1. Memento Mori


    Date: 8/7/2015, Categories: BDSM, First Time, Taboo, Author: spermanator4, Rating: , Source: xHamster

    used up, scarred, bleeding, worn out shell of a man, with his hair thinning and his face gaunt. &#034I have someone here to see you Jean-Paul.&#034 At this point, Hannibal lifts Jean-Paul's face to look at me, but it's as if he sees right through me. He lets his face drop. &#034How does he look?&#034 &#034Pretty bad, I must say. But why are you showing me him?&#034 I extinguish my hatred. &#034Don't you recognize him? Have the years been that harsh on him? Oh well, I must take some credit,&#034 Hannibal says. &#034My -- my b*****r!?&#034 CHAPTER EIGHT Seeing my b*****r locked up is a hard blow. Mary and Dr. Witten could not have known. They would not have done that to me. Hannibal said Jean-Paul was his longest-running &#034playmate&#034 (his word). I know now what I need to do. I need to get Jean-Paul out of his bondage. He used to be so full of life. The problem came when I demanded that he be set free, my &#034courage&#034 a combination of having already fought with Hannibal, a feeling of being d****d in safety because I was sent here by Dr. Witten, and a feeling of having to act due to the severity of the situation. Surprisingly, Hannibal was more than willing to part with this &#034doll.&#034 He unchained my b*****r, and watched with me as Jean-Paul extended his arms out like a &#034t&#034 to be chained again. What did this mean? An act of defiance or a loss of the ability to choose freedom? Could I just drag him out? No, I can't decide for him. This is what he is ...
    choosing, for whatever reason he has. I take some comfort in knowing he hasn't begged. I leave in a hurry, in disgust, fear, emptiness. How can this sort of thing happen? Is there any oversight at all or is the world complete chaos? I try not to think of that thought when the Darkness finds me. God, how it's grown! It is truly, deeply, horrifying. I must get away, but it feels like it's enveloping me. My vision starts going black. It's not cold, it's just... CHAPTER NINE Mary leads me into the Bean Counter. &#034I want to show you something,&#034 she says, and the bar starts to move. It folds and swivels and slides and contracts like some kind of hallucination, leaving a door-sized opening abutted on either side by rows of liquor bottles and mirror. I look to her hands for a remote. &#034How did you do that?&#034 &#034Come in, Kaj.&#034 I follow her through with a melange of trepidation and excitement through the jagged opening. The room is a matte black; the only detail I can make out is it looks like it's made in small rectangular sections. I look back just as the opening folds and slides and swivels as quickly as before, leaving complete blackness. &#034How did you do that?&#034 &#034I am the door,&#034 she says. I smile at the absurd statement, racking my brains to decipher what she means by it. &#034Is that funny?&#034 Before I can respond I feel her put something on my head. I bring my hand up and touch what feels like a rippled bicycle helmet. &#034I never knew you were a ...
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