(THIRD PERSON’S POV)SPLASH!!!Dakor gasps awake, the chains rattling as he catches his breath. Sweat and grime coat his skin. Chains bind his wrists and legs like the animal he is. Dakor squints, barely making out his surroundings. He craves sleep again, because with awareness comes excruciating pain. His skin bloody from multiple stabs, fingers and toes nailless, with blood forming around the shed foreskin of his cock. No more piercings. Just raw, sore flesh. The bucket crashes into Dakor’s face again. Metal on bone. He tastes iron, feels a tooth loosen. Every breath is agony. Every moment reminds him of what they took from him. But when Godfather says, “You’re not my son,” something inside Dakor hardens. He spits blood at his father’s feet. “Then you can’t threaten me anymore, Old man.”It costs him. Godfather’s cane slashes his face, a permanent scar forming. Worth it, Dakor thinks through the haze of pain. If he’s not a son, he’s just a monster, and monsters don’t have any
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