Ви Корс
The Mist and the Lightning. Part 18

“You need to put a chastity belt on him. Otherwise, he will make children and continue the spoiled family.”

“Who needs him!”

“Are you kidding? His expensive clothes, long hair and tall stature will perfectly attract peasants and slaves, this is quite enough for them. Valentine, can you hear thoughts?” Suddenly asked Kors, abruptly changing the subject from an unexpected guess.

And Valentine trembled again and timidly answered:

“Yes, sir. Quite a bit, only sir Arel’s, sir Nik’s and sir Verniy’s.”

Kors shook his head.

“Yeah… Arel, and all your fault is your carelessness and stupidity! Gods, what am I to do with you all? How to fix this mess?”

“Put it back on,” Arel ordered Valentin, nodding at the helmet, and the boy immediately began to pull it over his disheveled head, slipping a hard leather collar under the collar. He couldn’t himself tighten the lacing on the back of his head, and Arel helped him and closed the back with a lock again.

Kors watched as Valentine himself put on a slavish attribute, as it seemed to Kors, he did it even with some kind of joy or relief he humbly bowed his head when Arel laced him up.

“But his character is not at all the same as that of Chester,” remarked Kors, “or is it you, Arel, who knocked all the crap out of him?”

“Valentine, get out, get out!” Arel ordered, and Valentine rushed to the exit.

“We should have sent him to Verniy to at least wash his face, he’s grimy as a pig,” said Kors.

Arel didn’t answer, he was clearly tired of being busy with a slave. He held out his hand to Kors.

“Go here.”

Kors responded, and Arel threw him onto his skins, holding him to himself.

“Arel, do you love me?”

“Yes,” Arel whispered, leaning on Kors with his whole body and pulling off his pants.

Chapter 5

“Why have you got drunk? I let you go play your fucking cards! I gave you permission! I fulfilled your wish, because I know how much you love it! And you got drunk!”

Kors shouted at his Nik, who returned to their tent in the morning and was pretty drunk.

“All clear! Dull silence! A ram’s look!”

Kors kicked in annoyance at their camp bed, on which Nik was sitting, and Nik quickly moved aside.

“I drank quite a little…”

“Have you seen yourself from the side?”

“Forgive me…”

“Yes, for you to say “I'm sorry” is as easy as to go have a piss!”

“You said one can’t say that … express himself in this way.”

“Why have you got drunk again? I don’t understand, explain to me!”

Nik thought for a while:

“Because it’s… it’s very pleasant.”

“Pleasant?! Is it pleasant to drink and hang around with all sorts of obscure personalities?”

“Personalities?”

“With all sorts of garbage!”

“It’s fun…”

Kors literally gasped with indignation:

“Fun?! Well, for goodness’ sake! I have no words! Your drunken friends will break your head sooner or later! Mador will split your stupid head, this will be also fun!”

“No.”

“Yes! This is usually the end of such adventures, believe me, I know. And you choose your friends the right way – only crap!”

Nik slid off the trestle bed and knelt in front of his father, bending down to him and kissing his boots. He knew that Kors really liked this demonstration of humility and obedience: at the very beginning of their relationship, Kors forced Nik to do it, angering and humiliating him, but now, as time passed, he taught his son to such an expression of love and gratitude. Nik was used to this and often, without orders, crawled at Kors’ feet, licking his boots like a faithful dog. Kors was always happy to let him do it, but now he brutally threw him away.

Having slightly lost his balance (both from Kors’ kick and from the fact that he was very drunk), Nik fell on his side, but quickly pulled himself together and sat down. He didn’t rise from his knees and was silent, allowing his father to scold him. No matter how hard he tried, Kors didn’t feel a stream of suffering or any kind of experience from Nik. Deciding that it was alcohol to blame, which blocked his son’s consciousness and prevented him from being sad and fully feeling the burden of guilt, Kors stopped scolding him:

“Put on the mask! I can’t see your drunken face! Oh, demonic nature, why should I be so punished – to have such a son!”

