Second Day

24th day of the 9th moon, 1103 HC

Damion senses the bed shift, the covers being drawn back, and something crosses over his lower body… and a heavy weight presses down on his thighs. Fuck. Mulsae is straddling me. Damion turns his head to press his forehead into the pillow when Mulsae begins to firmly massage his ass. The anal plug minutely shifts left and right, up and down, in and out as his ass cheeks are groped which intensifies the sensations of the massage. I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be fucked again.

“Please,” Damion croaks out.

“Please what?” Mulsae replies.

“Please don't,” he whispers.

“Don't what?” Mulsae's ministrations around his ass cheeks never stop.

“Please don't… don't fuck me,” Damion whispers and promptly follows it with a deep wet sniffle which exposes the tears soaking into the pillow.

“You've asked so politely. Good boy. I am happy that you expressed what you want to me.” A flicker of hope flutters within Damion. “However, I am not granting your request.” That flicker extinguishes.

“There is no exception for the morning fuck. I will fuck you every morning, including this morning.” Mulsae's massage moves up Damion's flank and lower back relieving aches and pains.

“Relax, Damion,” Mulsae purrs. Damion holds his tension tightly. “I don't want to hurt you. You need to relax so I won't hurt you.”

No! I am not submitting again. Damion increases the tension across his body willing himself to become stone. “You're just needlessly going to get hurt if you don't relax,” Mulsae shifts his movements to gently caress up and down Damion's back.

Enduring pain increases dignity. At least I'll regain some dignity if I don't submit! Damion doubles down on willing himself to become stone. Mulsae stops and sighs, “I had intended to make this quite pleasurable for you so you can start off your first full day as my pet on good footing,” he huffs, “But I can make your day start off the worst way possible if you really so wish it.”

Mulsae gets a firm grip on the anal plug and swiftly yanks it out causing Damion to elicit a gasping cry.

“Is this what you want? You want it to hurt?” Damion pants through the pain. I can hold on to this thread of dignity. “A painful fuck isn't going to save you from feeling pleasure. I will milk you and make you cum.” Damion groans a growl as he wills himself to stay strong. It doesn't matter if I orgasm as long as I don't submit.

“Fine,” oil drips onto Damion's asshole and he hears Mulsae oiling up his cock. He notches his cock to Damion's hole, “Last chance to give up on the foolish hope of holding onto dignity.” Damion shakes with how tense he is holding his body.

Mulsae slams his cock into Damion in one swoop to the hilt causing Damion to holler out in agony. Mulsae takes a breath then proceeds to pound thrusts which cause the entire bed to shake. Damion emits a groaning growl with every thrust.

“This is what you wanted,” Mulsae growls, “You wanted this pain.”

Damion's groans reduce in intensity. Mulsae stops, yanks himself out, and pulls on Damion's hips to bring his ass into the air. Mulsae slams himself back in once more, pulling out a loud gasp from Damion. Mulsae pounds punishingly pulling and pushing on Damion's hips with every thrust.

Oh gods oh gods oh gods, Damion screws his eyes shut. Tears leak out anyway. But I can do this. It's only pain. I can tolerate any pain. It'll be over at some point.

“Imagine if this felt good instead, Damion,” Mulsae's thrusts don't falter, “Imagine if you were right now floating in pleasure instead.”

Mulsae surprisingly speeds up while a roar gradually rises up from his throat. At last he thrusts one last time as he painfully pulls Damion's hips into him -- bruises will surely form. Mulsae stops and pants heavily.

He pats the side of Damion's ass, “Oh gods that felt good.” Mulsae yanks himself out and Damion squeals in pain in response.

Damion tries to keep normal breaths. I got through it. His asshole stings with each gentle movement of air. In response to each flare of pain Damion chants to himself, I didn't submit.

He can hear Mulsae's panting start to slow down to regular breaths. “Your turn,” he announces hoarsely.

Mulsae shoves two fingers into Damion's hole and Damion bursts out a gasp. Mulsae's fingers search for the prostate then deftly caresses it. Damion battles with the pleasurable sensations, kicking them away so they don't over take him.

“This will go faster if you just relax and give in to it,” Mulsae sighs. No, no, no! I will not submit!

Mulsae continues his expert ministrations while Damion fights the battle. The pleasure starts to swarm him, but he fights it back at every turn. But more and more builds up around him and after an unfortunate long while he becomes fully encased in the pleasure and falls over the edge.

A long loud groan emits from Damion's throat as his back undulates in orgasmic waves. Once the last wave completes, Mulsae yanks his fingers out eliciting a high pitched gasp from Damion.

Mulsae hops off the bed and walks away, and Damion stays frozen in position, ass up, while panting. He feels the cum rolling down the cleft of his ass and drip off his balls. Whatever, Damion thinks to himself, I faced the pain and held on to that piece of dignity. I did not submit.

Mulsae returns and Damion feels a cold wet cloth wipe up his thighs and balls. The cloth is pulled down the cleft of Damion's ass and he hisses at the sharp sting when the cloth rubs over his asshole. Mulsae worsens it by rubbing the cloth around the entire circumference harshly. Damion pants from agony once more after Mulsae finishes.

Damion feels the anal plug notch into his hole only a moment before Mulsae slams it into place eliciting a holler of agony from Damion.

Mulsae pats the side of Damion's ass, “All done.” Damion groans and falls to his left side. Limp. No energy left in him to hold even an ounce of tension. But I didn't submit! He feels proud of himself.

Mulsae settles into the bed behind Damion. “Face me.” Damion languidly pulls himself up and flips his orientation so he collapses onto his right side, groaning all the while. Mulsae is in that same position as last night, laid out on his side propping his head up on his hand. Damion knows Mulsae is going to want eye contact so he does it.

“Good boy. How do you feel right now?”

Damion can only muster a moan to communicate his current state.

“Exactly. You're exhausted. In a bad way. It could take you days to fully recover. But you don't have days, you have minutes.” Damion's breathing stops.

“If we just had a pleasurable fuck, you'd only be disoriented in a fucked-out haze for a few minutes and then could get on with the rest of the day with all of your energy intact.”

“But,” Mulsae gestures at the length of Damion's body, “You chose to refuse any sort of enjoyment and now you are sore and in pain with your energy entirely spent. In just mere minutes I am going to command you to get out of bed and commence our day. You will be standing, walking, and kneeling today. We are going to fuck no less than two more times today as part of the routine, and more if I fancy it.”

Mulsae's expression turns stern, “I will not take it easy on you today simply because you made this mistake this morning. You will have to get through this day, and tomorrow, and the next day with no reprieve to recover.”

Mulsae narrows his eyes, “All this is happening because you are hoping to hold onto a piece of dignity.” He scowls.

Mulsae sits up and has a blank expression as he lectures, “Your dignity is pointless. I will strip you of all your dignity. I will break you. This piece of dignity that you held onto just now will become absolutely meaningless,” He then expresses with whimsy, “Perhaps even by the end of the day you'll forget why it was so important to you in the first place.” He lets out a mirthful huff and hops out of the bed.

“Think on this today, Damion,” he speaks as he walks around the tent, “Imagine how much easier everything would have been if you just didn't feel so strongly to hold onto that teeny tiny little piece of dignity this morning.”

Damion doesn't budge. He can hear Mulsae rustling around the tent, presumably to get dressed for the day.

After a while Mulsae approaches the bed and commands, “sit up.” Damion gradually pushes himself up and swings his legs off the bed. Every part of him is aching, and the movement hurt his ass so fucking much, and sitting here on the edge of the bed hurts even more.

“Good boy,” Mulsae presents a pair of shoes, “Put these on. I don't want you getting muddy feet again.” Damion takes them and slowly moves his body to put on the shoes.

Mulsae claps his hands three times, “Quicken your pace! I know you're achy and exhausted, but it's all your fault. This is your consequence. Push it and get those damn shoes on!” Damion's fingers tremble as he tries to move more swiftly to put on the shoes.

Mulsae already has the leash looped around his shoulder and holds the end in his hand. “Stand.” Damion lumbers upward. A wince is fixed on his expression. Mulsae clips the leash to the cock cage.

Mulsae turns and swiftly walks to exit the tent. Damion tries to keep up but with managing his aches and his ass sending out stings with every step he falls behind and the leash goes taut and tugs hard on his cock and balls. Damion gasps out a groan and Mulsae stops and turns to face him. Damion uses the moment to scramble forward to catch up with Mulsae.

Mulsae's eyes narrow, “This is your consequence. I do not want to be slowed down because you made a bad choice that put you in pain. Keep up with me and deal with it,” Mulsae flippantly waves his hand, “Maybe implement some of those pain management skills you employed earlier,” he mentions while turning back to exit the tent.

Mulsae ducks out of the tent and Damion dutifully follows. Mulsae's pace is noticeably slower. It is still faster than Damion can comfortably manage, though. Now his cock and balls ache with the movement of his legs in addition to his stinging ass. He works on shifting his gait and weight around trying to come up with a walk he can manage while occasionally skipping and stumbling forward to prevent the leash from going taut.

Damion is so focused on how to walk and manage keeping the leash loose that he doesn't even notice the laughter and jeers.

