Third Day

25th day of the 9th moon, 1103 HC

Damion feels a strange sensation in his core that makes him more aware of his surroundings. Someone, no, Mulsae is pressed up against his side with his leg draped over his own. He can feel Mulsae's breath roll down the side of his arm. Oh gods, I'm still in hell. Damion whimpers.

"Good morning, Damion," Mulsae coos.

Damion groans audibly while pushing the thought, Die a thousand deaths, Mulsae. He turns his head to press his forehead into the pillow.

Mulsae chuckles softly. He has a grip on the anal plug and is gently pulling it out. Damion groans as the flare pops out and Mulsae stills a moment before repeating as he did last night, gradually moving the plug in and out and finding a spot and movement that pleases Damion.

Just focus on the feelings. Get lost in the sensations. Damion breathes deeply and allows the sensations to ripple through his body. He languidly thrusts his hips. He moans and groans without a care. Eventually Mulsae's ministrations bring Damion to a climax and he lets himself melt into the bed afterwards. He takes a few slow deep breaths before a whimper slips from him.

Mulsae caresses him up and down his back, "Good boy, you're such a good boy."

I don't want to be a good boy. Damion whimpers. He feels so broken, so defeated. He even admitted it openly to Mulsae last night. After a mere day and a half of Mulsae's form of torture, he has been broken. Everyone who sees him must believe he is incredibly pathetic and weak to have broken so quickly. But they would have no idea how difficult this has all been. They couldn't understand. This is not the same as enduring pain, not at all. This constant whiplash of sensations and emotions is ripping him apart.

"Stand." Damion weakly slides himself off the bed and shakily stands up.

Mulsae sits on the edge of the bed with his legs wide and his hardened cock at attention. Fear warms through Damion's body.

"Kneel between my legs." Damion's throat bobs as he swallows and his bruised throat tightens. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He's trembling as he lowers himself to a kneel between Mulsae's legs. His eyes are focused on his cock.

Damion's trembling gets increasingly more volatile and twitching pops up across his body. I can't do this again. I can't do this again. How can I possibly endure? He remembers how it felt to have Mulsae's cock push down his throat. Tears fall. I can't do this again.

"Take a deep breath and hold it." Damion complies. "Hold it… now slowly exhale." He shakily exhales his breath slowly.

"Damion, look at me." Damion's eyes snap up to Mulsae's. "I am not going to fuck your mouth this morning." Tension floods away from Damion's shoulders and he gasps out a wracking sob. A sob of extreme relief. Thank gods, thank gods. That would have been too much. This has all been too much. Damion's head falls and his back curls forward while choking out a sob.

Mulsae is still and says nothing while Damion sobs. Eventually the sobbing wears down. Damion takes deep slow breaths to help calm his nerves and relax. Once he feels he can move freely again, he sits up straight and looks up at Mulsae.

"Good boy. Excellent self soothing." Damion takes a deep inhale and exhales.

"I'm going to tell you the plan for the morning. Understand?" Damion nods.

"You're going to use your hands to make me cum. That will be much easier for you." Damion's breath hitches. So much easier. So so much easier.

"Afterwards, we are going to the latrine, then we'll be in meetings until lunch. We'll take lunch during a meeting where you will accept food from me. Afterwards we'll go back to the wind at the cliffs. Do you understand the plan?"

"Y- yes." Damion says shakily. Going back to the windy spot? Oh gods, that felt so wonderful yesterday. I want the wind and sky again. I want the wind in my face and under my wings.

"Let's begin. Hold out your hands palms up." Damion holds out his hands still cuffed together. Mulsae pours oil on them.

"Grasp my cock with your hands and spread the oil around." Damion takes a deep breath and puts his hands on Mulsae's cock. He focuses on slathering the oil on every bit of it.

"I am sure you remember what you used to do to cum with your own cock. Pleasure me in a way you think will work. I will instruct you on any changes to technique I'd like you to do. Do you understand?" Damion nods.

"Begin now. Make me cum, Damion." He begins stroking his shaft up and down. He tries to figure out how to translate what he used to like onto someone else's cock. He finds his bound hands inconvenient and readjusts his technique to try to compensate.

Mulsae starts breathing deeply. "Good boy." Damion feels safer and more secure upon hearing the words.

Mulsae instructs Damion on what changes to make. Pressure, speed, rotation, pressure points. The technique finally is good enough for Mulsae to start panting and thrusting his hips to fuck Damion's hands.

"Look at you, Damion. On your knees before me, between my legs, broken." He places a hand on Damion's shoulder and really starts to fuck Damion's hands.

"I beat you. I got you and your people to submit. You are going to be a walking mark of shame for the Emberai for centuries to come." Damion's breath hitches. Centuries? Oh gods. Don't think about it. Just focus on right now, and right now I need to make Mulsae cum.

"You are such a good boy, Damion. You listen so well. You learn quickly." Mulsae gasps, "You are going to become the perfect pet for me." Mulsae is fucking into Damion's hands so hard and so fast Damion can't keep up and is simply maintaining firm pressure.

Mulsae lowers his forehead to Damion's forehead. "You are mine. I have a fearsome warlord as my personal pet." He lets out a loud guttural groan as he pushes Damion's hands to aim his spitting cum onto him. Streaks of white cum line across Damion's chest.

Mulsae continues leaning against his forehead and pants heavily into Damion's face. "Gods, this is such an amazing sight to see. I am all over the chest of the great Damion, Harbinger of the Flood." Mulsae sits back. "Look down at yourself Damion. Look at my cum on you." Damion looks down. It's just cum. It doesn't mean anything. Most things have no meaning to me anymore.

"You are so right, Damion. Your life is so small now. Propriety, dignity, privacy, all of it is meaningless for you." It's just cum.

Mulsae reaches out and smears his cum all across Damion's skin. "Such a glorious sight." Mulsae lets out a contented sigh, then stands and walks away. Damion is still staring at his chest, unmoving. It's only cum. It's meaningless.

Mulsae returns with a warm wet cloth. He stands behind Damion and leans forward to wipe up his chest. He sits back on the bed in front of Damion and brings his hands up. He thoroughly and firmly wipes the oil off Damion's hands, massaging deftly as he goes. Damion closes his eyes and enjoys the massage as it sends pleasurable sensations up his arms.

Mulsae puts aside the cloth and massages up Damion's forearms. Damion lets out a quiet humming groan. Gods, I need this.

Mulsae moves behind Damion and massages his biceps. Oh shit, fuck, I need this so badly. Tension melts away from Damion's body. His body relaxes and starts swaying with each grasp of Mulsae's hands. Mulsae moves up to his shoulders and along to his neck, pushing deep circles into Damion's muscles. He grasps both sides of Damion's neck and pushes his thumbs up and down his neck on either side of the spine. Damion releases a quiet long moan.

Mulsae massages back down Damion's neck, down and across to his shoulders. Mulsae stills and whispers into Damion's ear, "Good boy," then double taps his shoulders and walks away. Another wave of relief washes over him upon hearing the words.

Damion half leans, half falls forward and plops his forehead on the edge of the bed. Oh gods, that was so great. Oh, that felt so good. He allows the wonderful lingering sensations to soak down into his bones.

Damion can hear Mulsae getting dressed, and he just continues to leave himself propped against the bed. He breathes slowly and tries to release his tension and relax.

Eventually, Mulsae calls him to get up and approach. He snaps the leash on the cock cage.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"How's your energy level?"

"Uhh… okay?"

"How are your aches and pains?"

"Tolerable."

"We're heading over to the latrine now. Do you remember how you felt at this time yesterday?"

Pain and exhaustion flashes in Damion's memory. "Yes."

"Which day has felt better? Today or yesterday?"

"Today."

"What choice did you make yesterday that caused you so much harm?"

That damn piece of dignity. Damion blinks away a tear.

"Say it out loud."

Damion's throat bobs as he swallows. "I chose to hold on to dignity." It seemed so incredibly important at the time.

"What do you conclude then?"

Damion licks his lips. "Dignity," his breath hitches, "Dignity doesn't help me." My whole life to this point has revolved around protecting and enhancing my dignity. Was that all meaningless? Is dignity pointless?

"Good boy, Damion. You're a very good boy." He caresses Damion's hair lightly scratching his scalp. Pleasurable sensations skitter across his scalp and down his neck.

Mulsae leads them out and through the camp and into his private latrine. Mulsae lowers his pants and sits down and urinates. Damion looks up at the ceiling. After a few moments of silence the sounds of plop plop plop echo up from under the toilet. Okay, well, this is a new experience. Mulsae wipes, stands, and relaces his pants.

"Sit." Damion sits, Mulsae doesn't turn around this time. Damion closes his eyes and imagines he's all alone. His urine flows much more freely this time.

"Do you need to shit?"

"Is it going to hurt again?"

"With your healing, it should, at minimum, hurt less."

Damion swallows and nods.

"Touch your shoes." Damion leans over and Mulsae gingerly removes the anal plug, and as he does so Damion tries to relax and just let the strange sensations wash over him without judgment.

Damion sits up, closes his eyes, and tries to relax. Relax and clear his mind. He focuses on simply breathing in and out. An ache appears. Then a sting. It grows in intensity, but is nowhere near as unbearable as yesterday. Damion can endure this stoically. The pains crescendo then settles down just before the plopping sounds echo from under the toilet. Damion breathes a sigh of relief.

"Touch your shoes." Damion bends over. Mulsae wipes his ass and Damion hisses when the rim of his hole is touched. It's not as bad as yesterday, but still sore. Mulsae gently reinserts the anal plug.