Nik, upset, but obediently reached for his mask and put it on. He finally got up from his knees and lay down on their trestle bed on his side, facing the wall, clearly trying not to “stick out like a sore thumb” and not provoke Kors. Frustrated, Kors left him alone and lay down on the skins next to him, defiantly embracing Arel.

They slept almost all day and only woke up in the evening.

“Can I take off my mask?” Nik asked cautiously. “I’ll wash and brush my teeth.”

“What for are you asking me?! When you get drunk, you don’t ask me!” Kors snapped sharply and irritably.

Nik sat in front of him with his head down, and Kors saw that he had not touched the mask, didn’t take it off without permission.

“You can take it off!”

“Thank you, daddy, please forgive me.”

“Oh!”

Nik took off his mask and looked at his father apologetically. He looked sad. Unable to remain serious at the sight of his cute face, Kors involuntarily smiled.

“Well, enough to flutter your eyelashes!”

“I don’t do it on purpose! Why are you making fun of me? You made me this way yourself, and now you laugh!”

“I made it beautifully!”

“Yes, you just went too far! And now it amuses you that I look so!”

“I’m not laughing…”

“No, you’re laughing.”

“No!”

“Vitor, I want to spend time with you, I'm yours. But please don’t laugh at me. I am not a toy!”

“I’m not laughing or playing with you, my doll, my porcelain figurine. Yes, I can scold you a little, but with love and for your own good. Can I do it this way?”

“This way yes.”

“Yes, honey, yes.”

“Please, Vitor, l am open to you, do you understand? Don’t break my heart!”

“I am also open,” Kors strongly supported him, “and it is you who break my heart with your behavior! How can I trust you if you only care about drinking and partying?”

“No, I don’t care about it! I love you!”

“I love you too!” Shouted Kors. “And it makes me vulnerable to your antics! One wave of your eyelashes, and I succumb to you for everything!

“No, I yield myself to you! When you scold and beat me, and I don’t dare to answer you, because I am afraid of losing your love.”

“And it is right. I fell out of love with Arel precisely because he didn’t listen to me well. If you don’t contradict me and obey me, I won’t stop loving you, I will never stop loving you! We’ll be happy. I will make you happy,” Kors reached out to his face and gently ran his fingers over the scar. “I would rather do your treatment! I will remove this scar from you, I will heal it.”

“Are you ashamed of me because of it? It spoils everything, doesn’t it?”

“I haven’t said that.”

“Even when you fuck my mouth, you always try to shove you cock into a healthy cheek and never into a scarred one.”

“Damn it, Nik! Sometimes you really need to be dicked to keep you quiet!” Unable to restrain himself, Kors raised his voice again.

And Nik’s face immediately reflected tension, he shied aside and quickly said:

“Don’t… please, Vitor!”

“Don't read my mind! Can you see me doing something to you?”

“But you want to… all the time you want to hit me. I said I love you, and that’s why you are going to beat me now? Yes?”

Kors saw Nik turn pale, his lips trembling with excitement and frustration, and his voice was filled with resentment; he literally stumbled in mid-sentence, fell silent, swallowing nervously. His face was so sad that it was impossible to look at Nik so as not to feel your heart contracting with pity.

“Stop pouting capriciously, it’s just vulgar!” Kors tried not to give in, so as not to start feeling sorry for him.

“I’m not pouting anything,” Nik objected resentfully. “You never beat Karina, but you constantly kick me! You slap me on the eyes and lips that you like so much. There are endless slaps from you for everything that is “wrong”, in your opinion. For a “wrong look”, for every “wrong word” – you immediately hit me. Yes, maybe not at full strength, but it’s humiliating.”

Kors saw now that the constant wearing of a mask still affected his Nik. He, like most slaves and commoners, when his face was open, poorly controlled facial expressions and emotions. If he was upset, this was fully reflected on his face. He didn’t even try or somehow didn’t know how to restrain himself, because he was not used to receiving feedback from the interlocutor, depending on the expression of his face. He didn’t understand that this was important, and didn’t care about it. It was unbearable for Kors to see this inferiority.

