Divided (74 page)

“Pain and fear can be the beginning of great evil, just
as it can be the beginning of great heroes.”

-A Hero’s Peace v.i

Having his limbs stretched before had been uncomfortable,
but now—cuffed above his head, while Tareth sat on top of his entirely exposed
body—Taeru wanted to scream.  He wanted to scream, to die—to do anything to
keep himself from this painful humiliation.  His legs still ached from the walk
to the room, and his mind still pulsed from the sight he’d seen in the room. 
There were people, locked in cells, only a few paces away from him.  They were
probably watching—but what were they thinking?  Were they thinking at all?

Despite having been informed that it would do little good,
Taeru continued to scream, through the gag.  The sound was pitiful, a weak,
muffled cry that he knew no one could hear.  Still, he couldn’t just sit
here—letting Tareth do anything he wanted.  Taeru didn’t want to be at Tareth’s
mercy—not like this. 
Calis… why?

“Now that I know how to make you listen to me,” Tareth said,
“I can spend more time focusing on how to break you.”  Taeru’s teeth clamped
down on the gag, and he tried to jerk his body hard enough to break the
restraints.  All at once, there was a biting sensation at Taeru’s neck.  His
head was forced back, avoiding the bite, and he slowly realized that a knife
rested at his throat.  “Hush,” Tareth hissed.

The gash on his throat had begun to heal, as it had been two
cycles since the gash had been made, but the renewed blade drew blood and
reopened the cut.  Tareth eased the knife, just breaking the skin, across the
entirety of Taeru’s neck.  Despite his thoughts of death, Taeru couldn’t bring
himself to scream with a knife so close to his throat.  His body trembled, and
he stared up at Tareth with an almost plea in his eyes.  Never in his life had
he felt so small, and so entirely helpless. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of this.  I
knew I’d get the opportunity eventually, if I just bided my time… I would have
you, helpless and restrained, and I could debase your body just like you did my
reputation!”  The words were amiable at first, and then they changed to a low,
venomous snarl.  Using his fingers, Tareth trailed his hands down the front of
Taeru’s abdomen, to his waistline.  “You’re shaking,” Tareth informed him
flatly.

Arching his back was impossible, Tareth’s weight prevented
Taeru from moving substantially in the least.  Unbidden tears welled in his
eyes as he moved his body as much as he was able, crying incoherent pleas at
Tareth to stop.  Tareth’s hand eventually returned to Taeru’s cheek, gripping
it forcefully, feigning gentleness.  The hand sent a million thoughts of Calis
into Taeru’s mind.  The contrast was nauseating.  For every bit of pleasure, of
gentleness, Calis had bestowed upon him—Tareth took back in humiliation and
pain.  Sweat poured down his throat, and blood began to ooze from the thin cut
along Taeru’s neck. 

For a moment, Tareth just stared at him—and even his eyes
seemed to penetrate to Taeru’s very core.  He was angry, furious even, and his
hatred was rolling off him in waves.  Gagged, there wasn’t anything Taeru could
say to ease the anger, and this was precisely the way Tareth wanted it.  Using
the same knife, Tareth made a small incision along Taeru’s right cheek,
deepening a cut that had already existed.  Old blood mixed with new, and his
face felt overwhelmed with the red stickiness.  “I’m going to take you, little
Phantom.  You may as well prepare yourself, but I will make you a deal…”

Taeru flinched.  He wasn’t sure there was any sort of deal
that he would be willing to make if having Tareth inside of him was part of
it.  His eyes squeezed shut and he jerked his head to the side.  The sounds
that his mouth was able to produce grew louder and, in his desperation, more
visceral.  Tareth’s hand caught his chin, and his face was forced upwards
again.  He fought it, yanking his head back and forth, wanting anything but to
stare into those gray eyes.  Eventually, though, Tareth’s grip became too much,
and his eyes flashed open in fear. 

The knife rested against his cheek again—the one opposite of
where it had been before.  Then, with a smirk, Tareth brought the blade down to
Taeru’s abdomen.  The laceration moved over Taeru’s jaw, his neck, his
collarbone, and then to the center of his abdomen—near his waist.  The pain
felt secondary to the agonizing realization that he was condemned to exactly
what Tareth wanted to do.  “Are you going to listen to the deal or not?”

Not giving Tareth the satisfaction of a nod, Taeru glared up
into that cruel expression.  If Taeru had to be vulnerable, then he would not
be submissive.  Calis’s words came back to him, sending a wave of
uncompromising anguish through his system.  