Damion finally is able to reliably maintain proper heeling distance when Mulsae's pace quickens forcing him to start the process of adapting all over again. Mulsae is still walking slower than they did last night, however. Maybe he is trying to help despite saying he wouldn't. The leash also has more slack allowing Damion to fall back a few feet off from heeling distance giving more leeway as he stumbles through his experiments to walk properly.

They reach the officers’ latrines and step inside. Mulsae releases himself and urinates into the toilet then steps to the side while putting himself back, “Sit, relieve yourself.” Damion sits and Mulsae turns his back towards him. Damion concentrates on relaxing so he can release. He tries a couple relaxation techniques until he finally is able to relieve himself. The patter of his urine falling into the toilet is a godsdamn relief.

Mulsae turns to face him, “Do you need to have a bowel movement?” Damion is still looking at the floor as he nods. “Lean forward and touch your shoes.” Damion complies. Mulsae leans over him, gets a good grasp on the anal plug and gently wiggles it out. Damion releases a whiny groan because each movement sends shocks of pain to radiate through him.

Mulsae turns his back towards him again and leans on the wall of the latrine. Damion closes his eyes and focuses on relaxing. After some time he finally feels some movement then suddenly doubles over and gasps in pain. More pain sears through him again and he instinctively twists right and left and contorts himself as he tries to relieve the pain. The pain is so extreme his mouth gapes in only a silent cry, unable to make a sound.

“Another consequence of your choice this morning,” Mulsae sighs.

Damion pants wildly. Sweat forms on his brow. This is worse than this morning! He slams his head down on his knees as a distraction from the pain.

“Yup,” Mulsae quips in response to reading his mind, “This is worse. And now you have to deal with it.” Mulsae flippantly waves his hand, “Consequences, consequences.”

Damion's pain is growing, expanding, and moving through his guts. Every time he gets a position that relieves the pain, a moment later he's compelled to find an entirely different position. He writhes upon the toilet.

Tears start to drip from his eyes. Sweat is beading in his brow. He's panting rapidly. He starts to hang down between his legs as exhaustion overwhelms him. I need to lay down. I need to lay down. I need to rest. I can't do this.

Mulsae turns to face him. After a moment he crouches down and pulls Damion's head onto his shoulder. He holds it firmly with one hand while caressing through his hair with the other.

“You can do this,” Mulsae quietly says.

A wave of pain wracks through Damion's body and he instinctively grabs Mulsae's shirt and pants into his neck. Tears are wetting the fabric of his jacket. Mulsae just continues to maintain a firm hand on Damion's head and strokes his hair while he occasionally breathes the words, “You can do it.”

Damion gasps as a new type of pain hits him. He can feel it's about to come out. Now his asshole is adding to the chorus of pain. A whimpering groan escapes him as it finally comes out and a plop sound echoes from under the toilet. Damion can sense more is coming. He openly weeps.

Damion goes through that process another two times before there is nothing left inside him to release. Mulsae held his head and caressed his hair the entire time.

Once Damion is done and the pain subsides his weeping converts to wracking sobs. He clutches Mulsae's shirt more closely. Not only was that the most painful experience of his centuries of life, it was humiliating to go through that with Mulsae as a witness. Not just witness this… he was comforting him. His attention shifts to his hands where he is pulling on Mulsae's shirt. What am I doing that for? I'm… I'm begging for comfort… from Mulsae of all people.

A wave of humiliation pours through him. Damion's body shudders with a sobbing gasp.

Damion begins to still as the weeping winds down. Mulsae shoulders Damion's head off him and gingerly unwraps the hands grasping at his shirt.

“Damion, look at me,” Damion takes a deep shuddering breath and looks Mulsae in the eye.

“How does your dignity feel now?”

Hollowed out…

“Say it out loud.”

Damion swallows then croaks out in a whispering groan, “It feels hollowed out.”

“How does that loss compare to the piece of dignity you were desperately trying to hold on to this morning?”

Damion compares the two feelings. He recalls how that piece of dignity he held onto so tightly this morning felt like. He holds it against the gaping hole that has just been carved out of his dignity. There is no comparison. His loss of dignity right now far, far outweighs the tiny scrap of dignity he held onto this morning. Depression sweeps through him.

“Tell me your conclusion out loud.”

“This loss was much more.”

“Yes, exactly. You just lost so much more dignity than the shred you worked so hard to preserve.” Mulsae raises his eyebrows, “And our day only just started. Visiting the latrine is merely the first task of the day. A task so inconsequential it rarely ever ends up on some task list or a day's schedule.”

The magnitude of what he just said washes over Damion's facial features. There's the whole rest of the day to get through.

“Yes, the entire rest of the day. You are going to continue to lose dignity throughout the day today as a direct consequence to your choice this morning. Your loss will far outweigh what you tried to preserve.”

Mulsae rolls his eyes to the ceiling and scoffs to himself, “I didn't even think to add ‘visit latrine’ to my schedule today,” He waves his hand around, “And now an entire event has been made of this supposedly inconsequential task.”

He stands up and looks down at himself. He drags his hands down his shirt and pulls, then fingers the shoulder of his jacket. He sighs and frowns.

“Bend over and touch your shoes.” Damion complies. Mulsae leans over to wipe Damion's asshole and Damion hisses at the sting. Mulsae lines up the anal plug and slowly, gently pushes it into Damion, who continues to have hissing breaths as he manages the stinging sensations. Once it's seated Damion pants deeply.

Mulsae straightens. “Stand up.” Damion bites back the groan that tried to escape as he stood. Mulsae has them exit the latrine.

Mulsae puts his hands in his pockets and takes an obviously slow leisurely pace, glancing around as if he were sightseeing. Damion is so grateful as he has to start over from scratch with figuring out how to walk properly again. His guts are twisted, his cock and balls still ache like a pulled muscle, and his asshole now has a constant sting to it in addition to the stinging flare ups with every step he takes.

Damion resumes his walking experiments as he shifts his gait and weight to find a system of moving his legs that would allow him to keep up with Mulsae. And every time he runs out of slack he is forced to skip and stumble forward to hurriedly catch up to keep the leash from drawing taut and further exacerbating the pulled muscle in his cock and balls.

Damion mostly doesn't hear the laughter and jeers through his intense concentration, but a few comments break through to his consciousness.

“Gods, what is wrong with him?”

“Did Mulsae just fuck him in the latrine? Did you hear the noises that came out of there?”

Damion finally is able to maintain proper heeling distance, and Mulsae then quickens his pace yet again. Fuck.

They arrive back at the tent they had slept in. Mulsae walks them to the center of the tent and unhooks the leash from the cock cage. He goes over to the bed, grabs a couple furs, then walks them over and plops them down in front of the fire. He pushes them around a bit until satisfied.

He walks over to Damion and gestures to the furs he had just placed on the floor, “That is your place. When you are in your place you can do whatever you want, sit, stand, lay down, kneel, whatever, as long as you stay within the area of the place. These furs are your place. You will stay on the furs. Do you understand?” Damion nods.

“Go to your place now.” Damion swiftly goes to stand on the furs. Mulsae goes over to his clothing. He shrugs off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Damion dumbly stands there not knowing what to do. Mulsae sighs, “You don't have to stand there if you don't want to be standing.” Damion blinks. What do I want to do? Oh gods, all I want to do right now is curl up into a ball and sleep.

“Go ahead and sleep, then.” Damion's eyes dart towards Mulsae. I could… lay down right now? Mulsae's attention is back towards changing into a fresh outfit.

Damion tentatively moves to lower himself to the furs. He glances over at Mulsae as he does so just in case he's doing something wrong. But, Mulsae said I could sleep, and Mulsae has kept his word so far. He gingerly sits on the floor. He looks around to understand the layout of the furs more thoroughly. He decides on a plan of the best way to lie down on these furs and executes it. He's laying down on his side with his back to the fire. His breath hitches. This is not too comfortable, but neither uncomfortable. It just… is.

Damion's eyes follow as Mulsae walks in front of him donning an entirely new outfit. He smiles warmly, “Good boy,” then walks away. Damion can hear he has sat at the table.

I want to sleep. Mulsae said to sleep. Maybe I should just… sleep. Damion closes his eyes and begins his meditation where he releases his mortal concerns from his consciousness and just floats in the ether of nothingness. He enters the nothingness.

=*=

“Master Mulsae?” A strange voice pops Damion awake. He doesn't move.

“Yes, thank you for meeting me here. Sorry for the change of venue for our meeting.”

Damion watches a man walk into the tent and stand before him. He just stares at him. Damion is staring right back.

“Please, sit,” says Mulsae.

The man clears his throat and walks out of Damion's line of sight.

“That’s… Damion?”

“Yes.”

“The Harbinger of the Flood?”

“Yes.”

“Curled up in front of your fire like a dog?”

“Yes,” Mulsae says with a lilt in his voice, clearly pleased with himself.

“Wasn't he captured just yesterday morning?”

“Yes, again. You seem to know all this already.”

“That is becoming clear to me. But one last question. Just how have you gotten him to be unrestrained and curled up in front of your fire after only one day as your prisoner?”