They walk out the door and head to their next destination. Damion has no problem maintaining heel position. He blocks out all the jeers and laughter and focuses on just maintaining heel position.

They reach the tent they had the meeting in yesterday, but today it is completely empty. Mulsae stops and surveys the interior of the tent.

Mulsae guides Damion to a spot on the far side of the tent. "Stay." He loops up the leash and drops it at Damion's feet. "I expect you to be a good boy and stay," Mulsae says sternly. Damion gives a curt nod.

Mulsae turns and surveys the tent again then gets to work. He pulls out the chair closest to the fire and drags it over to where the tallest chair is. He then moves the tall chair next to the fire. Mulsae opens a trunk and takes out a couple bundles of furs. He arranges them on the floor to the left of the tall chair and in front of the fire.

"Pick up your leash and stand on the furs." Damion complies. "These furs are your place," He takes the leash, "Do you recall what place positioning entails?" Damion's face turns red and he slowly shakes his head. "That's alright. You were pretty disoriented when I explained it to you last time. It is not a problem for me to explain it again." Damion inhales deeply and exhales as some tension washes away.

"Place positioning is a small area where you are free to move as you like. These furs are your place. As long as you stay on the furs you can move around as you wish. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Don't stand for long because you're a big boy and you towering over others is distracting." A grin just barely twitches across Damion's face before vanishing. Mulsae smirks. "And although you can move around, keep it to a minimum so you do not draw attention to yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good boy, stay in your place." He drops the leash to the floor just outside of the furs. Damion stares at the leash looped in circles on the floor. He kneels down, still staring. He imagines grabbing it and running out of the tent. But where would he run to while in the middle of a war camp? His wings are bound. His hands are bound. Besides, the table and chairs are between him and the exit of the tent. Damion sighs. There is nothing I can do. Mulsae is right. He doesn't need the leash to control me. I'm trapped.

Mulsae has grabbed some papers and other items, brought them to the table and sat down. The sound of shuffling parchment punctuates the silence.

Damion wonders what he should do with himself, and his exhaustion speaks up for attention. He mostly slept last night. He does keep waking from aches and frustrated he isn't allowed to move around in bed, yet overall sleeps alright. But really, one night of sleep isn't going to catch him up on what he needs. His mental and physical exhaustion is so deep that it would take days of sleep to fully recuperate. That type of rest is nowhere in his foreseeable future. He's got his ‘breaking schedule’ to adhere to with three fucks a day and following Mulsae around.

Damion's head falls forward and hangs there. Three fucks a day, every day for the foreseeable future. Each one designed to break him. Mulsae is lighting up a pathway that leads to the complete annihilation of his self, and at each step of the way Mulsae is somehow convincing him to step onto that path towards annihilation. He keeps bringing him to the point of extreme exhaustion and makes the choice seem so tempting.

Damion scrubs his face with his hands. He recreates the imaginary version of himself and imaginary Damion lets out a ground trembling roar. Up pops Mulsae's smug face and he wails on his face in repeated one-two punches. He sees Mulsae's nose bend and blood streaming over his lips, chin, and down his neck.

Damion is just so tired. He plops down on his side with his back to the fire. It feels good. He keeps up the imagery in his mind of Mulsae's bloody and broken face and lazily punches that face again and again. He drifts off to sleep with the image of his fist in Mulsae's face.

=*=

He had fallen asleep by the time people started arriving in the tent and sitting at the table. Damion tells himself to pay it no mind and wills himself to continue sleeping. He is vaguely aware people are coming and going. Sometimes a loud voice startles him awake, but he wills himself to just keep sleeping.

Damion takes advantage of his freedom of movement. He stretches stiff muscles as they come and repositions himself when pressure points get achy. The fire feels so nice against his body. He enjoys it warming whichever part of his body is facing the brazier at the moment. The snaps and cracks of the fire sound peaceful to him, and he finds himself drifting off to sleep with his focus on the crackling of the fire. The furs are nice, too. Silky. He languidly runs a finger across the fur.

He hasn't listened to one word of the meetings so far, but the sound of his name being spoken captures his attention.

"Damion is proving to be a wonderful pet. His breaking is coming along nice and swiftly. Look at the leash. It's laying on the floor. He's untethered and poses no safety risk."

"You seem quite proud of your work, Master."

The seat groans as Mulsae shifts. "But of course."

Another voice speaks up, "When are you giving the boys a go at his cunt?" Quiet snickering rolls through the room. Damion's whole being deflates at the idea of being gang banged. His heart rate quickens.

"Never." Mulsae says sternly. Oh thank gods. The tension rapidly dissipates.

"I see, keeping him to yourself."

"That's not it at all," he shifts again, "Damion is only docile with me. If I left you all alone with him in this tent, I guarantee he'd kill you all." You bet your ass I would kill every last one of them.

"Just tie him down and force him!"

"That would be entirely counter productive to his breaking process."

"I'd say being fucked by a hundred people in one day would break a person." Others snicker in agreement.

"You'd think that, and you'd be wrong." Mulsae sighs, "It is a complex process involving a lot of psychological theory, and I will write a book about it someday. I'll never be able to explain it all to you in just this meeting." He shifts in his chair, "My goal is a pet who obeys me. Simply having a hundred people fuck someone will not convince that person to freely to obey."

"The threat of it would get anyone to obey."

"Not Damion. If a hundred people fucked him in one day, he'd take it and endure it, and come out stronger from the experience."

Several scoffs echo.

"Well, that's enough about Damion. I have another meeting in five minutes. You're dismissed." The room echoes with people departing the tent.

Mulsae gets up and kneels at Damion and scritches his fingers through Damion's hair. "Good boy. You've been a good boy." Damion sighs audibly. I don't want to be a good boy.

Mulsae returns to his seat and continues on paperwork until more people arrive in the tent again.

"Damion." Mulsae calls out. Damion is curled up with his back to him. He props himself up and turns to face Mulsae.

"Pick up your leash and kneel here." Damion picks up his leash and looks up to see there are four people sitting at the table in addition to Mulsae with platters of food spread before them. And all five of them are staring right at him. He wills himself to ignore them. He remains crouched as he goes over to kneel where indicated. He doesn't want to ‘tower’ over them.

Damion is looking up at Mulsae's eyes as he kneels. There's no one else. It's just me and Mulsae. No one else is here. Just ignore them. They don't exist. One of the guests at the table snickers. Damion squeezes the metal chain of the leash in his hands. The texture and hardness feel good, so he squeezes even harder. Gripping the chain starts to ground him.

Mulsae mentions something about the origins of some of the food which sparks a brief discussion on trade amongst the Sanctums. All the while, Mulsae is serving food onto his plate. Damion's stomach sinks as he knows he's going to be force fed in front of these people. I don't know them, it doesn't matter. They don't matter.

Mulsae eats a bite of food and then offers Damion a bite held on chopsticks. We're alone. It's just Mulsae and I. This is just the typical meal routine. Just eat and move on. Damion hesitatingly sucks the food into his mouth and chews.

One of the guests suppresses a laugh. This triggers another suppressed laugh. A pregnant pause and then the guests erupt in uproarious laughter. They laugh and laugh and Mulsae offers Damion another bite of food. He blushes and his cheeks turn pink. Damion has to consciously tell his body how to perform each movement to open his mouth and chew.

He's so self conscious he doesn't even know how to move properly. He's forgotten how to chew. Where's his tongue supposed to go again? He slowly moves his teeth up and down in a chewing-like movement and hopes his body will remember how to move properly again soon. He's trembling as all his muscles forget how to do their job. He has to consciously remember how his shoulders are supposed to be positioned, and how to hold his spine up.

The laughter dies down to suppressed snickering. "Oh, Master Mulsae, this is the best thing I have ever seen."

Mulsae runs his fingers through Damion's hair, "He's a magnificent creature. And he is all mine." Mulsae beams at him and offers another bite of food which Damion takes.

"You've broken him so quickly. How in Heavens did you manage to do that?"

Another voice pipes up, "Don't forget that our Master is a telepath. Manipulating someone's mind is child's play to him."

"I have not used my telepathic powers to break him. Damion is making the choice to be my pet of his own free will." Mulsae waves a hand flippantly, "The ability to freeze him in place is handy, though. It helps to keep him from trying to kill himself."

"He's tried to kill himself?"

"On the first night, he was making plans to try to get soldiers to kill him by running around the camp on a rampage. I reminded him there would be no need for him to be killed since I can keep him contained by freezing him. That put his suicide plans to rest."

"If one does not need to be a telepath in order to break someone so quickly, that would be truly a breakthrough in torture."

"I plan to write a book about the process," Mulsae chews his food. "But it does involve psychological concepts that are difficult for the average person to comprehend. It's assumed one can simply be beaten into submission, but Damion is a prime example of an individual who would actually strengthen his resolve if he were beaten."

"If you're not beating him, what techniques are you using?"

Mulsae looks down at Damion and runs his hand through his hair deliciously scraping his scalp as he does so. "I can't go into detail at this time." He looks back up at his guests. "The specifics need to be kept confidential at this time in order to keep Damion docile." Damion's heart rate quickens and pounds harder at the idea of people knowing, just knowing what happens when he and Mulsae are alone together.

Mulsae looks again at Damion, cups his face and runs a thumb across his cheek. "I know how you feel. No one needs to know what happens right now. It's just between you and me. Do you understand?" Damion slowly nods.