“Forgive me! Forgive me!” He grabbed his head. “You evoke in me some trashy feelings! And Karina is a complete fool, of course, but she is my only girl. I took care of her, although in an amicable way she should have been punished very harshly. But this idiot in the end at least found herself the same fool. And you’re completely crazy, do you understand? You are wild, neglected. Why are you looking at me with your eyes and keep silence? My little white, little white boy! Oh, oh, my doll… Come here, crawl to me, immediately! Like this… You feel good with me, aren't you? I love you so much, my beloved darling, I love your doll’s eyes and lips.”

“You keep on beating me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my doll! I’m doing this for your own good. If you weren’t so stupid, you would thank me for that. Thank me…”

“Thank you.”

“My boy. My stupid boy…”

“It hurts me, don’t… don’t touch me…”

“Be patient, you got drunk yesterday, and no matter how I love you, you will be punished for it…”

“Ah, ah … Enough, let me go!”

Kors still let go of his cock and balls, ceasing to squeeze them so hard and dig into them with his nails.

“Only obedience will lead us to success, my love. I love it so much when your bright eyes are filled with tears…”

Nik clenched his fists and stubbornly wiped his eyes with them.

“It’s not my fault that I have such eyes and eyelashes, and that they turn you on so much. Ask yourself why you like white half-bloods so much that you are drawn to them all your life!”

Keep silence! Be silent. Open your mouth, show me your shameful, leaky tongue.”

Nik immediately opened his mouth and pulled his piercing with his teeth slightly upward, so that the thick steel bar that pierced his tongue vertically and onto which the balls were screwed along the edges was now clearly visible.

“Oh-oh-oh… a complete whore, I really will beat you right now!” Kors jerked him closer.

“No, no!”

“Obey me, you fool who fucked up your life and became a whore!”

“I told you stories from my life so that you would reproach me later?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Lie on your back, lie down,” Kors sat down on his chest, pressing his hands trembling with excitement into the fluffy skins, hastily pulling out his long erect and sweetly aching cock.

“Let… let me cum on your beautiful eyes…”

They continued, and Kors didn’t hit him and no longer hurt him or made him feel bad, because he was madly in love with him.

However, the next day he saw that his Nik was sad and indifferent to everything. Kors understood that he wanted to go to his unclean ones, but didn’t understand how to stop him.

“Nik, are you offended by me?” He asked finally.

“No,” Nik muttered. Still, he sounded very displeased, and, as Kors felt, not respectful enough.

“Talk to me normally! When will it reach your head that I am doing everything only for your good? If it happens that you cannot use the Demon’s power, what will you do?”

“I managed to cope without power too…”

“Why are you snarling now? There is no doubt that as a person you are weak and not smart, to my great regret. I saw how you “managed”. You couldn’t handle it, Nik! And they put you so that it was more convenient to walk on you. Only your appearance helped you, and even then – others played with you and wore you out, made you a slut. I understand it sounds unfortunate, and I still love you very much, even such one, but you need to develop your human mind, it can save you at a critical moment, and for this you must learn to listen to me.”

“I obey you.”

“You must learn to obey the right way, without any offense or discontent, but with gratitude.”

“Thank you, dad, I’m sorry…”

“Gods, you utter this phrase without any understanding! You just say the same thing thoughtlessly. It’s not that… it’s not that…” Kors paused in frustration, and Nik lay down on his face, his face buried in the skins.

Finally, Kors raised his head and smiled, as if a thought had crossed his mind.

“Nik … Do you want to tattoo me? Make me a tattoo.”

“What?!”

“Do you want?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you really want it?” Nik raised himself on an elbow with interest, his face came to life.

“Yes, I do,” smiled Kors, feeling a surge of interest from Nik and the fact that the desire to go for a walk faded into the background.

“Which one?!”

“I don’t know, just anything you want.”

“And where?!”

