather glove, how he tried to eat, how helplessly he turned his head to the voice of Nikto. Blind, wet, submissive.

      “Drink some wine too,” Nikto thrust a glass into his hands, “refresh yourself.”

      He finally untied the tight bandage that held Arel's head and allowed him to open his eyes. Arel blinked often, squinting, his eyes were watering from the daylight. Nikto was clearly in a blissful mood:

      “Tell СКАЧАТЬ