"Okay, mind reading is handy, too." Mulsae chuckles.

"I knew it. You need to be a telepath to do this."

"No, no. My telepathic powers simply make it easier to communicate. You can establish good communication verbally. As well as grow adept at reading body language when communication breaks down." Mulsae sits back in his chair and waves a hand, "Although I use advanced Water Sanctum power in order to freeze his movements, other containment methods could be used to keep everyone safe during the breaking process."

"Communication? You talk to him?"

Another voice asks, "You let him talk to you?"

"Yes! Clear and unhindered communication between each other is an important part of the process." He looks down at Damion, "He is free to tell me anything he wants to. This morning, for instance, I told him 'good morning' and he responded 'Die a thousand deaths, Mulsae'." He laughs merrily, "I am going to treasure that exchange for a long time to come."

Damion's eyes narrow. He imagines punching Mulsae's nose into a bloody pulp. Mulsae laughs and fully turns to him, leaning an elbow on the table and propping his head on his fist. There is mirthful delight in his eyes. "Maybe one day! I do plan to spar with you regularly. How does that sound? You'll get to beat the shit out of me on a regular basis."

Damion's eyes turn as wide as saucers. What the fuck? A guest pipes up, "You want to… spar with him?"

Mulsae maintains his position and eye contact with Damion. "It would be a waste to not train with the best warrior in all of Harmura. I am not too egotistical to be unable to admit that on physical prowess alone, Damion far exceeds my fighting abilities." Mulsae straightens and faces his guests, "If I want to improve my skills I need to find people better than me to spar with. Damion here is the best of the best. I am not going to let his talent go to waste."

Damion is just stunned. Sparing would feel so great right now. He has so much anger, fury to work off. Just training again. Using his body. Feeling the dance of a fight. He never imagined he'd be allowed that kind of freedom in this situation with Mulsae.

Mulsae turns to Damion and cups his face again. He leans closer ensuring undeniable eye contact. "Good boys get privileges. There are many freedoms good boys are allowed to have." Damion is ashamed as the thought 'I want to be a good boy' flashes by. Fuuuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I can't believe I thought that!

Mulsae runs a thumb across his cheek, "You are a good boy, and therefore there are many privileges that await you." Mulsae straightens, "We just need to get out of this damn war camp!" He turns to face his guests and they all laugh in agreement at how much life in the camp sucks.

The conversation eases off from being curious about Damion and onto bitching about various struggles and inconveniences of the camp. Mulsae resumes eating and feeding Damion. All the while Damion is lost in a fantasy of training and sparring again, and especially defeating Mulsae while sparring.

After the lunch guests leave, Mulsae rotates his chair to face Damion where he is still kneeling.

"How was it for you during the meetings?"

"Fine."

"Comfortable?"

"Yes."

"How about lunch?"

"Fine."

"Was it really fine?"

Damion bristles. It was humiliating as fuck.

"Say it out loud."

"It was humiliating."

"I understand."

Damion seethes. Of course you understand. You fucking designed it that way.

"Yes, I did." He shifts back in his chair, "How do you feel about the prospect of sparring?"

"Good." Damion imagines dominating Mulsae in the ring, having him pinned down with Damion's knee digging into his neck and Mulsae tapping out for mercy. A devilish smile grows wide across Damion's face.

Mulsae abruptly slams his hands onto the arms of the chair and leans forward exclaiming, "Heavens!" Damion's smile is wiped off his face and he flitches back in terror. Fuuuuuck! I pushed it too far.

But, Mulsae just starts laughing joyously. Damion has no idea what this means and what sadistic thing Mulsae is going to do to him as punishment. He starts to tremble.

Mulsae slows down his laughing and wipes tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have surprised you like that. I was just so surprised to see that glorious smile on your face!"

Tension weeps off of Damion's muscles. Oh thank gods.

"Smile again for me."

He scowls. "No."

Mulsae waves a hand, "Oh well. That's my fault. I shouldn't have surprised you. I lost my composure, and I'm sorry."

A puzzled expression crosses Damion's face. He's… sorry? He's… apologizing to me?

Mulsae clears his throat and uses his lecture tone, "Yes, I am apologizing to you. I broke a promise I had made to you. I specifically promised I would not surprise you. But just now my self control broke and I mistakenly surprised you."

Why should you care if you break any promises to me? Don't you just do anything you want to me?

"Trust is so important between us, Damion." Mulsae leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "You need to be able to see the boundaries clearly, both yours and mine. My job is to enforce those boundaries, make sure you stay within yours, and that I stay within mine."

Boundaries? There's boundaries? What boundaries?

Mulsae sits up, "For example, the boundary against surprising you. I promised I would keep that boundary for you." Damion blinks quizzically. "The other promise I made to you was to not cause you harm needlessly. I won't just hurt you because I feel like it. It will only happen for a specific reason."

You hurt me all the fucking time, Mulsae. Damion bristles.

"There are reasons for everything I do."

Damion scoffs. Seems sadistically random to me.

"I know, it's difficult for you to see the bigger picture on how the breaking process works. But if you ever have questions about what I am doing you can just ask me. I will do my best to explain my reasoning to you."

You'll just… explain yourself to me?

"Yes, absolutely. There are no secrets between us."

What about last night? That throat fucking was agonizing! Damion's heart beats faster at the mere memory of it.

"Yes, I see how much that experience has affected you. I am going to make adjustments as necessary." Damion blinks. "Pushing you too far too fast would actually hamper the breaking process." Mulsae sighs, "It's not a perfect process. Sometimes I will push you farther than what would be best. But, when doing new things I need to start somewhere, so I take a best guess at a good starting point and make adjustments as necessary."

"The starting point for throat fucking that I chose last night was further than what would have been best for you. I did try to ease you into it, I worked with your panic attacks, but in the end I pushed your limits too far."

Damion can only think of how terrified he is to go through that again.

"I will throat fuck you again. It will not be pleasant. However, I am going to work with you so it doesn't end up feeling terrifying again."

Fear and doubt becomes frozen on Damion's face.

Mulsae leans forward and cups both of Damion's cheeks with his hands. "I'll work with you on it. We'll take it slower to make sure you stay calm and relaxed the whole time. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he says hoarsely.

Mulsae releases Damion's face and sits up. "Is there anything else you want to talk about right now?"

Damion's mind is tied up in knots fearing how to cope with being throat fucked.

"Alright. That's enough for right now. You've been a good boy." Mulsae lightly scratches through Damion's hair. Damion closes his eyes and leans into his hand. It feels delicious. He just needs this right now to help shed some of his tension.

Mulsae stands up, "Stand." Damion complies. Mulsae puts a hand on both of Damion's shoulders. "We're going to the windy cliff's edge now."

Damion's face immediately lights up. That place was so nice. Mulsae takes the leash in his hand and leads them out of the tent.

They walk through the camp and reach the cliff's edge overlooking Scaldmere. The wind batters against Damion's body, and it feels great. They walk north along the edge until they reach the secluded spot surrounded by the rock formation.

Mulsae drops the slack of the leash and loops the end over his shoulder. He unbinds Damion's wings and steps back a few feet. "Stretch. Give yourself a good stretch. Take however long as you need."

Damion rolls his neck and shakes his legs while his wings flare out. He laces his fingers together and pulls them forward, then raises his arms above his head and leans backwards to stretch his back. This would be a lot fucking better if my wrists weren't fucking cuffed.

"I know. Just two more days and we'll be home and can take the cuffs off." Mulsae calls out over the sound of the wind.

Damion shakes his body around to move every muscle he can think of. Two days. Two more days. He feels safer to just move his body freely. He doesn't fear he'll make the wrong move. He actually believes Mulsae wants him to fully stretch and move around. Remnants of tension get pushed out of his muscles as he moves. He's feeling increasingly more relaxed.

He switches his focus to his wings. He arches his back and pulls out his wings as far as they'll go. He slowly moves them backwards and forwards, up and down, and tilts forwards and back. He opens and closes them a few times and shakes them out. He takes a few slow flapping movements.

He faces Scaldmere and gazes upon the scenery while stretching his neck out once again and rolling his shoulders. His wings are flared out with wind blowing against them. He takes a deep breath of the fresh crisp mountain air and enjoys this moment. He closes his eyes and soaks in the sensation of the wind whipping along his body and wings.

Damion's eyes snap open when he hears Mulsae's footsteps approach from behind him. The slack of the leash ominously drags across the ground. He tenses and his heart rate quickens. Dread melts through him. No, no, no, not again.

Mulsae puts his hands on Damion's hips and noses across the back of his shoulder and neck. "Relax, Damion. Focus on the wind," he says softly.

Damion takes a shuddering breath, closes his eyes and focuses on the wind. It's blowing across his wings. He tilts them to face the wind as if he were flying. He takes slow deep breaths and appreciates the quality of the fresh air. Tension starts to ease away as he relaxes.

Mulsae moves a hand to the anal plug and Damion tenses again. Mulsae coos a long low shush then says, "Focus on the wind and relax." Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind.

Mulsae loosens the anal plug and begins to gently pull it out. Damion's face scrunches up as he tries to will his lower half to relax. Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind.

Damion gasps when the flare of the anal plug pops out. Mulsae slowly completes removing it. Oil drips down the cleft of his ass and Mulsae rubs it into and around his hole. A moment later Mulsae notches the tip of his cock to Damion's hole.

"Focus on the wind," Mulsae coos. Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind. Mulsae pushes in at a slow steady pace. Damion lets out a low and long groan until Mulsae bottoms out.

