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Fire Bird continued:
This is part 2 of the last part, part 3 comes later.All previous parts are in memories, here.
Kirill took the ropes and retied them so that Boris hung from a bolt in the ceiling like a butchered pig, swinging slightly as Kirill prodded him. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Here the monster of his infant dreams hung, exactly as he himself had hung so many times. The tears ran down the devil’s pale face, like they had run down his own so many times before he finally gave everything to Boris.
He took Boris’ hand in his and asked him if he remembered the first time he’d taken him.
“You pushed me down on my face, ground my head in the pillow and fucked me like I was a doll—do you remember? All that blood… and then you wore your glove, and broke my fingers one by one…I’ll spare you that, Boris,” and the man sagged a bit in the ropes and sobbed in relief.
“No, I won’t do that to you, not one by one,” he said and crushed his fingers together in his iron grip. Boris’ scream rose to a shriek before he sagged in the ropes.
Kirill looked at him in disgust. “Tsk. This is going to go very slowly if he’s going to leave us like this. He smacked Boris’ face but got no response. He frowned and shook him, stopped when Ivan’s voice registered.
“Spirits of ammonia are in the cabinet. I could get them for you…” Alexei lifted him up with a smack on his buttocks. “Help your master, lazy boy.”
Ivan ran to the armoire and motioned for Kirill to move back. He swiftly removed a stoppered bottle, hesitated and removed a plain wood case. He closed the lead lined doors on the crystal-studded devices inside.
He padded silently, gracefully across the floor and laid the box at Kirill’s feet. “You may be interested in these, master, I think.” He handed the little stoppered, cut glass bottle to Kirill and imitated a smile. “He used this on me a few times. It should convince him to join us in this world again.”
“At least for a little while, until I send him forever to hell.” Kirill covered the boy’s hand and kissed him slowly and deeply, enjoying Ivan’s instant and total surrender to him. He backed away from him, sent him back to climb into bed with Alexei.
A pass of the bottle under Boris’ nose brought him sputtering back to consciousness, and Kirill patted his arm.” feeling better?” he asked and squeezed. The bones of Boris’s arm gave with a wet crunch, he screamed and jerked in the ropes as the sharp pearly ends of the bone pierced his flesh from inside, and hung gasping, terror making him fight to stay aware.
”Ah, yes. I remember that feeling, what you’re experiencing now. It passes Uncle, it does. But for you,” he mused, "I suppose the passing of the pain will be the end of all sensation.” Kirill said and circled him.
“Let me tell you a story, I think you have time for a story." The leaping, stuttering candlelight made Boris features dance in and out of shadow and only the wet gleaming of his eyes in the shadowy corner let him know Boris was alive—aware.
“Once upon a time,” and he shook a shard that poked through Boris’ skin to make certain all his attention was on him—
“A –a-- thing was left, maybe by it’s parents, to die in the forest. An evil magician found the thing and for reasons known only to himself raised the creature, and punished him everyday for the crime of being not-human. And every night the thing healed so it could happen again. Every night for years until one day the thing found out he was not a monster after all. He was not a prince—but he was worthy of princes.” He shook the shard again and waited till Boris ceased screaming, and continued, “Why do you think the magician tortured the thing? Was it because he was afraid he was really the monster?”
Kirill reached out and pressed a thumb against Boris’ cheekbone until it buckled. “Tears don’t help, do they? Screaming doesn’t help. Learn to love it in the time you have, Boris--- that helps.”
He turned to Ivan. "What did you bring me Vanya? What does the box hold?”
Ivan ran to crouch at Kirill’s feet, opened and removed a slim blade from the box. He held it out to Kirill, and the edge caught the light and blazed. Alexei let out an appreciative murmur of sound, and shifted on the sheets.
“You are a creative person, Uncle, let me show you what I’ve learned.”
Boris learned that the way to peel something was to take long thin strips with a very sharp blade and a steady hand.
Ivan sat at Kirill’s feet and watched him flay Boris with an impassive face. He stroked Kirill’s legs and pressed kisses to his very hot skin. Occasionally he heard murmured encouragement from Alexei, and Boris’s screams quickly gave way to frantic panting—too much energy was required for him to scream now, and every breath was a gift not to be squandered.
