WiP Post | Super Junior
Feb. 19th, 2010 04:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coinlockerIt stank of piss and sweat, degradation and something animal. In any other occasion Zhou Mi would not be seen here, amongst the freak show; rich bored patrons set to twitter and gasp at the horrors and monstrosities behind stained lace; but this time, there was purpose. The snake woman, the one eyed monster, the little people, the siamese twins. The little goat boy. The sinful product of a lustful woman and a ram, the booming voice told, the freakish refuse of a slut, with a mouth for no words, only for chewing grass.
Mi regarded this pale looking creature, naked past fur and wool bunched on a skinny chest and in the junction of thighs; bony wrists bound, lips parted around a wooden gag wet with saliva. Two curled horns buried under hair of pale honey. The freak masters words continued to slide unheard into the air, extolling of the horrors of such a child. He took his step forward and reached on stage through the gaps in the cage, much to the shock of the crowd, earning gasps and cries; two gloved fingers sliding under the bony point of the creatures chin. Fake liquid eyes stared back at him, a mask, that he pushed away with thumbs to reveal the face underneath.
“Such beautiful eyes,” Mi whispered, while the creature trembled in fear, wide set eyes wet to leave trails in the hollowed muddy face.
“Name your price.”
-
The sack writhed in his arms as studied movements opened doors to the play room, a strength belied in his long, thin frame as he placed the bundle on the floor, gloved fingers holding the drawstring.
“I brought you a new toy, Master,” the lyrical voice added, intonations of bright sunshine flooding the darkened room. “Would you like to see?”
There was a shuffle on the other side of the chair, the sound of feet upon the ground as a young shape of seventeen slid from the candle lit gloom, the beginnings of broadness and strength settling into the figure that approached. One booted foot prodded the sack. A muffled cry coming from inside.
“Another toy?” The young man swept generous fingers to gesture to the room and the other toys in amongst the space, one eyebrow raised to the sound, an almost cold cruelty riding in his voice. “There must have been one hundred already, all boring, Zhou Mi, what use do I have for another,”
“This is not the one hundredth, Master,” Mi said graciously, pulling the draw cord and opening the fabric neck.
“The ninety ninth then,” he muttered off hand, sinking to one knee to prise apart the fabric, push it away and yank the toy from inside by honeyed hair. A yelp of surprise broke into the air, bound wrists straining against ankles, bent and held at odd angles with more lengths of rope. Pale, dirty skin rubbed viciously against the carpet as the body was pulled flush to the others chest. Rough fingers ripped at fake fur and the horns, tugging the wooden bit violently from between pretty bowed lips, leaving behind a tear stained and completely human face that panted and wept with fear.
“Oh, I think I like this one,”
--
Zhou Mi regarded the scene in passing in the midst of his duties to the rest of the household. This new toy had entertained the young master where nothing else, not even he, himself, had been able to. The creature could speak, but in terrible accent and roughened words, but he had a voice; knew not of the taste of fine wine, or the words that a novel could hold or knowledge enough to form debate but it was enough, to the young master, that he had a voice.
He returned to them, drawing tea and afternoon wares into the play room for a repeat of their daily repertoire. Paid no mind to the clothes that adorned the body. Restrictive fabric and boning that reduced the boyish body into some mockery of feminine form. The young master would often play a hand against the curve of waist encased in fabric, would smirk as the boy shuddered and gasped before forcing another morsel of food between the breathless lips.
“Do you like me?” He heard the young master whisper as he was preparing to leave the room again. Mi glanced over his shoulder, saw the softness in the touch that fingers made across the pretty mouth, the way his toy seemed to lean and arch into the motion like some needy pet.
And turned away before he heard the all too obvious answer. Murmured like a sigh.
Mi regarded this pale looking creature, naked past fur and wool bunched on a skinny chest and in the junction of thighs; bony wrists bound, lips parted around a wooden gag wet with saliva. Two curled horns buried under hair of pale honey. The freak masters words continued to slide unheard into the air, extolling of the horrors of such a child. He took his step forward and reached on stage through the gaps in the cage, much to the shock of the crowd, earning gasps and cries; two gloved fingers sliding under the bony point of the creatures chin. Fake liquid eyes stared back at him, a mask, that he pushed away with thumbs to reveal the face underneath.
“Such beautiful eyes,” Mi whispered, while the creature trembled in fear, wide set eyes wet to leave trails in the hollowed muddy face.
“Name your price.”
-
The sack writhed in his arms as studied movements opened doors to the play room, a strength belied in his long, thin frame as he placed the bundle on the floor, gloved fingers holding the drawstring.
“I brought you a new toy, Master,” the lyrical voice added, intonations of bright sunshine flooding the darkened room. “Would you like to see?”
There was a shuffle on the other side of the chair, the sound of feet upon the ground as a young shape of seventeen slid from the candle lit gloom, the beginnings of broadness and strength settling into the figure that approached. One booted foot prodded the sack. A muffled cry coming from inside.
“Another toy?” The young man swept generous fingers to gesture to the room and the other toys in amongst the space, one eyebrow raised to the sound, an almost cold cruelty riding in his voice. “There must have been one hundred already, all boring, Zhou Mi, what use do I have for another,”
“This is not the one hundredth, Master,” Mi said graciously, pulling the draw cord and opening the fabric neck.
“The ninety ninth then,” he muttered off hand, sinking to one knee to prise apart the fabric, push it away and yank the toy from inside by honeyed hair. A yelp of surprise broke into the air, bound wrists straining against ankles, bent and held at odd angles with more lengths of rope. Pale, dirty skin rubbed viciously against the carpet as the body was pulled flush to the others chest. Rough fingers ripped at fake fur and the horns, tugging the wooden bit violently from between pretty bowed lips, leaving behind a tear stained and completely human face that panted and wept with fear.
“Oh, I think I like this one,”
--
Zhou Mi regarded the scene in passing in the midst of his duties to the rest of the household. This new toy had entertained the young master where nothing else, not even he, himself, had been able to. The creature could speak, but in terrible accent and roughened words, but he had a voice; knew not of the taste of fine wine, or the words that a novel could hold or knowledge enough to form debate but it was enough, to the young master, that he had a voice.
He returned to them, drawing tea and afternoon wares into the play room for a repeat of their daily repertoire. Paid no mind to the clothes that adorned the body. Restrictive fabric and boning that reduced the boyish body into some mockery of feminine form. The young master would often play a hand against the curve of waist encased in fabric, would smirk as the boy shuddered and gasped before forcing another morsel of food between the breathless lips.
“Do you like me?” He heard the young master whisper as he was preparing to leave the room again. Mi glanced over his shoulder, saw the softness in the touch that fingers made across the pretty mouth, the way his toy seemed to lean and arch into the motion like some needy pet.
And turned away before he heard the all too obvious answer. Murmured like a sigh.