Mulsae moves his hands so his left is splayed across Damion's abdomen and his right splayed across his sternum. He holds him firmly.

Mulsae gradually starts to grind against Damion. Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind. Focus on the wind. He imagines flying. He imagines the act of flying feels so incredible. He imagines all those erotic sensations he's feeling in his core are triggered by flying. The wind whips over and under his wings.

Mulsae slowly shifts and tilts his thrusts to find the most pleasurable location for Damion. He listens carefully to the noises Damion is making and is able to find it. Mulsae massages the area with his thrusting cock.

The pleasurable sensations build up and surround Damion. Flying feels so incredible, he imagines. He gets lost in the sensations. His moans come unbidden. He shallowly thrusts his hips. His wings make a mighty flap and blow up the dust from the ground pelting them with pebbles and makes a whomp sound.

Damion eyes pop open as he freezes solid and clenches hard on his core. Mulsae immediately stills. Fuuuuuck, Mulsae is going to be so pissed I did that! Damion starts to pant shallowly.

"You're a good boy, Damion. It's okay to move your wings." Mulsae gently caresses Damion's chest. He lets out a gentle shushing coo, "You're alright, everything is alright, you're a good boy." Damion relaxes only marginally.

"Do the breathing exercise. Inhale and hold, one, two, three, and exhale and hold, one, two, three." Damion breathes deeply. "Good. Do it again." He repeats the breath. "Good boy. Keep doing that and relax your body." Damion breathes slowly and deeply and wills himself to relax. I'm safe, everything is okay. I don't need this tension. I can just relax. He breathes deep and slowly relaxes.

Mulsae tentatively starts moving again, paying close attention to Damion's tension. Damion tries to get himself back into the previous headspace. Just focus on the wind. Just focus on the wind. He pays attention to how the fresh air sits in his lungs. He feels not just how the wind on his wings feels like flying, but the caresses the wind creates on the feathers he never noticed before.

Damion focuses on the wind’s caress to learn about these previously undiscovered sensations. He brings up these new sensations to the forefront of his mind and merges them with the sensations emanating from his core coming from Mulsae's thrusts. The merge creates a bloom of satisfaction that flows out and surrounds him with a pillowed cocoon of comfort, and enough safety to allow him to just let go, release the borders of his ego and melt into the universe.

Damion is back into the blissful headspace. His throat emits unbidden sounds and cries. His hips thrust. His mighty wings try to take purchase in the wind with languid flaps as he imagines himself soaring through a cloud of comforting pleasure. His wings snap taut as the cocoon tosses him over the edge. Damion cries out loudly and his body convulses while Mulsae holds him firmly in his arms as Damion's legs turn shaky and limp, no longer able to support him upright.

Damion stills and pants with an entirely limp body. Mulsae pulls out and lifts Damion into his arms. Then they're in the air for real. He lazily looks around them and watches the camp tents get smaller and smaller, and then get larger and larger as they descend. They land outside Mulsae's tent, and he carries him inside and to the bed.

Mulsae raises Damion's bound arms then lays him bent over the side of the bed with a plop, his whole torso, head, and arms supported on the bed with his ass in the air and legs hanging off the side of the bed. Damion is in a fucked-out haze and disoriented, still coming down from his high.

Mulsae takes himself in one fist while pulling open Damion's ass cheek with the other. "Look at your cunt just gaping open for me," he says while firmly stroking himself, "This ass is mine, all mine. I do whatever I want with this ass," he squeezes Damion's ass cheek firmly, possessively, "I own you. I own your entire body."

Mulsae slaps Damion's ass hard enough to leave a red hand print, then leans over and roughly grabs Damion's hair by the scalp and pulls his head back, "I take what I want from you, when I want to. There is nothing you can do to save yourself. You are entirely mine." Mulsae then releases a guttural groan and cum spits from him and stripes over Damion's gaping hole. Mulsae pants heavily for a few moments. "Look at you, covered in me." He runs his thumb through the cum and around the rim of Damion's hole, dipping in to run his thumb along the inside rim causing stings to bloom through his core. Damion's breath hitches and he groans. Mulsae stills and pants a few moments longer before dropping Damion's hair and walking away.

Mulsae returns with the warm wet cloth and gingerly wipes up the cum from Damion's ass. Damion hisses and rubs his face onto the covers. It still stings. Mulsae picks up Damion's limp body with a firm arm around his chest to support him, then pulls back the blankets and furs before gently redepositing Damion onto the bed. He pops off his shoes and positions him into the typical position for him for bed. Damion drifts off into blissful sleep.

=*=

Damion feels a gentle caress up and down his spine. It feels lovely. He sighs contentedly. He feels good.

"Damion," purrs Mulsae. Damion slowly opens one eye. Mulsae smiles warmly, "Hi there."

Damion glares, "Fuck off and die." He turns his head to press his forehead into the pillow.

Mulsae moves to caressing down Damion's scalp and massaging down his neck. Damion melts at the touch and his breathing slows to a relaxing deep pace.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

Damion groans, "Very relaxed."

"That's good. Is there anything you'd like to talk to me about?"

"No."

"Nothing on your mind? Any requests?"

"Die."

Mulsae smirks. He flattens down Damion's hair then rolls over onto his back and looks up at the ceiling.

"You'll have to get up in a few minutes. Take this time to wake yourself up so you're not so groggy and disoriented." Damion groans and rubs his face into the pillow.

"I think you'll enjoy this afternoon. We're going to go flying." Damion startles to full consciousness. Did I hear that correctly? He turns his head to face Mulsae and looks at him quizzically. He notices that Mulsae is in a set of Emberan leathers rather than his typical finely tailored outfits.

"Yes, I said we're going flying. It'll be a little awkward as we'll be tethered together by a leash. But you've been a good boy, and we're both talented in the sky, so I trust that we'll make it work."

Damion gulps and his heart races. Flying. Real flying. Mulsae is truly not taking it away from me. Oh gods, I want to taste the sky so badly, I'm not sure I will care that I'm on a leash. His breathing deepens.

"Well, that seemed to wake you up! Sit up on the edge of the bed when you're ready."

Damion stretches and rotates muscles across his body. Once he's woken up his body more he slowly sits himself up, stretching various body parts during the movement. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits on the edge.

Mulsae puts a hand on either shoulder and rubs across them. He then stills, "Want a back massage before we get started?" Damion freezes and thinks. He really doesn't want to be touched by Mulsae more than necessary. This morning was an exception because he was so sore and tense. He shakes his head.

Mulsae promptly removes his hands from Damion's shoulders. "I hear you. Let's get started then. Put your shoes on and then stand up."

Mulsae returns with a different leash made of a different material. "I had this specially made for flying. It's much longer but lighter so it doesn't add additional weight to your cock." He clips one end to the cock cage, then unravels a few loops of the leash and slings the loop end of the leash over his neck and shoulder.

"Heel." Mulsae leads them out of the tent and then through the war camp. Mulsae summons his wings a moment after they exit the tent. They wind their way over to the training rings. They're filled with soldiers training and observing training. Many stop what they're doing to openly gawk at Damion. A hush rolls through a crowd as Damion approaches, and then excited murmuring grows as he passes by. He tries to ignore the existence of any one other than Mulsae. His life is narrowed to Mulsae, and Mulsae only. No one else exists or matters.

Mulsae leads them to the least crowded ring and announces, "Disperse. I'm claiming this training ring for the next 2 hours." Soldiers scramble as they pay their respects to the Sanctum Master and head to other rings of the training area. A few trip over themselves or bump into each other when they notice Damion. He tries to pay them no mind and give no thought about it.

They walk to the center of the ring and face each other. Mulsae tosses the leash’s looping slack to the ground between them.

"We're going to start with a very quick test flight. We're going to just fly straight up, hover, then drop back down. Do you understand?" Damion nods affirmatively like a soldier.

"Let's put about one wing span between us." They step back from each other. "Ready?" Mulsae flares his wings. Damion flares his wings and nods.

"We'll ascend on my mark. Three… two… one… mark!" Simultaneously they jump into the air and flap their wings to take purchase in the sky. They lock eyes with each other as they ascend into the sky, higher and higher. Damion spares a quick glance and can see the entire war camp. There is absolutely no chance he could make it out of this camp on foot. He focuses back on Mulsae to make sure they're in sync.

Mulsae hovers and Damion promptly follows suit. The leash is untangled and has a lot of slack between them in a long upside down arch. After a few moments Mulsae gives the Emberan gesture for down and they begin the descent. They make smooth landings each with a gentle thump.

"How was that?"

"Good."

Mulsae observes the area. "Did you notice any potential problems?"

"No."

"Neither did I. Let's move on to the next test. We're going to fly around the entire circumference of the camp and land back in this training ring. If we encounter any problems in the air, we will promptly land straight down wherever we are. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"We’ll fly next to each other and both keep a watchful eye on each other so we remain in sync. Let's fly roughly two wingspans apart. There is four wingspans of slack between us so it should be enough. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Lastly, if you need to land for any reason give the down signal and we will promptly land. If I think we need to promptly land I'll do the same. We're both controlling this flight here. If either of us want to land then we will promptly land. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Any questions? Or foresee a potential problem?"

"No."

"Let's stand side by side two wing spans apart." They get into position. "On my mark. Three… two… one… mark!" They ascend straight up into the sky in a synchronized fashion. They reach a height where the whole war camp is visible then hover. Mulsae gives the Emberan hand gesture for flying north.

