Wings by J. C. Owens Read Free Book Online Page A

now. He stiffened in surprise when the blindfold was carefully removed. He

    Wings
    33

    had to shut his eyes for a moment as they readjusted to the light; then he blinked up at green eyes
    watching him intently.
    Vanyae gently stroked his cheek, and Anyar fought not to shy away from the touch, fought
    to keep his expression calm, though fear thrummed through his body.
    “I am going to clean you now, Anyar, and part of that cleaning is ridding you of body hair.
    For that I am going to use a shaving implement, so I want you to remain very, very still, all
    right? I do not want to mar your body with cuts.”
    A warm, wet cloth descended on his genitals, and Anyar leaped in shock, eyes widening as
    it was removed and Vanyae poured some kind of soap on the area and began to work lather onto
    his pubic hair. His face flamed as he saw the look on the prince's face as he worked the soap onto
    every part. Anyar flinched at the enforced intimacy, his innate shyness horrified at this violation.
    Vanyae turned to wash his hands off, then held up a small shaving implement. “Stay still,
    little one.”
    Anyar felt the scrape against his skin as he lay frozen in place, terrified of the blade in such
    close proximity to his tender parts.
    He could hardly breathe, body tense with expectation of pain, but Vanyae was swift and
    proficient in his actions, and it was little time until he was wiped clean, the feeling of air strange
    upon the newly bared skin.
    Vanyae ran a forefinger down beside his shaft and testicles, and Anyar shuddered at the
    tenderness of the skin.
    The prince laughed softly, then proceeded to shave his armpits as well.
    Anyar endured as the signs of his manhood were stripped from him. He had been so proud
    when he had first grown hair in those regions, signs that he was now adult and no longer a child.
    Now even this had been taken from him, like his ability to fly. What else could they take but his
    very mind? He remembered the slave he had been shown, and he shuddered. Would he end up
    like that, broken and mindless?
    When Vanyae finished, he smoothed a thick, creamy mixture over the sites and explained
    that it was something that ate hair and would ensure Anyar would be smooth for at least a week.
    Now if they kept using the cream on time, he would not have to be shaved again.
    Anyar looked away, wondering bitterly if he was supposed to be grateful.

    34
    J. C. Owens

    It became silent then, and he realized that Vanyae must have left the room. He lay there,
    slumped wearily now that he had no audience, his mind flitting from thought to thought of what
    he had already endured and what more was to come. Strong, be strong, he kept telling himself.
    Do not shame yourself before these, your enemies. He thought of his mutilated wings and fought
    back tears. He must not show weakness; he must not. His thoughts shied away, unable to fully
    encompass what had been done, what it meant to his future.
    The cream began to itch unbearably as it ate the hair beneath the skin, and he moved
    uncomfortably, unable to stay still, unable to scratch. It was almost a relief when Vanyae
    returned.
    “Do you want that off now, Anyar?” Green eyes met golden ones.
    He would not answer but turned his face away.
    No sound came from the prince, no anger at Anyar's behavior, and finally, the young guard
    looked back to discover that Vanyae had again left. He blinked, realizing that Vanyae had taken
    his actions as a no , and that now he was forced to endure the cream longer.
    He cursed under his breath.
    The itching grew worse and then began to almost burn. He writhed, trying desperately to
    rub against anything, to twist against what he lay on enough to rub off the cream. He damn near
    wrenched his arms out of their sockets as he struggled to roll over as much as he could.
    He was panting and wild-eyed when Vanyae finally returned, leaning against the doorway
    with arms crossed over his chest.
    “I will ask you again, little one. Do you want