7. Don't Cry.

Then the symptoms started to subside. Then Damon tied me to a table and poured substances back into my abdominal cavity for several days. All of different jelly and whatnot, I had no idea what he was doing, only that I was getting weaker and a lot weaker too. He kept me medicated all this time. I was mostly drugged out of my mind, sedated point of unconsciousness. I woke up in bed again. In this hard, army bed, with some sort of blanket thrown over my naked, bruised body. He had healed me from time to time so I could take more. Metals were still there. 

Damon came over to me, took my hand, and, with a lancet, stabbed a drop of blood from my fingertip, which he put into the machine. He did not say anything to me, but I saw from his gaze that he was pleased. I have no idea what he had been measuring from my blood.

He dragged me to a chair and tied me up. My legs he lifted up on the stands and tilted the table so that he could examine my cunt directly. He ultrasound it and stuck some gel in there. Then he waited without a word. I was still pretty medicated and couldn't get a word out.

After about two hours, he came back to look at my cunt again and was satisfied. He took three big metal syringes from the table next to me, and first, he inserted some kind of cannula into the depths of my cunt. He pushed it inside me, and I felt a pain as he pushed a little harder. He grunted softly and was again like some cold, distant clinician in between my legs. Real gynecologist.

He checked again with the ultrasound. Now it was in place. Then he inserted one syringe at a time into the cannulae and drained them, apparently in my uterus. I had at some point, then grown another one of those again. Three syringes later, he pulled the cannula out and stuck some needle into my pussy, and injected something. Something inside me pulled closed.

Damon removed my legs from the stirrups, lifted the table to a sitting position, looked at me for a moment, and said, "Congratulations, baby, you've just been artificially inseminated. Now, let's see if anything happens. At least you ovulated and ovulated well. On the other hand, I don't mind if this pregnancy happens to be unfinished. your abortion is fascinating to see. It also weakens you so well. You've also been inseminated in your cat's uterus, and I got some cells out of there, too, in case we do kittens first. It seems that now I have stressed your body to breaking point, and it now needs to procreate. "

I was shocked. My fitness had already taken a hit from these treatments, and I knew this wouldn't stop. Pregnant or not, the session would continue. And it did. Damon was willing to let me be sedated for two days in bed, pregnant, while he continued. I was jellied, of course, with his blood too, so I could take more. He had no sympathy, no need to heal me, not at all. Its side did not come onto the surface at any time. Only his torture continued. 

Skin, internal organs, except the uterus, joints, bones, symptoms. And then the torture continued. I had never come across such a device before, but after he had messed my head up with drugs, I was hurting, and he kept saying his creepy stuff all the time and then tied my face to this mask covering my whole head, which started blowing my lungs full, and it wasn't air.

"I don't know, baby, what's in those tanks? You tell me when you get a whiff, right?" His whisper was full of menace, enjoyment, and twisted pleasures that killed so damn efficiently my love for him. Bit by bit. 

Dust, metal particles, and some chemical fumes. I had no idea what was pushed into my hurting, aching lungs, and it felt like my chest was about to explode. I was thrashing and struggling and panicking and trying to get out of the mask.

Damon was enjoying my panic. He had another device to tie my head to when in some kind of facial sauna. At the same time, he was dripping some poison and tuning up the rib crusher, as well as the stabber. With drugs, his whispers in my ear and my mind made my mind so freaking confused that I didn't know where I was anymore. Just raw panic hit me. He hadn't given me pheromones again for a while, so the withdrawal symptoms were even worse.

I was tortured beyond any measure. One machine where he put me, was again a table. There were stems with drill bits all around it.

Damon said to me, "You see, baby, you know how drilling a bone is an exact science. You can't drill in the wrong place, or too big a bit, because bone can shatter. You gotta be careful. This machine is not gonna be careful. It will drill wherever it finds a suitable spot, and it is not gonna think about how fast it drills, or how big the bit is. "

He took one of the stems closer. It had no bit in it. Damon dug from his pocket a case full of drill bits, just took one and put it in place. A metallic click was heard.

He said, "Funny thing, keeping up these sheds ain't cheap, so I could not get the best parts for my machines. You know that most of the blades and whatnot are a combo of those three wonder metals and a few others, so they stay sharp. But this machine, nah, I have used just normal drill bits, surgical and you know how fast they will get dull. As you have noticed, this place has been used before so these ain't all new. Now this machine has different motors in these stems. You know that if you drill fast it hurts, but the pain is short. Luckily, these motors aren't so powerful, so the drilling speed is somewhat in a few stems quite a bit lower. This means that you get to experience how it feels when a dull drill bit is trying to drill into your bone, not so fast. New kind of pain."