They fly next to each other, shifting their gazes back and forth between each other and the path they're flying in. They steadily make their way around the camp. Once they reach the training ring, they hover for a moment and then descend together at Mulsae's signal.

"How was that?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

Damion sighs. "It isn't enjoyable when I have to keep paying such close attention to what you're doing."

"I felt the same way." Mulsae crosses his arms and paces, tapping a finger on his bicep. Damion stands and watches.

He stops his pacing and turns to Damion with one hand flipping in the air, "I'm trying to prevent some unforeseen mistake that rips off your cock when an unyielding tether is used." Damion flinches.

Mulsae returns to pacing while talking. "A riptide enchantment could work. Something that would alert me if your distance strays too far so I'll know when to direct my attention back to you. If you're in trouble or being a bad boy I could use my magic to freeze and hold you."

Mulsae stops and looks up expectantly at Damion. "What do you think?"

"Why would I help you leash me?"

Mulsae chuckles. "Well, you want this even more than I do. I can fly without you. You can't fly without me." Mulsae sighs and waves a hand flippantly. "Although I am stuck grounded with you for the foreseeable future since I can't leave you alone yet."

"You poor unfortunate Sanctum Master."

Mulsae barks a laugh. "Not even a Sanctum Master can get everything he wants all the time!"

"Let's try a riptide enchantment." Mulsae bends to gather up the slack of the leash into loops in his hand. "Heel."

Mulsae leads them back to the area with the prisoners of war. Damion immediately notices the Emberai are more subdued. Oh fuck, they finished pinioning them all. They're too depressed to move. He feels ashamed they're over here looking for a solution to enable him to fly while so many of his soldiers have had the joy stolen from them. Damion yearns to help them, do something for them, but his hands are, quite literally, tied.

Mulsae speaks with someone who then scurries off. He surveys the area while he waits.

"These were your soldiers."

Damion swallows and says hoarsely, "Yes."

"Many of them surrendered with you."

He hesitantly replies, "Most of them."

"They were very angry with you yesterday."

"Is there a point to this conversation?" Damion snaps. "You're simply stating the obvious."

Mulsae puts his hands in his pockets. "I didn't want to pinion them."

"Then why did you?" He replies with clenched teeth.

Before Mulsae can answer, the man scurries back with a collar and hands it to Mulsae along with a key. Mulsae nods his thanks.

They head back to the training ring. Mulsae places the collar on the ground and then walks about four wingspans away and kneels. Damion stands next to him having no idea what is happening or what is expected of him.

Mulsae removes a ring from his finger and places it on the ground. He motions with his hands, rotating one above the other and a line of water appears in the air before him. The water envelopes the ring and lifts it up off the ground. Then the water shoots out towards the collar and does the same, enveloping and lifting it off the ground.

A bulge of water flows back and forth like a wave between the ring and collar. Mulsae closes his eyes and visibly concentrates. He sways back and forth with the wave of water rolling back and forth. Damion has never seen a Sky-Touched use their powers like this.

Mulsae slowly draws his hands up and holds them out wide. His body and arms undulate with the wave connecting the collar and ring. Then-- Clap! He whips his arms together into a mighty clap and the water bursts into mist letting the collar and ring fall to the ground.

Mulsae picks up the ring and walks back a few steps. Damion sees the collar drag along the ground with each of Mulsae's steps, as if there is a string connected between them. Mulsae steps forward and nothing happens.

He looks to Damion, "Go pick up the collar and then stand still." Damion obeys.

Once Damion has picked up the collar, Mulsae walks backwards again. The collar lifts up as if it is being pulled. Damion inspects it. He feels the pull against his hands and it is getting stronger and stronger the further away Mulsae walks.

"This should work," Mulsae walks towards him and the pull on the collar releases, "I put a riptide enchantment on the collar and ring. Whenever they drift too far apart, they’ll pull each other back like a tide." He reaches Damion and takes the collar from his hands, "The further apart, the stronger the pull. The more you resist, the stronger it pulls."

He opens the collar and places it loosely on Damion's neck, just below the collar that is forcing his wings to be materialized. He locks the collar and puts the key in his pocket.

They head back to the center of the training ring. "Before we get started I am going to demonstrate my magic that can hold and move you. This is just to get you familiar with it so you know what to expect." Damion nods curtly.

Tendrils of water surround Damion. They slowly approach him, first brushing up against him, then applying light pressure, then finally tighter pressure. Mulsae pulls back the tendrils, "I can use this to transport you if an emergency occurs." Damion swallows and nods curtly again.

Mulsae pulls the leash off his shoulder and unclips it from Damion before tossing it aside. "Let's test the riptide enchantment. We'll each take steps backward until we feel the pull." He starts walking backwards and Damion mirrors him. The collar starts a steady low pulling sensation once they're four wingspans apart. Damion points to the collar to indicate he feels it. Mulsae nods in acknowledgement then immediately starts walking back to Damion who meets him back in the middle of the ring.

"This could work. We'll do the test flight again. This time, fly slightly behind me so you can anticipate my movements. Let's start with two wingspans apart," Mulsae steps backwards and Damion copies. "Ready?" He flares his wings. Damion flares his wings, "Ready."

"On my mark. Three… two… one… mark!" They simultaneously take purchase in the air and fly higher and higher before stopping in a hover. Mulsae grins. He uses the Emberan gesture to move north.

Mulsae flies around the perimeter of the war camp. Damion stays behind where he can keep both Mulsae and their path in his field of vision. Mulsae occasionally looks backwards, and each time Damion swears Mulsae's smile is getting bigger and bigger. Eventually this tickles something in Damion and he shakes his head and snickers at himself.

They finish the perimeter and return to land in the training ring.

"How was that?!" Mulsae asks like he knows the answer is positive.

"Better."

"Just better?"

Damion rolls his eyes, "Sufficiently pleasing."

Mulsae barks a laugh. "This could work!" He is practically buzzing with joy. Damion swallows in order to suppress a chuckle.

"Next experiment is to test the riptide. I want you to keep triggering the riptide to see if I notice and locate you quickly. Do you understand?"

Damion quirks an eyebrow. "Sure."

"We'll make two loops around the perimeter and then land. Ready?" Damion nods. "We don't need to be synchronized any more so we don't need a countdown. Just follow me." Mulsae looks up and shoots into the sky. Damion is right on his toes.

Damion follows in the same position as before then gradually slows so distance is put between them. As soon as the collar starts pulling, Mulsae looks at him and smiles. They get back within distance of each other. Damion switches to the other side and puts distance between them again. Mulsae whips his head back and forth before he locates him.

Damion is up for challenging him. He flies directly above Mulsae then triggers the sensor. He watches with amusement as Mulsae looks behind him left and right. Mulsae looks up and Damion swoops back behind and down under him before he can be spotted. Mulsae circles his head and looks in all directions. Damion drifts directly behind Mulsae and goes closer to turn off the riptide pull. Mulsae banks left to take a tight turn, and before Damion can get back into Mulsae's blind spot he was spotted.

Mulsae hollers out, "Found you!" Then a full belly laugh overtakes him. "You have impressive dexterity!" Damion can't resist a self satisfied smirk.

Next test. Try to keep up with me without triggering the riptide, Mulsae's voice floats through Damion's mind.

I'll follow you, Damion pushes as a response.

Mulsae looks back at Damion and beams, then looks forward and shoots up higher. Damion is right on his tail. Mulsae makes an impressive attempt to shake Damion, but after fifteen minutes of swoops, dives, and feints, the riptide still hasn't been set off.

Mulsae stops to hover. Damion drifts over to hover face to face with him.

"You're good!" Mulsae exclaims while panting with a big smile on his face. "You win that round. I couldn't shake you."

"I'll take whatever wins I can get." Damion says matter of factly.

Mulsae smirks. "Let's cool down with another two laps then land back in the ring. Okay?" Damion nods.

Mulsae leads them around the perimeter at a good clip, not fast nor slow. Just good enough to stretch the wings and lower the heart rate. They reach the training ring and land. They're both breathing heavily.

Mulsae is buzzing with mirth and his eyes glistening with joy, "Gods! I haven't had that much fun since… since…" the energy drains away from him, "since…" he runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath while looking at the ground, "... since my sister... and brother..."

Damion’s own contented body language slips into preternatural stillness. He remembers clearly when the Water Sanctum’s ruling family was gruesomely slaughtered and Mulsae ascended to Water Master. They call it the Mutual Sanctum Slaughter because the Water Sanctum struck the Mountain Sanctum first. But rumor says Mountain had planned to wipe out Water’s line anyway, to install their own puppet Water Master. Water’s blow was only meant to stop a knife at its throat. Yet both Sanctums bled for it, and the echoes still stain the stone.

Mulsae paces in a circle with his hand in his hair. When he faces Damion he straightens and clears his throat. "Well, that was a success. I'm glad we figured something out."

Mulsae goes over to the leash and picks it up. "Don't need this anymore," he mumbles to himself.

They walk back to Mulsae's tent without the leash attached, but the riptide collar still in place. Damion keeps up at proper heel position.

They enter Mulsae's tent and Mulsae immediately undresses then leads them to the wash basin. Mulsae wets and wrings out a cloth and adds a few drops of a fair smelling oil before wiping himself down, then turning to Damion to wipe him down. Damion is left to stand there while Mulsae dresses himself in yet another finely tailored outfit.

Mulsae unlocks and removes the riptide collar from Damion then places it and the corresponding ring on the table.

