Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Rizef stared at the approaching group come to ruin his day. Or, rather, ruin it further.

Already they were pointing and laughing at him, and it only got worse once they were standing right in front of him. There were five in total, all of them older than Rizef’s age of nineteen and all from well-to-do and respectable families, which gave them free reign to do whatever they wanted without facing any sort of consequences.

With parents and siblings in high places, it was much easier for them to cause trouble than it was for a nobody like Rizef to breathe free air. The earlier crowd had mercifully died down as the novelty of heckling his misfortune wore off, but now that attention was back on him once again, people were turning their heads, cruel smirks on their faces as they watched the show.

Luth, the most brutish and oafish of the lot, towered over Rizef’s prone form in a stance of pure arrogance. He laughed like it was the funniest spectacle he’d seen all day. “You again?” he crowed, kicking dirt and pebbles all over Rizef’s bare feet, “What’d you do this time, shit in the street or somethin’?”

Rizef knew better than to snap back. He opted to stare into what far distance he could see past the splendor of the marketplace and the southern gates, where beyond that lay the barren plains and the broad mountains hundreds of leagues away. During the entire year he’d been living here, Rizef oft times wished he had never set foot in this gods-forsaken town. Desperation for survival had a funny way of punishing him.

“Third time this week, eh? Tsk, tsk!” Hej, Luth’s younger and slightly smarter brother, shouted directly into his ear. Rizef felt his left eye twitch in lieu of an eyeroll. He could count, thank you very much.

“Why do you even bother?” The false soothing voice of Mariena asked, and for the briefest moment Rizef couldn’t help but flit his gaze towards her. She smiled back at him, the gesture almost kind.

But he knew better. He looked away. The truth of the matter, Rizef asked himself that every day. Why try? Why go on? Why have hope? But they didn’t need to know that. His misery was his own; ironically, it was the only thing he truly owned.

Luth then called him a slur that Rizef knew he picked up from one of the traveling caravans. The others quickly followed suit and, as Rizef had long since expected would happen, began hurling rotting fruit at him. He flinched involuntarily as each one exploded against his face or against the board of the pillory, the squishy stinking pulp splattering in his hair. His hands clutched into tight fists.

Being thrown in the stocks for merely trying to survive was something Rizef knew he should have been used to by now, but it seemed that no matter how many times he went through it, the tossing of the rotten food never failed to make him feel lower than dirt. Passing out in the middle of the street from starvation was less mortifying than this. In between each toss, someone in the group verbally abused him. A few minutes in, Rizef had more or less blocked them out. They would get tired eventually, then he could enjoy his misery in peace.

That didn’t happen for another six minutes and eighteen seconds. Rizef had counted, his mental barriers holding strong even as his legs slumped with fatigued. With cold comfort, they patted his cheek and smeared the putrid juices around his sun-beaten face. After another minute of less than clever taunts, the group eventually wondered off.

Rizef slid his gaze over to watch their retreat, and was startled to find one of them, Dren, peering over his shoulder to stare back at him. Rizef immediately cut his eyes away. Out of everyone in the group, Dren was the most different. He was quiet-spoken, practically a mute, and more likely to hang back and watch his friends torment Rizef. That wasn’t to say that he never hurt Rizef. In fact, he could be quite cruel if the need arose.

Rizef honestly wasn’t sure if Dren ever took pleasure in doing anything. He was just glad that they were leaving him alone for the day. In another hour or so, a guard would be around to set him free. In the meantime, he closed his eyes in an attempt to get some rest. The positioning was uncomfortable and it was blazing hot, but at least he didn’t have to force himself to scavenge for scraps in the garbage.

**

The guard never came.

The sun had lowered past the horizon and blessed cool breezes finally wafted down the streets to ease the lingering heat. Less people walked around, most going home to either get started on supper or to eat it. The chirps of crickets echoed around Rizef as he slowly began to panic. His legs were absolutely numb, his neck sore and hurting. Peering around, he saw no hint of a patrol or anyone with a friendly face. The rotten food stuffs had solidified on his skin and matted his long dark hair, leaving him itchy and stinking of rot.

Despite the stench, his stomach rumbled uncomfortably loud, the pain of his guts squeezing in on themselves ankara travesti causing tears to spring to his hazel eyes. His throat hurt as he attempted clearing it and calling out for help. Someone in a nearby house opened their window long enough to scream at him to shut up. Which he did, knowing that he’d be spending the entire night in the stocks. Alone.

