Black Dagger Brotherhood Beginnings
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 Zsadist’s Nightmare 3.14.12

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Fritzy
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Join date : 2011-12-12

PostSubject: Zsadist’s Nightmare 3.14.12   Sat Mar 17, 2012 8:58 pm


-Cold. Bone chilling, teeth rattling cold. My body shivers violently on the pallet as I struggle to curl into myself, seeking warmth of any kind to ward off the chill. Voices drift past, recognizable yet unintelligible through the muddy shores of unconscious thought. The temperature drop isn't merely coming from the air, it's in me. It takes a minute.. an hour.. a day, before I recognize the new sound that reaches my ears. It's the deep, feral growl of a cornered, threatened, caged animal.

Drawing on the gossamer strands of thought I cling to, I will my limbs to move. Balling my fists tightly, corded muscles strain against the unknown as I seek comfort in myself. Stilling completely the second I register the steel bands wrapped around my wrists, the same cutting into the tendons at my heels, burnished gold eyes fly open in terror. No. Oh dearest Scribe Virgin, no. Not again. I'd been starving when the bowl of mutton stew had been slid into my cell. Beyond hunger and reason, I'd devoured every morsel, licked clean every drop before throwing the wooden bowl at the bars with a roar of frustration.

Turning my head side to side, my hair tangling and whipping around my face in multi-colored shades filtered by candlelight, I'm now aware of the others in the cell with me. Two males, both silent and watchful while I regained my senses. The scents of the incense, oils and unguents that have become familiar whenever I'd awoken from being drugged were heavy in the air. Fighting would gain me nothing other than the brutal beatings the guards delighted in delivering while I was chained. Every bone had been broken. Every inch of skin and muscle, save my face, had been tortured by unimaginable means. I'm forced to drink from horrified females to heal my body.

My mind, however, was a completely different story. Through the few short years since I'd transitioned into the male I am now, every waking moment has been spent as it is now. Locked in, guarded and used when the Mistress commanded. My stomach rolls with nausea as I catch a glimpse of the female I've gone past loathing. No. She chains me, guards me.. herself, with good reason. Given just one opportunity, I'd slaughter each and every one who I'd come into contact with before I'd be sent into the fade.

She'd learned, early on, to keep everyone and everything clear of my face. I'd torn through the wrist of a guard early on, nearly severing the hand that had threatened to force my jaw open for a profane purpose. Striving to find a way to distance my mind from what is happening to my body, I hiss loudly as a cool hand coated with a thick salve wraps itself around the staff of flesh between my thighs. Mistaking the reaction for pleasure, Catronia purrs with approval. I take away the one thing I'm capable of depriving her of. My sight. Squeezing my eyes against the violations being done.. to be done, I silently offer up prayers and the songs of my youth to the Mother of our race. Although the doubt that's been growing has me questioning if such a being exists, or gives a damn about her creations, I use the familiar words and rhythms to escape the defilements as best I can.

-Bolting from my pallet, I stand naked and shivering, muscles tensed as my fists close around the handles of my daggers. The lone sound filling my tiny basement room that of my own harshly drawn breath. Midnight eyes scan the barricade I'd placed in front of the locked door, finding myself alone. Over a hundred years and thousands of miles away from where my nightmare had taken me.

Dropping the daggers to the floor, I scrub my hands over my face roughly, a weak attempt to wipe clean the rancid past that is my own. My sight falls to the ivory skull that rests near the head of my pallet. My only reminder that it was over. It's not. Not really. It will never be over for me. I turn on the bare light bulb and pull on my leathers, fastening them with shaking hands before dragging a stained black tee-shirt over my head. The ache in my chest is still so very real. My blood runs frigid every waking moment that I have failed to find my twin. His fate can not, should not, WILL NOT be as mine. My life for his would allow me at least the knowledge I was here for a reason.- #BDBB

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