The beast caught the boy by the waist and carried him on the pillows. Gene took a chair, straddled it, resting his hands on its back and put his chin down. The sadist was sitting, covering the rest ones to look at the couple. Gene tried not to embody his ideas in the presence of other masters, he hated when so seldom awaken life was broken off, and people could do that with one misplaced word. The masters didn’t look at them; they had enough fun with Simon. Alon threw Ad on the pillows, frantically wondering what to do with the boy that would satisfy the sadists.
“In Keenee people believe the soul lives in the eyes, how are you gonna fuck his soul?” Gene said.
Alon gulped, wondering what to say. What occurred to Alon, Gene would unlikely be pleased with, and he would come up with a better option.
“Fuck someone else, and make him watch it,” the beast said dully.
“My thought is better,” Gene smiled, not hurrying Alon.
The beast became nervous how to invent feverish something that the sophisticated sadist would like, without hurting Ad. It took several long minutes.
“You have three hours. Ad deserved one and a half and another hour and a half I present you for the good behaviour. If you wouldn’t annoy me earlier. If you can’t make up anything else, you'll have to gouge his eyes out,” said Gene.
“If I gouge his eyes out, I'll cripple him.”
Gene didn't find it was necessary to answer. Alon pressed Ad with the hand down to the bed, gripped the skin on his belly, thoughts stopped, nothing was coming to mind. Ad was covetedly squirming under his hand, making it difficult to think. Gene demanded to think in the direction in which he had been forbidden to think for thirty years.
“I'll make a small cut in the solar plexus, the rest of it I’ll tear up with my dick. The soul is there, according to legends of other countries,” Alon said not his idea, he had read at Albireo about this, and now the memory suggested the option.
“We think so, as well,” breathed out Ad. “And only looks through eyes.”
“You who?” the sadist asked.
“Kee-Niu, it's an island in Oceania.”
“Okay,” Gene agreed.
Alon feeling relief nodded.
“Need a knife,” Alon swallowed.
Gene took out a knife from his pocket, threw it onto the pillows, thinking an at a glance how easy it would now be ruined by all the spectators who would yell that the slave had a knife. The beast nervously rubbed the tip of the knife, staining it with his blood.
Ad doomily-sweet shuddered, moved, slightly opened the lips towards the cut finger of Alon. The man made a nail cut on the boy's skin; Ad exhaled, obediently spread his long legs. Alon vigorously made a deep cut, Ad woundedly screamed, frantically began to breathe. The beast leaned down and licked the outcome of blood. The stupefying smell of the Ad’s blood excited the man, Alon hang over the boy and went into the wound, forcing his way inside. Ad screamed, tearing a scream, gasped for breath. The blood was pouring from the wound, staining the bodies and the pillows. The boy nailed into the man's buttocks. Alon tried not to go crazy and not fall at a faster pace. It was sweet to possess the boy, Ad, on the contrary, tried to drive the man crazy, he didn't care who was looking at them, didn’t care about the reason of the action of Alon. Whether he did it at pleasure or by perforce. Ad moved frantically towards Alon, caressing his owner. Alon growled, holding the boy. Ad silently screamed, ecstatically, despite the extreme pain, he began to tighten the muscles of the plexus. Alon felt with the penis something quivering, alive, groaned and rushed inside, trying to touch the soul of Ad. He seemed to have snapped, because the happiness covered him, drowning his mind.
The man no longer thought that Ad could die. The tremulous living creature beating in sweet embarrassment for a few moments from the touch of his cock, let in, and there was a whole world. That let in the symbol of power over Ad, starting to rearrange the rhythm of his life to the rhythm of movements of the penis of Alon. The world was so ancient and eternal that it just didn’t know the fear of death. Alon had a primal belief that he possessed the soul of Ad. Ad shook from the emotions that rushed to the outside with the blood. He couldn't scream. Alon poured out; it seemed to Ad that the fires of hell flew into the soul. He would have lost consciousness, but the soul didn’t want to fly out of the body, he would have died, but the soul didn’t want to leave. The ecstasy of the soul required some output, it was too tight to Ad in this world, and he saw no way out. Melodic, beautiful short inhuman cry as divine music burst out of the throat of Ad. Everyone turned around, quenching their convulsions of religious fear.
