“Imagine you want me inside you, even though you know it will hurt. Imagine you can hear me moaning with pleasure over the way you’re taking me, holding me so tight and hot within you. I’m kneeling between your legs, holding your hips tight against me, knowing I’m hurting you, but wanting so much to give you pleasure, not pain. But I can’t do that, and I need it so desperately in order to stay sane.
“I can see the expression on your face as you try to accommodate me. I hear you whimper as I press myself in further, but you don’t tell me to stop. You only struggle to accept it, because you know how very much I need it. And I can tell it’s hurtin’ you a lot, since your cock is barely hard. Much as I want to give you pleasure, I cannot. All I can do is cause pain, and that tears me up inside, but I can’t stop.
“It feels so wonderful, so good, to be inside you. I’m about to come, but I desperately want you to enjoy it also. One of my hands moves up to your chest, my fingers spread wide to touch and rub those tender nipples. I wrap my other hand around your dick, pulling gently, rubbing my thumb over your exposed slit. You gasp as your body responds. I can feel your muscles clenching around me, your insides starting those pulsing spasms that drive me wild. I can’t hold back. I can’t – but I must, I must.
“My fingers work you frantically now. Your body opens impossibly further, yielding to my relentless attack, pulling me in deeper. I can hold out no longer. With a few more strokes, I take my release deep within you. I feel your cum spurt out against my chest as I struggle to catch my breath.”
As the spell of his words breaks down around me, I realize I have felt it all just as he has described, including my orgasm. The deep aching pain is still there but seems less, perhaps because he has relieved some of the tension in my gut. I want to cry. I want to hold him while he holds me. But reality will not allow that. I keep my eyes closed, so I do not have to see what is really out there.
“I’m not leavin’ you alone yet, Elf, not until you’re asleep. Stay with me here, darlin’.
“The sex is over. I get up and go into our bathroom to start the hot water running in the tub. I come back and lift you up from our bed, carrying you in my arms then lowering you into the water. I know you’re still hurting. I can see it in your face and the way you grimace whenever you move. As the tub fills up, I kneel beside it, massaging your belly gently, trying to ease the tightness of the muscles I can feel beneath my hands. And they do relax, a little, but I can still feel that aching hardness inside you.
“I soap you up and rinse you off with the shower attachment while the water runs down the drain. I help you up and wrap you in one of those big towels we have. I support you as you use the toilet, then carry you back to bed. I tuck the quilt around us both as I gather you into my arms, where I can hold you against me.
“I kiss your hair and the tips of your ears and your closed eyelids. I place my hand once more on your belly, just above your penis and on top of that scar that stretches from one side to the other. I know that’s where it hurts, and I want so much to make it stop. I long to heal you, but all I can do is heal myself. Never before have I realized how useless it can be to heal oneself, when you cannot also heal the ones you love. All I can do is hold you close and hope that I may never have to let you go. Finally, you rest your hand on top of mine and sigh. Your breathing slows, your body relaxes a bit at a time. Your head lolls against my chest. And I lie beside you through the endless night, keeping watch as well as I can until the dawn.”
Resting in his arms, I sleep until shortly before the next time that Victor comes in to wake me up.
Yes, there is surely something wrong. It is harder for me to think straight, what with the steady ache deep inside me, on top of my other accumulated hurts. I feel as if I have a fever and I am terribly thirsty, far more than I should be. But I cannot even reach for the water bottle, since Victor did not free my hand at all last time. Despite the fact that I have not eaten much since I have been here, I am not hungry any longer. In fact, my stomach is downright queasy just at the thought of food. These are all possible symptoms of peritonitis, so the most likely reason, as I have already surmised, is a tear in my sigmoid colon or rectum, which is leaking into my abdominal cavity and causing infection. My time is clearly running out. I cannot afford to play games with Victor much longer. One way or the other, this must end soon.
As soon as Victor comes into the room, he unfastens the harness around my hips and pulls out the butt plug. The abrupt stretch tears my anus again, but at least eases the throbbing deeper inside. By the time I have finished moaning, he has returned with a towel and begun to mop up the mess of blood and fluid.
“I made you bleed again, didn’t I?” he inquires with false concern. “Sorry about that.”
I have caught my breath now, and the most recent layer of pain has eased off a bit. I start in on my German cursing, to get him used to it.
“All right, enough of that shit.”
Giving in to one of the strange quirks of mischief that often invade my mind, I conclude with another of my Germanized versions of a Yiddish curse. “Du sollst wachsen wie ein Tsibeleh, mit Kopf im Dreck!”
“I said enough!” He runs his hand down the decorations that are still in my tail, then flicks his finger hard against the needle in my glans.
But the pain is worth it, since I just told him he should grow like an onion, with his head in the ground.
“Now, what shall it be for today, fairy boy?”
“I vould not mind a drink of vater,” I suggest hopefully.
“Oh dear! Did I forget to free your hand last time? Tsk tsk. My bad.” He reaches under the table and brings out the water bottle. “Yeah, I guess you could use some about now, couldn’t you? Not exactly what I had in mind, but we’ll start there.”
He opens the cap and pours the entire bottle over my face, which allows some of it to get into my mouth, but not nearly as much as I need. But he does not free my hand.
“Aw, looks as if I spilled most of it.” He tosses the empty bottle over his shoulder. “Are you still thirsty?”
Warily, I nod.
“We seem to be out of water. Maybe you’d like to drink some of my piss, hmm? I’m sure you’d prefer his –“ He jerks a thumb toward the monitors, which show Logan watching us intently “– but that’s not in the picture.”
I make a disgusted face and shake my head.
“I could piss on you, if you’d rather. You could stand some cleaning up, you know. Or maybe you’d like it to go up your ass instead? I’ve heard that can feel pretty good, if you’re into such things.”
All right, time for me to get on with it. I do not really want to do this, but I have thought of no other way. There are still too many risks, but I have run out of options.
“Come on, Victor, is that the best you can think of? Do you seriously believe I’d be that ashamed to drink your pee? Or be terribly bothered by any of the rest of it? If so, you greatly underestimate me. Let’s stop playing children’s games and get down to the real thing. Fuck me! Shove your dick up my ass and see if you really can hurt me with it. Let’s get this over with, right now.”