And In Keeping With The Xmas Season...
12/14/04 11:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxy...A Very Merry Fire Bird!
Uncle Boris stomped the snow from his boots as he dropped the fragrant pine tree in the little foyer. "I'm home," he called and little Kirill came running in, his eyes wide with joy at the sight of the tree shedding flakes of sno..OMFG.
That's probably the sickest thing I've done here yet. let me post this fic and try to control my tummy.
Previous Parts, blah-blah go see.
Fire Bird
“Uncle, stop,” Kirill gasped through the nausea clutching at his throat.
“What, you went away and developed a conscience?” He laughed and pulled back the rod and Ivan drew in a long shuddery breath.
“Were you struck like Paul on the road to Damascus? Maybe you want to take this one’s place or…or mine, perhaps? No, I think you need to take Ivan’s. You made some fatal mistake, or you would be dead, or in Saint Petersburg, locked up by Alexei. You really need to be punished. Yes you do,” he crooned while rocking the rod slowly in and out of Ivan’s mouth.
Again Kirill begged his Uncle to stop and let the towel fall from his body so that he was nude before him. Ivan looked and groaned around the rod, his eyes locked on Kirill’s cock, his legs, his body. Boris smiled. “Ah, Vanya, sweet, you like that yes, I see you like it. Look, he likes it too,” and pointed to Kirill’s cock swaying heavier with blood, and Ivan rocked forward and Boris pulled the rod out.
“Stand up, you.” Ivan rose to his feet and staggered. Kirill reached out and held him upright, making Boris laugh. “You --get to your knees,” and moved around Kirill’s kneeling form when he obeyed. He held the rod in front of his face, slick with Ivan’s saliva. Kirill groaned –pain twisted his gut.
Boris stroked his cheek with it. ”You know, I had this made after you were gone. I can’t believe it never occurred to me to have it made for you. I’d planed to bring it with me to Petersburg, if you survived. But Ivan likes it, don’t you, Vanya?” Ivan shuddered and Kirill could smell his arousal. His own cock sank and rose with each move of the artificial penis down his neck, across his chest….
Boris ordered Ivan close to him, handed him the rod. “Fuck him, little boy. Fuck this thing. He loves to be hurt. As much as he loved hurting you, did you know that? He’d cry so pretty for me. Make him cry for you.”
He held the crystal cock in Ivan’s hand, helped to guide it into Kirill, who screamed, long tearing screams. Ivan shuddered in horror but Boris smacked him hard, snapping his head to the side.
“Do it. Fuck him.”
Kirill’s head was between his arms, face to the floor and his body poured with sweat.
“Do as he says,” he moaned and gasped. “Do as he says.” And Ivan pushed it forward, moved the rod in and out, and stroked and soothed his quivering muscles with one hand. Blood began showing on the rod, and Ivan felt ill, Boris raised his hand and he pushed harder, harder and Kirill began to groan, not only in pain. He rocked back to meet the rod, screaming still, groaning, screaming, begging Boris, calling for Alexei, begging for forgiveness, and Ivan felt arousal and revulsion, the feelings fought to control him.
Boris whispered in Ivan’s ear, stopped him with a hand on his. He whispered and mouthed Ivan’s neck, reached around and unbuttoned his trousers. He slid them free, and took Ivan in his hand, Ivan closed his eyes in shame, he was so hard that the touch of Boris’s hand made his buck up into his grip. Boris laughed and guided Ivan to Kirill’s quivering form. “In, Ivan,” and Ivan thrust in on one long glide.
The heat nearly undid him; he froze, because the slightest movement and he would spend himself. He stilled and panted, but Kirill’s long low moan tore a gasp out of him, made him pump his hips. The master was so hot and slick, so slick, and he tried to block out the thought of blood on the green rod. Not just blood, and too hot to be believed. He began shuddering, and he ripped his nails down Kirill’s back.
“Come, you. Come now,” Boris hissed and striped Kirill’s face with a slim wand, the green handle glowing. “I’ve made many new toys for you, my dear."
Blood poured from the boy’s split cheek and Ivan came at his groan—the smell of blood and come drove Kirill over the edge after him. He shook and cried out again and again for Alexei, he needed Alexei. Boris switched him. “Quite! You don’t need tears! Tears are for men! Beasts don’t cry!”
Ivan staggered away from Boris and his rage, He feared for the master, he feared for himself. He crawled into a space between the wall and the cabinet and cried silently. Listened to the screams, the sound of flesh being beaten open and prayed for them all.
