Dark Journey [Ariel's Desire 2] Read Online Free PDF Page B

tearing while they laughed.
    The hands scrubbed his back, ripping the scab from his branding, and continued across the tender pierced flesh of his stretched nipples.   They moved on to scrub his arms and wrists.   Someone began scrubbing his sunburned penis and he jerked back, almost tearing his nipple rings.   Other hands were torturing the welts on his ass.   His cheeks were spread and someone reached under his sack.   Eyes still closed from the burning soap, Mike felt a rough cloth scrape under his tortured balls.   His mind snapped and he screamed, “You sadistic little bastards!”   He opened his eyes, red and burning with soap, and kicked out at his tormentors.
    Raining Thunder pulled the traces down his back and Mike shrieked in pain and anger.   “You little asshole,” clenching his useless hands into fists.   The chuckling of the Indian infuriated him further.   “You little bastard,” he screamed.   Mike tried to kick backward and the traces pulled tighter.   Buckets of water were thrown at him rinsing off the soap.   He continued to kick uselessly, still cursing them all.   He finally had to stop the assault when it felt like the rings would tear flesh.
    Raining Thunder let the dog wear out its anger.   He walked up close behind him and whispered calmly, “Dog’s don’t speak, asshole.”   Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw him reach for something in the pouch hanging at his side.
    Mike saw what he’d retrieved and his eyes got huge.   He felt hands grab his collar by the traces in the back as he tried to shake his head.   Raining Thunder hooked a finger through the choker link and pulled.   Tanned sinewy muscles constricted in his arm as the chain tightened around Mike’s throat.   He finally opened his mouth wheezing a thin stream of air into his lungs.   Raining Thunder jammed the gag into his mouth.   It was a leather plug with two tiny strips of leather on the end.   Whoever was behind him, strapped it to his bald head. How do I get out of this nightmare?   Oh, god, please.
    Raining Thunder released the chain and Mike inhaled through nostrils still partially clogged with soap.   On his first swallow, the thin leather straps went down his throat, gagging his sob.   The young men laughed.   He hadn’t had anything but hard tack for lunch the day before, but Raining Thunder watched that he wouldn’t puke anyway.   He was responsible for the dog.
    He was finally detached from the washing pole and spent the walk back to town trying to clear the tickling strips from his throat as he gagged.   His stomach was sore from spasmed clenching and he was too frightened to attack the young Indian holding the leash.
    “I’ll catch up to you guys after lunch,” Raining Thunder called out.
    He led Mike to one of the teepees.   An Indian woman was outside cooking over a small fire pit.   “Raining Thunder, you won the dog,” she said proudly.
    Mike wanted to knock his even white teeth out of his head when he smiled. “Yes, Mother.”   This would be Raining Thunder’s last year under his father’s roof.   After proving he could provide for himself and Misting Waters, they could be joined and build their own lodging.   Winning the running contest to train the dog was one of the few honors he could earn at his age.
    The woman glanced at the dog.   Its eyes were red with irritation and bruises were already forming around its nipples.   The sunburned penis looked raw in its flaccid defeat.   She’d been concerned her son’s kind nature would prevent him from exercising the correction necessary for the soul’s first journey.   The evidence marked on the dog’s body eased her worry and she decided her son understood his responsibility.   “We’ll have him well trained in the week you have him before returning him to Wind Seeker,” she promised.
    A week? I have to put up with this sadistic asshole for a week?   Mike’s sobbing groan was muffled by the gag.
    The