Description
h2.Pissmeat Containment
[section=Story]
[i]He had been hanging there for several hours. The wounds on his back had not yet healed, but the blood running down his legs had already dried. A stream of cold air blew from below, painfully tickling the places where he had been whipped. Apparently, there was an exit somewhere below, but access to it was blocked by a bars firmly embedded in the wall.
He tried to move his arms. The cold metal reminded him of itself again, cutting into his wrists, and the chain groaned pitifully, rocking him rhythmically over the abyss. No, there was no way he could escape like this.
A few days ago, he had already tried to break free, slipping out of his handcuffs. But the only door to his prison was locked from the outside, and all he could do was huddle in a corner and hope that his punishment would not be too severe. For attempting to sneak away, they closed his nostrils and shoved a plug with a small hose into his mouth, almost blocking it completely. The lack of oxygen made his thoughts jumble, preventing him from thinking about running away.
Lexon had almost accepted his new way of life. If he wanted to survive, he would have to obey. All his brain was preoccupied with was the desire to switch from the overwhelming urge to breathe fully. Even the lashes of the whip provided a distraction, the sharp pain sobering him up. That was why, when he heard footsteps approaching behind the door, he realized with shame that his penis was rising in excitement at the possibility of finally escaping the oppressive feeling of suffocation.
The door opened and a menacing figure entered the room, holding a whip familiar to Lexon in his hands. His overseer loved to use it, enjoying how Lexon's body writhed in pain and striped patterns appeared on it. Perhaps that was why the punishment lasted longer than usual — shark skin was perfect for this kind of art.
“You should have gratefully accepted the terms we gave you, slave. But first you refused to obey, and then you tried to escape. This is unacceptable!”
A blow followed. The pain made Lexon's vision darken. The whip hit his old scars, exposing them again. His skin stung, and the air smelled of metal.
“Do you remember what was our condition? Be a good slave and do what you’re told, and then you can leave here and go back to the others. They miss their pissmeat friend.”
A second blow followed. This time, the whip hit healthy skin, and the pain was not as intense. However, it was still strong enough to make Lexon breathe out the little air he had managed to catch between blows. As if noticing this, the guard began to whip him continuously, not allowing him to catch his breath. This continued until the shark lost consciousness.
He woke up a few hours later. He was again alone in the room, and his wounds had managed to heal properly. He didn't know how long his punishment would last, but he couldn't think about it — the tube had been tightened even more, and he desperately wanted to breathe.[/i]
It started as just a sketch, but it grew into a complete B&W artwork. I wrote yet another story. It may be a bit clumsy, but I will keep working on it to improve my writing.
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