Kirill stepped away from the man and watched his skin shiver as though it were trying to crawl off his bones. He was covered in a thin film of Boris’s blood, and smiled as a childhood memory flashed quickly through his mind, a beating received for bloodying a shirt, a beating that went on until he’d lost consciousness and woke to find himself curled in a corner and his skin pink all over with his own blood. Pink again, he thought, and admired the sheen of blood on his arm, as he twisted it and watched the play of light on the blood—rose, than black than pink than brown, a symphony of colors.
Ivan still sat at his feet, and he rubbed his bloodied hands over Ivan’s insistent ones, Ivan’s hands were in his groin, fingers running through the curls nestled around his cock, and tracing the length as he rubbed his mouth against his thigh. His cock jerked awake under the caress and Boris watched horrified as Ivan engulfed the blood-streaked shaft. Kirill flung his head back and groaned at the heat around him.
Alexei moved off the bed to stand behind him. The smell tantalized his nose and made his mouth water-- the scent of Alexei, Alexei, Alexei—He smelled roses and felt a warm oil slick finger push slowly into him. His cock swelled even more as the pressure inside grew greater. Ivan moaned and tried to get more into his mouth and Kirill rocked back and forth, speared on the pleasure of Alexei behind him and Ivan in front of him.
Alexei whispered into his ear, “Now-- the time grows short, little one. Now is the time to finish the story.”
He held Kirill and fucked him slowly with his finger as he bit along his shoulder, up to his ear again and he whispered to him, “The monster found it was not—it was a miraculous creature—a Fire Bird, and after dying over and over and raising from it’s own ashes again and again, it finally earned it’s reward.” Kirill sighed, a long deep contented sigh. Alexei pushed in deep and reached a spot that made Kirill strain against him and cry out. “And it rode out of hell on the back of a wolf, and together they ate the bones of the magician, and were forever united by that act.”
When he stopped speaking Kirill yelled out and thrust down Ivan’s throat. “Forever!” He plunged in and out wildly for a second, the boy rocked back and forth and struggled to contain the leaping cock.
TBC in part three
ETA:wtf? bad girl!
Kirill took the ropes and retied them so that Boris hung from a bolt in the ceiling like a butchered pig, swinging slightly as Kirill prodded him. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Here the monster of his infant dreams hung, exactly as he himself had hung so many times. The tears ran down the devil’s pale face, like they had run down his own so many times before he finally gave everything to Boris.
He took Boris’ hand in his and asked him if he remembered the first time he’d taken him.
“You pushed me down on my face, ground my head in the pillow and fucked me like I was a doll—do you remember? All that blood… and then you wore your glove, and broke my fingers one by one…I’ll spare you that, Boris,” and the man sagged a bit in the ropes and sobbed in relief.
“No, I won’t do that to you, not one by one,” he said and crushed his fingers together in his iron grip. Boris’ scream rose to a shriek before he sagged in the ropes.
Kirill looked at him in disgust. “Tsk. This is going to go very slowly if he’s going to leave us like this. He smacked Boris’ face but got no response. He frowned and shook him, stopped when Ivan’s voice registered.
“Spirits of ammonia are in the cabinet. I could get them for you…” Alexei lifted him up with a smack on his buttocks. “Help your master, lazy boy.”
Ivan ran to the armoire and motioned for Kirill to move back. He swiftly removed a stoppered bottle, hesitated and removed a plain wood case. He closed the lead lined doors on the crystal-studded devices inside.
He padded silently, gracefully across the floor and laid the box at Kirill’s feet. “You may be interested in these, master, I think.” He handed the little stoppered, cut glass bottle to Kirill and imitated a smile. “He used this on me a few times. It should convince him to join us in this world again.”
“At least for a little while, until I send him forever to hell.” Kirill covered the boy’s hand and kissed him slowly and deeply, enjoying Ivan’s instant and total surrender to him. He backed away from him, sent him back to climb into bed with Alexei.
A pass of the bottle under Boris’ nose brought him sputtering back to consciousness, and Kirill patted his arm.” feeling better?” he asked and squeezed. The bones of Boris’s arm gave with a wet crunch, he screamed and jerked in the ropes as the sharp pearly ends of the bone pierced his flesh from inside, and hung gasping, terror making him fight to stay aware.