The tears came faster and he couldn’t help but cry to himself, inwardly cursing his very existence and the perseverance his body had for living. If only a wild animal would appear and eat him. While not a fat morsel, he was easy and animals were often opportunistic. And at least then, something wouldn’t go to bed hungry tonight.

“Pathetic.”

Rizef sucked in a gasp, his eyes opening wide. His tears blinded him, but he could see the blurry outline of someone standing before him. And that someone had a voice he instantly recognized. Dark, sensual, calculated. Dren.

On instinct, Rizef flinched, halfway expecting to be pelted with something or outright slapped. But no such blow came. Only a disgusted scoff followed by his visitor stepping closer.

“If you need money, there are easier ways than stealing.”

Rizef wanted to laugh. Was he seriously suggesting he find work? Didn’t it ever cross his mind that he had tried to find work? Oh yes he tried and had been turned down and ran out of every shop. But it would be too much to expect Dren to understand the hardship he faced day in and day out. Dren’s family had money, influence. He never had to find out what it was like to go hungry or wish for shelter from a heavy rain. All he had to do was snap his fingers and all of his needs would be taken cared of. He had no right to speak to Rizef that way. None whatsoever.

Dren was directly in front of him now, close enough to easily get to Rizef’s unprotected face. Rizef peered up at him, his heart stuttering in his throat. Dren was watching him, his head cocked to the side as if inspecting a new specimen. Then, without preamble, he procured a handkerchief and began wiping the waste from Rizef’s face.

“Don’t touch me!” Rizef snapped, attempting to angle himself away.

Dren snatched his chin, holding him still. His nails dug rigidly into his flesh, forcing a whimper out of Rizef. His feet scrambled uselessly, but nothing he did would get the stocks to magically open. Only a key would, and only the guard assigned to set him free was in possession of it.

“Hold still,” Dren demanded. He began wiping at Rizef’s face again, his movements rougher.

Rizef clenched his fists but otherwise obeyed. Once Dren was satisfied with the state of his face, he set to picking out the big pieces of food from his hair, his movements less angry now. Rizef tried to mentally separate himself from what was happening. It was strange, but he knew better than to relax or trust the other man. Dren wanted something from him. Whatever that something was remained a mystery to him, and he wasn’t eager to find out what.

Dren grabbed his face again, his firm hands not as rough as before. He angled him left and right as though checking livestock for faults.

“You’re not half bad looking.”

Rizef furrowed his brow. “What?”

Dren ignored him, then shocking Rizef, carelessly wiped his dirtied hands on his expensive clothes. He then grabbed a hold of the satchel around his shoulders and began digging through it. Rizef watched him distrustfully. Seeing Dren with a satchel wasn’t unusual. He’d heard that he had a penchant for herbal medicine, and as such, was never without supplies. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that Dren had actually brought him something – except, that was exactly what Dren had done.

Dren procured half a roll of flaky round bread, the inside hollowed out to make room for cheese, cheap meat, and fresh garden vegetables. Rizef let out a whine at the sight of it, his mouth instantly filling with saliva. He’d never eaten anything so pretty before, and if he hadn’t been so overcome with fatigue and hunger, he would have angrily told Dren to stick it up his ass. He never minded charity, but never from someone as arrogant and cruel as Dren.

From out of the corner of his eye, Rizef swore he saw Dren smile. He was sure that it had been his imagination, as visibility in this section of the town was notoriously low at night. And sure enough, between one blink and the next, Dren was staring at him with a blank face.

“Hungry?” Dren taunted, waving the sandwich slowly in front of his face.

Rizef’s stomach answered for him with an audible rumble, but he answered verbally all the same, his eyes glued to the treat. “Yes.”

“Want this?”

“…yes.”

Dren held it closer, pressing it gently underneath Rizef’s nose. “Open your mouth.”

Rizef hesitated, but he wound up obeying the order, tears once more forming in his eyes. This was a new low. He absolutely hated himself for it.

“Good boy.”

