Warning:Very mature content.
"A thick long finger penetrates me,and I slowly jump up but he keeps a firm hold on me and hold me in position.
He lifts me up in position and seats me on the glass top of his desk.The coldness of it burns my abused assc...
@ wthhoe for your message on my board. You literally made my day and inspired me to write. Thank you soo much for all of your love and support.
~~~
"The child in me died. It was killed,cruelly and mercilessly" -me ~~~
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The sickening pungent smell of blood reaches my nose and i take in the horrendous sight of corpses settled in this dim lit dungeon.
My father walks down and closes the door to the dungeon behind him. I can still hear my mother's sobbing upstairs.
No mother would want her son to see this sight. It is sickening. But i have to be prepared to take over the Knight empire.
This is my second time coming here. The first time when i came here i vomitted and afterwards fainted.
The tied beaten up man looks up at me and i feel empathy for him. My father nudges me forward. Ryan knight is never to be messed with,even if he is my dad.
A plier is given to me. "One minute and i want his fingers in the tray.All" My shaking finger slowly wrap around the plier and turn and look back at my father once again. Expecting for kindness and to not make me do it. The deafening cry of my mother rings in my ear as i recall it. I want to see my mother. I fell suffocated in here.
My father pushes me towards it and i walk towards the beaten man. His fingers are already covered in blood and his eyes. His eyes has the look of a forlorn man.
Expecting some mercy. Expecting some kindness. Expecting some kind of reassurance.
The irony is that,even i am expecting the same. The one going to be killed and the one going to kill are having the same feelings.
The heart wrenching sound of his pain echos in the dungeon as i take his fingers one by one,as fast as i can.
Putting them in the tray and when taking it back to my father,the expression on my face contradicts the expression on his face. The pride that is shown on his face is something that i always craved for but... Not due to this.
I wanted him to be proud of me when i sketched my feelings on my paper.
Drawing and sketching. Something that i saw solace in. But it was never supported or encouraged. Only my mother and grandparents supported me.
Right now when i looked into his eyes. I understood something.
