The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19

Another slave of Zaf also appeared, with a shiny pebble on the tip of his nose and with red lips outlined in a thick black border. Today he was dressed not in a woman’s dress, as usual, but in a lace set: a bra, small panties and stockings with a garter. All this lingerie of bright scarlet color, decorated with satin ribbons, was clearly borrowed by the unclean from some red whore from the Ore Town. Kors saw that a puncture had been made in the bridge of the poor fellow’s nose, and a metal rod had been inserted to which the eye shields were attached. Resembling tablespoons, they dug into the skin, completely closing the eyes and depriving the slave of the ability to see. To the touch, the slave crawled under the table and began to gently poke at the legs of those sitting in turn, offering the guests to satisfy them with a blowjob.

Desmod pushed him roughly with his boot, but Marbuel didn’t.

“Why did you cover his eyes with those iron glasses?” Kors asked Zaf.

“Well, he became quite boring as a dead fish. And sohe is more sensitive. Better try, hope I take them off and let him see again.”

Having satisfied Marbuel, the slave moved on.

When he gently touched Kors’ boot, he jerked back sharply.

“Uh, no, Zaf, get that away from me!”

Zaf, smiling, dragged the slave out from under the table and ordered:

“Dance!”

The poor fellow immediately began to make smooth movements with his hands and twist his hips. Alhaspicked up a musical instrument and played a cheerful tune on it. Hearing the music, the slave danced more cheerfully, bouncing on the spot and twirling his thin ass in red lace. It was very funny. The uncleancommanders laughed heartily, and Kors passed on this fun. It became easy for him, he finally relaxed, began to laugh along with everyone, clink glasses filled with wine with Zaf, Tazh, Kylie and others, finally forgetting about his troubles. Kors’ sad, anxious mood improved with each passing minute, either charged with the relaxed joy of the warriors around him, or from the wine he had drunk. But suddenly everyone froze, and the instrument fell silent. And the slave in red linen fell to his knees, bowing his head in fear. Kors did not even immediately understand what had happened, why everything collapsed so abruptly. Andin the ensuing deathly silence, he saw at the entrance to the tent a figure wrapped in a black cloak. The face covered with a mask, a hood pulled low over the head, the black figure stood motionless on the threshold, slightly hunched over and leaning on a crutch. The fur-wrapped upper crossbar of the crutch was lost in the folds of the cloak under the arm, and a black-gloved hand gripped the crossbar a little lower, and a golden ring with a dark green stone glittered on the finger. The newcomer did not utter a word, but the impure ones, as if waking up, hurriedly jumped up from their seats. The uninvited guest slowly walked forward, and each of his steps echoed in the silence with the dull thud of a crutch on a wooden floor. Zaf grabbed Kors by the hand, squeezing tightly, pulling him up from his chair. And Kors “heard” his tension, and also his frustration from the fact that now Zaf would be taken away from such a cute Vitor with a white strand on his forehead. And Zaf hoped to keep him at home. And Kors knew that Zaf was not sad in vain, yes, Nik was coming to him, or rather it was not Nik, now this black figure didn’t resemble his son in any way. The creature approached Kors. And he saw that around the wrist of his hand, not occupied by a crutch, a chain was wound. Kors understood. He knelt down, looking down, but without lowering his head too low to make it easier for the Demon to attach the chain to his collar. It was very humiliating, because Kors had just laughed and so in a friendly way, communicated on an equal footing with unclean commanders and was also a commander, was one of them. And now he will be taken away on a chain, like a slave.