Dren pressed the morsel against his parted lips, ankara travestileri the bread a soft heavenly pillow. Rizef angled his head in order to bite into it and it… it… it was delicious. A creamy sauce had been spread against the inside of the bread, adding a tanginess that he hadn’t been expecting. He practically forwent chewing his first bite in order to take another. When he choked attempting to prematurely swallow, Dren yanked it back. Rizef peered up at him as he worked his sore jaw to grind the food up faster. Dren stared back, his expression unreadable, though his eyes were bright and intrigued. He found enjoyment in watching Rizef act animalistic for a little morsel; Rizef didn’t care. He just wanted more.

Without being asked, he opened his mouth and patiently waited. Dren complied and returned it, this time taking it away once he deemed that Rizef could handle what he’d been given. Their system worked, and within minutes the round bread was finished. Rizef chewed his last bite slowly, his eyes closed in bliss. He almost didn’t notice when Dren tenderly drew his fingers through the crumbs surrounding his mouth. He did, however, notice when the man abruptly slipped those very fingers between his lips.

“Bite me, and I’ll kill you,” Dren remarked calmly.

Not wanting to tempt fate just yet, Rizef swallowed the last bit of food and waited as Dren felt around the inside of his mouth, his fingertips slick with the sauce and remnants of sweet tomato juice. The temptation to lick at the older man’s searching digits, not only to annoy him but also to further satiate his stomach, almost won out in Rizef’s mind. The sandwich had been good, but he needed much, much more.

“Hm,” Dren hummed, forcing his fingers further back until he could almost skim the back of Rizef’s throat.

Rizef gagged, his eyesight darkening. Thankfully Dren stopped fucking with him and removed his fingers.

“Would you like some fresh fruit?” he asked conversationally.

Pushing the past minute immediately out of mind, Rizef eagerly nodded as best as he could.

“Yeah? That’s going to cost you.”

“I…” Rizef glanced away, ashamed that he would have to admit that he had no money. Not a single coin to his name. “N-never mind. I don’t want it.”

“No?” Dren reached into his bag and quickly procured a ripe peach, the off-white color an exotic rarity that was abundant on the other side of the country, the side Rizef originally hailed from.

Rizef stared at the peach in shock, his limbs starting to quiver with memory from home. It only seemed like yesterday when he and his sisters used to pluck them from the trees growing alongside the roads, free for anyone to take without punishment, along with bright pink berries that tasted best in jams and pies. The look on his father’s face when he came home from working hard at the forge all day to his four happy children and beautiful wife stayed seared into his memory. If it weren’t for Dren watching him, Rizef would have cried. He never should have left.

“Sure you don’t want it?”

“Don’t torment me,” Rizef blurted.

Dren twirled the fruit by its stem. “I’m not. I’m willing to trade.”

“Trade?”

Dren nodded, his eyes holding fast with Rizef’s. In sunlight, they were colorless orbs. In darkness, they were gilded beacons, intense and magical. “I told you before that there are easier ways to get what you need without resorting to theft.”

Rizef hesitated, his gaze leaving Dren’s eyes to land on the peach. Dren had a point, he had to admit. Trading was a good option. That was, if he had anything to trade with.

“I don’t have – mmf!” he began until Dren unceremoniously jammed the peach against his open mouth. Too shocked to process what was happening, Rizef merely held onto the fuzzy skin with his teeth, not unlike a roast pig at a feast.

“You do have something,” Dren informed him. He pushed on the peach, making sure it was secure, then walked out of sight.

Rizef tried to crane his neck to see where he was going, but quickly lost sight of the man. He began to get nervous, his back growing hot knowing that Dren was standing close and sizing him up. For what, he wished not to know. It wasn’t unheard of for people to wind up missing vital parts of their body, for the human form had many uses that certain people would pay a handsome price for. Dren didn’t need the money, but Rizef wouldn’t put it past him to torture him while promising a better tomorrow.

A sudden pressure against his bent back had Rizef stiffening. Dren had finished his visual inspection and was now moving on to the next task. Confident fingers slid up his back over top his torn shirt, feeling along his bony spine and nonexistent muscle. After a downward stroke, Dren slipped his hand beneath the shirt, his warm fingers a strange fire that alighted something in Rizef’s groin. He bit harder into the peach, nearly taking a full bite and sending it tumbling to the dirt below, his body shaking travesti ankara and drool pooling in the pit of his mouth. Dren hummed thoughtfully as he extended his reach all the way up until his fingertips skimmed the nape of Rizef’s nape, causing him to arch his back in mild gratification.