He grabs the regular walking leash and snaps it onto Damion's cock cage. They walk over to the table and Mulsae collects several small piles of paperwork and stuffs it in a folder.

They head out back into the war camp. The jeers and snickers from passersby now include commentary wondering if they had been the ones flying over the camp, and opinions that Damion should be pinioned.

Mulsae leads them into the meeting tent which Damion finds thankfully empty. It's still in the arrangement Mulsae put it in where the tall chair is by the fire, and the furs are still on the floor. Mulsae walks them around the table and plops the folder of paperwork at the tall chair. He drops the leash and gestures at the furs saying, "Go to your place." Damion goes to the furs and promptly sits.

Mulsae bustles about the room and relocates some more paperwork and a writing set to the table. He settles himself in and begins sorting through the parchments.

Damion is just buzzing with energy. I just went flying! I not only am not pinioned, but I get an opportunity to fly! His mood deflates and sours when he remembers the stricken faces of the pinioned Emberai sitting numbly in the prisoner cages. He recognized every single one of them. He had sparred with each one of them at some point in their training. And now the majority of them will kill themselves once they're released. Being a pinioned Windborne is an unbearable life.

The moving of Mulsae's seat grabs Damion's attention and he realizes he has turned his chair to face him and is leaning down with his elbows on his knees to be closer to eye level.

"I didn't make the decision to pinion them. I left that to my general to decide." Mulsae says flatly.

"You're half Emberan! You should understand the devastation it will inflict upon them!" Damion grits out through his teeth and clenches and unclenches his fists in anger.

Mulsae sits back in his chair and rests one ankle on his other leg's knee. "My general's task is to ensure Emberai never chooses to rise against the Water Master's authority ever again. Sending pinioned men back to the Emberai will serve as a reminder to the lowest ranks that they, too, can suffer from their superiors' arrogance." He raises a hand and cocks it to the side, "In addition, there is hope that the increased presence of pinioned soldiers of the upper echelons will create some semblance of empathy to finally grow and help us put an end to the routine pinioning of Emberai in the lowest caste."

Damion's eyebrows shoot up. Mulsae is actually working on that? He remembers when the proclamation to ban pinioning was announced shortly after Mulsae ascended to Water Master, but had seen no progress. All the people of the lowest caste he knows are pinioned.

"It has not been from a lack of trying. You should know as well as any how stubborn Emberai are to maintain their cultural heritage, no matter how backwards and harmful it may be." Mulsae barks a laugh, "You should hear when Nori slips her stoic demeanor and goes on a rant about it."

Nori's name needs no explanation. She is the one the Veil Spirit chose to merge with, causing her eyes to turn black and her form to blur. She was an outcast when they were kids, but her ability to see through a reflective surface to any other reflective surface makes her invaluable to the Water Master.

Damion remembers having a handful of conversations about routine pinioning with Nori when they were kids before Mulsae's father whisked Nori off to be his personal informant and spymaster. He was jealous of Nori as children because Mulsae's mother took her in and then his father gave her a position in his council.

Mulsae gestures at Damion, "You are serving as another angle to prevent uprisings. Every Emberan soldier wanted to be you, wanted to become the Harbinger of the Flood themselves. Now, I have twisted that yearning into loathing. No one will want to follow in your footsteps as my pet. No one will ever want to risk being brought as low as you will become."

Mulsae bends over to lean his elbows on his knees again and look Damion in the eye. "I know what you mean about being familiar with these soldiers. I have not forgotten that I trained with you, Damion." Damion's eyes widen in shock, he presumed he had been forgotten. "Of course I didn't forget you, we were rivals as children. I do not forget that it was you who beat me up on my first day and stole my clothing."

Mulsae smirks, "Actually, I let you beat me up on several occasions just so you could win my clothes. I always knew I had more clothes back at the cabin. You did not, I had learned."

Damion feels like his brain has broken. The Water Master's little princeling was deviously giving him clothes as a child?

"One time I saw you walking by in the night, and I asked my mother where you were going. She told me you were an uplifted lowborn. You had no kin in the Hearthhold, so were expected to pitch your own tent at the edge and make do alone."

Mulsae sits back in his chair and crosses his arms, "I debated following you out there and dragging you back to my cabin. But I eventually decided not to because we probably would have killed each other if we tried to live in such close quarters together."

Damion remembers all too well how insufferable Mulsae was as a child and silently agrees to the assessment.

"And now here we are back together again," Mulsae taps a finger on his bicep, "My rival and bully in Kindlepoint is now my pet." He leans over and smiles devilishly as he runs a finger from Damion's temple to his chin, "My darling sweet good boy."

Damion shudders. Mulsae smirks then moves his chair back into place at the table and resumes his work.

Damion feels overwhelmed with the dump of information he just received. Saving lowborn wings. Mulsae remembers the first time they met. Backward Emberai culture. He was being given clothing because Mulsae was throwing their fights. Mulsae even considered living with him. His soldiers are going home pinioned to become a symbol against uprisings.

Damion's brain feels tied up in knots going every which way. He lays down on his back with his knees propped up staring at the tent's ceiling. His wings are still unbound and lay limply at his sides.

After minutes or hours, Damion's dazed state is interrupted by people entering the tent, greeting the Master, and taking seats at the table. Damion tries not to pay them any mind. He loathes being gawked and stared at. He prefers to just pretend that this current version of his life involves only he and Mulsae. No one else exists.

"Damion," he turns his head to look at Mulsae. "Kneel here." Oh fucking gods damnit. Mulsae is doing this on purpose to fuck with him.

Yes, that I am, the voice of Mulsae floats through his head.

Damion gets up as smoothly as he can and suppresses groans so he doesn't draw attention to himself in front of these guests, and positions himself to kneel at Mulsae's left side. Mulsae leans close to him and rests a possessive hand on top of Damion's head and keeps it there.

"Patron Thule," Mulsae states in his authoritative voice, "This is your meeting, please begin." Thule clears his throat and begins his announcements.

Mulsae keeps his hand on Damion's head. He occasionally runs his nails through his hair and down his scalp and Damion has to reign in every last inch of his will to not visibly melt at the sensations. Mulsae's ministrations move down to the nape of his neck and he pushes his thumb and forefinger into his neck muscles which causes Damion's self control to slip just enough that he closes his eyes a moment before flicking them back open and renews his concentration to not react.

I am stone, I feel nothing, Damion chants to himself.

Mulsae's hand rests down on Damion's left shoulder and stills. Damion breathes a sigh of relief that Mulsae has moved on and is maybe actually focusing on the meeting.

Those hopes are dashed as he feels a warmth build in his core. No, fuck, no.

Yes, Mulsae's voice purrs in his mind, fuck, yes.

I didn't even know telepaths could do this!

Ascending to Water Master has its perks, Mulsae purrs, I've now had lots of practice to ensure women never leave my bed unsatisfied.

The warmth spreads and tingling travels down through his caged cock and over to swirl around his prostate. His cock swells and presses against the cage.

Don't you have a meeting to pay attention to? Damion pleads.

Boring. Thule just likes to hear himself talk and think himself important.

The sensations grip at Damion and just as he begins to seriously question his ability to keep his composure, all of the sensations stop. Damion is tremendously relieved. He takes a deep calming breath.

Damion feels himself settling back into a normal state when that tell tale warmth grows again in his core. Fuck, you're being a tease.

You don't know the half of it, Mulsae purrs.

The sensations grow and boil and Damion locks down his body language to remain a statue of stone. But it's beginning to be too much and he starts to shake then... Poof, all the sensations disappear. Damion closes his eyes, lowers his head, and lets out a long soft exhale. Fuuuuuuccckk.

It's more difficult this time for Damion to get his senses back in order again. And Mulsae doesn't give him enough time before Damion feels that warmth grow once again. Oh fuck. I'm being edged.

Mulsae's affirmative hums float through his mind, I wonder how many times you can take it?

Damion screws his eyes shut. When he opens them again he notices one of the people at the table is eyeing him suspiciously. He closes his eyes again. This is Mulsae's fault, not mine.

The sensations grow and Damion can't resist arching his back just a bit and then... Everything stops again. Damion growls internally. Fuck being embarrassed in front of all these people, now I'm just frustrated.

The frustration battle within him hasn't even calmed down when the warmth building starts again. Damion feels in limbo between losing himself to the sensations and keeping self conscious and a stoic expression. He leans forward a bit and closes his eyes. The sensations grow and grow and surround him. He holds himself tight... and tighter. He feels he's going to crest so he holds himself as tightly still as possible, but that only starts him trembling from holding too still too tightly.

The crest topples before him, he starts to shudder and Mulsae announces, "Thank you, Patron Thule, for that riveting meeting." He pats Damion on the head while Damion shakes, "We are done for now. Everyone is dismissed."

Damion can hear everyone stand but his eyes are screwed shut and can't see what anyone's reaction is. He's lost in the wracking shudders. He just hopes no one notices the pooling cum between his legs.

The people say their goodbyes to their Sanctum Master and head out of the tent. When everything is quiet, Damion opens his eyes and finds Mulsae's face. He openly glares at him, That was cruel.

Mulsae smirks and waves a hand flippantly, "Thule tends to drone on and on."

Mulsae puts on a serious expression and points between Damion's legs, "Clean it up." Damion looks around and doesn't see anything he can clean it with.

"Lick it up." Damion minutely gags. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

"Lick it up."

Damion knows he has no real choice. He has no choices at all any more. He's trapped. Trapped in this disgusting life with Mulsae. He clears his throat and repositions himself so his head is by the floor.

