The Puppeteer - Tortured

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Hi guys, I wish everyone is doing well. I'm sorry for not updating for so long. I have been busy about moving, I manage to bought a house for my family, and the renovations and work just really occupied me.

Without further ado, Please enjoy, please be warned this story is intended for mature audience as rated.

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Zylen wriggles.. but as far as he could manage is to fold his fingers and slightly bend his knees. The aftermath struck him, the pain, the agony of being tortured. His nails have been removed, leaving goos slightly yellow with pus from the infections, red with blood..

How long.. how long has he been chained down like this, with no room for comforts, not even to curl himself for even the slightest sense of safety. If only he could manage, he believes he wished to be glued tight curled and squeezed into hinself with no space between.

Oh how much he wishes this have not been going on for too long.. no, it cannot be for far too long, for there is plan to be carried. He have decided to die with his baby or survived with him. And there will be no second chance of doing this. There should be no missjudgement, there should be no mistake. There should only be .. results

A life like this is similarly to die itself. And he is willing to take commit this, his life is not the only price here..
No, his life does not matter anymore, perhaps never does. But his only choice of keeping his baby survival is similarly equal to requiered him to be alive too. He is not important.. but the baby is.. How much.. just how much he wish he could take his last breath now..

But he cannot, no he cannot, not until his baby reach for safety.

But the question remained.. how long has it been.. if by any chance something, some clues, that would glint to his baby's death.. he would gladly go too

He writhe and writhe in pain, succumbing into suffering painted all over his body.

Along the consciousness and unconsciousness, he remembered, remembered so well that he could not give in. He have roles to play, roles to impose without fail. Master, that is right. He have to keep his master busy, kept him occupied, provoking him, taking his attention, to be with him.. to be his play toy, his punch bag, his ragdoll, whatever is equivelant to it. Without surviving too long ..without dying too fast in his hand.

How impossible this is with all his broken figure.. how to keep conscious while he wished to be unconscious.. it is a physical game and a mind game all at the same time. All at the same moment.. that felt like forever

Zylen does not know how to keep himself awake anymore, or even to know what William is up to.. no he got no time, never enough time for this.. he have to act now.. Now! Before he lost himself again. In desperation to carry out his plan, he slammed his knuckle to the wooden table he has been layed on, chained upon. Even once sent him a nerve wrecking electric pain shot into his nerve, but it does create a bang, not too loud as much as he wanted to, but loud enough to annoyed his inhuman master. And so while holding his breath and bracing himself he repeats the similar action. He cried a moan this time. Has this hand deemed to be useless now? Could it be use anymore? .. it does not matter.. it never does if it has only been harvested very carelessly only to be broken again. And so he repeats.

He did so not even realizing he is screaming, in between the desperate line of staying awake and pain to be sent unconscious he does not even hear rushed footsteps that has soon reached him. The only thing that made his vision cleared again is when he felt a touch.. no.. a grip, very, very harsh grip upon his neck, lifting his head to mid air.. no choking him to mid air. The single hand is enough.. his master is a large man, and he have known better.. perhaps much better than anyone who has ever encountered his master.

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