Chapter 67 The Son and Daughter (1/2)
Barnabus had always been overbearing and prideful. He had a strong sense of self-worth and ambition. In his formative years he had gotten used to having his way and being treated with both fear and respect. It was due to his strong magical abilities, his scheming nature and cruel methods of retaliation.
His lineage didn't have a long and rich history like his peers, but that didn't matter. His enemies knew better than to treat him with disdain. Or if they didn't, their families would.
What was mercy? What was kindness? To succeed in life these kind of weak emotions were useless. People were either pawns or pebbles on the road that had to be dug out. Often times they could be both, however. This is why he rarely went after his enemies directly.
No, he went after what they loved. And once he had that, he had them. It's just that sometimes the enemies weren't worth the trouble. But that wasn't to say they were useless. Barnabus had long since learned that examples had to be made.
Barnabus understood this concept dearly. This is why when a friend in the King's Court asked him to take of a certain matter for him, and take care of it thoroughly, he had no qualms with accepting.
He knew the man, Claude, and had indeed once been slighted by him. But that wasn't the reason for Barnabus to be doing this.
He didn't know why that friend of his wanted this man to suffer. But neither did he care. He simply knew he was the one chosen to carry out this ”punishment.”
That past slight was just used as an excuse. Barnabus liked playing with his prey. Making them feel a sense of injustice and regret gave a certain sick satisfaction.
But…
Last time he saw this kid, he had mangled his leg.
As a Baron, though Barnabus didn't have a high rank among Nobles, he had never been treated with such a casual disregard. By anyone. Few who knew him dared.
It was the first time in his life that he had been beaten so soundly without even a second to prepare.
Even now, after the best treatment possible, his leg still had that dull, never-ending ache. It was a constant pain, a constant...reminder.
Normally Barnabus would have tracked down that boy with a small army and have him flogged to death.
And yet he didn't.
Why?
….Because the very thought of it made him terrified.
Back then, he hadn't been unconscious like the boy believed. In fact, he was awake. He heard it all, though only dimly through the pain. And it wasn't the threats the boy made that scared him.
Threats didn't have an effect on Barnabus. No, what sent primal fear through his soul was the sheer dread accompanying the boy's every word. That monstrous killing intent, like an ocean. Oppressive. Choking. An endless sea of bitter cold that crushed your will.
The boy didn't feel like a boy. He felt like an ancient, primordial beast bent on not killing you, but tormenting you.
Barnabus never forgot that feeling. It lay deep inside his heart, that fear.
He didn't know who that boy was. He was simply glad he was gone.
How could he knew that he would meet him again so soon? As soon as he saw him his entire body went numb with terror.
Damien had no idea what the guy was thinking. He just casually bent the steel bars open, walked through, and ignored the swords being pointed at him.
There were five men, including Barney. Three were tall and burly men with chainmail armor and sharp broadswords. They sneered at him and shouted, ”Stop right there!”
Damien raised a brow. ”You just saw me bend those metal bars like they were made of clay. Ask yourselves if you want that to happen to your bones. Go ahead. Think about it. I'll wait.”
The men's eyes flickered in the lamplight. Then glanced briefly at the bars behind him.
The tallest man, a guard named Bronn who'd worked as a hired hand for over fifteen years, immediately put down his blade.
”I like my bones right as they are, thanks.”
”Smart.”
He looked at the other two. ”Still got your swords pointed at me, I see. Alright, that's it. Go jerk each other off or I kill you.”
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The two stared at him wordlessly. Damien's left temple grew a vein. ”I said jerk each other off!” He snapped, taking a sword from them and breaking it in two before their eyes to show his cold rage.
The dark promise in his eyes made the two silly with fear. These were men who'd witnessed and lived through all kinds of atrocities. But the horrendous nature of the thing in front of them now made all else trivial.
His anger was like a dark abyss swallowing their souls.
They didn't even think twice before fumbling with each other's belts.
But the terror in their hearts left their cocks limp and flaccid. Possibly also because they're both straight men.
Besides the fear, the humiliation they felt in that moment was equally unbearable.
”Yeah, just like that. Keep going.” Damien accurately spat at one of the men's cock's, planting a thick loogie on a bulbous head.”I tell ya, ya'll are lucky I'm so full of mercy these days. If it weren't for my Vee making me a better man you'd already be dead and made into sexdolls for horny fishes to lay their eggs in.”
The men couldn't even look at one another as they continued their stroking. The shame shook them to their cores.
Dead? That might have been preferable! Although having their bodies profaned in such an imaginative way would be a bit….
Cowered with heads low and suddenly became mute.
Riley's lip twitched.
”Same unreasonable bastard as always, I see.” She muttered.
Vera looked over. ”Was the Young Master like that before, too?”
RIley was just about to reply when she saw the first guard, the one who was asleep, wake up from the commotion. The guy was a deep sleeper to have just barely woken up.
”Froggo, I choose you!” Damien yelled all of a sudden.
Frog folded her arms and sneered. ”Listen here you spastic twat, just because you're the Owner that doesn't mean you can just order me around! I ain't that stupid bird-brain you can't just say just and expect me to ask how hi--”
”Froggo, use Cock Slap!”