“You’re the same way, though, with the people of Dark
District.  You let them do whatever they want with you.”

So, Calis had been worried that Taeru would submit to
someone unwillingly—well, Taeru was about to prove that theory emphatically
wrong.  His teeth snapped together, and despite the tears that Calis’s memory
brought, he glared defiantly into Tareth’s eyes.  “Beg me—beg me for mercy,”
Tareth’s voice was a knife in Taeru’s chest.  The words drove the wind out of
him, and he narrowed his eyes.  He would not, under any circumstance, beg
Tareth for anything.  “If you do that, then I will be gentle—well, quick, at
least.”

One of Taeru’s eyes twitched in response, but he kept his body
from flinching at the implication.  His lips trembled, but he shook his head
vehemently.  Tareth just chuckled after a few moments, and a hard impact was
the response Taeru received.  “I think I can change your mind,” Tareth
whispered.  Slowly, Tareth lowered his lips to Taeru’s blood-soaked neck. 

The slipperiness of the man’s tongue against Taeru’s skin
made him nauseous.  He tried to turn his head away, but the motion only exposed
his neck further.  A biting sensation send a trigger of ache through his neck,
into his mind.  The ache intensified, slowly, steadily, until Taeru cried out
beneath his gag.  It built, his fingers clenched as best they could in their
broken state, and the pain matured until there was a strange release—with it, he
could feel the fresh flow of blood along his neck.

Panting, Taeru tried to jerk his head away again, but Tareth
caught his chin once more.  The lips moved to Taeru’s cheek, kissing it
sharply, and then the teeth were at Taeru’s ear—biting.  Taeru whimpered, and
his body convulsed in answer to the bite.  “You’ll break,” Tareth assured him. 
Then, moving backwards, Tareth lifted his body from Taeru’s.  Given the
opportunity, Taeru thrashed as much as he could, fighting against the
restraints.  The struggling was for naught as momentarily his energy betrayed
him, and he collapsed, panting beneath the gag. 

“All my life,” Tareth was saying from some remote location
in the room.  “Calis has stolen things from me.  He has been there to grasp it
before I am capable to take it for myself.  He is the older brother—so I
suppose it is to be expected.”  Taeru didn’t know why Tareth would be talking
about Calis—and he sounded angry.

Shouldn’t Tareth be happy with Calis if his brother had
given him the information?  Taeru’s heart hammered inside of him, and his
stomach clenched in anticipation.  He didn’t want this—oh, he didn’t want
this.  Moving his head, he was able to get a partial view of Tareth.  The man
was collecting a few objects off a shelf, and then he began towards one of the
stands near the corner of the room. 

“But, I never could let it go.  I just got so sick of seeing
everything I ever wanted in his hands—and yet he consistently squandered it, he
pretended as though it meant nothing.  He had everything I ever wanted, and he
didn’t even want it.”  Taeru wasn’t sure if Tareth was speaking to himself, or
if he was trying to frighten Taeru. 

Again, Taeru tried to force his body to fight against the
bindings, and again, his body refused to obey his commands.  Tareth seemed to
have everything he needed, and his eyes glittered back over to Taeru with
malice.  “And now, now it’s my turn…”  His words were acidic—and Taeru’s body
shuddered involuntarily.  “If he could see you now…”  Tareth laughed.

The words made little sense.  After all, if Calis had freely
given the information, then he certainly wouldn’t care about Taeru’s
condition.  Unless, of course, Calis was unaware that Tareth was a maniac. 
Perhaps Calis hadn’t foreseen it going this far, and perhaps he wouldn’t approve
if he knew.  In spite of the circumstance, the thought sent an upsurge of
contentment through Taeru.  “Thinking about him?” Tareth asked.  “Don’t
bother.”

Am I that bloody easy to read?  Even by this
Neanderthal? 

Taeru squirmed at the accusation, and his gag kept him from
confirming or denying it.  In another motion, Tareth had slid his own pants
onto the floor.  Taeru’s stomach twisted as he glared away from the sight of
the man currently controlling him.  Then, Tareth moved his newly acquired items
to rest beside Taeru’s head.  And there it was again, the purple
flower—Prisoner’s Bane. 
Not again—please, not that again.

Next to the flower was a short whip, or perhaps a better
description would be a springy rod.  The thing was black, short, with a handle
and an end obviously meant for hitting.  Taeru looked warily away from both of
the items, and his lips quivered as he saw them even after he had.  “Before we
start, I know I could make you submit to me—I could make you beg, beg me for
this, beg me not to do this—I could even make you my own personal slave.  All
I’d have to do was threaten your family.  But, for now, let’s check your
resilience.”  Tareth’s voice was much more cheerful now.