“My pet, actually.”

The visitor huffs, “Your pet, sorry. He killed a soldier just yesterday morning while he was being transported to you. How is he so docile now?”

“I have my ways.”

“Ways only available to the most powerful of the Water Sanctum?”

The seat groans as Mulsae shifts in his chair, “Oh no, that just wouldn't be any fun whatsoever! I am using absolutely no telepathic or empathic powers on him right now. He has made the choice himself to lie and sleep in front of the fire.”

“You broke him in just one day.”

“It’s an ongoing process.”

“That is apparently going very fucking well!” The visitor exclaims, “You need to share your process, Master Mulsae.”

Mulsae's chair groans again, “Perhaps one day. One day. But for now, our meeting’s topic has nothing to do with Damion nor my pet training process. Let’s not get distracted.”

“Of course, of course,” the visitor mumbles, then clears his throat and announces his plans to Mulsae.

Their conversation drones on and Damion listens to every word. This is good intel. Damion absorbs it all and files it for safe keeping for later.

For later…

What later? What is later? Is there a time after all of this? Will I escape before death? Is this the remainder of my life? Is Mulsae allowing me to hear this meeting because he is so confident I will never be alive outside of his grasp?

Depression rolls over Damion like a heavy blanket. The weight thickens and his breathing becomes slow yet labored. He’s almost losing his will to even breathe. No, he is losing the will to breathe. After every exhale he just stills and then has to consciously take the next inhale. So tiresome this breathing thing. Maybe I'll just die of suffocation. He doesn’t consciously take in the next breath. After a few moments his body automatically sucks in a rapid gulp of breath, yet nothing follows the exhale until suddenly his body sucks in another gulp unbidden. This continues a few cycles and Damion is getting light headed. Everything is turning fuzzy. It feels good. I can just… disappear in this.

=*=

“Damion.” He feels a firm nudge against his leg that causes his whole body to rock back and forth. Damion opens his eyes and sees Mulsae towering over him. “Time for lunch. Stand.”

Depression still soaks over Damion like he’s covered in a thick layer of tar. He gradually stands himself up. This layer of depression is so thick all his aches and pains have been dulled.

Mulsae sits on a chair by the table. The set up is the same as it was for dinner last night. “Kneel here,” he points beside him. Damion lumbers over and resumes that kneeling position he had last night.

Mulsae commences the feeding process. He offers Damion every other bite of food, and Damion just accepts it numbly. His eyes are heavy lidded and unfocused. His mind is blank and unthinking.

Mulsae eventually puts the chopsticks back on the tray. He takes Damion by the chin, raises his face up and peers closely at him. His eyes dart back and forth examining Damion’s face. It’s like he’s trying to read his mind or something. Oh wait, he can read minds. So what is he looking for?

“Something changed in you,” Mulsae quietly hums. It doesn’t matter. He peers at Damion’s face a few moments longer then releases Damion’s chin, leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “And not for the better,” Mulsae’s eyes narrow and his brow furrows. Damion gazes at him with unseeing eyes. Nothing matters.

They keep this position for a long while. Damion’s mind is unthinking yet sinking into an inky black abyss. Mulsae suddenly breaks the silence, “Do you want to go flying?” Damion’s eyes regain focus and snap onto Mulsae’s eyes. Flying? Memories of the wind whipping across his face pass through Damion’s mind. “Well? Do you?”

Damion’s throat bobs as he swallows. He says in a low raspy voice, “Yes.”

Mulsae taps his finger on his bicep. “Good boys go flying. You have been working hard to be a good boy, and I have been very proud of you. At the rate you’re going, you could go flying within the week. Days even.”

Damion’s eyes widen. The joy of flying floods his system. His mind swirls with memories of soaring through the sky and all the hijinks he has performed. He begins to get drunk on the memories of flight. When Mulsae said last night that he’d like to go flying together, he assumed it would be months or years from now. Surviving this for months has seemed so unattainable that the hope of flying again slipped his mind. But if he could again fly so soon…

Mulsae looks around the tent, “I think you need a stretch.” He stands up and orders Damion to do the same. Damion stands. Mulsae grabs the leash and attaches it to Damion. "Heel," and they exit the tent.

They walk through the war camp, but not circuitously as usual. Instead, they're going straight to the cliff edge overlooking Scaldmere. The winds pick up the closer they get. They get to the cliff's edge and walk north along it. The winds are harsh and force them to take careful steps. There is a large rock formation set in a bit from the edge creating a small area of privacy. They stop there, alone, and separate from the rest of the camp.

They're overlooking Scaldmere. Mulsae gestures with his head, “Look out upon Scaldmere.” Damion turns to face the scenery. He looks over the geysers and hot springs that dot the landscape.

Mulsae steps behind him and jostles a wing. Damion freezes. He resists the temptation to fight. What is happening? What is he doing? A pressure is released from the top of his left wing and he feels a fabric flutter down the side. Pressure is then released from the bottom of the wing. Then fabric is pulled up and off the length of his wing. There is no more pressure along the entire length of his left wing. Mulsae repeats the process on the right side.

While Mulsae is working on the final binding he says, “Do not attempt to fly. If you fly I will just freeze you and you’ll fall to the ground and hurt yourself. That is entirely unnecessary pain. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Damion manages to clearly say loud enough over the wind.

Mulsae releases the final binding and then puts a hand on both of Damion’s shoulders. “You will do what I say exactly how I say to do it. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Damion croaks.

Mulsae removes his hands and Damion can hear his footsteps crunch on the pebbled surface backing away. “Unfurl your wings.”

Damion swallows then slowly unfurls his wings. Instantly the wind blowing on his wings is virtually euphoric. Damion blinks back tears of joy.

“Stretch your wings.” Damion stretches them out to their full length.

“Give yourself a good stretch. Stretch your back, too. Twist if that will feel good. Just do whatever it is you need to do to really stretch out all of those joints.”

Damion blinks in surprise. He tentatively pushes his wings out further while curling his back forward. He holds the stretch while listening carefully for any sign of disapproval from Mulsae.

“Good boy. Continue.”

Damion breathes a sigh of relief. He now just loses himself in a stretch. It feels so godsdamn good. He allows himself to be swallowed up by the sensation. He pulls out one wing, then the next. He rolls his shoulders and leans side to side, then forwards and backwards. Every moment feels so so good.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the sensations of those quality stretches. He feels the wind whipping around him, but more importantly whipping around his wings. He could just imagine that he is flying right now. He tilts his wings forward and relishes in the feel of the wind flowing over and under his wings.

He stills when he hears the crunch of footsteps approaching him from behind. Mulsae places his hands on Damion’s hips, presses his bare hardened length into him and whispers in his ear like a lover’s caress, “Good boy.” Damion shudders in both dread of what Mulsae will do next, and relief that he hasn’t done something to offend Mulsae.

Mulsae gently places his teeth in a bite on Damion where his left shoulder meets his neck. He bites down hard enough to hold but gentle enough to not be uncomfortable. Mulsae shifts and ruts his cock on the cheek of Damion’s ass.

Mulsae releases the bite and whispers, “Focus on the wind, Damion. Just keep your mind on the wind.” Damion’s breath hitches. Gods, I don’t want this.

Mulsae moves one hand around to grip the anal plug while the other hand moves forward and splays across Damion’s abdomen. Mulsae very gently applies pressure to the anal plug in a pull. “Stay relaxed. Just focus on the wind,” he continues in a whisper.

Mulsae slowly works the anal plug out. Damion still feels sore and it stings, but the movement isn’t causing additional pain. It feels good to have it released. Just focus on the wind, he tells himself. He relaxes and remembers soaring through the sky. He tilts his wings to be at a more accurate angle for flight.

Damion feels oil slather onto his hole, it stings a bit. “You’re being a good boy. Stay relaxed.” Mulsae slowly inserts two fingers into his hole. A pleasurable sensation warms through Damion’s body. He’s sore, it stings, but… this feels good. He focuses on the wind. He lets the euphoria of the wind intermingle with the erotic sensations occurring in his core. The wind is making me feel this way. It’s all just the wind and the joy of flying.

Mulsae gently adds a third finger to his process of working on stretching Damion’s hole. Damion releases a low moan that Mulsae can just barely hear over the whipping wind.

Mulsae’s ministrations stop for a moment. Then Damion feels the telltale sensation of a cock being notched at his hole’s entrance. His breath hitches. Just focus on the wind. Just focus on the wind. I can get through this. Just focus on the wind.

Mulsae gradually presses his cock into Damion who inhales a shuddering breath. Just focus on the wind. Flying is just this euphoric. Flying makes me feel so good.

Mulsae pushes slowly forward until he fully seats himself in Damion and stills his cock. He resumes the holding bite on Damion’s shoulder near his neck. Damion breathes with his eyes screwed shut. Just the wind. Just the wind. Just the wind.

Mulsae gently grinds his hips into Damion who begins a low continuous moan. Mulsae slowly and carefully begins shallow thrusts. He shifts the angle of his hips to find Damion’s sweet spot.

