Scars
by

Old scars cut deep; this is especially true for slaves. When Cash offers Sascha the opportunity to be rid of some of those scars, it brings up memories and questions for Syrus. (M/M)





Genres: , , , ,
Collections:
Editor(s): Lon Sarver
Cover Designer(s): Siol na Tine
Cover Art Credits: Logo by Siol na Tine.
Production Editor(s): Kaye O'Malley
Proofreader(s): JhP323
Length: Short Story (3,000 Words)
Chapter(s): 1
Publication Date: February 21, 2017
Serialization Date: Upcoming
Archive(d) on (To be Determined)
Tags: , , ,

Characters:
Sex:
BDSM

N/A

Story:
Misc
N/A


Click Here to Read An Excerpt

I watch him trail his fingernails over the deep scars that Sascha’s previous masters left on him. He does it often, but as often as he does it, Sascha shudders. I’m not sure if Cash thinks it’s a good shudder, but from where I’m sitting, it’s the exact opposite. I know they can’t hurt anymore—I’ve got my share of scars that have taught me as much—but physical pain is only the beginning of the hurt that can be caused. Cash likes to hurt Sascha, but not like that.

I realize I’m frowning, and I realize that Cash is watching me as I do. Embarrassed, I look away. It’s not my place to criticize what he does with his slave, even if he has hinted that I should protect Sascha from him in the past.

I can feel him looking at me for a few more moments before he looks away, studying Sascha. His hand still traces over the scars on Sascha’s back and his other comes up to run through Sascha’s hair.

“Do you ever think of having these removed?” Cash asks. “The scars, not the hair.”

Sascha is silent, but I can see him tense up. He’s thinking carefully, planning, just as I would do in the same situation.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a painful and expensive procedure,” Sascha answers, his voice barely loud enough to hear. “I wouldn’t want to burden you with that—besides; I doubt it looks that good, anyway.”

I hear the words, but I hear what he’s saying underneath of them as well. Of course he’s thought of it; we’ve all thought of it. Everyone who’s been damaged like that can’t help but think of how undesirable it must make us, how there are so many other beautiful, perfect slaves out there whose skin is smooth and unmarred. He’s thinking of the surgeries, the pain, the way that no amount of treatment will ever make it right.




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