The right time to bite one's tongue

      How is it possible that Aaron always lands himself in the worst situations?       Just this month he managed to break a crystal vase, step on his cat’s tail by accident, confuse salt with sugar, burn a part of his cloak and break his sword. And that’s only the summary of one week       Maybe he was born under an unlucky star?       But then, Andrew would be in a similar predicament, and from what Aaron knows, his brother is doing quite well in that regard.       Well, aside from the fact that they both got themselves captured and now they’re paying the price.       Aaron imagined that he’d be locked up in a dungeon, maybe tortured or left to stir in misery. Or both.       He certainly didn’t expect to be tied naked to a chair and toyed with by some maniac.       A maniac with a very sharp knife. Aaron keeps his breaths shallow in fear that the blade will slip and slice into him, leaving him bleeding, with no help from anybody whatsoever.       “Do you know”—the knife trails towards Aaron’s groin—”that I once sliced a man’s balls off?” Terror like never grips him when Nathaniel taps the blade on his cock, and he can’t stop his whimper. “He didn’t last long after that.” Nathaniel says it with sadness, the sick fuck.       But then the grin is back, and Aaron doesn’t know if it’s a good thing. The blade goes back towards his chest, at which Aaron lets out a sigh in relief. What has his life has come to that having a knife poised at him doesn’t feel as threatening as it used to?       It doesn’t mean though that Aaron’s heart isn’t beating like crazy now, the thumps so loud that Nathaniel can hear it for sure.       “Don’t worry,” the man says, ruffling Aaron’s hair. Aaron absolutely hates him. “I don’t damage my pets like that.”       The knife circles one of the nipples, and Aaron is afraid to breathe too deep. The tip of the blade feels like it’s tickling his skin, the touch making Aaron shudder. He wants the man to leave him alone but, at the same time, his cock tells a way different story. His cheeks burn with embarrassment.       Nathaniel is an expert in fucking with his head, making him confuse pain with pleasure and fear with arousal.       It’s so unfair that his body is betraying him like that.       A warm hand encircling his cock gets Aaron back to the present.       “And what do we have here?” asks Nathaniel teasingly.       “Go to hell,” says Aaron, his voice sounding not as threatening as he’d like to.       “Oh, so you do have some bite left in you.”       That’s the last straw for Aaron and he does something that Andrew would not be impressed with. He spits in Nathaniel’s face, the satisfaction worth whatever the man will throw his way.       Nathaniel is quick to grip his chin and presses down on his jaw to force it open. The fear surfaces again, jolting Aaron to fight the hold, but let’s be real — he has no chance, bound as he is.       The smile hasn’t disappeared from Nathaniel’s face, but it’s turned to something more sinister. Aaron really didn’t think it through.       “Have I told you that I cut out a man’s tongue once?” The blade is pressed on Aaron’s tongue, and he ceases his struggles. “Come to think of it, a pet doesn’t need his tongue.”       Aaron’s heart sinks, fear gripping it tight in its claws. “No!” he nearly shouts, the words nearly indistinct around the knife. It must have pricked him because he can feel the metallic taste in his mouth. “I’m sorry, please don’t do it,” he says, the words falling out in a rush.       Nathaniel seems to contemplate something, and Aaron waits for the verdict. He grimaces when a bit of drool trails down from his lips, tickling its way down his chin.       Can the situation get any worse?       Of course it can, you dumbass, Aaron scolds himself. He shouldn’t tempt fate like this, especially when there’s a madman in the same room with him.       Fortunately, some higher power has taken mercy on Aaron because the knife is taken away and Aaron lets out a breath he’s been holding. He thanks them in his mind, the relief so strong that it nearly turns into a laugh.       He doesn’t think of himself as the religious type, but he’ll take any help he can at this point.       A hand cups Aaron’s cheek, the touch tender and so out of place in this horrible situation. It makes his stomach roll.       “You’re pretty when you beg,” Nathaniel says. “You should do it more often.”       Yeah, Aaron will murder the psycho one day.       He hopes that Andrew has better luck than him.