Gene quite easily moved to the pair, watching the proof of God's existence. The trembling stopped under the Alon’s dick, filling it in response with the intolerable, unbearable happiness. It seemed that the heart of the beast was tearing from his chest, somewhere in the solar plexus something clenched, resonantly knocking from the inside, looking for the way out. Alon came out, found the knife quickly made a cut on himself; something was breaking loose that it was unbearable not to give it out and covered the wound of the boy with his solar plexus. The attacks from inside intensified, the blood or something gushing fell as a clot into the wound of Ad. The world went dark before man’s eyes, and both lost consciousness. Gene didn’t interfere into the souls’ fucking, looking somewhere, as if he saw them. Keeneer faintly smiled.
“Did something happen?” asked Aletta timidly towards his direction. Gene, as always, didn’t answer, he was always abstracted from the present. It wasn’t allowed to touch him; otherwise it was likely to run into the uncontrollable anger of the sadist. Such moments of prostration were extremely rare, so it was easy not to disturb him during them.
Ad and Alon sighed at the same time. The beast smiled happily. Ad was shining too with a dizzying smile.
“Cauterize,” Gene nodded on the brazier, where the stamps of Stine and Aletta were heating, “Or you can sew it up.”
Alon looked at Ad, and he was looking trustingly at the man.
“I will sew,” he didn’t want to put the stamps of the masters on the body of Ad. And ... he already had cauterized, but he hadn’t sewed him up. He must have admitted, the insane idea of Gene brought enchanting all-consuming delight. And Alon was beginning to enjoy the pain of Ad. Gene got up, went for the thread, it was right there in the games room. Threw a silver hank on the pillows, sat back on the chair, smeared with his sperm. The beast threaded a needle, tried to fold the muscles so as not to leave a hernia. The sperm and blood rose upward, seeking to splash out.
“No. Skin only,” said Gene.
Alon shrugged, his sperm will remain in the soul of Ad, he was sure. Folded the skin, sat across the boy's body, pinning him with the legs so he wouldn’t twitch, stuck the needle into the skin. Ad injuring quietly cried out.
“Sew a letter,” said Gene. Alon did not ask again, deciding to pretend that hadn’t understood and embroidered the letter "A" on the chest of Ad. Ad was crying out in pain, clawing the Alon’s leg. The action brought a lot of pleasure to the man; he smiled as if not noticing the suffering of the boy. When he finished, he bent down, licked the wound and released off Ad. He clutched the wound and cringed.
“Now it’s your turn,” Alon gave him the thread.
Ad loudly sobbed, hysterically put a new string and without pressing his man to the pillows hit the needle in the chest of Alon and began to sew. Ad was sewing very long. "A" turned out to be carved, although the cut of Alon didn’t need the stitching at all. Alon bravely endured the actions of the boy; he was smiling, he would be happy to wear the letter of Ad. Suddenly, he smiled wider, he wore at the shoulder not the initials of Aletta, but the name of Ad. Ad was sewing already the pure, not wounded skin. Bending, the boy bit the string, kissed the letter and sat down. Gene looked at the couple.
“Oh, done. You should have sewed "S" actually,” the man said, looking at the couple.
“Excuse me, master; you didn’t specify,” Alon got scared.
“Didn't I?” Gene quietly, very ominously laughed, crocodiles might laugh this way, if they could, the dark reddish eyes were clear, transparent, closer to the brown colour. “Do you want to re-sew up?”
Alon shortly shook his head. Gene shortly chuckled on this. Alon incredulously, cautiously dared to breathe out a smile in response.
Ad clung to Alon; the pain didn’t decrease, forcing to shudder and moan.
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