”Ah, yes. I remember that feeling, what you’re experiencing now. It passes Uncle, it does. But for you,” he mused, "I suppose the passing of the pain will be the end of all sensation.” Kirill said and circled him.
“Let me tell you a story, I think you have time for a story." The leaping, stuttering candlelight made Boris features dance in and out of shadow and only the wet gleaming of his eyes in the shadowy corner let him know Boris was alive—aware.
“Once upon a time,” and he shook a shard that poked through Boris’ skin to make certain all his attention was on him—
“A –a-- thing was left, maybe by it’s parents, to die in the forest. An evil magician found the thing and for reasons known only to himself raised the creature, and punished him everyday for the crime of being not-human. And every night the thing healed so it could happen again. Every night for years until one day the thing found out he was not a monster after all. He was not a prince—but he was worthy of princes.” He shook the shard again and waited till Boris ceased screaming, and continued, “Why do you think the magician tortured the thing? Was it because he was afraid he was really the monster?”
Kirill reached out and pressed a thumb against Boris’ cheekbone until it buckled. “Tears don’t help, do they? Screaming doesn’t help. Learn to love it in the time you have, Boris--- that helps.”
He turned to Ivan. "What did you bring me Vanya? What does the box hold?”
Ivan ran to crouch at Kirill’s feet, opened and removed a slim blade from the box. He held it out to Kirill, and the edge caught the light and blazed. Alexei let out an appreciative murmur of sound, and shifted on the sheets.
“You are a creative person, Uncle, let me show you what I’ve learned.”
Boris learned that the way to peel something was to take long thin strips with a very sharp blade and a steady hand.
Ivan sat at Kirill’s feet and watched him flay Boris with an impassive face. He stroked Kirill’s legs and pressed kisses to his very hot skin. Occasionally he heard murmured encouragement from Alexei, and Boris’s screams quickly gave way to frantic panting—too much energy was required for him to scream now, and every breath was a gift not to be squandered.
Kirill stepped away from the man and watched his skin shiver as though it were trying to crawl off his bones. He was covered in a thin film of Boris’s blood, and smiled as a childhood memory flashed quickly through his mind, a beating received for bloodying a shirt, a beating that went on until he’d lost consciousness and woke to find himself curled in a corner and his skin pink all over with his own blood. Pink again, he thought, and admired the sheen of blood on his arm, as he twisted it and watched the play of light on the blood—rose, than black than pink than brown, a symphony of colors.
Ivan still sat at his feet, and he rubbed his bloodied hands over Ivan’s insistent ones, Ivan’s hands were in his groin, fingers running through the curls nestled around his cock, and tracing the length as he rubbed his mouth against his thigh. His cock jerked awake under the caress and Boris watched horrified as Ivan engulfed the blood-streaked shaft. Kirill flung his head back and groaned at the heat around him.
Alexei moved off the bed to stand behind him. The smell tantalized his nose and made his mouth water-- the scent of Alexei, Alexei, Alexei—He smelled roses and felt a warm oil slick finger push slowly into him. His cock swelled even more as the pressure inside grew greater. Ivan moaned and tried to get more into his mouth and Kirill rocked back and forth, speared on the pleasure of Alexei behind him and Ivan in front of him.
Alexei whispered into his ear, “Now-- the time grows short, little one. Now is the time to finish the story.”
He held Kirill and fucked him slowly with his finger as he bit along his shoulder, up to his ear again and he whispered to him, “The monster found it was not—it was a miraculous creature—a Fire Bird, and after dying over and over and raising from it’s own ashes again and again, it finally earned it’s reward.” Kirill sighed, a long deep contented sigh. Alexei pushed in deep and reached a spot that made Kirill strain against him and cry out. “And it rode out of hell on the back of a wolf, and together they ate the bones of the magician, and were forever united by that act.”
When he stopped speaking Kirill yelled out and thrust down Ivan’s throat. “Forever!” He plunged in and out wildly for a second, the boy rocked back and forth and struggled to contain the leaping cock.
TBC in part three
ETA:wtf? bad girl!
no subject
Very tasty.
no subject