Damion deeply inhales and then exhales a long low groan. Mulsae keeps this angle of his hips for a few moments before gradually increasing the depth of his thrusts. Damion is panting.

Mulsae reaches an average depth and speed and decides to maintain that pacing. Damion is practically babbling in moans and groans. He no longer chants to himself about the wind. He is completely absorbed into the sensations he’s feeling. He’s lost within them. Cocooned in them. Warmed and secured by them. He’s safe here. He can just relax and let go of everything that was wrong before. Just let go.

Damion keels forward with a low groan that grows and increases in loudness to a yell. His hips jerk and thrust with wracking waves rolling through him. Mulsae increases his hold across Damion’s abdomen as Damion’s legs jerk and flutter, preventing them from holding Damion up any longer.

Damion’s jerking ceases. He’s draped over Mulsae’s arm panting deeply with his eyes shut. His legs are providing no support. Damion is so fucked-out. He feels so good. That may have been the best orgasm of his entire life. His consciousness drifts about his body feeling all the warmth and pleasure.

Mulsae gently pulls himself out and then lifts Damion to cradle him in his arms. There is the heavy beat of wings and they're gliding up into the air. Damion lazily opens his eyes and sees they are soaring above the war camp. He's so fucked-out, though, that he just closes his eyes and rests his head on Mulsae's shoulder. I forgot that Mulsae can fly. His mother was Windborne.

They descend to rapid wing beats and kicking up dust, but land gently. Mulsae carries him into the tent and gently places Damion on the bed. He pops off Damion’s shoes, and lifts his legs up and under the covers, raises Damion’s bound arms over his head and rolls him onto his stomach.

Damion hears the telltale sounds of Mulsae stroking his cock with oil. He’s too fucked-out to care. Mulsae then falls on his hand that bounces on the bed at the far side of Damion’s thigh, and then warm goo spurt across Damion's ass cheeks. Mulsae holds this position panting.

After a few moments Mulsae walks away. Damion drifts off to pleasurable warmth.

Damion feels a warm wet cloth wipe across his ass cheeks. Mulsae nudges each of Damion’s knees to widen his legs. The cloth wipes up both sides of his inner thigh, around his balls and up the cleft of his ass. Damion hisses when the cloth touches his asshole.

A few moments later Damion feels pressure against his asshole again. He turns his head to press his forehead against the pillow. He tries to will himself to relax. Mulsae slowly and gently inserts the anal plug. Damion pants and Mulsae runs a hand up and down Damion’s back just once before walking away.

Damion is exhausted. Pleasantly exhausted. He’s just going to allow himself to drift off in this warm and safe sensation. Just be cocooned and taken away…

=*=

“Damion.”

Damion feels himself firmly nudged on his shoulder. He opens his eyes and sees Mulsae on the bed next to him, again lying stretched out on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“How do you feel?”

Damion reflects on himself. He’s relaxed. Relaxed in a way he doesn’t even remember experiencing before. He’s sore and achy all over, but he’s relaxed and calm.

“You feel better than this morning, don’t you?”

A blush warms up Damion’s cheeks. So much better. Night and day difference from this morning.

“Say it out loud.”

Damion licks his lips and swallows before croaking out, “Y- yes.”

“How much better?”

“Ah… a lot.” Damion stutters out.

“Exactly. Did you try to hold on to some dignity this time?”

Damion reflects. His blush deepens as he recalls how good he felt being fucked in the wind. Dignity hadn’t even occurred to him. He just focused on enjoying the wind.

“Right. The very concept of dignity wasn’t even present. That is all dignity is, an unreal intangible concept. It serves no purpose for you.”

Damion tenses up. No… Dignity is everything to me. I am nothing without dignity.

“This intangible thing is so important to you, but what purpose does it serve you? Right now, at this moment, how is the concept of dignity impacting you?”

The memory of pain comes to the forefront of Damion’s mind. Before Damion can even process these thoughts Mulsae says, “Dignity is giving you pain right now. It serves only to hurt you. Release the concept of dignity from your mind. Stop worrying about it.”

No! Damion turns his head and presses his face into the pillow and screams as loud as he possibly can. He pants a few times. Dignity is everything. He screams once again since it felt so good the first time. Damion tilts his head to press his forehead into the pillow and gasps for breath.

“Do not let dignity concern you any longer.”

Damion clenches his jaw and tenses his body. I am holding on to my dignity.

“Look at what dignity is doing to you right now. You’re upset and no longer feel as good as you did just a moment ago.”

Damion does regard that his calmness is gone, the sense of security is gone. He no longer feels pleasant, but instead feels every ache and pain across his body. His asshole feels like it has been scraped with a cheese grater. Damion most certainly does not feel as good as he did at the start of this conversation.

“The very concept of dignity has just now caused you pain. I haven’t touched you. This pain flared up because you started thinking about dignity.”

Damion screams into the pillow again. Mulsae must be fucking with my head. He can’t be making sense, what he is saying can’t possibly be true.

“I am not messing around with your thoughts, Damion. I am merely speaking to you. We are just having a discussion, no mind altering business involved.”

Damion screams again. Tears begin to form. This can’t possibly make any sense.

“I am trying to help you unwind the logic knot in your mind. But you are the one who is doing the work on this knot, I am only providing guidance. The path of your logic is hurting you right now, and I am trying to help you find a pathway that is more comfortable so you don’t have to hurt any more.”

“Damion, look at me.” Damion turns his head and meets Mulsae’s eyes with red rimmed eyes of his own.

“Dignity serves no purpose. Say that out loud.”

Damion swallows and licks his lips, “Dignity serves no purpose.”

“Good boy.” Damion feels himself warm up and blush.

Mulsae gives a long stroke of a caress up and down Damion’s spine. “I don’t want you to be in pain, Damion,” Mulsae then rolls away and gets off the bed.

Mulsae is rustling around where his clothing is. It sounds like he’s changing his outfit again.

“Damion. Get up and put on your shoes.” Mulsae says from the table area.

Damion sits up and winces. The anal plug is a real problem. He bends over and puts on the shoes. He moves with intention as his entire body is aching and begging for rest and recuperation.

“Walk around the tent in a large circle in front of me.”

What the fuck? Is Mulsae just fucking with me now and having me do tricks? Damion's eyelids flutter in annoyance and he lumbers forward to walk in this damn circle Mulsae has requested of him. Mulsae is just leaning against the table with his hands in his pockets.

Damion struggles to walk properly once again. He winces and grimaces as he tries to find a movement that he can tolerate. He finally finds it and walks a few more revolutions.

“Walk faster.” Godsdamn it. Damion quickens his pace and his pain increases. Mulsae just said he doesn’t want me to be in pain, and yet here he is casually watching me walk in pain around an aimlessly stupid circle.

“This pain is a consequence of your choice from this morning. I don’t want you to be in pain, but I am not the one who made that choice this morning. You made the choice. This pain is yours.”

Mulsae sighs and rubs his fingers along the bridge of his nose, “And this isn’t a pointless demand. You’ve been having a problem keeping up with a heel position. I wanted to see what your current gait is like and let you practice walking a bit before we go walk outside again.”

Damion’s cheeks warm with a blush. That is… actually quite thoughtful of him. It’s a kindness I thought Mulsae wouldn’t even be concerned with. If anything, I expected him to get joy out of my struggling.

“Oh, I do have much joy watching you struggle, Damion,” Mulsae smirks, “Breaking you is one of the most fun things I’ll experience in life. But you are my pet and it is my responsibility now to take care of you.”

Mulsae is silent awhile and Damion continues to walk in the circle incrementally increasing his speed unbidden since he presumes that is what Mulsae wants of him.

Mulsae breaks the silence, “Part of taking care of you is setting you up for success. I have you push yourself in small increments so you are more likely to succeed. This helps increase your confidence and reduce the amount of failures. It will help you break more completely.”

Damion has no idea what he is talking about.

Damion walks a few more revolutions when Mulsae says, “Stop.” Damion stops where he is and just stands there.

Mulsae grabs the leash and loops it over his shoulder. He approaches Damion and attaches the leash. They walk out of the tent together.

It is much easier for Damion to maintain a heel position this time. He feels immense relief and is grateful to Mulsae that he gave him that time to practice and didn’t make him stumble and limp around the war camp like a fumbling fool.

They wind through the camp and make their way to the outer edge. They approach cages filled with Emberai soldiers.

One Emberai man is struggling, snapping and snarling against five guards who each are holding a long pole attached to the man’s neck. They are guiding him towards a pole that Damion recognizes as a pinioning pole. Oh gods, destroying their ability to fly is like sentencing them to a living death. Many of these pinioned men will kill themselves if they are ever freed.

A sense of relief and gratitude washes over Damion because Mulsae has not only promised to not pinion his wings, but to also let him fly again in the near future. He is so very grateful to Mulsae.

A hush falls over the prisoners as Damion comes into view. He can hear whispered murmurs, “The Harbinger of the Flood." As the faces of the prisoners come into view he sees most of them were on that final battlefield with him when he had surrendered. Humiliation seizes Damion’s stomach.

Mulsae walks over to someone and starts talking to him. Damion isn’t following their conversation because he can’t break his focus away from the prisoners. The hushed murmurs rise in tone and volume as the prisoners speak openly to each other.

