What the hell gives a man the excuse to treat someone like property? It's something I wonder about every year when I come home for the Holy month. I can't stand this month, and if there were any other way I could see Mother, I'd stay at school
But no, she's a slave, just one of the many women he owns. And even more, she's just a human, so obviously she isn't capable of going to visit her son. But to keep my magic, I have to see at least one of my parents during the Holy month, so I come home every year.
I at least try to be gone from the house when he returns at night, so I don't have to hear him. At least, that's what I try... Sometimes it doesn't work, like when he decides to throw a grand ball for my return.
He got drunk at the ball, like he always does, and he made me ashamed to be his son, again like he always does. He called for Mother before he even left the ballroom. She didn't even get a chance to pleasure him before he started on her. And I didn't dare leave, or he would beat her for giving him a rude and disrespectful son.
It's the balls that make me wonder why I bother to keep my magic. What if it's the magic, the blood of the Dhran that runs through both his veins and mine, that makes him such an ass? Is it that same magic and blood will someday make me like him? If that's going to happen to me, I don't want the cursed magic. But I can't be sure, so I keep visiting them to renew it.
And now I lay awake in the glorious rooms he gave me, listening to him fuck her. The sound angers me, brings out the bestial rage that I got from his tainted blood. It's all I can do then to keep from going to protect her. And that makes me worry that I won't be able to keep my humanity should he ever go too far.
Sometimes the only way I can avoid the rage is to lose myself. He was rutting her again when I woke on Ri, and I came closer to losing control than I have ever been. I couldn't help but focus on her and her cries, and I was almost out the door before I caught myself and stopped moving.
So I left. I went to the clubs and lost myself in a haze of smoke and women. I woke this morning naked, penniless, and quite sated in a Stod woman's living room. She had my money, but I was still too high to care at the time. Even now I don't mind that much, since the sex we had before I left her house was mind blowing, even better than Stod women usually are. Even though she claimed not to be a whore, the money was worth paying for that sex.
After I left her house, I stumbled back home, wearing some robes that she gave me to replace my clothing, which had apparently disappeared before she found me in a club. My high had by then given way to one of the worst lows I've ever had, and I had no idea what day it was. She, like most Stods, didn't have a very good sense of time beyond Now, Soon, and Forever, like the dogs they vaguely resemble, so she wasn't much help.
I feel a little guilty for missing three days of records, especially during the Holy month. But, missing a record (or three) is worth it for some pleasure filled days without having to hear Mother cry. Even if I can't remember any of it but some mind blowing sex with a Stod woman, it's worth it.
I only miss records during the Holy month. My mentor comments on it whenever I return to school in Stozobic month. He warns me that my lack of discipline during the time when discipline is the most important is the reason I'm not advancing. But he doesn't know what it's like to hear what that monster does to Mother night after night.
Still, that lack of discipline, that failing of mine that keeps me from advancing in my calling, angers him. He cannot stand to see me fall behind, and he blames Mother for it. It sickens me to think that I am the cause of some of her suffering, and every year I swear that I will be more diligent, that I won't let my records lapse. And I am, except that every time I hear her cry I can't help but get away.
For three years now, ever since the Holy month after an older friend introduced me to the joys of the flesh, I've been one step away from the next level. And as long as both he and Mother live I fear I shall stay where I am.
A three and a half day absence angered him beyond belief. He was worse to Mother than I'd ever seen before on Ro when I returned. I ran again, and this time lost ten whole days before making my way back here this afternoon. I was still slightly out of it when I returned, but my memory of the time is perfect.
It was surprising that he wasn't at it when I returned. But the house was silent, the air heavy. No one greeted me or scolded me upon my return. In fact, there was no one in sight, as if the world was hiding from me, or possibly from his upcoming rage.
Mother, however, was in my room. She was curled up on my bed, her plain white slave's dress in tatters. Her once beautiful golden hair had been hacked off, and hadn't been washed in what looked like years. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt, but she was still one of the most beautiful sights in the world when I saw her look up at me as I opened the door.
