A/N Thank you all for the lovely comments dears...spoilers slight ones at that for the book...which you won't really get if you didn't read the books...which I might add are wonderful... enjoy...
He looks exhausted, helpless, and ruined by the time I make my way to his prison. The tendrils of black sand have him trussed up, arms pinned, and legs spread. The caress every inch of him, poking and prodding. Sliding and teasing until the flesh beneath is tensing and relaxing. It's a sensual massage to be enjoyed and yet my little puppet seems to be quite the opposite. He tears at the tentacles, bites at them. I almost feel bad as I watch blood splash to the floor from his ankles and wrists; but like I said almost. I watch as one of the skewers his wrists together, blood drenching the floor. I wince at that must be painful, well for him anyway doesn't hurt me at all. His ankles meet the same fate, and he screams soundlessly. I tread forward, and pace in front of the cage. "Oh dear that seems to hurt Jack? Does it? Tell me how badly it hurts please?" he just spits blood and spit on the ground and curses at me. Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him. "I see manners are still not your strong suit." I wave a hand adding a couple more strands of black, watching with amusement as they press somewhere more intimate. "When I ask you a question you will answer!" With every word the tendrils push into him, twirling and spreading open stretching him. He whines, his only capable of shaking. More blood flows from his impaled wrists and ankles.
"Having fun yet?" my lips curl into a mocking smile that slowly fades as his eyes grow dim. 'Son of a...' I wave my hands as I flash forward, hand already reaching into my robe for the key. I swing open the cell door, feet squishing and sliding in icy blood. It soaks into my black pants as I kneel, the frigid chill burning my knees. I smack his cheek, twining my hands through the air I weave black sand bandages. Reaching down I let the sand mirror the motions I do on his wrist to his ankles. I lean back against the bars, head tilted up I eye the ceiling above me. 'Why do I suddenly care if he lives or dies?' I silently wonder, my lips moving wordlessly as I look back down. Waiting for his eyes to open back up, it doesn't take long...or maybe I like to watch him sleep. Jealous of how peaceful he looks, of how carefree, or how innocent. My hatred of this wretched guardian comes racing back.
I stand using my foot I nudge him, "I know you are awake boy, no sense in pretending." my patience slowly starts dwindling; until finally I reach down and grab his hair. Which I must admit is a lovely tinted with his own blood. I jerk up tearing out a nice amount of it. He screams then rolling away from me, his teeth grinding together. There is fire and hatred in his eyes and it makes my cock harden. "You look like you want to hurt me Jack." I tilt my head putting on my best puppy dog look complete with a pout. "Awe did little Jackie almost die."
"Why did you save me?" he looks over the bandages with something akin to interest. "I didn't think you cared about me."
My eyes narrow the look of mocking hurt replaced with careful amusement. "I see your silver tongue still works... " I turn my back to him. "To bad you can't scare me... I rule over that aspect of things as it stands."
"Well to be honest from where I am sitting...you rule over a empty palace that is crumbling around you. So do your worst to my Pitch. It won't change the fact that no one believes in you... your a fairy tale, a scare tactic parents tell their kids to keep them in line."
I still body held tight, nails biting into my own palm until blood sloshes down my forearms to the floor. My breath comes in measures pants. I turn toward him a snarl to demonic to be deemed human falling from my lips. "Boy I would watch you tongue."
"Or what Pitch you'll remove it for me?"
"You think the worst I can do to you is kill you? You think I really care what those pathetic humans think of me? Or what your band of rag tag warriors think of me?" I realize I am ranting that sand is swirling in dangerous patterns around me; but I can't help it...nor do I much care to. He does flick when I press the solid, hard sand scythe to his throat. Pushing up until he has no choice but to stand on ankles still to broken to hold his weight. Tears flow down his cheeks but his eyes still remain defiant. I loll my head to the side and push up more, the sharpened edge cutting into his neck. "You have no idea who I am. What I have had to endure child. I bet your precious friends didn't bother to tell you these things. Of course they wouldn't have...then you might have felt some glimmer of pity!" I shorten the handle as I walk forward until it all that separates us is a sickle. My voice is low and tight, biting hot on his ear as I whisper. "Pity me Jack...pity the twisted broken used to be man before you. Pity me for what I am about to do to you...and hate me for it. Hate me for every thing unholy and twisted I am going to do...hate me..." I lick and nip at the shell of his ear, as he shakes under me. Tears falling from behind his eyelids as he finally get it. " hate me for it isn't a mere nightmare shade doing this to you Jack...it is a human. Just like you were and will never ever be again Jack." I slide my free hand up to his wrists, up to his hands. I curl my fingers though his; before wrenching the down. The crack of bone echoes as much as his scream does. "Hate me Jack, but more than that pity me!"