********
Days may have passed but Kirill could no longer be sure, he had lost all ability to think of anything beyond his body. The room was stayed dark at all times, lit only by greasy candles that sputtered and flickered and filled the air with the smell of burning fat. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t his flesh he smelt. Boris ripped it open again and again only letting him heal enough to present a new surface for him to tear open, he wasn’t healing deeply, and too much of his energy was going into trying to knit up the half healed wounds. He began to think that Boris actually meant to kill him—twice he’d branded him, and the pain had made him pass out, but Boris refused to let him stay in that blackness, that comforting little death. He brought him awake and barely let the blood cool on his skin before he worked on him again. He fucked him with the burning rod so many times he hardly felt it any more, he’d had to suck his cock so many times his jaw was a permanent ache, his throat a flaming streak of pain from the rod Boris used when he had no iron in his own. He coughed blood nearly constantly now; there just wasn’t time enough to heal properly.
Boris reached down and pulled his head up by a handful of hair and smiled at him. “Bath time, beast. You’re beginning to stink. Even Vanya doesn’t want to fuck you anymore.”
Kirill astounded himself with his depth of concern for Ivan. Perhaps that happened when you discovered you have a soul. You developed attachments to others. And Ivan was slowly shredding more and more, these things Boris made him do where not in his nature. He snorted faintly. He, on the other hand, would have had no problem. He still soothed himself from time to time imagining doing some of these things to Boris.
Boris pushed his fingers into his ass and moved them back and forth and it had no more effect on him than – being touched with a feather. He had no response left—it had been burned away these last days- or hours –or weeks for all he knew. The crystal destroyed it all. In a way he was grateful, he could tell Boris used force, his body moved but he felt nothing—nothing—and the blackness crept into the corners of his mind like a dear friend bringing peace.
tbc
Uncle Boris stomped the snow from his boots as he dropped the fragrant pine tree in the little foyer. "I'm home," he called and little Kirill came running in, his eyes wide with joy at the sight of the tree shedding flakes of sno..OMFG.
That's probably the sickest thing I've done here yet. let me post this fic and try to control my tummy.
Previous Parts, blah-blah go see.
Fire Bird
“Uncle, stop,” Kirill gasped through the nausea clutching at his throat.
“What, you went away and developed a conscience?” He laughed and pulled back the rod and Ivan drew in a long shuddery breath.
“Were you struck like Paul on the road to Damascus? Maybe you want to take this one’s place or…or mine, perhaps? No, I think you need to take Ivan’s. You made some fatal mistake, or you would be dead, or in Saint Petersburg, locked up by Alexei. You really need to be punished. Yes you do,” he crooned while rocking the rod slowly in and out of Ivan’s mouth.
Again Kirill begged his Uncle to stop and let the towel fall from his body so that he was nude before him. Ivan looked and groaned around the rod, his eyes locked on Kirill’s cock, his legs, his body. Boris smiled. “Ah, Vanya, sweet, you like that yes, I see you like it. Look, he likes it too,” and pointed to Kirill’s cock swaying heavier with blood, and Ivan rocked forward and Boris pulled the rod out.
“Stand up, you.” Ivan rose to his feet and staggered. Kirill reached out and held him upright, making Boris laugh. “You --get to your knees,” and moved around Kirill’s kneeling form when he obeyed. He held the rod in front of his face, slick with Ivan’s saliva. Kirill groaned –pain twisted his gut.
Boris stroked his cheek with it. ”You know, I had this made after you were gone. I can’t believe it never occurred to me to have it made for you. I’d planed to bring it with me to Petersburg, if you survived. But Ivan likes it, don’t you, Vanya?” Ivan shuddered and Kirill could smell his arousal. His own cock sank and rose with each move of the artificial penis down his neck, across his chest….
Boris ordered Ivan close to him, handed him the rod. “Fuck him, little boy. Fuck this thing. He loves to be hurt. As much as he loved hurting you, did you know that? He’d cry so pretty for me. Make him cry for you.”
He held the crystal cock in Ivan’s hand, helped to guide it into Kirill, who screamed, long tearing screams. Ivan shuddered in horror but Boris smacked him hard, snapping his head to the side.
“Do it. Fuck him.”
Kirill’s head was between his arms, face to the floor and his body poured with sweat.
“Do as he says,” he moaned and gasped. “Do as he says.” And Ivan pushed it forward, moved the rod in and out, and stroked and soothed his quivering muscles with one hand. Blood began showing on the rod, and Ivan felt ill, Boris raised his hand and he pushed harder, harder and Kirill began to groan, not only in pain. He rocked back to meet the rod, screaming still, groaning, screaming, begging Boris, calling for Alexei, begging for forgiveness, and Ivan felt arousal and revulsion, the feelings fought to control him.
Boris whispered in Ivan’s ear, stopped him with a hand on his. He whispered and mouthed Ivan’s neck, reached around and unbuttoned his trousers. He slid them free, and took Ivan in his hand, Ivan closed his eyes in shame, he was so hard that the touch of Boris’s hand made his buck up into his grip. Boris laughed and guided Ivan to Kirill’s quivering form. “In, Ivan,” and Ivan thrust in on one long glide.
