Regression
Previous - this entry written on 2001-08-09 at 7:14 a.m. - Next


I decided to continue that thing after all... I don't know how long I will keep it up. Here you go - a quick flashback, and the continuation. *wry grin* Enjoy. Comments, anyone? And yes, this is something... personal.

---

The merchant�s son was shocked. Thirsty. Tired. Hungry. His world had changed, and the startlement of it was enough (when combined with a rather violent blow to the head) to leave him unconscious. He woke in a cave, bound hand and foot, a leash leading from a band of leather around his throat to the heavy stake driven into the ground beside him. A few fleeces beneath him and a light blanket over him were the only things he was wearing, although his robe lay beside him, neatly folded.

In the doorway of the cave, framed against the light, against the thin curtains that guarded the entryway, stood a dark figure� sword in one hand, a pitcher in the other� and an astonishing grin matching the amused sparkle in his dark eyes.

�Awake already, little one? You recover quickly. Are you hurt?�

The boy blinked, trying to rub his eyes, but the thin leather strips around his wrists kept them secure behind his back. He shifted, still half-awake, trying to determine his state� after a moment he shook his head in silent answer to the question posed by this stranger. The man merely laughed, nodding.

�Good. I�d hate to have laid claim to damaged goods.�

Shock, again� and the boy�s eyes rolled back in his head. A moment later his head hit the small fleece pillow below him. With a wry chuckle his captor set about preparing the small room, settling the pitcher of cold wine into an alcove, throwing down a few furs and a few more blankets, and stripping down to a single lightweight robe, barely enough to be modest.

Fifteen minutes passed� then a half hour� then nearly an hour. Finally the merchant�s son woke again, stretching as well as he could in his bonds. The man watched in amusement as the boy�s expression went from sleepy contentment to confusion, then shock, and finally settled on something halfway between horror and curiousity. The boy turned, looking about, and seemed to find what he was searching for when his eyes again met the sun-scorched gaze that had nearly hypnotized him when he was first thrown over the horse and dragged away.

Shifting carefully, he managed to rise� he�d been untethered, no more leather around his throat although his wrists were still tied, as were his ankles. It wasn�t until he was upright that he realized how little he was wearing, and desperately dived back down, rolling until he was covered enough to feel reasonably modest. The crimson hue that spread across his cheeks seemed to amuse his captor even more.

�Modest, little one? You�ll have no need for that modesty� such a pretty little toy as you will be shown off, not kept hidden away. I�m looking forward to parading you, my newest bauble. You�ll be quite a prize.�

--- to be continued? ---

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