She was waiting for me, as I found out as soon as I stepped through the doorway. I found it out as she launched herself off the bed and at me, to collide heavily with me and wrap her arms around me in a tight embrace. At the same time, she pressed her lips against mine, kissing me with the same kind of hunger that I had for my escapes, the same passion that I had always wished to see her direct at life in general.
I rose to the occasion at the feel of lips, breasts pressed against me, and a tongue slipping into my mouth during my off guard moment. It happened, despite the tiny voice at the back on my befuddled brain that protested at it being Mother. The happy feelings that distracted me as she stuck her hand down my pants were enough to drown out the little voice, though, so I didn't particularly care more than knowing that there was a warm, very female body making my body very happy at the time.
It wasn't until I woke, having slept off both the last lingering fog of the drugs and the happy haze of post-orgasm bliss, that I realized exactly what I had done. The sight of her, quite naked and staring worshipfully at me while running a single finger and and down my equally bare chest, was enough to terrify me and cause me to jump out of bed with a curse. That in turn caused her to pout.
I ran from the room. It's the first time I've ever run from someone I woke up next to. I usually consider it rude to run from someone I slept with, even if I didn't mean to do it in the first place. But, considering who it was I'd woken up next to, I wasn't particularly ashamed of what I did.
What frightened me the most was my memories of the happening, that I hadn't cared at the time. And, that she had been very aware of who I was. She had wanted me, her son, and that was what disturbed me the most.
I'm now in a hotel not far from the house. I don't ever plan on going back there, not even next year to restore my magic. I'll let it fade before I go back there. I'm not afraid of what he will do to me should he find out, or even what he'll do to her. I'm afraid that she'll try to do it again, and that I won't be able to stop her. That I'll enjoy it again.
She sought me out this afternoon. Apparently he beat her worse than ever for being missing most of the day. She told me that he didn't find out where she was, though, or what she was doing, just that she wasn't where he wanted her to be. She didn't tell him, since her beating was already bad enough, and as soon as he left for his duties she snuck out of the house to find me.
She actually thought I would sleep with her again. She didn't see any problem with what we had done. She didn't this it was wrong for mother to sleep with son if they were attracted to each other, and she couldn't even imagine that I didn't want to think of her as a sexual partner. She had come to me for comfort, for refuge from him, and for pleasure. And she just doesn't seem to understand how fundamentally wrong this incest is.
She started crying when I said no. She thought she was bad because she hadn't pleased me enough. She acted like she did when he was displeased with her, and he started to punish herself because I was displeased with her. She thought I hated her. And I couldn't stand to see her cry.
Instead, I let her seduce me again. I let her hug me and kiss me, and run her hands all over my body. I let her strip for me and show me that body of hers that is still just as perfect as it was when she first met him, despite being beaten almost every day. She begged me to let her please me, so I did.
And I enjoyed it.
She refused to leave after it was over, after she had worked me to release and beyond. Instead, she settled into the large bed next to me and curled up beside me. I begged her to leave, on the off chance that he might come and find her there with me, but she was asleep by the time the first word came out of my mouth. And I couldn't bear to wake her after seeing the horrible bruises that were just starting to appear on her body from her earlier beating. Just walking here from the house must have pained her so much. I couldn't possibly wake her, when she hasn't had a restful night that I know of in the whole time that I have been aware, and make her go back to that house, where he would surely beat her again.
So instead she is sleeping next to me as I dutifully record today's events. I will go back to school, even though in another year I shall be powerless, when I refuse to go back home to spend the Holy month with either Mother or him. I will continue with my calling, and I will continue to keep my records, until I am forced out for refusing my Dhran blood.
I cannot help but watch her as she sleeps. Unlike when she sleeps in the house, she looks at peace here. Every now and then she will unconsciously press herself against me, and then smile at the feeling of her bare flesh against mine. She is beautiful in her sleep, even with the purpled blotches that mottle her body and the barely scabbed over gashes where his rings cut open her face and breasts. And though I cannot help but watch her, I am disgusted at the same time, because each time she presses against me, I am forced to take a deep breath and push back the rising wave of heated lust that tries to run through my body.