“Where you want!”

“But I don’t know…”

“Write on me: “Belongs to Nik and Arel”. Do you want it on my chest? Write that I am your thing, that I am shit. Something dirty and vulgar. Write: “I, Kors, a true black, love two cocks in my ass at the same time!”

Nik laughed, and Kors heard that he was no longer thinking about going for a walk. With his non-trivial proposal, Kors seemed to have managed to overshadow all his thoughts about unclean ones, cards and night gatherings.

“Write: “pound me like the last brute” or “I suck unclean cocks.”

“Vitor, why are you doing this, don’t do it,” Nik came to life completely, and his eyes stopped being like empty glass, “I'd rather make beautiful patterns.”

“You can do whatever you want with me. Oh, right, draw your portrait on me! Draw yourself on one side of my chest, and draw a portrait of Arel on the other. Just like the albino has Salafael drawn on his chest.”

“Oh, Vitor! It is very beautiful, but I cannot…”

“Why? After all, you are great at drawing. You painted the prince beautifully.”

“Yes, but getting a tattoo… it’s a little different. My hand will not allow it, it trembles with effort, I can only make neatly simple patterns.”

“Okay, make patterns, I'm ready for anything!”

“Thank you, daddy!” Said Nik, and now these words sounded very sincere and real.

Kors allowed Nik to tattoo his body the way he wanted. He took off his clothes, lay on his stomach on the skin completely undressed, dropping his head on folded hands, and Nik decorated his tailbone and the side of his thigh with black patterns. He no longer wanted to go to play cards and forgot about the unclean.

And Kors, despite the pain, also felt good and quiet.

Chapter 6

Nik was tattooing Kors.

“Does it hurt?” He asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“No,” lied Kors. He felt pain, and Nik understood it, because they “heard” each other’s emotions and thoughts.

Kors buried his face in his folded hands again. He felt that Prince Arel, who until then, as usual, was lazily lying on the neighboring skin, moved closer to him. Feeling the breath on top of his head, Kors raised his head from his folded arms and looked up at the prince with a little questioning expression. He liked Arel’s beautiful face, covered in a thin layer of light gray paint, and his eyes outlined in black. Kors was used to seeing Arel as he was throughout his life: painted, with a gray face framed by long dark hair parted in the middle, and with crazy brown eyes that were naturally bright and additionally accentuated by black paint. Kors had long perceived this image of him quite naturally, and in those rare moments when Arel’s face was clean, he, on the contrary, seemed to him somehow alien, unusual and unnatural.

Arel brought his blackened lips closer to Kors’ face and kissed him, as if comforting. Kors immediately responded to the kiss, feeling a pleasant warmth inside his abdomen and the way Arel’s lips differed from Nik’s: they were not so plump, a little hard because of the paint layer, without rings that always rattled on Kors’ teeth when he kissed Nik. Arel pressed his lips to Kors’, thrusting his tongue into his parted mouth. They began to kiss, and Arel hugged Kors’ head with his arms.

“Arel, Vitor, well, you’re bothering me,” said Nik. At the same time, his voice was gentle. “Vitor, your ass is now covered with goosebumps,” Nik laughed quietly and shortly.

Kors and Arel broke the kiss with obvious regret, but not for long, because Arel continued to lie nearby, and they looked at each other the way loving people look. Kors involuntarily thought about how many circles of hell the prince went through before he found his Gift and the Demon considered the training completed. Or has the Demon not finished yet and has restored Arel, just to give him a little respite?

“What strength of mind does one need to have to withstand all that has happened to you, my poor prince?” Thought Kors, looking at Arel’s calm and unburdened face.

“You, too, are like a son to me, I love you very much, and, probably, I have always loved you, even when I drove you away. Nik is my son, but I am your father too. There are three of us, and we will be together, because this unity is our strength.” Unable to resist, Kors again reached for Arel, and he immediately responded.

“Are you doing it again?! Stop crawling back and forth, Vitor! You said you wanted me to tattoo you, and now you can’t lie still!” Nik was indignant.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Kors answered hastily, stepping back from the prince.