“What happened to him?” Hell.

“Why is he just standing there? Why isn’t he fighting?” I’m exhausted. I can’t keep fighting perpetually. I need a break to recuperate and fight with more energy later.

“I would be fighting tooth and nail if I were in his position. He must be truly pathetic.” I’d like to see you try to keep fighting if you went through what I'm experiencing.

“He never should have had us surrender. It would have been more honorable to die in battle than to endure this!” Add another regret to the many others on my list.

“I’d kill myself if I were in his position.” I wish I could. But I can’t. Mulsae won’t allow me to just die.

The prisoners start yelling directly at Damion to get his attention.

“Fight, godsdamn you, fight back!”

“You’re a disgrace to all Emberai!”

“We never should have followed you!”

“You did this to us! We’re being pinioned because of you!”

The prisoners grab the cage bars and push each other to get closer to scream at Damion. The bars rattle and they start fighting each other from all squishing together to one side of the cage. The entire structure starts to wave in response to the writhing struggle of Emberai against one side. Someone shouts, “We can break the cage!”

Mulsae yells out in a magically enhanced booming voice and commands, “Silence!”

The prisoners all immediately stop.

Mulsae approaches the cages and Damion follows at a heel. Damion looks to the ground. He can’t possibly make eye contact with any of these warriors.

Mulsae uses his magically enhanced voice to command, “All of you, sit down.”

The prisoners murmur to each other while gradually dispersing themselves around the cage floor. Mulsae pulls his gaze over all of them, then turns and walks away. Damion stays in heel position.

Mulsae walks them to a new tent and steps in. Damion keeps up with heel position and is horrified to find so many people in there. He gulps as he counts ten people sitting around a table. He doesn't recognize any of them, except for the man who visited Mulsae's tent earlier today. It's one thing to be like… this… in front of Mulsae and people from afar, but it is another thing entirely to be closely ogled by a group of people.

The group promptly expresses proper greetings to their Sanctum Master and Mulsae doesn't break his stride as he walks straight to the tallest chair at the table. He points to a spot to the left of the chair and says, "Damion, kneel here." Damion swiftly obeys.

Damion keeps his gaze on Mulsae's face as he presumes it's what Mulsae would want from him. "Eyes on the floor." Guess not. He lowers his eyes and examines the floor, table leg, chair legs, and various pieces of dust and dirt.

"Good boy." Damion bristles at the comment. It is absolutely humiliating to be called that in front of all these people. Damion seethes with anger at Mulsae.

Mulsae pulls his chair to the table, sits and commences the meeting. I guess I'm going to be kneeling here for a while. This shouldn't be too bad. I've posted guard duty on plenty of boring ass meetings before. This is much like that. Damion really wishes he could roll his neck and shoulders as part of his settling in routine when he has posted meeting guard duty previously, but he's afraid it will piss off Mulsae.

Damion soon realizes just how much he used to fidget during those meeting guard duties. He desperately wants to shift his weight, roll his neck and shoulders, stretch his hands and fingers. All of it. All of that little subtle fidgeting he never realized he did before and now he misses it dearly. But he's afraid if he doesn't remain perfectly still that he'll piss off Mulsae.

Time drifts by and Damion tries to stave off his boredom by listening to the meeting, but it is absolutely eye wateringly boring administration bullshit. This leaf fragment on the floor in front of him is tremendously more interesting than the topic of this meeting. He grows very familiar with that leaf fragment. And the scuff on the table leg. And the details of the carving on the chair legs.

Oh gods, I'm going to lose my mind from fucking boredom!

Damion considers meditation. He again misses the freedom to just shift and readjust to settle himself into initiating the meditation. He attempts to still his mind and let all thoughts go. In particular, let all thoughts go about his body's aches and pains. And gods, those aches are growing by the minute. His muscles have been stilled for too long. His neck and shoulder blades are begging to be flexed. And then his knees. Gods, the pressure points have begun to sting.

Fuck it. Meditation is obviously not working. He absolutely has to move. He decides to do it cautiously, bit by bit to see exactly where his movement boundaries are. If he just gently pushes against the boundary he shouldn't piss off Mulsae too badly.

Damion begins by wiggling his fingers. Then he stretches out his hands and bends them at the wrists. He pauses to see if Mulsae reacts. Nothing. He minutely flexes one shoulder forward, then the other. No reaction yet. He finally dares to subtly, minutely flex his neck left and then right.

"Damion." Fuck. Boundary hit. What is he going to do to me? Damion looks up at Mulsae and finds he is facing him with a blank expression.

"Lay down." That… was unexpected. But Damion is immensely grateful for it. He shifts to lay down on his left side and takes the opportunity during that movement to flex muscles all around his body and twist his torso a bit before he settles down. He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

Good boy, floats in his mind with Mulsae's voice.

Damion feels so much better now. He oh so dearly needed to move. Blood floods to the skin of his knees that was pressed against the floor.

Damion pulls his focus back to the meeting and tries to catch up on what is going on now. Different topic, but same old bullshit. Damion hated being in these administration meetings during the war. He did anything and everything he could to avoid them. Oh, poor poor Mulsae. He has to sit here and take it and actually look like he's paying attention. Well, suck it you fucking bastard and deal with it!

Mulsae chuckles, but no one else at the table seems amused. I wonder what was funny. Too bad I missed it. I could have used the momentary entertainment. Damion listens in on the meeting again but can't find anything possibly amusing.

Damion has a new perspective on that leaf fragment. Hello, leaf fragment.

Oh gods, I am actually losing my mind from boredom.

His ear aches from it being squished to the floor. He rotates his head a bit to relieve the pressure point. But his shoulder and hip are aching from the pressure, too. Gods, I can't just stay in one position on a hard floor for so long. I have got to be able to move around!

You can turn to your right side, floats through his mind from Mulsae.

Oh thank the heavens above. He moves to all fours (or rather three, considering his wrists are bound) and then steals an opportunity to greedily arch and stretch his back and neck before settling down onto his right side.

You can shift sides whenever you need to, Mulsae comments.

What? That isn't too much movement? Damion poses the question in his mind.

If you only do it occasionally, and don't cause a distraction, it is fine to readjust yourself and stretch a muscle when necessary, Mulsae's voice says, Don't abuse the privilege.

Damion is grateful for the freedom. And oh look! All kinds of new things on the floor to discover. There's a pebble there. Hello, pebble!

Damion refocuses his attention to the meeting in hopes of some entertainment that will distract him from attempting to strike up a conversation with a pebble. Once he catches onto the current topic in the meeting he instantly wishes he'd been listening in earlier. This is some juicy shit! If only I knew that during the war. Oh, we would have had such an advantage. Actually, any enemy force could really use this intel. When I escape I should try to spread this intel to other Sanctums and hopefully, eventually, someone will take down Mulsae.

If I escape. If it is even possible to escape a telepath who is constantly right there, watching, all the fucking time. He won't even just let me die. Damion rolls his head to push his forehead into the ground. Mulsae only lets me hear this intel because he is abundantly confident I will never have an opportunity to leak it. He won't let me die, he is confident I won't escape, this is my life now. Forever.

Depression spreads its tendrils across Damion. He wishes he could slam his forehead into the ground. Repeatedly.

This line of thinking isn't helpful to you, floats in from Mulsae.

Damion bristles. Oh fuck off, Mulsae. Are you trying to control my very thoughts now? I can't even have some freedom in my own head?

You're free to think whatever you want, Damion. I merely intend to point out something that is causing you harm, Mulsae's voice says. You are free to continue lamenting about an unwritten future. I am just offering a word of caution.

I'm free to think whatever I want? Really? How about this! Damion builds up in his mind vividly gruesome imagery of him tearing off Mulsae's cock with his bare hands and blood spurting everywhere.

Think about whatever you want, Damion.

Fuck you, Mulsae, you fucking half breed motherfucker.

This conversation has run its course, Mulsae's voice echoes with finality.

No. No way, Mulsae. This conversation has NOT run its course. We're having this out right here and right now. Don't you fucking dare walk away from me, think away from me, however the fuck that fucking telepath power works.

Damion seethes and waits for a response. Nothing.

Mulsae!

Damion's mind remains quiet. His breaths deepen from fury.

Mulsae!!

Damion, I hear you, this is important to you. However, I am in a meeting. If you still feel strongly about it later, bring it back up when we have time alone.

Smug satisfaction warms through Damion. Mulsae. Mulsae. Mulsae. Hello to Mulsae. Hellooooooo Mulllllssaaaae. Mulssaaaee. Mulsae Mulsae Mulsae. Mulsssssssssssae! Mulsae. Mulsae. Mulsae!

Damion, I hear you that you are trying to get my attention to annoy me, as well as entertain yourself. However, I have been a telepath for over a hundred fifty years. It is a common matter of course for me that other people's thoughts won't distract me.

I got you though! I got your attention! Damion almost breaks his stoic expression with a grin.

I am merely offering you information so you can choose a better use of your time. However, it would warm my heart if you continued to choose to spend your time chanting my name to yourself, Mulsae's voice floats through Damion's mind.