Each time she does that, I swear to myself that as soon as she is rested I shall send her elsewhere. I cannot send her back to the house, back to him. Instead, I will send her to a friend, somewhere safe where she will be treated right. And then I will never return to that place, because I cannot allow myself to fall into this sin any farther than I have already fallen.
Every time I swear to myself that I will remain vigilant in my records, that I will deal with Mother, I find myself almost immediately doing exactly the opposite. Yesterday morning I woke with her next to me, which I expected. She smiled at me lazily as she stretched out, having slept fully and soundly for the first time in what was forever to me. She tried to kiss me again, the kind of kiss that a mother should not give her son, and that I expected as well.
I even expected her to pout when I said she needed to be put somewhere safe before he found us together. I expected the tears by then, as she assumed that my adamant desire to get her away from me stemmed from the fact that I wasn't interested in her anymore. I expected her subsequent attempt to bed me again, and even my inevitable response.
What I didn't expect was her anger when I again tried to push her away, the mocking tone of her voice as she accused me of not being man enough to deal with a woman like her. The abrupt shift from weeping and apologetic to cruel and taunting took me completely by surprise, and it hurt. It sparked the beast within me, the Dhrae part of me that wouldn't stand being called less than he is.
That beast was the one who slept with her yesterday, not me. That beast was the one who sated her, who almost beat her the same way that he does. That beast was the one who made her cry out so loud that we got a warning call from the hotel staff to keep it down so as not to bother the other guests. And she seemed to love that beast, to want that beast even more than she wanted me.
It was also that beast who took her out to the clubs and declared her to be his woman, my woman, despite the fact that she is twice my age and obviously related to me. He got us both high and drunk, so that I lost yet another day of the Holy month. And I enjoyed every moment of it, though I remember so little now that my head is clear again. Mother did as well, though I am trying to separate her as Mother from her as the woman I have fucked too many times.
We woke up this morning in the bed of a completely different hotel room from the one that I had taken near the house. I recognized the hotel, even through the haze of a receding high, as one of the ones I typically take my partners to. The staff recognize me and know that my money is good. They are even willing to let me pay them back, should I end up penniless as I had earlier this month. Waking up in one of this hotel's beds is far from surprising, though doing so with Mother and two Stod men, all four of us naked and the room smelling of sex, is.
I do not think Mother slept with either of the men. She was still slightly out of it when she woke, still very much high and completely immodest. But she refused to go near either one of the men, even to get off the bed and farther away from them. From their attitudes, she did so last night as well.
I wish I could say I was as certain that I didn't sleep with them. At the moment the thought of having sex with any man, especially the two who woke in that bed with Mother and I, disgusts me beyond belief. It actually leaves a worse taste in my mouth than thinking about what I have done with Mother. But I felt sated this morning, more so than I have after other times with Mother, and the beast within me feels the same still. Also, one of the men tried to kiss me when he noticed I was awake. He seemed quite put off when I shoved him off the bed in disgust, and he made comments about me being a hypocrite as he stalked out of the room. Also, my ass is sore...which I see as a very bad sign that I probably did sleep with one, if not both, of those men.
I immediately locked myself in the shower once the two Stods were gone. I could not get myself clean enough, and I now have the raw skin to show for my obsessive scrubbing, trying to get the phantom feel of male hands off of me. It has killed my sexual appetite completely, which is annoying Mother. She keeps trying to drag me into another round, but every time she touches me in any way even vaguely sexual I see that same Stod leaning in for a kiss, and I have to run to the bathroom to empty my stomach.
I suppose I am grateful for that turn off. It is keeping me from being dragged even farther into sin with her. Perhaps I can continue to cling to that image, no matter how much it disgusts me, until I can convince her to take my offer of somewhere safe where she will never have to go back to him again.
She tried to get me to fuck her again today. Actually, she tried seven times, and each time I refused, clinging to the image of that Stod man leaning in for a kiss so hard that I felt like I would actually heave my stomach out through my mouth when I threw up each time. She tried every trick that I could even image to guilt me into doing it, but I steadily refused.