Arel sighed, and, taking himself by his cock, rubbed it back and forth a little, thus trying to relieve tension. Kors, seeing how Arel, moving his hand, completely bared the head of his cock, then closed it with his foreskin, involuntarily breathed heavily and swallowed.

He tried not to look at Arel in order to stop, as Nik put it, “crawling back and forth”.

“Vitor, stop imagining my cock,” Nik said after a while, “you do it… uh … so diligently that it is standing now before my eyes. Stop thinking all sorts of bullshit, my cock is okay and I can jerk off like Arel.”

“No you can’t!” Objected Kors. “Arel moves his foreskin up and down as he wants, and you, Nik, circumcised yourself.”

“Not much,” Nik replied.

“I know perfectly well how you can jerk off. I have done this to you a hundred times and I know that it is impossible to close the head of your cock with the foreskin completely, it is missing, and this is inconvenient. You have to wet your hand with saliva for better glide.”

“You’re just getting excited again because of talking,” Nik chuckled, “you love to talk about all this and jerk off your brain.”

“Jerk off my brain?”

“Well, yes. Arel jerks off his cock with his hand, and you jerk off your brain with words. All the time you think only about who has which cock, and all your thoughts don’t break away from this.”

“They do break away!” Shouted Kors.

“No further than the length of the cock. A-ha… Don’t worry so much about mine, mm… what did you think now? “Shamefully naked head”, aha-ha…”

“It gets hurt by this!”

“No,” Nik disagreed.

“It rubs against everything!”

“It touches everything, right? Without your permission? Ha-ha… Okay, now, when I have the ring threaded, it first rubs against everything; the ring protects my flesh.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Kors remarked regretfully.

“It wasn't my will,” Nik replied. “It’s just tradition.”

“It amazes me that you didn’t cripple and circumcise Arel in the same way in your Limit for the sake of your wild traditions,” said Kors.

Nik looked at handsome Arel:

“He’s a true black, prince of royal blood. It is impossible to distort too much the body given by the forefathers and created in their image.”

“Glory to the forefathers for this law,” Kors remarked with relief.

“Yes, you are too beautiful to want to change something in you. Tall stature, beauty, longevity, black soul…”

“We’re perfect,” Kors agreed with a smile.

Nik fell silent, returning to work, but after a while he laughed again:

“Enough already!”

Kors’ cheeks flushed. Fortunately, Nik didn’t see this, but he continued to catch his thoughts.

“Why are you laughing?” Shouted Kors. “You say that I am bothering you, but you yourself are shaking no worse than me. Now it looks like I will have a crooked tattoo like your slave!”

“Like which slave?”

“Like Claire… Remember, you twisted her lips in red crookedly. Yes, Nik, you are a so-so master.”

“Ah-ah, Claire, ah-ha…”

“Nik, that’s enough!”

“Then stop imagining my cock,” Nik smiled, “you do it very funny, you compare cocks just like the height of each and every one. You see, I’m shorter than you, and my cock is no way smaller…”

“Nik!”

“You miss Lis – that’s with whom you endlessly happily measure your cocks.”

“I don’t measure cocks! All the more so happily!”

“Don’t twitch!” Nik continued to have fun. “Well, should I stick a dildo in you so that you lie calmly and be afraid to move?”

“Do you have a dildo?” Kors asked with some dismay.

“I will order Verniy, he will find,” Nik bent down to Kors and gently kissed him on the tailbone.

“Ah, ah… Nik, stop, I'm starting to want you…” Kors barely kept his composure. “You tickle me with your hair.”

“Sorry,” Nik replied tenderly and stopped distracting Kors and distracted himself.

“I called Parky,” Nik said after a while.

“Why? For him to bring a dildo for me?!” Kors froze.

“No, he will bring some weed. Have you been waiting for a dildo?” Nik laughed, and Arel, who was smoking at that time, laughed too.

