Twin Princes’ Desire

Darkness… It’s everywhere… A flash of light breaks through the abyss of nothingness. Crack, c***k, c***k… The sound of a whip being struck rings out around the camp, followed by agonizing cries. A memory… I’m in a memory. I turned and saw a door in front of me, a c***k split down its centre. I leant down and peered through. I knew this place; it was the werewolf village known as Sandom. For 2 years I had to endure this hellish place in order to gain valuable information. Information that ultimately ended in me locating the 3 targets I was assigned to assassinate. Movement caught my eye and I angled myself to view a large concrete stage. Hunched forward in the freshly fallen snow was a elderly man on his hands and knees. I watched as blood gushed down his bony back into the awaiting white beneath. Tilting my head, I pondered over how amazing it was that there was any blood left in the small man’s body. I pause, how interesting that the brain focuses on minor details when faced with trauma. This kind of scene was a nightly occurrence in Sandom. Non-werewolf species were brought out one by one and whipped for non-crimes such as walking too slow, eating too much or, the worst of them all, talking. For each crime, 10 lashings would ensue at dusk every day. I felt a shove from behind pulling me out of my thoughts. I braced against the door to stop myself from falling to my knees. Hands slithered around my waist; one hand ventured up to grip my left breast while the other wound up around my throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to cut my oxygen supply but I felt a hiss escape through my teeth. Stubble tickled my ear as the disgusting feeling of being licked along my cheek invaded my senses. “Your next b***h,” came the gruff guard's voice near my ear. Biting my tongue to hold in the scathing dialogue I wanted to unleash on him, I made my way through the door and into the cold winter's night. Following the gravel path, I kept my head lowered as a sign of submission. This was a route I used to have to take almost every night. “Hurry up Lyla, we haven’t got all night,” a high-pitched whine echoed to my ears. I looked up to see the village tormentor Jasia. At 5ft 3’ with long, blonde wavy hair and a petite ivory body, she looked like an angel. But beneath her outward appearance of innocence lay a sadistic, blood-thirsty demon of a werewolf. Quickening my pace, I ascended the slippery ice-covered stairs and positioned myself between the two parallel wooden stakes. The guard cuffed each hand to the adjoining stake, leaving me in a 'Y' position facing Jasia. Looking around, I could see it was particularly busy tonight. Werewolf families, couples and people who were on their way home from work all littered the plaza watching the display. “You truly are a regular at these lovely gatherings we hold, Lyla. Although I love scarring that beautiful pale skin of yours, your behavior will get you killed one of these days,” Jasia tsked, feigning a look of concern. She began to circle me like a beast hunting its prey. “When that day comes, I might even shed a tear. Your complexion is so milky white it looks utterly delectable, marred with so much red. I would be so sad if I couldn't paint on your body any more.” I felt my chest begin to tremble as I tried to withhold the laughter wanting to erupt from my body. Jasia paused her circling her face changing from innocent to dark. “Is there something you’d like to say, Lyla?” she hissed. I couldn’t hold it anymore and I started laughing hysterically. The trembles were so strong that I hunched over, my arms pulling on the restraints. “Stop it, now!” she screeched, stomping her delicate feet and coming to a stop in front of me. I paused my laughter and rolled my head to rest on my shoulder looking at her. Giggling, I whispered only for her to hear. “If you knew who you were dealing with you would be terrified. But don’t worry, your days are limited, your time will come sooner than you think. The only cure for a rabid dog is to be put down, you know,” I grinned at her, showing my teeth like a Cheshire cat. She appeared uneasy, shuffling between each foot, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her eyes flashed between blue and gold, indicating her beast was furious and trying to push forward at the obvious challenge I had set forth. “I expect nothing less from a maggot. I grow impatient we will begin. Oh, and Lyla, for that outburst the total lashings will be 50 tonight.” Jasia hurriedly rushed over to the whip reserved just for me. Lucky me, I got my own whip that boasted 10 spikes laced with hemlock poison at the end of each of the three tails. The poison wasn’t deadly, but it made the person who ingested it incredibly sick. “Count Lyla!” Jasia's shrill voice echoed throughout the plaza. Just as I began preparing myself for the onslaught that awaited me, I felt an intense presence behind me. Angling my head back, I could make out 2 blurred male figures among the crowd. Just as my eyes began to focus, a powerful impact hit my back, followed by pure fire. I clenched my eyes shut. Crack, c***k, c***k… “Count Lyla!” Crack, c***k, c***k… “Count Lyla!” Crack, c***k, c***k… “Stop running Lyla.”