Now she is angry with me, but I have also convinced her to accept my offer to take her to a safe house. I believe she thinks I will sleep with her after I get her put somewhere safe. I have not yet told her that I will never see her again once she is safe. I cannot bear to see her once she is safe. I must get away from her, because that image will eventually fade, and the temptation will come back fully. I must not let her convince me to give in again.
She will hate me once she learns that I will not come back for her. I do not want her to hate me. I cannot stand to have her hate me. But it is the only way. I cannot let this cursed relationship continue, and she just will not see reason.
I have been communicating with various friends all night, ever since she agreed. Most of them have absolutely no way to provide me with what I need, but they know people who know others who can find Mother a safe place to go, where he will never find her. She watches me with an annoyed look on her face, her full bottom lip clutched nervously between her teeth, and every time I glance in her direction she meets my eyes without fear. It sends flashes of heat through me each time it happens, which is not helping my careful negotiations with a society whose existence I should not even be aware of, let along preparing to send Mother to them for safety.
The image of a Stod man leaning forward to kiss me was not enough to stave away the lust this morning. I woke, again, in that hotel room bed, completely naked and next to her, equally naked. I do not remember disrobing for sleep last night, though I suspect that she was responsible for my nakedness upon waking. But, even had I been fully clothed when I woke to the feeling of her rubbing up against me, I doubt I would have been able to prevent my body from giving in again.
There is something about her that just won't let me ignore her. It isn't just the fact that I love her more than anything else in the whole world, though that love is the love of a son for his mother, not the love of a man for his lover. I just cannot stop thinking about her. It is not thoughts of her body that fill my head, but they are still thoughts of her. I cannot stand to see her unhappy with me, and I truly wish nothing more than to make her happy and safe for the rest of her too short life.
That is why I had to get rid of her. She will only get herself killed by staying with me. The gods do not look lightly upon those of us who perform such perverse, horrid acts such as that of a mother laying with her son. They may not see to it personally, but they will see to it that the offenders are suitably punished. I would not see Mother killed because of me, even if she is just as at fault as I am for the unholy love between us.
I left her at the safe house, with a friend of a friend of a friend, today. The man was lower than low, one of the poor that are supposed to be less than invisible to a high class Dhrae like myself. But he was a more honest man than most high class people, Dhrae or not, that I have met, and I trusted him with the most important thing in my life, her. He will see to it that she is not found, and hopefully he will one day get her to either human or Nefel lands, where she will be free, if not important.
The look on her face when she realized that I wasn't going with her was enough to break my heart. She tried to kiss me one last time, to make me reconsider by igniting the flame of lust again and reminding my body of what she could give me. I had to ask the low man to hold her back, just to keep from letting myself taste her lips that last time. I knew if I did I would just regret leaving her more, and I couldn't' bear that. As it is, I will never see her again, and that knowledge is enough to break my heart.
I have the distinct feeling that the next days are going to be more difficult than the rest of my life up to this point.
I suppose I should have expected what was to happen to me. It was only fitting that I be punished, and I can only hope that Mother was spared. After all, she is merely human, and does not know any better. I also suspect that his treatment of her caused some form of feeblemindedness that impaired her thinking. Perhaps his treatment of her caused her to become fixated on Dhrae males, such as myself, or even males of my bloodline. Yes, that must be it, because I cannot bear to think that she was punished for what we did as well.
I lost another three or so days, because when I woke up on Mi I wanted nothing more than to run to the location where I met up with the low man and demand for him to return Mother to me. I almost did it, as well, before I realized that I was just putting her in more danger by doing that. Instead, I went off to the clubs again, only to be reminded of her again when they asked where my new woman was. I ended up drinking myself into a stupor again and losing track of where I was and what I was doing even earlier than I had in the past.
I woke this morning in the house. The human servants were apparently sent out on Chi, when she first disappeared, to look for her. How they managed to miss us when the beast inside me took over, I have no idea, but one woman found me last night, stoned out of my mind, and trying desperately to forget about Mother. She dragged me back, and apparently someone managed to get the whole story out of me before I sobered up.
