Rory's POV
When I awoke, my ankles had been chained to my wrists. Gently spreading my legs, I surveyed the damage and found an angry red burn mark on the tender folds of my vagina.
Hissing in fear and pain, I was relieved to find the hut dark and empty. Grabbing the nearest rock I could find, I repeatedly smashed the chains until they broke, bruising and cutting my wrists in the process. Grabbing my pelt, I limped hurriedly from the tent.
When I made it to the river, I climbed the cliff, secured the broken chains around my wrists and ankles and locked them onto my throat. Once done, I took a deep breath and dived into the gushing waves beneath.
My first instinct was to try and swim to the surface but with my hands and feet chained together, I sunk like a rock. As the powerful current swept me out, I was barricaded into the sharp edge of a rock that slashed my lower back.
Screaming out at the sharp pain, I felt my breath escape and darkness overcome me as my lungs filled with a burning sensation.
YOU ARE READING
The Head Warrior's Special Boy
General FictionWARNING: Contains non-consensual sexual activity, attempted suicide and consensual beastiality. Please read at your own discretion. Side note: also includes a male same sex relationship and male pregnancy. Rory is a small boy whom was graced with...