The heat nearly undid him; he froze, because the slightest movement and he would spend himself. He stilled and panted, but Kirill’s long low moan tore a gasp out of him, made him pump his hips. The master was so hot and slick, so slick, and he tried to block out the thought of blood on the green rod. Not just blood, and too hot to be believed. He began shuddering, and he ripped his nails down Kirill’s back.
“Come, you. Come now,” Boris hissed and striped Kirill’s face with a slim wand, the green handle glowing. “I’ve made many new toys for you, my dear."
Blood poured from the boy’s split cheek and Ivan came at his groan—the smell of blood and come drove Kirill over the edge after him. He shook and cried out again and again for Alexei, he needed Alexei. Boris switched him. “Quite! You don’t need tears! Tears are for men! Beasts don’t cry!”
Ivan staggered away from Boris and his rage, He feared for the master, he feared for himself. He crawled into a space between the wall and the cabinet and cried silently. Listened to the screams, the sound of flesh being beaten open and prayed for them all.
********
Days may have passed but Kirill could no longer be sure, he had lost all ability to think of anything beyond his body. The room was stayed dark at all times, lit only by greasy candles that sputtered and flickered and filled the air with the smell of burning fat. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t his flesh he smelt. Boris ripped it open again and again only letting him heal enough to present a new surface for him to tear open, he wasn’t healing deeply, and too much of his energy was going into trying to knit up the half healed wounds. He began to think that Boris actually meant to kill him—twice he’d branded him, and the pain had made him pass out, but Boris refused to let him stay in that blackness, that comforting little death. He brought him awake and barely let the blood cool on his skin before he worked on him again. He fucked him with the burning rod so many times he hardly felt it any more, he’d had to suck his cock so many times his jaw was a permanent ache, his throat a flaming streak of pain from the rod Boris used when he had no iron in his own. He coughed blood nearly constantly now; there just wasn’t time enough to heal properly.
Boris reached down and pulled his head up by a handful of hair and smiled at him. “Bath time, beast. You’re beginning to stink. Even Vanya doesn’t want to fuck you anymore.”
Kirill astounded himself with his depth of concern for Ivan. Perhaps that happened when you discovered you have a soul. You developed attachments to others. And Ivan was slowly shredding more and more, these things Boris made him do where not in his nature. He snorted faintly. He, on the other hand, would have had no problem. He still soothed himself from time to time imagining doing some of these things to Boris.
Boris pushed his fingers into his ass and moved them back and forth and it had no more effect on him than – being touched with a feather. He had no response left—it had been burned away these last days- or hours –or weeks for all he knew. The crystal destroyed it all. In a way he was grateful, he could tell Boris used force, his body moved but he felt nothing—nothing—and the blackness crept into the corners of his mind like a dear friend bringing peace.
tbc
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
12/14/04 05:33 pm (UTC)This part is so sick and brutal, *G* poor Kirill.
When is Alexei coming to play?
(no subject)
12/14/04 05:41 pm (UTC)aww! Thank you, it's supposed to be a nickmane for Ivan. When is Alexei coming? If I had time now, he'd be here, but Retail Hell calls my name and I must answer. *sigh* We're almost done here. And next-- happy fic! Lots of puppies and butterflies and happy singing--gack.
(no subject)
12/14/04 05:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 11:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 06:27 pm (UTC)I don't see him being happy, no really not happy at all. Oh well, Boris really wasn't long for this world any way.
(no subject)
12/14/04 11:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 06:53 pm (UTC)Boris will get what's coming to him and then the boys can live happily ever hurtful after. Yay!
(no subject)
12/14/04 11:45 pm (UTC)(it was a little disturbing, yes. *goggles at self*)
(no subject)
12/14/04 07:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 11:47 pm (UTC)Sometimes, my mind goes places without me. And I'm afraid of what's going to happen to Boris, because if it's got to be worse than this? Ewwwwww!!!!!! (which means I do have a little something floating around in my head.*G*)
(no subject)
12/15/04 12:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/15/04 01:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 09:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
12/14/04 11:50 pm (UTC)Thank you, I'm too fond of my Previously's. They're like my little pets!
I'm so happy you like my stories, (bigcheesygrinhere)and if you don't mind, I'm just going to lean over here and lick Lex's belly button.
(no subject)
12/15/04 12:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/15/04 02:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/15/04 02:38 am (UTC)My gods.
And...and...
Alexie is a bastard but - where is he!!
*pets Ivan/Vanya*
You?
Evol.
*hugs you hard*
(no subject)
12/21/04 01:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/21/04 04:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
12/29/04 05:15 pm (UTC)Guh! Boris toying with that rod!!
It's so messed up the way Kirill gets turned on by his own pain and humiliation from Boris - and telling in the way Boris has no concern for Kirill. The fading of response to Boris torture doesn't seem to even register with Boris. And did I mention hot? Especially when Kirill is calling for Alexei.
This little story has me all upsidedown!!