Dren chuckled. He flattened his palm against Rizef’s bare skin and treated him to a firm caress that sent sparks racing into his fingertips. Rizef groaned around the peach, drool slipping past the corners of his lips. This was a new sort of torture, but Rizef couldn’t say that he hated it. It’d been ages since someone had touched him so intimately, he couldn’t help but crave more, more, and more. The shame that he was quickly growing aroused by one of his tormentors where anyone could see had to be adamantly shoved out of his mind, lest he lash out and ruin this strange kindness.

“You honestly don’t have much for trade,” Dren told him as he withdrew his hand, much to Rizef’s disappointment. “But I can fix that.”

He reached over the top of the pillory to grab a hold of the peach and free it from Rizef, who languidly chewed the chunk he had the wherewithal to bite off. The fruit was just as succulent as he remembered, if not more so. He had an itching desire to ask Dren where he’d gotten it, but not wanting to press his luck, opted to stay quiet. The instant he swallowed, Dren stuck it back in his mouth, once more leaving it there.

“I want to fix that,” he muttered, more or less to himself.

Rizef didn’t care what the hell he was mumbling about. As long as he kept being bizarrely nice, then Dren could recite poetry for all he cared. And oh how Rizef hated poetry.

Dren touched his hips next. Rizef tried skittering away, his heart leaping with sudden unbidden fear. Dren, as usual, didn’t care what sort of reaction he got. He dug his thumbs into the bony juts of his hipbones, not enough to hurt but enough for Rizef to get nervous. Dren hummed, then positioned him so that his back straightened out, which only made Rizef feel more vulnerable. He dared not move, however, and was rewarded by Dren rubbing his hips as though trying to ease a headache from someone’s temples, his hands firm and confident. It began to feel nice after a scant moment. More than nice. Calming. Rizef relaxed, his eyelids lowering in chaste pleasure.

Dren grabbed the peach without much ceremony, allowing Rizef another bite. But instead of returning it straight away, he decided to ask him a question instead.

“Have you ever had sex?”

“What?” Rizef squeaked, blushing all over, “Of course I have!”

“With a woman?”

“Yes!”

“With a man?”

Rizef huffed, his good mood turned to dust. “What does it matter?”

“Matters everything. Have you, or haven’t you?”

Rizef wished to disappear. The answer was yes, but he didn’t want Dren to know. Not because he’d been with another man in the first place, but rather the circumstances had been… special. The last thing he needed was for Dren to laugh at him and spread rumors.

“No.”

“I see… do you wish to try it?”

The question hung in the air, sounding entirely innocent.

Rizef swallowed. “I’m not… not sure. I…”

“I will be gentle.”

“You?” Rizef stammered, “Wait, what’s-“

Again he was shut up by the peach being unceremoniously inserted in his mouth. The back of his head knocked against the wooden plank due to the momentum, stunning him but for a moment. A moment was all Dren needed to unfasten Rizef’s trousers and yank them partway down his thin thighs. The cool night air felt heavenly, especially on his aroused penis, having stiffened from a culmination of food, Dren’s touches, and their suggestive conversation. Rizef could admit that Dren was easy on the eyes, his pedigree carefully selected to accumulate in a tall figure blessed with aristocratic looks and an air of highbrow dignity. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they fucked, but the entire situation was wearing down the last of his sanity.

Why would Dren want to get intimate with him? He could have anyone he chose, be it a petite maiden or a virile knight. Never should a half-starved scoundrel with poor parentage cross his mind. What would people say if they found out? What would they do? Didn’t Dren care about his image? It was stupid, and dangerous. None of it made a lick of sense! But Rizef was at his mercy, whether he liked it or not.

Dren grabbed a hold of his underclothes next, and when he met minor difficulty in lowering them due to Rizef’s excitement, he lightly chuckled, the sound handsome and rich.

“Looking forward to it? Good. Me, too.”

Rizef wished he could demand to know what that was supposed to mean. But all he could do was stand there, bent over, half naked and rock hard, at the complete and utter mercy of one of his bullies. Dren ran a palm over the skinny globe of Rizef’s asscheeks before rearing back and smartly popping one. Rizef whimpered at the treatment, not sure if he liked it. The man he had slept with a while ago didn’t bother much with foreplay, so he honestly had no idea if what Dren was doing was cruel or playful. It hadn’t hurt, and since he was essentially helpless, he had to let Dren do whatever he wanted to do.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32