The Martyr
He’s pale, his legs are shaking but he’s holding on.
Alexander cups his face gently, strokes the hair out of his eyes. Luka whimpers miserably but seems to chase after the affectionate touch all the same.
“Poor thing....you’re trembling.”
Luka inhales shakily, grimacing in pain with every breath.
Alexander makes a sound of agreement.
“I imagine it does. You’re taking it well, though.”
Alexander touches one of the arrows protruding from his abdomen, and Luka whines as it jars the barbed arrowhead inserted shallowly inside him.
“I am?” In a shaky whisper. Alexander meets his eyes, swollen from crying and brimming with tears.
“Stay good for me. Just a few more.”
Luka lets out a shaky sob.
“Please, no more, please, I can’t take it-“
“Yes, you can. You will.”
“Please, please no more!!”
Alexander pinches his jaw in one hand, holding him still.
“Are you saying no to me?”
Luka’s eyes widen in terror at the suggestion.
“N-no, mean, I’m not saying no!”
Alexander nodded, and Luka numbly nodded back, fear and pain evident on his face.
Luka sobbed, his head dropping when Alexander released him.
Alexander had wanted to remake Luka over like Saint Sebastian, filled with arrows and suspended in agony and ecstasy. Pushing the arrows in too far would kill him though, and inserting them shallowly they were easily pushed out.
The solution was a barbed head Alexander had custom made, with little ridges he could screw into his flesh that could rip a bit but wouldn’t be easily pushed out.
He pressed the tip of the screw to just under his ribs, pushing firmly until the sharp tip punctured his skin. Luka moaned in fear, his breath picking up. When Alexander started to twist it in, he screamed and cried until it was firmly seated within him. A heavy burst of blood dripped from the new wound, rivulets running down his clammy skin.
Alexander grabbed the shaft of the arrow inserted in him and tugged gently, testing it’s grip. The flesh ripped and it came out partway, and Luka’s gasping pants turned to wimpers with every exhale.
Alexander made a disgruntled noise and twisted the shaft, pushing firmly to slide it deeper inside of him. Luka keened in agony, the little hooks on the innermost ridge catching and tearing muscle as it went.
A few more in and Luka was suffering well. He was no longer able to support himself, hanging weakly in his bonds, but Alexander didn’t mind, he had bound him upright in preparation.
Luka was breathing shallowly, every breath agony as the rising of his chest irritated what felt like a hundred points of pain, though logically he knew it couldn’t be more than a dozen. The weight of the arrows pulled and agitated the wounds constantly.
Something cold is pressed to his bottom lip and he startled a little more awake.
He swallowed a few mouthfuls of cold water, flinching when some dripped down his chin onto his chest, the icy droplets warming as his blood cooled.
“They’re all in now, did you know that?”
Luka made a weak sound and Alexander smiled.
Luka’s eyes were unfocused and bleary. There was cold sweat on his brow and he felt cool to the touch. Alexander could tell he was drifting, fading out of consiousness.
A sharp slap startled Luka back to reality.
“Stay with me. You’re not allowed to leave me, you understand?”
When Luka didn’t answer, another hit only seemed to daze him again, but when the question was repeated, he nodded.
“Look pretty for the camera, baby.”
Alexander took his time photographing his muse, poking and prodding him into place to make him just right. He needed to capture all of it, Luka’s wet and pain-filled eyes looking up at him. He indulged himself and took video clips too, of the way the arrows trembled on Luka’s every shuddering breath, the tears caught in his long eyelashes until they grew too heavy and spilled down the sides of his face.
“You’re doing so good. You can take one more for me, can’t you?”
“Yes you can. This one’s special. You’re gunna look so pretty.”
Luka registered the comment but barely seemed to react.
Alexander held up the arrow, showing him the smooth and pointed silver tip. Luka processed it slowly and frowned, confused.
“I’ll make the punctures first and then slide it through. Otherwise I might chip your teeth and I’m not feeling like dealing with that shit right now.”
Alexander held up a screwdriver with a thick head.
Luka cried when Alexander forced his jaw open.
“Push your tongue down flat or you’ll get a new piercing.”
He obeyed, letting out a choked-off groan when Alexander drove the screwdriver through the side of his cheek.
“Very good. One more baby, hold still.”
He turned Luka’s head from side to side before choosing where to line up the head, and shoved through the other cheek.
Luka couldn’t quite scream when Alexander was threading the arrow through the holes, the shaft resting against his teeth and forcing his mouth cracked open. It pressed against the back of his tongue, making it even harder to swallow the mouthfulls of blood.
Alexander stood back to admire his work. Blood trickled down the side’s of Luka’s face and more drooled down the edges of his lips, slowly making their way down his throat.
He raised his camera again, carefull to capture every inch of Luka’s agony.