Because of that, he was waiting for me to wake up. I was naked in a bed, unwashed, and still covered in filth from when I had passed out in a pool of my own vomit during my three day period of obliviousness. I could see his disgust with me clearly, even though his face was blurry from my lack of corrective lenses when I first opened my eyes to look at him. I could even see how awful I looked, reflected in those midnight black eyes of his as he glared at me. I could sense that he knew, and that told me all that I needed to know. I wasn't going to live through the night.
I got no chance to explain myself. I didn't even get the chance to squeak out a frightened yelp of surprise. All I got was the chance to take a single gasping breath before he was on top of me and changing.
Objectively, I know what the transformation of a Dhrae man looks like. I have seen illustrations, and I can feel the beast within myself. My own magic has always told me what my beast looks like, even if he has never shown his face, even during the few times when he has had control of me. But, until today, I had never seen an actual Dhrae transformation, and I would have been better off never having seen one, since seeing it almost always means that you will be the victim.
Unfortunately, I had to watch his transformation. I had to watch the leathery wings that were somewhere between the color of day-old vomit and shoe leather burst out from his back, showering me with the shredded scraps of skin that exploded out as they appeared. I had to watch his eyes as the pupils shuddered and elongated until they were slitted like a cat's. I had to watch his normally black eyes turn to a glowing yellow green color. I had to watch the carefully manicured nails on his hands grow into horrible, gnarled yellow claws.
And I had to watch the fangs come. I had to watch as his top canine teeth elongated, so that he could puncture the skin of his intended victim and drink blood. I had to watch the rest of his teeth sharpen in turn, becoming weapons that he could use to tear out the throat of his enemy and eat the flesh that would give him so much power.
I was terrified, because I knew that his intended victim was myself. I knew that he knew about what I had done with Mother. I knew that he knew about my sins, and that he was the one the gods had sent to punish me. There was no possible way I could get out of it, because his Dhrae blood run thicker than mine, and I had no idea how to bring on a similar transformation in myself. All I could do is struggle underneath his suddenly magnified strength, and hope that it would be quick, and not too painful.
Of course, that was a foolish wish that could never possibly come true.
I felt every nerve in my body catch on fire with pain as he started off with a magical attack, an invisible fire that washed over me and caused pain beyond belief. It was the only magic that he would use in killing me, something I knew instinctively, and its only purpose was to make me flail around more, so that the kill would be more exciting. As the fire burned me without actually burning, I felt him bury his fangs in my neck. Rather than beginning to suck my blood, as most Dhran would do, he followed the fangs with the rest of his teeth and tore a chunk out of my neck.
I felt the blood starting to flow out of me. The pain in my neck far eclipsed the burning in the rest of my body, and I started praying to the gods that I would lose consciousness soon. I wanted to die, or at least stop being aware, before he could make it worse, and certainly before I could watch him swallow the piece of my flesh that he had in his mouth. I was not so lucky, though I gratefully thanked both Dhraea and Elha that I did not have the strength at that point to throw up, since that would only make him worse.
I did not thank any gods for staying conscious for the next five minutes, as I watched and felt him rip more pieces out of my flesh and swallow them. At least I did not have to watch him chew me up as well, though what I was seeing was bad enough. His final blow, or at least the one that finally made me black out so that I wouldn't have to actually experience any more of being killed and eaten, was sliding down the bed, taking the specific pieces of me that had betrayed me so horribly with Mother, and biting them off. The world faded to black just as I watched him grin at me around a mouthful of my manhood.
I know not why I am still around. I am not quite here in reality, but rather just as a spirit. I know that my time here is limited, and that I will not even have enough time to go search for Mother and news of whether she was also punished for our sins. As my final act, I am compiling my record of today, so that the course of my life will be complete, with the sole exception of the far too many days when I was too high to make a record. It is my way of trying to make up for what I have done, in hopes that when my spirit does fade it will not be consigned to hell. I doubt that will happen, as I led a less than virtuous life and committed a horrid sin, but perhaps the gods' punishment of me by sending him to finish me will be enough to make up for what I did.