Post by madb on Oct 14, 2012 12:55:32 GMT -5
Vahguel licked his swollen lips, raising a hand to wipe some of the excess away from his cheeks. He glanced down at the fat old man passed out on his cot, fully pleasured and completely out of it. A job, as they say, well done.
Vahguel felt the distaste rise heavy in his chest as the memory of forceful hands grabbing and demanding were laid upon him once more. During the act it was almost easier, just turn off your mind, let the daze carry you away to some happy moment or if none were there simply stop thinking at all and allow it to happen.
After was when he had the most trouble.
The boy turned away, not bothering to clothe himself--what was the point at this stage? And wearing dirty drudge wear was not going to make him feel any cleaner, any safer. His body was sore and there would be marks, red welts, on his skin for days. This made him wince. Not many of his other 'clients' would be happy with that, which meant a few days going without his precious gathering of marks which he had been storing away for something special.
Vahguel's eyes flittered around the room he had been allowed access to, for the price of sleeping with that gross wher. It wasn't the fanciest of rooms in this hole of a hold. The man's wife had some jewelry, none of it, in Vah's opinion, worth stealing. He wouldn't get price enough for the risk his hands would take to grab it.
The boy knelt, ignoring a flair of pain from the action, and reached out to open the drawer on the cotside table, carefully. The sharding thing creaked. He froze, mid-act.
For a moment there was only silence and the feel of his heart beating rapidly in his ears. Then the gross wher gave a loud snore, and shifted over so his face was next to Vahguel's. His eyes were closed.
Vah breathed easy for a minute, and then wrinkled his nose. Faranth, what did the man eat? The fog of breath washed over him and there was yet another turn in the youth's stomach as he remembered that mouth on his own, that tongue--
Fingernails bit into flesh. No. He was a professional. Losing the contents of his stomach now would not gain him anything but a lash or two. Freaking out and stabbing the man in his face multiple times would likely just get him sent between.
Focus.
Vahguel turned back to the open drawer, breath catching when he saw exactly what he had wanted to find. He shoved a few trinkets out of the way and lifted the tell-tale board up underneath, revealing a small hide sack. Likely full of marks. Likelier still, hidden from his wife. Vahguel's eyes slitted over to look at the loaf. As were many things.
But this was good, these would go unreported as being stolen, as no man would like to admit to his wife he had been hiding marks for his own selfish reasons. Vahguel had known that they were here, he had known. One simply doesn't buy a bedwarmer's affections night in and night out without some hide-away stash.
The boy shuffled on his clothes quickly, dropping the gained marks in his pocket. Yes, he thought, brittle and vicious, I would slit your throat now if I thought I could get away with it. But don't worry. I will come back for you someday. He blew a sarcastic kiss at the sleeping wher, and headed out.
On the way he stopped to fix himself in the mirror. There was little he could do about the huge bruise darkening on his chin, but he wet his hands, and slicked his hair as best he could. He fixed his wrinkled shirt under his belt and tried to put himself back together again.
It wasn't perfect. But he did what he could.
~~
Vahguel felt the distaste rise heavy in his chest as the memory of forceful hands grabbing and demanding were laid upon him once more. During the act it was almost easier, just turn off your mind, let the daze carry you away to some happy moment or if none were there simply stop thinking at all and allow it to happen.
After was when he had the most trouble.
The boy turned away, not bothering to clothe himself--what was the point at this stage? And wearing dirty drudge wear was not going to make him feel any cleaner, any safer. His body was sore and there would be marks, red welts, on his skin for days. This made him wince. Not many of his other 'clients' would be happy with that, which meant a few days going without his precious gathering of marks which he had been storing away for something special.
Vahguel's eyes flittered around the room he had been allowed access to, for the price of sleeping with that gross wher. It wasn't the fanciest of rooms in this hole of a hold. The man's wife had some jewelry, none of it, in Vah's opinion, worth stealing. He wouldn't get price enough for the risk his hands would take to grab it.
The boy knelt, ignoring a flair of pain from the action, and reached out to open the drawer on the cotside table, carefully. The sharding thing creaked. He froze, mid-act.
For a moment there was only silence and the feel of his heart beating rapidly in his ears. Then the gross wher gave a loud snore, and shifted over so his face was next to Vahguel's. His eyes were closed.
Vah breathed easy for a minute, and then wrinkled his nose. Faranth, what did the man eat? The fog of breath washed over him and there was yet another turn in the youth's stomach as he remembered that mouth on his own, that tongue--
Fingernails bit into flesh. No. He was a professional. Losing the contents of his stomach now would not gain him anything but a lash or two. Freaking out and stabbing the man in his face multiple times would likely just get him sent between.
Focus.
Vahguel turned back to the open drawer, breath catching when he saw exactly what he had wanted to find. He shoved a few trinkets out of the way and lifted the tell-tale board up underneath, revealing a small hide sack. Likely full of marks. Likelier still, hidden from his wife. Vahguel's eyes slitted over to look at the loaf. As were many things.
But this was good, these would go unreported as being stolen, as no man would like to admit to his wife he had been hiding marks for his own selfish reasons. Vahguel had known that they were here, he had known. One simply doesn't buy a bedwarmer's affections night in and night out without some hide-away stash.
The boy shuffled on his clothes quickly, dropping the gained marks in his pocket. Yes, he thought, brittle and vicious, I would slit your throat now if I thought I could get away with it. But don't worry. I will come back for you someday. He blew a sarcastic kiss at the sleeping wher, and headed out.
On the way he stopped to fix himself in the mirror. There was little he could do about the huge bruise darkening on his chin, but he wet his hands, and slicked his hair as best he could. He fixed his wrinkled shirt under his belt and tried to put himself back together again.
It wasn't perfect. But he did what he could.
~~
