The Kings Personal Joker (boyxboy)

Chapter Eighty Two

[Belem's POV]

It was cold and every inch of me hurt, not the good kind of hurt, the very bad kind. I was stinging and aching and my fingers were crusty with blood. I gazed at the stone wall to my right and watched it in silence.

I imagined a window there, but I could no longer remember the time of day. Perhaps it was night? It felt like the morning.

Between the beatings and the lack of sleep, the dark and small space I was reclining in and the chain fastened to my leg, I was beginning to settle down with the acceptance that this would, unfortunately, become my last resting place.

I no longer made any real effort to defend myself or escape their attacks, knowing most of it was just to keep my eyes open. The less sleep I got the easier it would be for that man to ply his long elegant fingers into my soft insomniac brain.

He observed me quietly from the corner, evidently paging through some set of papers. The light was low, and his eyes faced downwards, and yet l I knew he was watching me still.

Cold, ruthless man. My cock almost hardened at the thought.

How very much like Sabbas he was... I eyed him a little further, the torchlight flickered and so did the gleam in his sharp, chilly eyes.

Something warm in me rolled about, making its presence known. 

Cold, with fists that left such sweet bruises, eyes that reminded me every time how little he liked me, how much I depended on him.

Yet so far I had yet to see him stand above me, punish me by his own hand, hold a whip or chain, cut me open or even ask me little more than who I was and what I wanted here.

I wanted to feel him hurt me.

If I was to die by anyone's hand, why not by a man as intolerably handsome, and just as icy cold as my master, who had forsaken me to this dismal human cage.

"You seem bored." I said to him quietly.

The underground room was quiet, even the slightest dripping from somewhere down the hall and up the stairs could be heard, my voice sounded like a thunderstorm to me.

He said nothing, and still looked down at his papers.

"Why, won't your king be very upset if he sees you sitting lackadaisically  just so? And I am sure he sees all..."

His eyes flashed upwards for just a second but I felt the full force of heat from just that.

"Be still."

I frowned, great irritation gripping me. The basic two words were rejection to me, and I was so tired of that.

"I see," I taunted. "You're more of a watcher, than a playing man. You let others do the work, fight your fights. Do you also let another man lay with your wife?" I leaned in between the bars, my knees aching against the hard stone. "Do you watch?" I asked with a sneer.

There was the barest narrowing of his eyes but nothing more, only a prolonged look and more silence.

The silence only angered me more. I wanted a reaction from him, more than anything else, I needed it.

"When this place is overtaken, and she is raped and her head cut off her body, will you watch that too?" I asked, glaring at him. "When your kings throat is slit and his eyes cut open, will you watch that as well?"

That was when he stood up and I swallowed my tongue.

It felt as though the air shifted in the room as he moved, the slightest twitch and I could feel it, the vaguest sound and I would notice it, and as he headed towards my cell with an even gait and perfect posture, it was as though I was watching a skeleton get up and move towards me.