The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19

His office. Kors sees Tyutya carefully wiping the table. There is a knock on the door, Valentine comes up and timidly asks: “Who is there?” He gropes the door open, accepting another message for Kors from the courier, blindly holding out a gloved hand. This doesn’t surprise the unclean one who has come, and he gives him the envelope. Valentine carefully approaches the table, the slave girl helps him put the letter exactly in the center of the tabletop. How many days did the poor man go like this? And who ended up removing the bandage, finally noticing it? Arel did it? Or did the bandage eventually slip off on its own? Kors doesn’t remember, doesn’t know, he forgot about the boy then, he had many other things to do and worries. And he doesn’t want to look at it anymore. Because he wants to watch… Fuuuck… And of course, just thinking about it, he immediately saw Nik and heard Tyutya’s thoughts about him. Damn, that stupid bitch thought Nik was really cute too! She liked him too! Nik walks into the dining room, where she is cleaning up the table after another night of partying. Nik doesn’t pay any attention to the slave, and how badly he limps! He drags his leg, leaning forward sharply with each step, as if about to lose his balance. So sad, kind of pensive, all withdrawn into himself. He looks very unhappy and at the same time just as handsome. Unrealistically beautiful, like a fallen crippled angel. He flops awkwardly into a chair, his face contorted in pain. Slouching heavily, with a low hiss, Nik begins to rub his sore knee. His wrists, just below the gold bracelets at the very hands, are tightly wrapped with black bandages and glued over with a band-aid. And Kors knows why. There, under the strips of black fabric on Nik’s wrists, there are thin, but deep wounds from a steel wire. Kors always liked to use such handcuffs more than ordinary ones. Sticking into the skin, the wire delivers excruciating debilitating pain. Ideal for punishment. And Nik experienced it for himself, standing in the corner with his wrists tied for several hours. Now Kors regrets that he punished him like that, but nothing can be returned back. How brightly the letter stands out on his cheek! Kors himself doesn’t understand now why he did this to his son, and at that moment the letter didn’t at all seem to him so bright and big. Tyutya correctly matched it with the same letters on Adrian’s cheeks, and without a doubt considers both Nik and Adrian slaves of Kors. She thinks that black Kors and Prince Arel are lovers and free masters. And also Kors has slaves with whom he also has fun, these are Nik, Adrian and Parky. And the prince’s slave is Valentine. Moreover, she herself is a disenfranchised slave, she sincerely pities them. “What an idiot! But in general, she judged well.”

And then Kors himself enters the room. Kors likes to look at himself, admire his confident look, but the slave immediately lowers her eyes, although no one will ever see this through the cape, she does it instinctively. She froze, stopped collecting dishes on a tray. And Nik, too, instantly crept up, abruptly sat up straight, stopped slouching. This fast movement is now very noticeable to Kors, but at that moment he didn’t see it.

Kors imposingly approaches his boy, takes him by the chin, lifting and turning his face towards him:

“Now is not the time to sit down at the table,” he says imperiously and looking down at Nik, “first you need to go wash, brush your teeth, put yourself in order.”

Nik silently gets up.

“My vicious Angel, with whom anyone wants to sin,” Kors whispers hoarsely, leaning in to his ear, then puts a hand on his ass, runs his hand over it. He squeezes, strokes it, running his fingertips over the ornately twisted monograms of black patterns, and, slightly licking his lips, swallows hard. How smuttily and vulgar he looks from the outside! However, Nik, who stands with his head down and not moving like a ram, and allows Kors to stroke and squeeze his tattooed ass, doesn’t look any better himself. “And it’s not just that he decorated it? How did he even come up with the idea of getting tattoos on his ass? Whore!” Kors lowers his hand down and slips it between Nik’s legs from behind, thus reaching for his testicles, squeezing them. Nik gasps for air, but only spreads his legs a little wider to make Kors feel more comfortable.

“Let's go to the bathroom,” Kors says, finally releasing him, and Nik immediately heads towards the door. Now Kors can see how tense he is, not only does he keep his back straight, he tries not to limp as much as before, when Kors didn’t see him. His face stiffened, he clenched his teeth. He hurts! But Kors at that moment doesn’t notice this at all.

“Move faster!” he hurries, and, laughing briefly, loudly slaps Nik on his ass with his open palm. Clap!