Souls Unfractured
Page 8

“All of them, boy,” he demanded again. “Get all of them gone.”
Releasing my granite cock, I snapped the button of the leathers, yanking them apart and wrenched them down my legs.
My shoulders tightened and my chest heaved waiting for the next command. My hands were balled into fists at my side, my untouched cock aching, hard and waiting.
My eyes were shut, my teeth gripping harder on the blade, when the voice suddenly commanded, “Get on the floor.”
My legs dropped from beneath me onto the small hatch built into my cabin’s floor. I grabbed the blade from my mouth, and with my other hand, took hold of my dick. Curling my fingers around my flesh, I let my long nails dig in, hissing at the flash of blinding pain.
I moaned. I moaned loud and my hips thrust forward. My hand started to move; back and forth, back and forth. It hurt. It burned… it felt so fucking good.
This was what I needed.
This was what I fucking needed.
My mouth dropped open as my hand worked faster. My body tensed as I felt the fire spiking up my spine. The pressure built in my balls. But I couldn’t come. It was there. The fire, the flames needing to get out. But I needed… I needed…
In a flash, the steel blade cut down my thigh, the sharp edge slicing into my flesh. Blood pooled at the wound, as the voice hissed, “One.” He counted me on with each strike. “Two.” My hand worked faster and faster up and down my dick, my sharp nails clawing into my thin skin. “Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…” I hunched over, my breath hissing through my gritted teeth as the voice, and the blade’s deep strikes, built me higher and higher. “Ten,” the voice called louder, blood dripping down my thighs and onto the hatch.
Body tensing, I braced for the final command. My hand squeezed tight, nails shredding my cock, the blade stabbing deep into my thigh. Then the voice thundered, “ELEVEN!” With a rush of pure heat, every muscle inside my body roared with fire. My bones shook with pent up rage, and with a pained scream, I came. I came so fucking hard that my head threw back and my blade clattered to the floor.
I fought to breathe, my exhausted body slumping forward. But when I caught my breath, the usual slam of nausea rolled in my stomach, my body lurching to the side as I wretched into the waiting bucket beside me.
When there was nothing left in my stomach, the emptiness was replaced with the rush of shame I felt every night. Every night after I’d cut myself, purged and obeyed his voice.
My head hung as I felt cum on my legs, mixing with the blood on the floor beneath me. Shifting my aching tired body, I wrapped my arms around my waist and fell down to lie on the floor. Sucking in a stuttered breath, my chest wheezing from my release, I laid over the hatch on the hard cold floor. I closed my eyes, and tried my best to sleep.
His voice, inside my head, quiet for now.
Chapter Four
Maddie
I loved to draw.
It was something I had discovered in my many nights spent alone in my bedroom.
And I was good. At least I thought I was. But more than that, it was my escape. I got to live out the fantasy life I had dreamed for myself, if my upbringing had been different… if I were different.
A cold wind wrapped around my body as I sat outside. Sleep did not find me, and my hands itched to draw. It was the middle of the night, and the stars shone in the dark sky like diamonds.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled. I loved breathing in the night air. I loved being outside. I simply loved the peace.
Sitting back on the lawn chair, I reached for the three quarter full sketchpad lying on the grass. Opening the bound book, I flicked past the first few pages; pictures of leaves, birds and trees. I skipped past the pages of a young girl in a meadow, smiling up at the large sun. Four young sisters walking hand in hand—three dark haired¸ one bright blond—still innocent and untouched.
Then as I turned the next page, I stopped, hands freezing, as a familiar set of midnight eyes stared up at me from the page, as though they were real and shining in the moonlight beneath my window.
With a timid finger, I traced the edge of those eyes and wished that I were able to touch him in reality. I held my right hand in the air, and with my left hand, intertwined the fingers just to imagine how it might feel.
A hand holding mine.
One simple touch.
A touch that said so much.
A slice of pain hit my chest, and I sighed deeply in sadness. Because since meeting Flame, my thoughts had changed so much.
In commune, I used to dream that I was a butterfly. That I would spread my colorful wings and fly away from all the pain. But now, when Flame was near, I dreamed anew. I dreamed that one day I would know what his hand felt like holding mine.
My heart sank at this impossibility. Dropping my hands, I let my fingers loosen and break their hold.
Suddenly, my attention was pulled by the sound of rustling trees. I sat bolt upright in the chair and stared at the dark line of the forest. My heart slammed against my ribcage, when a figure emerged from the heavy foliage.
My breathing paused, fear taking hold, then a familiar pair of leather boots and trousers entered the moonlit lawn. Blades hung from his belt, and his torso was naked under the heavy leather cut.
Flame.
My heart, that was already racing, seemed to beat at an impossible speed. And then Flame lifted his head, and it ceased to beat at all.
The frown that was on his face instantly blanked. His lips mumbling something under his breath, stilling mid-speech.
I clutched the blanket lying over my knees to my chest. I remained frozen, as did Flame. I had not expected him to come tonight, his friends had taken him back to his home. I could see from my window how exhausted he had been.  I could see, even in the haze of moonlight, how tired he was still.