It's warm cum and dirt from the floor. Fuck. Damion inhales, holds his breath and flattens his tongue along the floor and laps up his own cum. Nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty! He swallows and tries to punch back the nausea.

He takes a deep breath. Just two more like that and it should be enough. He quickly licks, swallows, then rapidly licks and swallows again. He tries to ignore his bodily sensations while he examines the floor. Thank gods, it was just three licks.

But then he hears it. The fapping above him. He twists around to see above him and there is Mulsae with his cock out and jerking it furiously. "Fuck, Damion, you're so nasty licking your cum up off the dirty floor." He's panting heavily.

"Hold your hands out. Hold your hands up to me." Damion complies with a grimace. A moment later, Mulsae groans and positions himself to spray lines of cum along Damion's hands. Mulsae sits back and pants. "Lick it up. Look me in the eye and lick it up."

Oh gross. So fucking gross. Damion continues to grimace while he keeps eye contact with Mulsae and licks up his hands. Some got on the cuffs so he has to lick those and stick his tongue in the seams to clean it all out.

When he's done he drops his hands into his lap and continues to look at Mulsae's eyes. Mulsae grabs both sides of Damion's head and scratches his scalp, "You are such a good boy." Gag me, please.

Mulsae smiles devilishly and takes his cock back in hand, "You'd like me to gag you?"

Damion's eyes widen with fright and his hands pop up in protest as he cowers away, "No no no no no! That's not what I meant!"

"Damion, you need to be more clear with your requests." To Damion's immense relief, Mulsae puts himself away and laces up his pants.

"Go to your place."

Damion swiftly scampers back to the furs and settles himself laying down with his back to Mulsae. Gods, I need a break from him.

Damion hears Mulsae move his chair to face the table again and some parchments shift around. Damion inhales deeply and lets out a long slow exhale. He reflects on what just happened and humiliation roils his stomach. Edged in front of people. A barely suppressed orgasm in front of them. Licking up cum and dirt. Mulsae jerking off into his hands. This is just all too much all at once. What the fuck.

Damion rolls his face into the furs. I just want to disappear from all of this. Mulsae continues to work at the table and Damion becomes mesmerized by the gentle sounds of his writing. He must be writing something particularly long, but whatever it is it pulls Damion into a waking trance.

Damion starts to hear people enter the tent and talk. He shifts his attention to the popping and crackling of the fire. He isn't tired enough to sleep, but just doesn't want to deal with any more of Mulsae's bullshit.

Chairs scrape across the floor and squeak and creak as people sit in them. He tries to focus on the sounds of the fire and drift back into his trance. He's having difficulty drifting his consciousness away into numbness with all the talking. He huffs silently to himself, readjusts his position to relieve some pressure points and listens in to the meeting.

They're talking about the logistics of breaking down the war camp. Most of it is boring, but they do touch on relocating the prisoners. They're debating gradually returning the prisoners back to the general population so as to minimize the stress of dissent on the communities. They need to figure out where and how to house the prisoners in the meantime.

Damion is brought up. Some are recommending specific instances where Damion should be paraded around the Emberai to keep them in check. If Damion is going to be kept alive, then his presence and predicament should be routinely seen by the Emberai. Damion rolls his eyes under his closed lids imagining his future of being shown as an embarrassment to his people. Those he worked with and trained for centuries.

They move on from the topic of prisoners and managing Emberai, and onto the topic of transporting other resources from the camp. Eventually the meeting runs its course and Mulsae dismisses them. Mulsae returns to his paperwork. Damion returns to focusing on the sounds of the fire.

The soothing sounds of the crackling fire and soft shuffling of parchments is interrupted once again by voices and people entering the tent, giving enthusiastic greetings to the Water Master. Mulsae stands and greets these guests in turn and encourages them to sit.

"Damion."

Damion suppresses an urge to groan while he turns to face Mulsae. Kneel there, Damion guesses.

Mulsae smirks. You're getting the hang of things. He points next to his chair, "Kneel here."

You need to show off your pet, I suppose, Damion thinks while getting himself into position.

You are such a prize, my good boy, of course I wish you to be on display, Mulsae coos.

Damion sees the guests have gotten settled and all five of them are staring right at him. One is openly gawking. He keeps his gaze on Mulsae and tries to ignore the guests. Servants begin to bring in platters of food. Mulsae caresses Damion's hair while the food is being arranged.

"I heard about what you were doing with Damion, but it is another thing altogether to see it for myself. Color me impressed, Water Master."

"Damion is quite a prize. If I had to win anything from this damn war, I could have done worse."

"What are your long term plans for him?"

"Day to day he'll be kept as my pet. But his primary purpose is to keep the Emberai in line." Mulsae serves himself food as he speaks, "For the centuries to come, Damion is to serve as a routine reminder of this loss and the price to pay for rebellion. He will accompany me, as my pet, whenever I visit Scaldmere."

Damion's stomach turns. How is he going to get through being dragged around Scaldmere in this state? Damion is so lost in his humiliation-filled thoughts he doesn't realize Mulsae has offered him food until he taps his lips with it a few times. Without even thinking, Damion just bites and sucks the food off the chopsticks.

"You're... Water Master, you're feeding him at the table? Right off your own chopsticks?" Damion deeply blushes. He was so humiliated at the idea of being paraded around Scaldmere that he forgot to feel ashamed for being fed like a baby.

Mulsae smiles, holds Damion's chin and looks him closely in the eyes as he responds, "I'm breaking down his dignity," He looks back up to his dinner guests, "He hates being fed, as he calls it, 'like a baby'. I continually expose him to these humiliations to force him to face his concept of dignity and gradually let it go."

The dinner conversation moves on to light, personal topics and Mulsae continues to slowly feed Damion.

They eventually finish eating but they're still lounging in their chairs, drinking, and talking casually. Damion has not been dismissed and continues kneeling staring at the floor. Every once and awhile Mulsae reaches out and scratches Damion's scalp and Damion has to resist leaning into it.

Damion's need to fidget becomes unbearable and so he decides to just go ahead and flex and fidget as he needs. He flexes his hands, and rolls his shoulders. His knees hurt, though. And his ankles are growing cramps. He has no idea how he can relieve that discomfort without drawing ire.

Fuck it, Damion finally thinks, I'm going to try laying down. He bends over to start laying down then, "Damion, no," Mulsae says. Damion whips back up into proper kneeling position. "You do not lay down until I instruct you to." Damion's throat bobs as he swallows. He hopes he isn't punished. The dinner guests chuckle.

"How do you get him to listen to you, Water Master?"

"He knows the consequences of not obeying and chooses to follow my commands to avoid those consequences."

"And the consequences are...?"

"Most would jump to the conclusion that pain would be the best consequence, but someone like Damion would instead grow more resilience in the face of pain." Mulsae drinks his wine, "I use fear. I know his greatest fear and he knows I will force him to endure it if he does not obey."

"What's his greatest fear?"

"Suffocation."

Damion blushes to have his weakness laid out on the table like this.

"It's not merely about consequences, however. Things cannot seem chaotic to him. I provide him clear guidelines to follow. If things were chaotic, he would fight to break free of the chaos in order to seek safety. But, with providing order and a clear pathway to safety he remains docile."

"Keeping him exhausted, both mentally and physically helps," Mulsae scratches along Damion's scalp, "He is keeping docile and following the pathway of safety I provide him because he is trying to recoup his energy and watch for an opening that would allow his escape."

He holds up Damion's chin and looks him in the eye, "But his hope to escape is fading. He's understanding that this is his life now and therefore is trying to figure out how to cope and come to peace with it."

Mulsae releases Damion's chin and sips his wine.

The conversation with the dinner guests continues on. It is entertaining enough to keep Damion from becoming so bored as to strike up a conversation with a pebble. One by one the guests leave, except for one who remains.

The remaining guest relocates himself to the chair closest to Damion, then asks, "Can I touch him? I've always wanted to know what Windborne wings feel like." Damion bristles at the request and shuffles his wings without thought.

"No," Mulsae strokes down Damion's hair, "I can't allow that at this time."

The guest grumbles his disappointment, but he and Mulsae quickly resume their drinking and chatting. They decide to switch from wine to mistburn, so Mulsae stands to gather the decanter and glasses.

Just as Mulsae turns his back to the table, the guest sticks his hand out towards Damion's wing. Without a thought, running on pure instinct, Damion grabs the guest's wrist, pulls him down, slams his chest on the floor, and pins him with a knee to his neck.

Mulsae whips back around at the sound of the commotion. Once he takes in the scene fog billows out from him and he commands, "Let. Him. Go."

Damion promptly releases the guest and returns to kneeling position with his head down looking at the floor. The guest jumps up with his hands to his neck and panting deeply. Damion is practically vibrating from worry as he imagines being forced to suffocate on Mulsae's cock as punishment. All because this fucking man can't keep his fucking hands to himself. Fuck!

"What just happened?" Mulsae asks sternly.

"I don't know! Just all of a sudden he dragged me from my chair! He's dangerous!" the guest exclaims.

Mulsae narrows his eyes at his guest. "You're lying." His guest scoffs with indignation.

"Then explain why Damion has a memory of you reaching for his wing?"

The guest sputters, "What?"

"If you did nothing wrong, then why is Damion angry at you for not keeping your hands to yourself?"

The guest takes a step back, "I... I don't know..." Mulsae steps forward and places a possessive, protective hand on Damion.

