Third Day (6 of 6)

Breaking a Warlord: Mulsae reveals how fear and exhaustion keep Damion docile, then removes his hands to deepen his helplessness and control

'Breaking a Warrior' Content Warning: Erotic Horror

Story contains non-consensual sex, psychological manipulation, power imbalance, humiliation, dehumanization, and other dark, disturbing themes.

This story invites reflection on what happens to the mind under sustained horror, how identity reshapes itself around trauma, and what traces of agency persist when autonomy has been stripped away.

Proceed with extreme caution.

"Most would jump to the conclusion that pain would be the best consequence, but someone like Damion would instead grow more resilience in the face of pain." Mulsae drinks his wine, "I use fear. I know his greatest fear and he knows I will force him to endure it if he does not obey."

"What's his greatest fear?"

"Suffocation."

Damion blushes to have his weakness laid out on the table like this.

"It's not merely about consequences, however. Things cannot seem chaotic to him. I provide him clear guidelines to follow. If things were chaotic, he would fight to break free of the chaos in order to seek safety. But, with providing order and a clear pathway to safety he remains docile."

"Keeping him exhausted, both mentally and physically helps," Mulsae scratches along Damion's scalp, "He is keeping docile and following the pathway of safety I provide him because he is trying to recoup his energy and watch for an opening that would allow his escape."

He holds up Damion's chin and looks him in the eye, "But his hope to escape is fading. He's understanding that this is his life now and therefore is trying to figure out how to cope and come to peace with it."

Mulsae releases Damion's chin and sips his wine.

The conversation with the dinner guests continues on. It is entertaining enough to keep Damion from becoming so bored as to strike up a conversation with a pebble. One by one the guests leave, except for one who remains.

The remaining guest relocates himself to the chair closest to Damion, then asks, "Can I touch him? I've always wanted to know what Windborne wings feel like." Damion bristles at the request and shuffles his wings without thought.

"No," Mulsae strokes down Damion's hair, "I can't allow that at this time."

The guest grumbles his disappointment, but he and Mulsae quickly resume their drinking and chatting. They decide to switch from wine to mistburn, so Mulsae stands to gather the decanter and glasses.

Just as Mulsae turns his back to the table, the guest sticks his hand out towards Damion's wing. Without a thought, running on pure instinct, Damion grabs the guest's wrist, pulls him down, slams his chest on the floor, and pins him with a knee to his neck.

Mulsae whips back around at the sound of the commotion. Once he takes in the scene fog billows out from him and he commands, "Let. Him. Go."

Damion promptly releases the guest and returns to kneeling position with his head down looking at the floor. The guest jumps up with his hands to his neck and panting deeply. Damion is practically vibrating from worry as he imagines being forced to suffocate on Mulsae's cock as punishment. All because this fucking man can't keep his fucking hands to himself. Fuck!

"What just happened?" Mulsae asks sternly.

"I don't know! Just all of a sudden he dragged me from my chair! He's dangerous!" the guest exclaims.

Mulsae narrows his eyes at his guest. "You're lying." His guest scoffs with indignation.

"Then explain why Damion has a memory of you reaching for his wing?"

The guest sputters, "What?"

"If you did nothing wrong, then why is Damion angry at you for not keeping your hands to yourself?"

The guest takes a step back, "I... I don't know..." Mulsae steps forward and places a possessive, protective hand on Damion.

"Why do you insist on lying to me?"

"Water Master..." the guest pleads, putting his hands up in a placating fashion as he slowly steps back.

Mulsae flicks his wrist and water slams down onto the guest's shoulders forcing him to fall to his knees and topple over onto his hands. The guest sits up and cowers with his hands up as if that could protect him from this Sanctum Master.

"Water Master... Please..." The guest trembles.

Mulsae steps away from Damion and looms over the guest, "Why did you lie to me?"

"I... I was ashamed about what I did."

"And what did you do?"

"I tried to touch Damion's wing..."

"And did I not tell you that you were not permitted to touch Damion?"

"Y- yes, you did."

"So then why did you wait until my back was turned and disobey me?"

"My curiosity... It... It got the better of me, Master Mulsae."

"I see," Mulsae places his hands in his pockets, "Hold out the hand you tried to touch Damion with." The guest holds out his trembling arm.

"Damion," he looks up at Mulsae, "Break all the fingers on his hand." The guest gasps.

