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Astarion was trembling, standing there as his three siblings were looking at him. There was confusion in their gazes and just a bit of fear.
“Kneel.” His master’s word was a command shooting through Astarion’s body, like a bolt of lightning. He fell to his knees, just waiting for the next command.
“I do not ask much of you, do I?” Cazador asked, looking at his vampire spawn.
“No, Master,” Yousen whispered.
“Yet, you let me down again and again.” Cazador sighed, looking at Astarion. “One soul a month. That is all I ask of you. Yet you fail me, don’t you?”
“We are sorry, Master,” came the fearful whisper back.
“Still, compared to your brother, you still are doing well. Do you want to tell them, what you did, Astarion?”
Astarion kept silent, even though he knew that his silent would soon be broken – no matter how much he wanted to defy his master.
“Tell them, boy,” his master now commanded.
Another tremble went through his body, as he so desperately tried to work against the command, yet was unable to do so. “There was boy,” he croaked. “I let him get away.”
“And why did you do that, Astarion?” his master asked.
“Because… He was so innocent,” Astarion whispered. “And… I did not want him to die.”
Cazador looked at the other spawn. “No matter what I do, this boy will still defy me. Still cling to some sort of mortality. And it seems that no matter how patient I am, how much I try to teach him, he is still not going to learn.”
Astarion’s gaze flickered to them as well. He wanted to scream: ‘Help me!’ But his lips were sealed. Right now his master’s control over him was absolute. He could not do anything without his master’s explicit permission. He couldn’t even blink.
“What do you think, I should do with this useless boy?” Cazador asked, looking at the other spawn.
There was an anxiousness between them, as they tried to stay controlled, yet barely dared to look at Astarion.
“Punish him,” Violet whispered. “He… He needs to be punished.”
Cazador seemed to be happy with this reply. “He should, shouldn’t he? But it seems no matter what punishment I choose, he will still find a way to defy me. I have him whipped. I have him impaled. I break his bones. Yet, he will just not learn.”
Silence spread between them. Again their gazes were flickering back and forth between Astarion and Cazador.
“How do you think, I should punish him?” Cazador asked. He waited for a long moment for one of them to speak up. Only when nobody did, he barked: “Answer!”
It was Petras, who steeled himself. “Just leave him with Godey for a week or two. That should teach him, right?”
“Clearly it doesn’t,” Cazador snarled. “Godey had him so long and nothing he did left a lasting impression.”
That wasn’t true. It wasn’t. Astarion tried to do right by his master. He tried, because he feared the kennel more than anything. Yet, he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t protest, couldn’t speak. There were silent tears running over his cheeks, as he looked at them.
Cazador looked at him, a smile on his face. “I want you to strip, boy.”
That was always how it started. The clothes were worth more than Astarion’s skin. And he knew it. He could not go against the command though. Like a puppet on strings he just got up and stripped, baring himself in front of Cazador and in front of his vampiric siblings. His body was shaking so badly, it was hard to open the laces of his trousers – yet, he managed.
“Now,” Cazador said. “Dalyria, I want you to take one of the instruments and punish him.”
Dalyria swallowed, but then she smiled. “Of course, master.” She went over to the table, on which Cazador had put the torture instruments. Out of the five of them, she was the most ruthless, but even she hesitated. In the end she simply took a long knife, going over to Astarion. Her eyes were weirdly emotionless, as she pushed the knife into Astarion’s belly, slicing downwards as he could do nothing but scream in pain.
He could feel his innards loosen, could feel them wanting to escape his body. He just stared at Dalyria.
“Not very creative, I have to say.” Cazador smirked. “Petras, do you have a better idea?”
Dalyria stepped back as Astarion just stood there, like a statue. There was a bit of his intestines hanging out of the wound, as his body tried to heal.
Petras considered it for a moment. He looked at Cazador, as if trying to access what their master wanted. But in the end he took one of the spikes and went around Astarion. “I…” He didn’t say anything more, instead just pushing it into Astarion’s asshole, while Astarion could once more do nothing but groan. The metal cut through him, through his intestines, until it existed the wound in the front.
He wished so much, he could die. But he couldn’t. No matter what they would do, he would still live.
“What do you think, Violet?” Cazador asked.
Astarion was still groaning. He wanted to push that spike out of himself, wanted to put his intestines back into his body. But he still could not move. Could not do a single thing.
Violet eyed the instruments. She didn’t dare to consider too long. In the end she took the hammer. “I am sorry,” she whispered, before she swung the instrument.
Astarion screamed, as his kneecap shattered, falling to the ground as he was unable to keep standing.
“Oh, sweet Violet,” Cazador said. “You shouldn’t be sorry. The boy deserves his punishment. Don’t you, boy?”
Astarion was just lying there, screaming.
“Answer me, boy!”
He sobbed, wishing he could at least move. Yet, there was no choice. “Yes. Yes, master.”
“See?” Cazador smiled. “Youson? What do you think?”