Egotistical fucking asshole. Damion wants to scream. No, he needs to scream. Right here, right now. But he can't just scream here with all of these people. His desperation has him form another version of himself in his mind, and that version of him screams. Oh that felt good. The imaginary Damion screams again, louder, harder, longer. This feels great.

Imaginary Damion slams his fists in the ground again and again and again. A training ring materializes around imaginary Damion. He's at the punching block and wails on it. Damion brings up the memories of his prior sessions with the punching block and inhabits them to relive them. He remembers how he felt. Remembers the feel of the block against his fists. He remembers how his muscles felt, and even how the sweat dripped down his face. He relishes in every tiny detail he can remember. Imaginary Damion punches the block again and again and again.

Eventually the imaginary Damion stops punching and bends over to let out a mighty roar which he imagines shakes the very ground of the imaginary training ring. Damion's breath deepens as if he had physically exerted himself.

Wow. That was surprisingly tiring. Damion is tempted to fall asleep. He tries to refocus on the meeting, but sleep tugs at his consciousness and drags him away.

=*=

"... Damion is curled up on the floor next to you like he's your pet." The sound of his name startles Damion awake.

"He is my pet." Mulsae purrs contentedly.

"How is he possibly restrained enough to not be a safety risk? Just yesterday he killed a soldier while transporting him to your tent."

Gods, give me a sword and I could slaughter everyone in this room in seconds. Damion imagines himself performing a warrior's dance across the room as he slices everyone to bits.

"That was highly unfortunate. I should have accompanied his transport knowing how dangerous he is. I am able to freeze him in place so he isn't a risk to himself or others. Therefore, he does not pose a safety risk when he is at my side." Mulsae shifts in his chair, "If he acts out, I'll just freeze him. He's aware of this."

"Oh, so you've frozen him there, then."

"No, Damion is choosing with his own free will to lay there. He isn't acting out and so he remains unfrozen."

"He chooses this?"

"Choice is very important to this breaking process. For the most effective breaking, the subject must choose to walk the path that leads them to break."

"How do you possibly get him to make those kinds of choices?"

Mulsae sighs, "Unfortunately, I can't discuss specific techniques right now. It's a matter of privacy."

"Keeping your trade secrets to yourself, Water Master?"

"Oh no, that is certainly not my intention. This isn't about my privacy, but Damion's privacy that I must keep at this time."

Damion is extremely grateful to Mulsae for allowing privacy. He remembers clinging to Mulsae this morning scrambling for comfort as he had a shit through his torn and bruised intestines. That amount of shame could very well crush him.

Someone scoffs, "You're giving him privacy?"

"It is not a matter of what I am giving, but what I am taking. I am currently working on taking away his dignity. At a later date I will work on taking away his privacy."

What happened in the latrine this morning stays between us, floats across Damion's mind.

Damion thinks 'thank you' for just a second before he is horrified at himself and scrambles to squash the thought.

Of course. You're welcome.

Damion scowls.

Mulsae shifts in his seat again, "This is a process which has only just started. Damion may look broken right now, but he is only docile when in my presence. There is a lot more of him to break before he is less of a safety risk when I am not present."

"And you're just openly talking about this where he can hear you?"

"I am completely honest with Damion about what I am doing. We discuss what is happening, why, and my goals."

Another person scoffs, "You have conversations with him?"

"Yes. Open communication is an important part of the process. Damion must feel he is being heard."

Mulsae pushes his chair back as he stands up, "I know you are all very curious about Damion, but we need to end this meeting. You're all dismissed."

A chorus of moving chairs erupts, polite words of departure for their Sanctum Master are said, and many footsteps walk out of the tent. Once things are silent, Mulsae says, "Damion, stand."

Damion scrambles to his feet. After considering a moment he decides to risk openly stretching his muscles and rolling his joints to break the stiffness of being so still for so long. It surprises Damion that Mulsae has no reaction and instead says, "Good boy. Heel," and walks to exit the tent. Damion hurries to keep up.

A tray of food is sitting on the table when they return to Mulsae's tent. Mulsae heads straight to the table and sits. "Kneel." Damion kneels.

Mulsae sits back and looks to Damion, "How was the meeting for you?"

Damion narrows his eyes. You already know, you can read my fucking mind.

"I want to hear you say it."

"Boring."

"Is there anything about what happened that you want to talk about?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You were very insistent to get my attention during the meeting."

"I'm sure."

They are silent while they eat, alternating bites of food between them. The servant is coming in and out of the tent to fill the tub with fresh steaming water. Damion pays the man no mind.

"Excellent work managing your anger and frustrations during the meeting. Very good. Very healthy. Good boy."

"Next time I'll imagine I'm punching your face into a bloody pulp." Damion snaps back.

Mulsae beams, "Hey! You said more than two words! Tell me more."

Damion won't give him the satisfaction. "No."

Mulsae sighs. "I shouldn't have said anything. I spoiled the moment. I was just so excited to hear you actually talk out loud."

Damion's eyes narrow. He openly glares at Mulsae who just smirks in response. Smug bastard.

Their evening routine moves forward. After they finish eating dinner, Mulsae instructs Damion to kneel next to the foot of the tub. Mulsae strips and settles into the water. Damion maintains eye contact because it is what Mulsae requested of him yesterday.

Mulsae settles and lays back in the tub. He looks Damion in the eye, "It's nice that I only have to tell you to do things once. Good boy." Damion bristles.

Mulsae sighs, "Today certainly did not go how I expected." Damion continues to stare blankly at him. It certainly wasn't a fucking day I wanted, either. The thought crosses his mind before he can clear his stream of thoughts away. Mulsae chuckles.

"I keep having to remind myself this is a process, and unpredictable things are bound to happen." He smirks, "It's not like there is a book 'How to Break a Warlord' that I could learn from." He lightly chuckles then shrugs, "Perhaps I'll be the one to write that book."

Damion bristles but keeps his focus narrowly on Mulsae's face so he can keep his mind blank. Mulsae looks at him for a few moments then sighs and proceeds to wash himself. Once finished he gets out of the tub and towels himself off.

"Sit in the tub." Damion stands then carefully lowers himself into the tub. Some of his open sores sting at the contact with water. The tub is no longer warm enough to provide therapeutic assistance for his aching muscles.

"Let's try to get through this faster than last night. If something is annoying you say so out loud and we'll try to work it out so we can get the bath over and done with quickly. Do you understand?"

Damion clenches his jaw. Just tell him what's annoying me? Really? Well these cuffs are fucking annoying. That anal plug is fucking annoying. This entire fucking situation is fucking annoying! His anger pulls through his body. He just wants to explode! Exploding would have no benefit and would cause him more harm, though. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. He imagines himself roaring so loudly that the tents would fly away. Damion starts panting. He feels better, though.

"Excellent temper management. Good boy."

Damion stops panting. Fuck off, Mulsae. Damion takes his hands away from his face and glares at him.

Mulsae smirks then composes his face into a serious expression, "I hear you that the cuffs and anal plug are annoying. However, they are non-negotiable. Can we get through this bath with them present?"

Damion rolls his eyes to the ceiling and lets out a large loud sigh. He reestablishes eye contact then nods his head. Mulsae gives a curt nod as acknowledgement.

Mulsae soaps up his hands and washes Damion's body, having him move, stand, and sit as needed without trouble. He uses firm pressure and glides his hands along Damion's body in a swift, clinical-like manner. Damion keeps his focus on what Mulsae is doing. Every time a touch triggers a memory of the bath last night he feels grateful Mulsae is doing it entirely differently tonight. Just do it and get it done.

"I most certainly don't plan on washing you every day for the rest of your life. These cuffs are only temporary while we are here in the war camp. Once we are home your hands will be free to allow you to bathe yourself."

Oh thank the gods, I'll be able to freely move my arms and shoulders on a regular basis.

"We should be able to get back home in about… three days or so."

Three days or more? I've only been here for a little over a day and it feels like an excruciating eternity. Damion noticeably deflates.

"We'll get through it. You might be able to fly before we leave!"

Really? That soon?

"You've been such a good boy. Keep it up and we'll be flying soon."

Damion turns wistful. Flying. Flying. He recalls several flights he had taken to work off stress. Oh gods do I have a lot of stress right now that needs to be worked off! Flying would feel just… wonderful.

Mulsae stands up and offers his hand as he says, "Stand." Damion sighs then grabs Mulsae's hand to pull up into a standing position. "Out." Mulsae swiftly towels him off. He neglected to wash Damion's hair. Damion is grateful to not be scared about being drowned again.

“Heel.” Mulsae walks over to the bed, pulls back the blankets and furs, then sits on the side of it. He opens his legs wide, his naked cock hardened at attention on display.

“Kneel between my legs.” Dread blooms across Damion's body. He knows what that positioning means. He has never even touched another man's cock before, let alone put his mouth on one. He complies with the command, carefully and gingerly lowering himself into a kneel. His trembling betrays his dread. Damion keeps eye contact with Mulsae to minimize how much he sees his cock.

