![]() You're don't deserve this," he spits out in Xiao's direction, and they two make their exit, leaving Xiao flustered and straining futilely against the binds.Ī curious apprehension coils in the pit of Xiao's stomach as he listens in for the sound of footsteps His Highness has never conceded to personally torture him before: he has occasionally made a presence though, watching the Heralds torment Xiao's flesh with an array of unthinkable devices, his expression ever devoid of emotion Xiao could never tell whether the sight of torture brought him satisfaction or appalled him. I'd give my right arm to be tortured by His Highness like this one's about to. The other simply chuckles, giving the other Herald a profound look: "Torture, he says. "I-is this some kind of torture?" Xiao asks the Herald who had spoken to him in the bathroom. Bursting into a deep crimson blush, Xiao attempts to close his thighs, but to no avail: the binds on his legs restrict any movement. Xiao is hardly allowed the luxury of observation, however, as he is once again unclothed and pushed down onto the bed which stands upon the elevation, under the canopy of golden brocade the Heralds tie him to the bedposts by thick leather binds: the position keeps Xiao's limbs spread, offering all of him for full display. "By all means," the Herald shrugs, falling back to lean aganst the tiled wall with his arms folded on his chest, ice-blue eyes watching Xiao's every move.Īfter he has thoroughly cleaned himself and dressed into a pristine-white robe, Xiao is led through the labyrinth of corridors and brought to an unfamiliar room, which turns out to be the master bedroom: large and spacious, and richly-decorated, it appears somewhat bleak despite the prevalent dyhotomy of gold and obsydian. "I'll gouge your fucking eyes out," Xiao growls and snatches the washcloth. Now I see, huh," the Herald says, glancing between Xiao's legs. I won't touch what belongs to His Highness." He slaps Xiao's backside with a washcloth, chuckling, "Couldn't fathom what he found in that scrawny piece of ass. He hisses in embarrassment when the soap ventures into his private parts, scraping ruthlessly at the tender skin, but the Abyss Herald only chuckles at Xiao's abashment: "Don't fret, Yaksha. When he is dragged from the palace hall by Abyss Heralds, once again having rejected His Highness' demand of allegiance, Xiao expects torture to follow his continuous impudence instead, he is brought to a chilly, dimly lit, but surpsisingly clean-looking bathroom, stripped of his clothes by a pair of rough hands and soused with bucketfuls of unheated water while having those same hands rub soap into his blood- and sweat-stained skin.
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