His expression was again very satisfied as he got to explain this to me. Knowledge makes pain bigger, and I tried to see if some bits were dull or not, some had old blood in them. 

He stepped away, saying, "This will be messy then, but I have rinsing equipment then. "

Drills started to drill into me and pain and agony tore through my already compromised mind and made me feel like there was nothing else in the world than pain. The hot searing pain was all around my body, even in my skull, as the machine drilled several holes in my skull, too. Blood and other bodily fluids smelled in the air, burning bone and I could not scream as my lungs were more or less destroyed.

I had no sense of time. I could hear several of my bones cracking. My head was pounding by several open holes in my skull, too. My mind was so damn fuzzy because of the brain damage and drugs, too. There was only pain. Now, even if Damon had talked, my mind was too far gone for me to understand anything. I was in that damn machine forever, or at least it felt like it.

When that dull big drillbit started to gnaw into my bones and slowly too, the pain made me black out, and several times, only when I came to, Damon was standing near, seeing me losing my consciousness from pain, giving him so much satisfaction. I had no idea, no thought in my mind, the only pain that tore my agonizing body many times over until my bones were about mere pulp. Still, the pregnancy continued. I felt no movement, only slight pressure on my lower belly.

I was now five weeks pregnant. My stomach was already slightly enlarged. According to Damon, the fetuses, there were several of them, were growing at an amazing rate. They were also draining my strength. The cat's uterus had remained empty even though I had ovulated.

He did not say anything about heartbeats or anything else. My guess was there was none. All he was probably seeing was several clumps of tissue in my uterus, not fetuses. But he liked to taunt me. Colin had actually theorized that my eggs had no working DNA polymerase, meaning there would not be a baby, only a mass of cells that grow all over the place and my abortion was just my body getting rid of this almost cancerous growth in my uterus. Triggering infection usually. The green discharge started two days after this announcement, with fever, pain, and cramping.

Damon was not disappointed. He watched me squirming and moaning in pain, flushing the green mass out of my uterus with a garden hose or something like that. He did not like the smell, not a bit, and I saw some cream under his nose, so the smell did not get to him. 

He just said, " You can't even raise our child inside you."

The session continued, more intense; he used the CPAP mask without mercy, and my panic didn't ease at all. My strength was already very low.

I lay on the bed, shivers running through my body now and then. I couldn't get up anymore. Damon had pushed the symptoms into me again, this time with different pain and aches that tore through my whole body. He was relentless, mocking my nonexistent fitness, and my health.

As I lay on that bed, I saw in the back of the shed, not so far from me, was an open door. Damon had opened it and uncovered a long hallway at the end of it. There was a kitchenette, a table set out of two, full of food. There was a bump, feeding liquid, his blood, but the hallway was long, too long for me in this shape. 

He walked to the corridor, put that table, and said," Come and eat. You have time to come and eat. That is what it takes me to have my meal. Come, join me, wife, let's have a meal."

And I never could, even though I tried, crawled, crept, staggered. By the time I was any closer, Damon had already eaten and was cleaning up the dishes and dragging me by the hair back to bed. He held the stabber on me almost the whole time.

At one point, Damon then came up next to me and crouched down.

"It won't be long, baby, just a few more straps left."

He had some sort of crystal with him, showing him my straps.

He said gently, as if he were talking to a child.

He said, "Well, you took it well. You gave me six months, well not the whole run in the shed, but my treatment. You're as finished as you can be. I can't enjoy your company much longer, baby. When you can't, you're losing the rest of your straps."

Damien was ready to take this all the way. He had gotten into the taste of raping, thus the treatment in the castle. He had raped several women before and it gave him a feeling of power. Damon had been down for a long and all this time in the shed, he could feel how Mimi's love for damon died off. Bit by bit, and he was delighted. He knew that once he goes all the way, and gives himself the ultimate pleasure, he will be so strong that there is no hope to Damon even win him. Mimi will learn to hate him and that disgusting love and trust between them will die off soon enough. 

He had a plan. To make Damon feel this, see this, and it will feel like he just can't stop himself. And get Mimi to see that this is truly Damon, get the last of the doubt in her mind about Damon having a twin inside him. He had the wonderful chair, and he walked to one cabinet and took a long platinum dagger there. From another shelf, pure coriander extract. He let Damon come near the surface, so he could feel, this anticipation, seeing him prepare for this last ultimate pleasure.

Now he would go all the way, his hands trembling as he tightly gripped the knife, ready to end Mimi's life. And Damon would feel it. The surrounding air grew heavy with tension, his heart pounding in his chest. He could practically taste the fear and anticipation in the room.