“Tonight, I'm going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” Damion rapidly blinks to prevent tears. A part of him knew Mulsae would want this of him eventually. It was inevitable. The time is apparently now.

“I am aware you have no experience with doing this yourself, while having an abundance of experience having it done on you. You are familiar with various techniques as an observer but not as a performer.” Damion takes a deep breath and tries to calm his pounding heart.

“I don't expect you suck my cock just freestyle. I will be instructing you on what to do step by step. Do you understand?” Damion nods.

“First step is familiarizing yourself with my cock. Look at my cock, Damion.” He takes a deep breath and shifts his gaze down to the area between Mulsae's legs.

“Observe its length and girth. See how the head is shaped.” Damion sees a long and wide shaft tipped with a pink head. How do women work with cocks so easily? Damion feels intimidated.

“Look at how the shaft connects with the balls. Look at how the sack of my balls is shaped.” Damion sees a large sack with rippling skin across it. The left side hangs a little lower than the right side.

“Now we're going to familiarize your mouth with my cock.” Dreading anticipation flutters its way up Damion's body.

“Put your lips open mouth on my balls.” Damion slowly and hesitatingly moves his head forward towards Mulsae's cock. Can I get out of this? What are my options??

Mulsae's odor infiltrates Damion's senses. It weighs heavily in his nostrils. I know I can't completely escape but maybe if I lash out I could at least escape the occurrence of having a cock in my mouth. For a little while longer at least. Later is much better than right now. Damion’s mind swirls through different ideas of how to lash out.

“You can't get out of this, Damion. If you do not do as I say and lash out instead, I will force you to suffocate on my cock.” Damion's eyes widen to full circles exposing the whites in his eyes. Terror grips his spine.

“Those are your choices, do as I say or suffocate. Either way, my cock is going into your mouth tonight. Do you want it to happen with consideration of you, or without consideration of you?”

With consideration. With consideration. With consideration. Damion is horrified at the concept of being suffocated. Fuck, Mulsae may have found the greatest fear I didn't even know I had. He recalls the moments of terror he experienced whenever someone defeated him during a spar and put him in a chokehold. It's been a long time since that happened, though. Just when he was a young teen. He's since been too strong to let anyone get a hold over him like that.

And now Mulsae has a hold over him like that. He's reading every thought and has learned what I just learned: I fear suffocation. Mulsae is going to always hold suffocation over my head. Fuck.

Damion places his open mouthed lips on Mulsae's ball sack. Mulsae's scent is overpowering his senses. It is almost all he can even think about.

“Good boy.” I'll be good. I'll be good. I'll be good. Damion chants to himself. He starts to tremble. Fuck, I'm so scared I'm whimpering to myself.

“Place your tongue on my sack as well.” Damion complies and feels so much more of the texture than he does with his lips. His senses are now dominated by odor and the texture of skin.

“Using your lips and tongue, mouth around the sack of my balls. Do not try to pleasure me, focus just on familiarizing yourself with my balls. Feel the skin, the texture, and the softness.” Damion mouths at Mulsae's ball sack. He steadily goes down to the bottom, shifts to the side a bit, then mouths his way back up to the top. He continues this motion and covers the entirety of the front of his sack. Damion's focus is on precisely following Mulsae's instructions, the texture and pliability of the skin, and the thick heavy aroma.

“Open your mouth and gently take a ball into your mouth.” Damion's mind is just wholly invested in acknowledging his sensations. He is nowhere and nothing, he is merely observing what exists without judgment. Simply gathering data with no care of what any of it means. He opens his mouth wider and gently sucks in the left ball.

“Move your tongue around the ball to get an understanding of what it feels like.” Damion swirls his tongue around. He feels a slippery egg-like object under soft pliable skin. It tastes like clean water over freshly washed skin, which feels wrinkled and finely textured.

“Lick up and down my cock. Explore my cock with your mouth and tongue.” Damion complies, sticking out his tongue to lick up the shaft. He feels the soft skin that covers a rock hardness. He mouths down the shaft feeling the curve of his girth.

“Place the tip in your mouth and close your lips around the shaft.” Damion freezes. This is it, he thinks, this is the moment. He wants to run. He wants to cry. He fears suffocating.

Damion struggles against the part of him that wants to run as he slowly moves his head in position. The force that wants to run while forgetting consequences is pulling on the force terrified of the consequences of non-compliance. With a shuttering inhale, he opens his mouth and slowly lowers his head so that his mouth envelopes the tip.

The force within him that wanted to run is furious, roaring, hitting things, and yelling about all the ways he is pathetic. Fear is keeping it contained, but the battle reflects upon Damion's face with a few dropped tears. He closes his mouth around the shaft. The head of Mulsae's cock is firmly seated in his mouth resting on his tongue.

“Good boy. You're doing so well.” He loathes being called a good boy. He also finds comfort, safety, and security in the words. Because he's breaking. Tears flow freely down his face. He takes a shuddering inhale and slowly exhales.

“Swirl your tongue around the head exploring it.” Damion makes a revolution around the head with his tongue, then starts rubbing his tongue all around taking note of the taste and texture. He licks the tip of his tongue into the slit because he presumes that would have been Mulsae's next command.

“Lower your head and take more of my cock in your mouth. Go as slowly as you need to, but continue to move forward until you gag," Mulsae instructs, "Unfortunately, lots of gagging is inevitable in the process of learning how to be properly throat fucked.” Damion remains still as he laments. Gods, gagging. So much gagging is in his future.

He starts to lower his head and take more of Mulsae's cock in his mouth. His breathing tightens. His breathing constricts so narrowly each inhale feels like a razor running down his lungs. His heart is beating so wildly like a scared bird in a small cage. His inhales cause wheezing sounds, and he is beginning to suspect he isn't getting enough air.

“Damion, sit up.” He swiftly releases Mulsae's cock and sits back. His mouth is hanging open as he pants. He feels he can breathe more easily already. Thank gods, thank gods, thank gods it stopped.

“You're having a panic attack. Take a deep breath, hold, 1, 2, 3, and exhale, hold, 1, 2, 3. Then inhale, hold, 1, 2, 3, exhale, hold, 1, 2, 3. Keep doing that until you can breathe easier and feel calmer.” Damion greedily follows as instructed, willing to take any suggestions so he can breathe easier.

“You don't want to gag. I don't blame you, I hate gagging, too. No one likes it, but many push through so they can be throat fucked. You can do this, too.” Gods, how do all those women willingly do this to themselves? For us?

“Gagging is just another thing you will have to endure. Do you understand?” Damion responds in a raspy croak, “Yes.”

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck. There is just so much to endure right now. Endure endure endure. I am in a constant state of enduring. Gods, the weight just keeps piling on and is so much I feel like I'm going to snap!

“Keep up the deep breathing and still your mind. Calm your body and relax.” Fuck you. But the fighting is exhausting him so he follows as Mulsae instructs. He breathes deeply and slowly and tries to let go of his thoughts.

Mulsae waits while Damion breathes deeply until he senses from Damion that he feels better. “I will cum from your mouth tonight. You will gag multiple times.” Endure endure endure. How do I endure?

“We're taking this slow so you have time to process and figure out coping techniques. Now, put my cock back into your mouth and take as much as you can until you gag. Go slowly. Maintain slow deep breaths and keep your mind calm and stilled.” Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.

“Relax your body and take deep breaths.” A few moments later, “Keep taking slow deep breaths while slowly leaning towards me.” Mulsae's aroma dominates Damion's senses again. “Place your lips on the tip of my cock.” Damion leans forward so his lips just touch the tip. “Open your mouth and slowly take in the tip.” Deep breaths, still my mind. Deep breaths, still my mind.

“Slowly lower your head and take more of my cock in your mouth.” Damion wills his body to lower his head bit by bit, a subtle minute movement downward, but a progressing movement nonetheless. He starts to feel the tip press against the back of his tongue. He oh so slowly continues and the tip passes the back of his tongue.

Damion's body suddenly convulses, and he whips his head up, sits back and pants heavily with his mouth hanging open. His body sways back and forth with each breath.

“Good boy. You did it! You got through the first gag. We next need to work on you being able to stay in position when you gag. Do that again, but when you gag, resist moving your head away. Keep it where it is on my cock.” Damion whimpers.

Damion slowly takes Mulsae's cock back into his mouth. He stills once the head reaches the back of his tongue. He preps his fortitude to do this again. Stay in place, keep my head in place, he chants as he minutely moves forward to his gag point.

Suddenly, Damion's body convulses and he mentally screams to himself to ‘stay in place!’ He successfully manages to keep his head in place, but his body is wracked again in another convulsion. Stay stay stay in place. Tears stream from his eyes. He backs off Mulsae's cock just a bit so he isn't so close to his gag point. He's panting rapidly.

“Very good boy! Excellent job. You're doing so well, Damion.” He's relieved he's not fucking this up. “Sit up.” Damion sits back with a gasp.

“For this phase I am going to control your movements and make myself cum with your mouth.” Damion gulps. Fuuuuuck.

Mulsae leans under the bed and pulls out something with an iron circle with leather straps on either side. “I am going to brace your mouth in an open position so neither of us need to worry about you chomping on my cock.” Fuuuuuck fuck fuck.