With pleasure, Damion thinks and a devilish smirk crosses his face as he gets up and approaches the guest. He crouches down in front of the guest and grabs his hand.

"Please, Master Mulsae," the guest pleads. Damion pauses and looks up at Mulsae to see if he'll grant the guest's request. Mulsae just nods his consent to continue.

The guest screams as Damion breaks his fingers. He pants and writhes under the agony as his fingers twist and turn into unnatural positions. Once Damion is done, the guest is bent over cradling his mangled hand.

"You're dismissed, Patron Taroch," Mulsae and Damion watch as he scrambles to his feet and dashes out of the tent cradling his arm.

Mulsae returns to his seat and turns it to the side. "Kneel here," he points in front of himself. Damion scrambles to comply and looks to the floor. His anxiety about his looming punishment blooms painfully in his chest.

"Look at me," Damion looks up, "You were a bad boy." A bowling ball sinks down into Damion's stomach and dread bleeds down his body.

"You do not lash out at people, especially not for the simple act of touching you. Do you understand?"

"Y- yes."

"You will eventually be required to allow people to touch you, even your wings. Right now I am maintaining a boundary to prohibit anyone else from touching you. It is my responsibility to enforce that boundary, not you. Do you understand?"

Damion's throat bobs as he swallows and licks his lips, "Yes."

"The next time someone tries to touch you behind my back you will call for me. You will not defend yourself, you will call for me and I will deal with it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Damion doesn't mean to whisper it, but his anxiety is making his throat dry.

"You were a bad boy, and there will be consequences." Damion's heart pounds in his chest. He starts to tremble. Mulsae pauses and stares at him for seconds, or minutes, or hours, Damion doesn't know as dread wraps itself tightly around every part of his body.

"You are losing the privilege of your hands as punishment," Damion doesn't understand what that means. Mulsae stands and walks over to a trunk. He rummages around in it then comes back with a black cloth bag. He lifts Damion's arms by the leather cuffs and puts the cloth bag over his hands. He cinches the bag closed and ties it shut firmly around his wrists.

Mulsae holds up Damion's bagged hands, "No more hands, no more grasping or holding things. You will have to earn the privilege back. Do you understand?" Damion nods.

Mulsae double taps on Damion's bagged hands, "Okay, that's all. We're going to go back to our tent now." Mulsae ushers them out of the tent, and through the camp to Mulsae's tent.

When they enter Mulsae's tent, he instructs Damion to kneel at the foot of the tub, which is already filled and steaming. Mulsae strips and settles into the tub, smiling to himself as he appreciates the warmth. Damion focuses on Mulsae's face and wills his mind to stay blank.

"Today was a good day, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure."

Mulsae smirks.

"Tomorrow you get your piercings and tattoos."

"Tattoos?!" Damion gasps. Mulsae told him about the piercings, but tattoos? It's so much more permanent. Irreversible. If I ever escape I'd be still carrying the memory on my skin. But Mulsae is confident that I'll never escape. I know his Sanctum's secrets. He'll never let me go alive. This is the rest of my life. This is how my life ends. This convoluted torture. His breath quickens.

"Damion, take a deep breath in... and out..." Damion automatically follows the command with a deep inhale and long exhale.

"Don't think about your future. Don't think about the nature of your life. Just focus on the here and now. We're here bathing, that's all you need to concern yourself with."

Here and now. The here and now is simple. Straight forward. I just have to kneel here and as long as I kneel here I don't have to worry.

"Good boy," Mulsae coos, "You needn't be worried or concerned about anything ever again. I will take care of you, I carry the burdens of worry and concerns so you don't have to."

Mulsae washes and dries himself then instructs Damion to get into the tub. Mulsae soaps up his hands and begins to massage Damion's shoulders. Damion's head falls forward and his shoulders relax.

"Do you want me to massage you as I wash?" No... I don't want him touching me any more than he needs to... but... Yes... I'm so stressed and this feels so good... Damion doesn't provide an answer out loud. He doesn't know what he wants to happen.

Mulsae's hands start massaging down his spine, "I'll massage you and you can tell me to stop any time. Understand?"

Damion whispers, "Yes."

Mulsae massages along Damion's entire back. Damion narrows his focus to just these sensations. The pleasure radiating through his skin, and the tension leaking out of his muscles. Mulsae massages his upper arms, then lower arms. Mulsae removes the bag around his hands, and Damion's lips part when his hands are massaged. So fucking good...