“Yes, of course, it was exactly what I was waiting for!” Answered Kors indignantly.

Prince Arel, smiling, handed him a half-smoked cigarette, and Kors immediately took it.

Parky entered their tent, but Kors didn’t change his posture, still continuing to lie on the skin and not at all embarrassed that his captain sees his commander lying with his bare ass up. Nik, meanwhile, continued to tattoo him.

“Commander, can I take Tyutya?” Parky asked.

He squatted down next to Kors, laid the box of weed on his skins, and bared his teeth in a smile, displaying his iron crowns. He was actually very funny, this unclean one.

“Take what?” Not understanding, asked Kors, slightly lifting his head from his folded hands.

“Well, Tyutya, red slave girl,” said Parky.

And Kors laughed: “Parks, don’t speak black! I can’t hear you lisping, it’s very funny!”

“Vitor, don’t shiver! You’re bothering me!” Nik shouted for the umpteenth time.

“What can I do if he makes me laugh!”

“And he is not lisping, Vitor, you just think so,” tried to explain Nik, “he just tries to speak softly. You keep jerking me that I insert everywhere, how are they called… these… consonants. So he just tries not to insert them.”

“And you’re right,” thought Kors, “I just remembered, when I first heard you speak, I also thought that you were lisping, as if you had not even half your teeth.”

“I just tried to pronounce the words softer, to speak your language like you,” said Nik, “and you immediately began to make fun and humiliate me. You asked if my teeth were in place. Do you remember? And then I just recently inserted these beautiful teeth, you couldn’t help but notice that my teeth were all right…”

“Give me my jacket, Parky,” Kors said quickly, trying to ignore Nik and clearly not wanting to continue the conversation with him.

Parky handed Kors his jacket, and Kors, taking out the key from there, handed it to the unclean one:

“Here you go. Valentine will open the cart for you, unfasten her hands and take her, just don’t give her to anyone else. If you want, give Adrian to others, but not Tyutya!”

“Okay, commander. Thank you!” And joyful Parky literally ran out of the tent.

“Tyutya” Kors repeated, shaking his head, and all three laughed again.

There was very little to go to the Fort.

That evening they sat by the fire with the unclean ones. After the capture of the Ore Town, many unclean warriors painted themselves with black and red dyes, thus demonstrating their status as victors. These patterns, combined with their favorite piercings, made their face-muzzles even creepier, but Kors during this time became more or less accustomed to such wild notions of beauty and masculinity.

Kors took off the mask from his Nik, and, not at all caring about how it looked and what the unclean commanders would think, casually fed his son the way he loved, giving him pieces of food from his hands.

After supper, one of the unclean ones began to sing a song, while the others began to sing along with him in the chorus:

I wandered in different countries,

My marmot was with me,

And I was cheerful, and I was happy,

My marmot was with me!

And always mine, and everywhere mine,

My marmot was with me,

And always mine, and everywhere mine,

My marmot was with me.

The unclean ones smiled, revealing impressive fangs, and stared with interest at Kors, who was sitting near the fire and hugging his Nik tightly, kissing him every minute on the top of his head. Kors noticed their looks and smiles, it seemed to him that many literally choked with laughter, barely restraining themselves.

“Hey? Why are you so happy?”

“Just so. Good song, commander,” answered one of the unclean. The fangs on his lower jaw were so long that they protruded from his mouth, making him look like a boar. Others began to grin even harder.

Kors even thought it somehow disrespectful – they seemed to sneer at him. He snorted in displeasure, pushing Nik slightly away from him:

“Pfff, I, apparently, am too noble to experience such unclouded joy from this stupid song of the poor.”

And Nik looked at him with a sly and slightly sly gleam in his eyes, smiling. “Why are you so happy, after all!” Kors couldn’t resist.

They all laughed.

“It’s okay, Vitor,” said Nik and pressed closer to him.