“I am going to hold your head firmly by your hair with both hands and move your head around my cock just the way I want it so that I can cum.” Damion whimpers and deflates.

“Do you understand?” Damion nods dumbly.

“Open your mouth." Fear prevents Damion from complying. He stares at the iron and leather contraption in Mulsae's hands.

Mulsae leans towards him and opens Damion's mouth. He's limp with fear and his mouth opens easily. Mulsae inserts the iron circle into his mouth and rotates it so his teeth rest on it. He then takes the leather straps and wraps them to the back of his head and secures it in place.

Damion tests his jaw’s movement and finds it is really braced open. Dread melts down his body. Drool drips down the side of his mouth.

Mulsae snakes the fingers of both hands through Damion's hair and finds a solid grip. He manipulates his head side to side and in a circle to test his grip and Damion's looseness.

“Good boy. Keep yourself nice and loose for me.” Damion wills himself to relax. Relax relax relax.

“Stick out your tongue all the way. Keep your tongue out at all times.” Damion holds out his tongue. Mulsae slowly lowers Damion's head to the tip of his cock. He pushes the tip against Damion's tongue and rubs it back and forth at a languid pace. Endure endure endure, Damion chants to himself.

Mulsae gradually increases the back and forth motion so the tip of his cock is going deeper and deeper into Damion's mouth. Damion focuses on the grip Mulsae has on his hair, the pull and sting from various strands of hair. He doesn't pay attention to what is happening to his mouth.

Damion's body wracks with a gag. Mulsae pays it no mind, pausing only long enough to hold Damion's convulsing head in place. He continues rubbing himself along Damion's tongue. Shortly after Damion wracks with a gag again. He whimpers and struggles against the bindings on his wrists. He gags yet again. Oh gods, stop it, stop it, stop it. Mulsae continues to relentlessly rub his cock along Damion's tongue. Damion, without thought, tries to pull his head away, but Mulsae has a tight grip. He tries to yell and emits a loud droning sound.

Damion gags and this time he feels Mulsae's cock blow past the gag point and hit the back of his throat. This entirely new sensation and the anxiety of what it means skitters it's way through Damion's body. The sound he's making picks up intensity and tears stream from his eyes as he weeps.

Mulsae never stops, never provides a break, continuing to gradually increase depth and speed. Eventually his cock is hitting the back of Damion's throat with every thrust. Damion's focus can't break away from the sensation in his throat. He just feels every jab of Mulsae's cock over and over again.

Mulsae's cock pushes beyond the back of the throat and is forced down into the throat. This new sensation startles Damion. A moment later Mulsae goes that deep again. Oh fuck fuck fuck. It's not too long before Mulsae is pushing that far with every thrust. Oh gods oh gods oh gods. Damion can't break his focus away. He becomes his throat. He is his throat, and all he feels is relentless penetration.

Damion quickly realizes he can't breathe when his cock is that far down. He tries to time his breath between thrusts. Inhale, thrust, exhale, thrust, inhale, trust, exhale, thrust. His concentration is so tight that he becomes a machine that just breathes and is penetrated. Watch the penetration, time the breaths.

“Fuck! I'm fucking your mouth, Damion.” Mulsae gasps, hips thrusting in time with the movement of Damion's head. “The Harbinger of the Flood taking my cock. I've broken the great warrior down and reduced him to nothing but holes to fuck.”

Mulsae's panting deepens and his thrusts more erratic, “Your mouth is going to make me cum, Damion!” He abruptly yanks Damion's head back with one hand and grabs his cock with the other. He vigorously pumps himself a few times before he releases a grunting groan and cum spurts out over Damion's face. With Damion's mouth braced open, some of it gets into his mouth.

“Fuck, yes! I am all over your face, Damion!” Damion continues to pant with drool and cum dripping off his face. His eyes are rolled up in the back of his head. He's just existing right now. Just trying to breathe.

Mulsae rotates Damion's face and admires his cum draped along it. He reaches out a hand and smears it all over his face. “Yes!” He pulls their faces together and growls in Damion's ear, “Your throat is mine to fuck.”

Mulsae tosses Damion's head back and then sharply shoves him to the ground. Damion hits the floor and doesn't move, just trying to breathe. Mulsae looms above him. “You're nothing, Damion, and no one. You are simply mine.”

Mulsae turns and walks away. Damion lays on the ground, his mouth still gaping open.

Damion regains his breath and is able to think again. Oh gods. What the fuck. What the fuck was that. Gods, this is what I have to endure? He weeps. He inhales a snorting sniffle and has a shuddering exhale. He crumples his face and whimpers. He turns to his side, brings his hands under his chin and curls his back inward. He sobs. He can't think. He can only cry.

Damion hears that Mulsae is almost near him and instinctively flitches and pushes himself away. “No,” Damion gasps, but because his mouth is braced open it comes out as a strangled noise, “No, no, no!” A sob wracks through him.

Mulsae kneels down beside him quietly shushing, “It's OK, it's alright. You were a very good boy, and we're all done now.” Mulsae reaches behind Damion's head and unbuckles the gag and pulls it off.

Damion trembles and looks up at Mulsae and hesitantly closes his mouth. “We're all done now, and you were a very good boy. Do you understand?” Damion hesitates before nodding slowly.

“Roll on your back a bit and let me wash your face.” Damion angles backwards. Mulsae gently runs a warm wet cloth over his face. It is so utterly soothing and comforting. The muscles in his face instantly relax. Mulsae is moving slowly with gentle pressure. Damion's focus narrows down to only the warm relaxation of the cloth on his face.

Damion's breath hitches when the cloth is taken away. The cold spreads across his face reminding him of his equally stark reality. His jaw trembles threatening to begin crying once more.

Mulsae starts gently running his fingers through Damion's hair. Pleasurable sensations burst through his scalp and down his spine. Oh gods, I need this right now. He thinks of only the soothing caress of Mulsae's fingers.

After a while, Mulsae stops his ministrations and double taps Damion on the shoulder. “Time to go to bed.” Mulsae stands. Damion lifts himself up bit by bit. Tilts his head, then pushes up his torso with his arms, then lifts his hips and finally stands up straight. He is unsteady on his feet and shaking. Mulsae holds his arm to support him and guides him into the bed. He raises Damion's arms and rolls him into position onto his stomach.

Mulsae crawls into bed next to Damion. He cuddles up closely, pressing their bodies together and draping his right leg over Damion's legs. Mulsae caresses up and down Damion's back. He switches to massaging his lower back and gradually shifts his hand downward so he is massaging Damion's ass cheeks. His anus stings with every push and pull on his cheeks.

Mulsae gets a firm grip on the anal plug and starts to loosen it. It stings and feels weird at the same time. Damion emits a strangled, “No. Please.”

“No what?”

“Whatever you're doing to me,” Damion turns his head and presses his forehead into the pillow, “I can't take any more.”

“I hear you that you're overwhelmed right now.”

Damion quickly responds, “It's just too much stuff going on! Too many wildly extreme sensations! I need a break!”

“You're almost at the time for your break. You're almost there and then you can sleep. One last task and you will be able to rest all night long.” Mulsae says soothingly.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do we have to do anything else right now?”

“Because that is the schedule. This is the routine of your breaking, and we can't make exceptions. We both cum morning, noon, and night. You haven't cum yet tonight.”

Damion screams into the pillow, “I'm broken already, okay? Are you happy now?”

“I'm very happy with your progress. You've been breaking quite well. But you do still have a long ways to go.”

Damion screams into his pillow. Gods, I'm so tired, I'm so tired, I'm so tired.

When Damion doesn't have anything more to say, Mulsae returns to loosening up the anal plug. He swirls it around and gently tugs on it. He then applies firm pressure and gradually pulls out past the flare. He leaves it partially inserted like that and gently, slowly, thrusts it in and out. It stings, it's sore, it feels weird, yet also pleasurable.

Mulsae changes the angle to find the right spot. Damion lets out a small gasp, so Mulsae focuses on that spot. Pleasurable feelings radiate through Damion's body. Damion whimpers. I'm just so tired.

Damion emits small moans and groans and subtly trusts his hips. Damion's exhaustion is gradually being smothered by the erotic desire to cum.

Ok, fine, just make me cum already, Damion thinks then throws his focus entirely on the sensations. He's pillowed and cocooned in them. He's supported, comfortable, and safe. He is paying no attention to the noises he is making nor the instinctual movements of his body. He gasps and groans, and unabashedly thrusts his hips.

Finally the cocoon of pleasure fully envelops him and throws him off the cliff. He emits a long loud satisfied groan as his body writhes while following the orgasmic waves.

When Damion stops writhing and is merely panting, Mulsae gently reseats the anal plug. He pulls the covers up and over Damion's back and up to his shoulders while telling him he's a good boy.

“Sleep well, Damion.”

Get fucked, Mulsae, Damion thinks in response.

Mulsae chuckles then settles into the bed to sleep.

Damion feels good. He's just existing in this feeling. There is nothing and no one. Just this warm, safe, pleasurable sensation. He can rest here. He can recuperate. He drifts off to sleep.