Mulsae has Damion lean back and put his foot on the edge of the tub, then massages his calf and foot. Once Mulsae pushes his thumb up the center of the bottom of Damion's foot, Damion's head falls back against the rim of the tub. He's never felt anything like this before in his life. Mulsae repeats the same for the other foot.

Mulsae has Damion stand then massages his knees and thighs. He then soaps up to the junction of his thighs, on either side of his balls then the sack itself and the taint behind them. Damion has the word 'stop' on the tip of his tongue. As long as Mulsae keeps this tame...

Mulsae instructs Damion to turn his ass towards him. Mulsae massages his lower back and works downward to massage his ass. His thumbs reach the cleft of his ass and brush along the anal plug. Damion's breath hitches. He doesn't want his hole messed with any more.

"Stop," Damion gulps, "S- stop."

Mulsae immediately removes his hands. "We're done. Step out of the tub."

He actually stopped...

Damion steps out of the tub and Mulsae towels him off.

Mulsae guides Damion to the bed and pulls back the blankets and furs. He turns his attention back to Damion and gently removes the anal plug while he's still standing.

"Sit with your back against the pillows with your knees up and spread open." What is it going to be this time...? Damion takes a deep breath then complies. Mulsae crawls onto the bed and nudges Damion's legs wider so he can kneel between them.

Mulsae takes his cock in his hand and strokes, "Finger yourself. Make yourself cum." Damion gulps and readjusts his bottom so his hole is more exposed before slowly lowering his bound hands down in front of him. It's awkward with the bindings on his wrists and the cage in the way but he manages a position where he can reach.

Damion circles his hole while Mulsae strokes himself with heavy lidded eyes. I have no idea how to get myself off this way...

"Insert a finger," Mulsae says softly. Damion gently pushes in, his rim feels bruised.

"Explore around, find the spot, you know what it feels like by now." Damion makes a revolution around but doesn't feel anything special. "Push in deeper. Try again." Damion readjusts himself so he can push deeper. He starts the revolution around again and gasps subtly. He found it.

"Massage it." Mulsae's stroke speed increases, he starts to pant. Damion begins to stroke that spot and closes his eyes at the sensations. He focuses on trying to get himself off. He imagines he's nowhere and nothing. Mulsae isn't in front of him. He doesn't hear the fapping of Mulsae jerking himself. He imagines it's just him and the blackness and these sensations.

Damion tries to focus, he truly tries, but it isn't working. He screws his face up in frustration. I don't fucking know how to do this. How the fuck am I expected to do this to myself for the first time while in front of someone.

"Let me do it," Mulsae says while he adjusts himself closer and pushes a hand towards Damion's hole. Damion brings his hands up to his chest and watches Mulsae while he slowly inserts two fingers into Damion's hole. He quickly finds the spot and strokes it. Damion's hips buck at the sensation.

Damion tips his head back, closes his eyes and focuses on the sensations. It's good. Mulsae is good at this. The molten warmth builds up and Damion starts to pant. He moves his hips along and everything feels so good.

Damion can feel he's on the edge. He just needs a little more to tip over... and... There! He falls off the cliff and his body shudders and his cum pours out onto Mulsae's hand. Mulsae grunts and ropes of cum run up Damion's abdomen.

Mulsae gently removes his fingers and pauses to breathe deeply for a moment. Damion doesn't move. His head is still tilted back and eyes closed. Mulsae gets off the bed, and returns a bit later with the warm wet towel and wipes up Damion's stomach. He wipes the cleft of Damion's ass, and Damion is relieved it doesn't sting any more. Thank the heavens for fast Emberan healing.

"Get into sleeping position." Damion groans, but complies. He hates this stupid fucking position he has to sleep in. It could be worse... He reflects on his soldiers outside in a cage, sitting in the dirt and mud with their wings pinioned awaiting their fates. I should be there with them. I shouldn't be here in a comfortable bed surrounded by warmth.

Mulsae crawls into bed next to Damion and pulls the covers over them and tucks Damion into the blankets. Mulsae positions himself against Damion's side and gently runs his fingers through Damion's hair.

"Good boy," Mulsae whispers, "Such a good boy." Damion falls asleep to the gentle caresses across his hair.

Continue reading: Fourth Day (1 of 5)
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