"Why do you insist on lying to me?"

"Water Master..." the guest pleads, putting his hands up in a placating fashion as he slowly steps back.

Mulsae flicks his wrist and water slams down onto the guest's shoulders forcing him to fall to his knees and topple over onto his hands. The guest sits up and cowers with his hands up as if that could protect him from this Sanctum Master.

"Water Master... Please..." The guest trembles.

Mulsae steps away from Damion and looms over the guest, "Why did you lie to me?"

"I... I was ashamed about what I did."

"And what did you do?"

"I tried to touch Damion's wing..."

"And did I not tell you that you were not permitted to touch Damion?"

"Y- yes, you did."

"So then why did you wait until my back was turned and disobey me?"

"My curiosity... It... It got the better of me, Master Mulsae."

"I see," Mulsae places his hands in his pockets, "Hold out the hand you tried to touch Damion with." The guest holds out his trembling arm.

"Damion," he looks up at Mulsae, "Break all the fingers on his hand." The guest gasps.

With pleasure, Damion thinks and a devilish smirk crosses his face as he gets up and approaches the guest. He crouches down in front of the guest and grabs his hand.

"Please, Master Mulsae," the guest pleads. Damion pauses and looks up at Mulsae to see if he'll grant the guest's request. Mulsae just nods his consent to continue.

The guest screams as Damion breaks his fingers. He pants and writhes under the agony as his fingers twist and turn into unnatural positions. Once Damion is done, the guest is bent over cradling his mangled hand.

"You're dismissed, Patron Taroch," Mulsae and Damion watch as he scrambles to his feet and dashes out of the tent cradling his arm.

Mulsae returns to his seat and turns it to the side. "Kneel here," he points in front of himself. Damion scrambles to comply and looks to the floor. His anxiety about his looming punishment blooms painfully in his chest.

"Look at me," Damion looks up, "You were a bad boy." A bowling ball sinks down into Damion's stomach and dread bleeds down his body.

"You do not lash out at people, especially not for the simple act of touching you. Do you understand?"

"Y- yes."

"You will eventually be required to allow people to touch you, even your wings. Right now I am maintaining a boundary to prohibit anyone else from touching you. It is my responsibility to enforce that boundary, not you. Do you understand?"

Damion's throat bobs as he swallows and licks his lips, "Yes."

"The next time someone tries to touch you behind my back you will call for me. You will not defend yourself, you will call for me and I will deal with it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Damion doesn't mean to whisper it, but his anxiety is making his throat dry.

"You were a bad boy, and there will be consequences." Damion's heart pounds in his chest. He starts to tremble. Mulsae pauses and stares at him for seconds, or minutes, or hours, Damion doesn't know as dread wraps itself tightly around every part of his body.

"You are losing the privilege of your hands as punishment," Damion doesn't understand what that means. Mulsae stands and walks over to a trunk. He rummages around in it then comes back with a black cloth bag. He lifts Damion's arms by the leather cuffs and puts the cloth bag over his hands. He cinches the bag closed and ties it shut firmly around his wrists.

Mulsae holds up Damion's bagged hands, "No more hands, no more grasping or holding things. You will have to earn the privilege back. Do you understand?" Damion nods.

Mulsae double taps on Damion's bagged hands, "Okay, that's all. We're going to go back to our tent now." Mulsae ushers them out of the tent, and through the camp to Mulsae's tent.

When they enter Mulsae's tent, he instructs Damion to kneel at the foot of the tub, which is already filled and steaming. Mulsae strips and settles into the tub, smiling to himself as he appreciates the warmth. Damion focuses on Mulsae's face and wills his mind to stay blank.

"Today was a good day, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure."

Mulsae smirks.

"Tomorrow you get your piercings and tattoos."

"Tattoos?!" Damion gasps. Mulsae told him about the piercings, but tattoos? It's so much more permanent. Irreversible. If I ever escape I'd be still carrying the memory on my skin. But Mulsae is confident that I'll never escape. I know his Sanctum's secrets. He'll never let me go alive. This is the rest of my life. This is how my life ends. This convoluted torture. His breath quickens.

"Damion, take a deep breath in... and out..." Damion automatically follows the command with a deep inhale and long exhale.

"Don't think about your future. Don't think about the nature of your life. Just focus on the here and now. We're here bathing, that's all you need to concern yourself with."

Here and now. The here and now is simple. Straight forward. I just have to kneel here and as long as I kneel here I don't have to worry.

"Good boy," Mulsae coos, "You needn't be worried or concerned about anything ever again. I will take care of you, I carry the burdens of worry and concerns so you don't have to."

Mulsae washes and dries himself then instructs Damion to get into the tub. Mulsae soaps up his hands and begins to massage Damion's shoulders. Damion's head falls forward and his shoulders relax.

"Do you want me to massage you as I wash?" No... I don't want him touching me any more than he needs to... but... Yes... I'm so stressed and this feels so good... Damion doesn't provide an answer out loud. He doesn't know what he wants to happen.

Mulsae's hands start massaging down his spine, "I'll massage you and you can tell me to stop any time. Understand?"

Damion whispers, "Yes."

Mulsae massages along Damion's entire back. Damion narrows his focus to just these sensations. The pleasure radiating through his skin, and the tension leaking out of his muscles. Mulsae massages his upper arms, then lower arms. Mulsae removes the bag around his hands, and Damion's lips part when his hands are massaged. So fucking good...

Mulsae has Damion lean back and put his foot on the edge of the tub, then massages his calf and foot. Once Mulsae pushes his thumb up the center of the bottom of Damion's foot, Damion's head falls back against the rim of the tub. He's never felt anything like this before in his life. Mulsae repeats the same for the other foot.

Mulsae has Damion stand then massages his knees and thighs. He then soaps up to the junction of his thighs, on either side of his balls then the sack itself and the taint behind them. Damion has the word 'stop' on the tip of his tongue. As long as Mulsae keeps this tame...

Mulsae instructs Damion to turn his ass towards him. Mulsae massages his lower back and works downward to massage his ass. His thumbs reach the cleft of his ass and brush along the anal plug. Damion's breath hitches. He doesn't want his hole messed with any more.

"Stop," Damion gulps, "S- stop."

Mulsae immediately removes his hands. "We're done. Step out of the tub."

He actually stopped...

Damion steps out of the tub and Mulsae towels him off.

Mulsae guides Damion to the bed and pulls back the blankets and furs. He turns his attention back to Damion and gently removes the anal plug while he's still standing.

"Sit with your back against the pillows with your knees up and spread open." What is it going to be this time...? Damion takes a deep breath then complies. Mulsae crawls onto the bed and nudges Damion's legs wider so he can kneel between them.

Mulsae takes his cock in his hand and strokes, "Finger yourself. Make yourself cum." Damion gulps and readjusts his bottom so his hole is more exposed before slowly lowering his bound hands down in front of him. It's awkward with the bindings on his wrists and the cage in the way but he manages a position where he can reach.

Damion circles his hole while Mulsae strokes himself with heavy lidded eyes. I have no idea how to get myself off this way...

"Insert a finger," Mulsae says softly. Damion gently pushes in, his rim feels bruised.

"Explore around, find the spot, you know what it feels like by now." Damion makes a revolution around but doesn't feel anything special. "Push in deeper. Try again." Damion readjusts himself so he can push deeper. He starts the revolution around again and gasps subtly. He found it.

"Massage it." Mulsae's stroke speed increases, he starts to pant. Damion begins to stroke that spot and closes his eyes at the sensations. He focuses on trying to get himself off. He imagines he's nowhere and nothing. Mulsae isn't in front of him. He doesn't hear the fapping of Mulsae jerking himself. He imagines it's just him and the blackness and these sensations.

Damion tries to focus, he truly tries, but it isn't working. He screws his face up in frustration. I don't fucking know how to do this. How the fuck am I expected to do this to myself for the first time while in front of someone.

"Let me do it," Mulsae says while he adjusts himself closer and pushes a hand towards Damion's hole. Damion brings his hands up to his chest and watches Mulsae while he slowly inserts two fingers into Damion's hole. He quickly finds the spot and strokes it. Damion's hips buck at the sensation.

Damion tips his head back, closes his eyes and focuses on the sensations. It's good. Mulsae is good at this. The molten warmth builds up and Damion starts to pant. He moves his hips along and everything feels so good.

Damion can feel he's on the edge. He just needs a little more to tip over... and... There! He falls off the cliff and his body shudders and his cum pours out onto Mulsae's hand. Mulsae grunts and ropes of cum run up Damion's abdomen.

Mulsae gently removes his fingers and pauses to breathe deeply for a moment. Damion doesn't move. His head is still tilted back and eyes closed. Mulsae gets off the bed, and returns a bit later with the warm wet towel and wipes up Damion's stomach. He wipes the cleft of Damion's ass, and Damion is relieved it doesn't sting any more. Thank the heavens for fast Emberan healing.

"Get into sleeping position." Damion groans, but complies. He hates this stupid fucking position he has to sleep in. It could be worse... He reflects on his soldiers outside in a cage, sitting in the dirt and mud with their wings pinioned awaiting their fates. I should be there with them. I shouldn't be here in a comfortable bed surrounded by warmth.

Mulsae crawls into bed next to Damion and pulls the covers over them and tucks Damion into the blankets. Mulsae positions himself against Damion's side and gently runs his fingers through Damion's hair.

"Good boy," Mulsae whispers, "Such a good boy." Damion falls asleep to the gentle caresses across his hair.