He inched closer, his senses heightened, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air. The thought of the power he would gain from this act threatened to consume him completely, suffocating Damon's existence. He glanced over at Mimi, her body a mess, blood staining her clothes. He couldn't bear the sight of her in such a state, a surge of disgust coursing through him.

Carefully, he positioned himself beside her, delicately lifting the bag filled with his own blood. Damien was always meticulous, never wanting to get his hands dirty. Mimi's condition demanded his attention, though. He needed to heal her, if only to prevent her blood from further staining his hands. With a steady hand, he stopped the stabber trajectory, pulling it away from her vulnerable body.

Leaning in close to Mimi, he whispered, his voice laced with a mixture of relief and gratitude, "I think you've suffered enough, my love. Let me heal you, even just a little, and express my gratitude for the pure pleasure you've brought me over these 27 weeks. I mustn't forget my manners, right?"

Mimi, weak and unable to comprehend the situation fully, allowed herself to be cared for. She watched as he took the stabber away, a wave of relief washing over her. The touch of his blood against her wounds brought a strange warmth, an odd comfort she couldn't explain. Her body was too weak to question it.

He gently placed her on a softer blanket, wrapping her in its embrace, before lifting her into his arms. Slowly, he carried her to the side of the shed, where his chair awaited. Sitting down, he continued to gaze at her, his expression filled with a mix of concern and tenderness. His fingers softly ran through her hair, a gesture that felt both soothing and unsettling.

In a hushed voice, he whispered, "Shh. It's okay now, my baby. Can you smell it? Shh, Don't Cry. Passionfruit. It's me, just me. I know your lungs are weak, but please try to smell it. Good girl. Just like that."

I couldn't believe my senses when the scent of real passionfruit filled my nostrils. He looked at her, almost worried, as he continued to comfort her, his voice gentle and soothing. His touch on my hair felt wrong, conflicting with the situation at hand. But I couldn't deny the strange comfort it brought. Maybe this side had finally surfaced.

"You've given me so much, my baby," he murmured, his voice filled with little faked gratitude. "Let me properly thank you. Just lie there, inhale my scent, listen to the rhythm of my heart. You're going to be okay, just fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Something in Damon's voice made me question his motives. The hint of malice, sadism, and that twisted pleasure.

He cradled me in his arms, rocking me gently as if I were a child. Time seemed to lose all meaning, the minutes blending into hours. And then, slowly, he unraveled the blanket, urging me to look at him, to keep my gaze locked on him.

"Good girl," he whispered. "Now, just keep looking at me. Always. Don't cry."

Our eyes remained locked, a strange connection forming between us. Somehow he made me just look at him.

Pain seared through my stomach, a sharp, piercing sensation as he ruthlessly thrust a platinum dagger into my liver. I could feel the cold, unforgiving blade twisting, causing my face to contort in agony. I desperately tried to moan, but he insisted on me looking at him. The pain drained my strength, leaving me weak and helpless. He kept whispering and reassuring me, making this very twisted.

With cruel deliberation, he aimed the dagger towards my chest. Slowly, he drove it deeper, the icy touch sending shivers down my spine. I writhed and squirmed in his grasp, my moans of pain barely audible. The agony intensified, consuming me until darkness began to cloud my vision.

Yet, even in this torment, my eyes remained fixated on Damon's face. As the darkness enveloped me, my final thought echoed in my mind, a whisper of relief, "Thank god the pain is over."

Damien held Damon close, ensuring his presence was felt as he slowly plunged the dagger into Mimi's heart. She writhed and moaned in his lap, her gaze locked onto his face, unable to break free. He savored the sight of his victim's unwavering gaze until the very end. The dagger twisted, causing Mimi's struggles to weaken until she convulsed one last time, her back arching, muscles trembling, and then it was done. He knew that Damon felt everything, saw everything and he would feel this pleasure too.

Limp and lifeless, she remained in his grip, her once vibrant blue eyes now empty and vacant. Damon's telepathy revealed that Mimi's soul had departed. The dagger was removed, and Damien sat there, observing her open eyes, the emptiness in her gaze, the dryness of her lips. Her expression was etched with pure agony, even in death. Just like he liked.

He deliberately chose not to close her eyes or give her a peaceful appearance. This was perfection to him - witnessing her demise, knowing she had suffered greatly. Pleasure surged through him, overwhelming his mind like a whirlwind. He could sense Damon's weakness, the self-loathing he felt for killing Mimi. Now, everything would be perfect. Yet, the desire to repeat this act lingered within him. It was fortunate that his wife was truly immortal, and Damon's energy umbrella would ensure Mimi's presence in the minds of Adam or Charles.