As badly as Taeru wanted to refute the claim, he knew he
couldn’t.  Tareth’s words were an absolute truth.  Taeru would have done
anything to keep his family, real or foster, safe from anything Tareth wanted. 
At least this way, though, Taeru could show Tareth that he wouldn’t be
broken—not truly.  Raising his eyebrows, Tareth lowered his mouth so that it
hovered just over Taeru’s.  “You’re afraid of me.  You can’t hide it.”  Taeru
winced, and at the same time that a stinging cut along Taeru’s abdomen, Tareth
removed the gag and pressed his lips to Taeru’s.  Taeru’s eyes widened, and he
writhed as much as he was able.  

Tareth’s lips were hard, demanding—and the memory of Calis’s
drummed against Taeru’s mind like a broken cadence.  Again and again, Taeru
tried to pull his head away from the lips that covered his, but again and
again, he failed.  Inevitably, Tareth’s serpent of a tongue wrenched Taeru’s
lips apart, nearly choking him with the sudden entry.  Tareth’s tongue was
thick, forceful, and Taeru heaved against the sensation.  The feeling was
revolting, and Taeru begged the table beneath him to swallow him whole.  The
involuntary kiss was made worse by persistent recollections of Calis enveloping
Taeru, soothing and terrorizing him.

It meant nothing.  Stop, stop doing this.  Please…

Taeru had known that what he had with Calis was a fling, and
yet he couldn’t remove it from his mind.  When Tareth pulled back, Taeru spit
into his face.  “Your brother even kisses better than you.”  The anger within
him personified itself through his words. He might as well make use of the
excruciating memories.

Tareth’s anger appeared, and it was tenfold Taeru’s.  With a
jerk of the younger Tsrali’s hand, Taeru’s head was forced to the side. 
Already formed bruises pulsed and worsened, while a new one promised itself. 
Chuckling, Tareth moved a hand down to the rod-like whip, lifting it and
catching Taeru across the cheek—his head was jarred in the other direction. 
“How spirited you are,” Tareth mused.  Again, the rod came across his cheek and
forced his head in the opposite direction. 

Gasping for air, Taeru wrestled with the pain that built in
his jaw and cheeks from the blows.  He ought to speak—say something to Tareth,
but all he could do was pull in air.  “I figured you might be, though, so
here…”  Tareth held up a glinting object, it was small, with edges sharpened
and jagged.  The front was reflecting—a piece of a mirror—but the back had the
same jagged quality as the edges.  With another forceful kiss, Tareth bit down
hard enough to split Taeru’s lip.

As Taeru cried out, Tareth thrust the piece of mirror into
his mouth.  At once, Taeru tried to spit it out, though even that action tore
at the inside of his mouth.  Tareth yanked the gag back upwards, trapping the
dangerous object inside Taeru’s mouth.  When Taeru’s eyes widened in panic,
Tareth smirked.  “Try not to swallow.”

In a quick motion, Tareth eased his body to straddle Taeru
again.  This time, Taeru felt Tareth’s erection against his thigh.  He
whimpered in disgust, but the motion in his mouth caused another cut along the
roof.  Unexpected tears formed in his eyes, and he worked to keep his tongue
and body still.  “You’re going to have to be good and not make too much fuss
while I do this,” Tareth said, “or you could make it easy on yourself—and beg.”

Narrowing his eyes was the only response Taeru gave, as
shaking his head may have caused further damage to his mouth.  Again, Tareth
just laughed, and then his attention moved to the lower part of Taeru’s body. 
Abruptly, he grasped Taeru’s cock in his palm and squeezed.  Taeru’s body
seized at once, shock and pain taking control.  Again, his mouth was damaged,
but his focus was on the part of his body in Tareth’s hand.  Once his body had
begun to try and relax, despite the grip, Tareth squeezed again—forcefully. 
Again, Taeru reacted, and his body twisted disobediently. 

“You’re like a cornered animal.  There isn’t anything you
can do to stop me, and it’s killing you.”  To Taeru’s relief, Tareth released,
but then he grabbed the knife again.  Unthinkingly, Taeru cried out—desperate
to stop this.  Blood oozed in his mouth, pooling at the base of it.  “You
aren’t very good at this silence thing, are you?” Tareth asked, cocking his
head.