it was hard to see after having been in such a dark room, his vision blown out in black dots. nevertheless, he turned slightly toward the voice, processing the order. slender digits wrapped about the long sleeved black shirt, pulling it off of his body. damaged goods were so often thrown away, and he would be lying if he didn’t expect to be by the other man. the wounds were healed, some new and some old, lacerations and bruises alike, though they were only decorations to a centerpiece, a jagged, circular gunshot wound, long healed but still vicious.
( — †` jackson approved of the way the boy did as he was told, without so much as a question, or some kind of protest. obedient little toys were always more enjoyable, unless he wanted to find something to release his frustration out on. this boy had seen his fair share of torture, and the scars that marred his body triggered a response from jack, one that many would take the wrong way.
slowly he circled the other man, eyes never leaving his skin. jack ignored the slight arousal he was suffering from. “this could have been fatal, or nearly. you are a lucky boy.” a hand reached out, fingers connecting with skin to trace around the wound. after a moment, he would pick one of the fresh bruises to gently prod, all to test the reaction this plaything had to pain.