A red slave was sitting by the fire next to Parky. She was without a bag on her head, her dress was torn, and her long auburn slightly curly hair was disheveled. A steel bracelet with a chain was fastened on the wrist of her left hand, and the opposite end of the chain was fastened to the belt at Parky’s belt. But the girl didn’t look as intimidated and hunted as before. Tyutya watched as Parky drank cup after cup of unclean moonshine, and her expression was more displeased than frightened. At some point, seeing that Parky was already drunk thoroughly, but continued to drink, despite the fact that his movements became confused, the girl suddenly pulled the cup out of his hand and angrily threw its contents into the fire. At the same time, in response to Parky’s surprised look, the girl sharply ran the edge of her palm down her throat, clearly making it clear that she was sick of it all. Stunned, Parky froze, and Kors, seeing this slave’s attack, literally choked on wine and laughed sincerely:

“A-ha-ha, Parky, she’s commanding you!”

“Tyutya…” said Parky in complete confusion, “Tyutya, what are you doing?”

But he didn’t look angry and didn’t hit her, although everyone sitting around made fun of him, laughing at him and the wayward slave. The girl, not at all frightened, defiantly turned away from the unclean, and her face was still the same displeased.

“She doesn’t like that you drink so much,” Kors said, “and she’s right, you’ve already had enough. Do you have a wife, Parky?”

“No.”

“Well, now you’ll understand what it’s like to have a wife,” Kors laughed, “everyone knows that the reds have a bad temper, they are aggressive, and now the red Tyutya will show you the heat!”

“No,” Parky protested.

“Yes, Parky, yes,” Kors continued to laugh, “they are completely unpredictable, maybe that’s why men began to restrict them so. All blacks have known this for a long time, and red women are never married. No black man has a red wife. And you have fallen in love, right?”

“I like her.”

“Do you know the story about the red girl named Iridia?”

“No.”

“A guy planned to marry her, but the girl didn’t want to. When her fiancé came, she asked him: :Why do you want to marry me and thereby give me so much grief and sadness?” He replied: “Truly, when I see you, Iridia, I become all like a fiery one!” She asked: “What is it about me that attracts you so much?” And he, as expected, politely replied, (though not what he really thought), he said: “I am seduced by your beautiful eyes!” Hearing such an answer, the girl immediately grabbed the candle from the candlestick and gouged out both of her eyes.”

The unclean ones who listened to the story froze. Seeing that his story had an effect, Kors grinned contentedly.

“Those are the reds, so be careful, Parky.”

Parky turned away. He didn’t drink any more, took out a small piece of wood and a knife from his pocket, and began scraping over the piece of wood with the blade. After a while, he handed the girl a bird carved out of wood. The toy was rude, but the fact that it was a bird could be guessed without a doubt. It had a small beak and a rounded plump body with a small forked tail. Parky handed the bird to the slave, and she took it, squeezed the round bird in her fist and smiled happily. Realizing that Tyutya was no longer angry with him, Parky happily grabbed the girl in his arms and hugged her. So they sat, she – squeezing a wooden bird, and he – squeezing her.

Chapter 7

After a couple of days they returned to Crimson Rock and stopped for a while at the Fort. As before, people settled on the right side of the camp, and the unclean ones near the menagerie, and Zaf was very happy to see that everything was fine with his favorite bear.

Kors, Nik and Arel again occupied their room with the painting on the wall.

The days passed lazily and calmly. Most of the time, the three of them lay on the bed, fucked and slept. Prince Arel drove around the neighborhood on his horse.

Kors watched as his Nik in the arena on the left side of the Fort fought with the unclean ones, participating in their battles. Kors understood that the spirit of the Colosseum warrior was strong in him and didn’t disappear anywhere. Nik didn’t need to work now, he didn’t need to earn money for his living, but he did it anyway: he fought for the amusement of the crowd, just like that, just because he wanted it. And of course, because he did it very well. In minimal ammunition, stripped to the waist, with a shock of white disheveled hair and long bangs falling over his eyes, Nik made precise and powerful blows, defeating rival after rival, some in a matter of minutes, moving closer and closer to the final.