had
grown stronger and that she wouldn’t pass out. She mimicked the other initiates
and slipped on her mask before she peered over the balcony edge.
The first thing she noticed was the blading
rack. It was made of heavy metal beams joined together to form a bench-like
structure. The cushioned bottom was only a few inches off the floor. It was
made to be kneeled on. The short, thick legs of the rack were bolted to the
floor. What could have been taken for a seat back was in fact one single
horizontal beam, which was elevated just properly to support a kneeling warrior’s
upper body. A thick leather belt dangled from the beam. A long, thick rod was
suspended from the ceiling by a heavy chain. It hovered above the rack. It was
the sturdiest handlebar she’d ever seen. Slender metallic cuffs were attached
to each end.
A side door opened to the room below and
two warriors entered. Between them they half-carried, half-dragged a naked
tawny young warrior over to the rack. One helped him kneel on the cushion while
the other secured him to the beam by wrapping the leather belt around the
male’s waist. That done they immediately secured his wrists to each end of the
hanging bar. Lydia noticed they were careful to avoid placing the narrow cuffs
below his wrists. Neither warrior spoke as they went about their task. The only
sound in the room came from the young warrior. It seemed as if his every
movement caused him great pain. His moans and howls were pitiful. Lydia steeled
herself, knowing what had to happen next.
One warrior, who appeared to be the older
of the two, stood in front of the unbladed warrior, waiting in stoic silence.
Occasionally, he would press a small device against the younger man’s neck. A
thermometer, Lydia realized. He waited for the fever to break. The other warrior
took the end of the chain and pulled, steadily raising the bar along with the
young warrior’s arms. A howl of pain echoed around the room.
“Grab the bar. Don’t let go.” The older warrior
barked the order. Amazingly, the younger male did as he was instructed.
Lydia studied the suffering male. He trembled,
perhaps chilled from the high fever or just reacting to the hormones racing
through his system. The soft look of youth was completely gone. He resembled
the bladed warriors now. Hard, well-defined muscles writhed under his fevered
skin. Like all warriors, his hair was long, falling well below his shoulders.
Unlike most, his was light brown and streaked with black strands. Even though
he was unbladed, his body was identical to his warrior brothers. There was no
sign of a beard or any facial stubble and no hair on his torso, except for a
thin line of short, dark hair sprouting just below his navel. The sparse growth
trailed downward, widening into a semi-circle thatch at the base of his flaccid
penis. His testicles were as hairless as his upper body. She always loved that
particular feature about Kern.
She didn’t know enough about the tattoo
markings on the young warrior’s back shoulder to read his name even if she
could see it underneath all his hair. And she wasn’t in a position to see the
circular line tattoo with its accompanying center design on the right side of
his chest. She was always curious to see if any warriors carried the same
markings as her mate’s.
Lydia was brought out of her daydream by a
shove from Takoora. Her friend motioned to the floor below. The older warrior
wrapped thin gauze strips around one of the warrior’s forearms. Finished with
the one, he moved on to the other before coming back to stand in front of him.
The younger male was no longer trembling. His body was drenched in a heavy
sheen of sweat. After checking his temperature one more time, the older warrior
nodded solemnly.
“It’s time, Talon.” The warrior, who served
as handler, gave a hand signal to the other warrior.
The chain drew taut, stretching Talon’s
arms higher. His hands tightened around the bar as he roared from the pain.
grown stronger and that she wouldn’t pass out. She mimicked the other initiates
and slipped on her mask before she peered over the balcony edge.
The first thing she noticed was the blading
rack. It was made of heavy metal beams joined together to form a bench-like
structure. The cushioned bottom was only a few inches off the floor. It was
made to be kneeled on. The short, thick legs of the rack were bolted to the
floor. What could have been taken for a seat back was in fact one single
horizontal beam, which was elevated just properly to support a kneeling warrior’s
upper body. A thick leather belt dangled from the beam. A long, thick rod was
suspended from the ceiling by a heavy chain. It hovered above the rack. It was
the sturdiest handlebar she’d ever seen. Slender metallic cuffs were attached
to each end.
A side door opened to the room below and
two warriors entered. Between them they half-carried, half-dragged a naked
tawny young warrior over to the rack. One helped him kneel on the cushion while
the other secured him to the beam by wrapping the leather belt around the
male’s waist. That done they immediately secured his wrists to each end of the
hanging bar. Lydia noticed they were careful to avoid placing the narrow cuffs
below his wrists. Neither warrior spoke as they went about their task. The only
sound in the room came from the young warrior. It seemed as if his every
movement caused him great pain. His moans and howls were pitiful. Lydia steeled
herself, knowing what had to happen next.
One warrior, who appeared to be the older
of the two, stood in front of the unbladed warrior, waiting in stoic silence.
Occasionally, he would press a small device against the younger man’s neck. A
thermometer, Lydia realized. He waited for the fever to break. The other warrior
took the end of the chain and pulled, steadily raising the bar along with the
young warrior’s arms. A howl of pain echoed around the room.
“Grab the bar. Don’t let go.” The older warrior
barked the order. Amazingly, the younger male did as he was instructed.
Lydia studied the suffering male. He trembled,
perhaps chilled from the high fever or just reacting to the hormones racing
through his system. The soft look of youth was completely gone. He resembled
the bladed warriors now. Hard, well-defined muscles writhed under his fevered
skin. Like all warriors, his hair was long, falling well below his shoulders.
Unlike most, his was light brown and streaked with black strands. Even though
he was unbladed, his body was identical to his warrior brothers. There was no
sign of a beard or any facial stubble and no hair on his torso, except for a
thin line of short, dark hair sprouting just below his navel. The sparse growth
trailed downward, widening into a semi-circle thatch at the base of his flaccid
penis. His testicles were as hairless as his upper body. She always loved that
particular feature about Kern.
She didn’t know enough about the tattoo
markings on the young warrior’s back shoulder to read his name even if she
could see it underneath all his hair. And she wasn’t in a position to see the
circular line tattoo with its accompanying center design on the right side of
his chest. She was always curious to see if any warriors carried the same
markings as her mate’s.
Lydia was brought out of her daydream by a
shove from Takoora. Her friend motioned to the floor below. The older warrior
wrapped thin gauze strips around one of the warrior’s forearms. Finished with
the one, he moved on to the other before coming back to stand in front of him.
The younger male was no longer trembling. His body was drenched in a heavy
sheen of sweat. After checking his temperature one more time, the older warrior
nodded solemnly.
“It’s time, Talon.” The warrior, who served
as handler, gave a hand signal to the other warrior.
The chain drew taut, stretching Talon’s
arms higher. His hands tightened around the bar as he roared from the pain.
Similar Books
