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When Waylon woke on Gluskin's table, it was strangely quiet. The Groom himself was nowhere that Waylon could see, with a quick turn of his head. Most of the noise he'd heard in the locker, though, had come from the brides, rather than from Gluskin. The whimpers, and screaming... God, one of them had even been crying right up until his head had been forced into a table saw. The table saw that was dangerously close to his own head. Waylon didn't want to end up like that.
He tested the binding on his wrists and his ankles, strapped to the odd framework Gluskin had added. Firm. With a grunt, he kicked at the corner of the rickety truss, which creaked in response. The noise caught someone's attention, because there was a slide of shoes against the wooden floor as Eddie shifted lazily to look at his beloved.
"You're awake." He turned away from his study of anatomy. "Good." His footsteps grew closer and closer to Waylon's ear, and he began to writhe, frightened animal mind desperately hoping for some weakness to exploit while the conscious mind was frozen with terror.
"I was wondering when you would wake, darling. I didn't want to deprive you of your dreams, but at the same time, I didn't want to deprive us of pleasure for too long." Eddie stroked Waylon's hairy calf. He smiled, a showman's smile, as he undid his bow-tie with both his hands, slipping it out from his collar.
"Now," He winked at Waylon, and stepped around behind him. Waylon could feel a hand in his hair, and he opened his mouth to shout - but doing so only led to that same strip of cloth being forced into his mouth, and Eddie tied a knot firm behind Waylon's head. He whispered in his ear, "The safeword tonight is... beloved." He slapped Waylon's cheek playfully, causing him to yell. For help - for anyone really. Even that damned cannibal Manera would be a welcome substitute for Gluskin's attention. The cry was muffled into a soft, wet human sound. Eddie grinned again, and he climbed onto the table to straddle Waylon.
"You know, my love, I think the problem with all those whores is that I didn't... warm them to the notion, before I began conception. We men sometimes forget how much you delicate blossoms need foreplay." His voice was warm, as if he were barely hiding a chuckle. A tear dripped down the corner of Waylon's eye. He was pinned. There was no way he was getting away from this. Eddie's body was warm against his, and for a moment, they fit together like puzzle pieces, Eddie on his knees and elbows, limbs tucked below Waylon's, tied and trussed. Eddie inhaled, deeply into the hollow of Waylon's neck, and Waylon whimpered as Eddie placed a feral, toothy kiss on his collarbone.
"The sounds you make are beautiful." Eddie's voice was breathy, and he rose, sitting half on his haunches and half on the flat of Waylon's stomach. "Let's see if I can really make you scream." It was half a threat, half a promise.
Eddie stripped off his glove, throwing it carelessly aside into the congealing blood around the table. Then he reached behind himself, guiding his hand blindly along Waylon's thigh until he found Waylon's balls, clenched. Eddie fondled them for a moment, his expression an odd mix of discomfort and pleasure, before shoving one of Waylon's balls up inside him. It popped into Waylon, not uncomfortably. Eddie brought his fingers to his lips, and inserted three of them into his mouth. He sucked on them for a moment before releasing them with a pop, saliva trailing from his lips to the tip of his fingers.
"I know that some girls can have a little trouble feeling comfortable with a man inside them." he said, in lieu of explanation, before reaching back to Waylon's balls. Waylon's mortification was almost equalled by a background sense of confusion, as to what the hell Eddie thought he was doing exactly, when his fingers found the same place that Waylon's errant testicle had popped through.
No. Oh no.
Eddie shoved his fingers up through the ring of flesh, pushing against and stretching Waylon's scrotum as he shoved himself inside. The angle wasn't quite right, and Eddie had to arch his back to change it, sending his fingers in exactly the wrong direction.
What had began as a profound sense of violation for Waylon rose into unbearable pain. He screamed against the fabric of the bowtie. He could feel the Groom's fingers against his skin, but more than that, he could feel them moving deeper inside him, up into him, something that he couldn't even imagine was possible. Eddie withdrew the two fingers he was using, only to force them in again with the third he'd wetted. Bile rose in Waylon's mouth.
"Such a good girl..." Eddie purred. The bulge in his trousers was growing more noticable as Waylon writhed underneath him, noises half pain and half struggle. They contained just the barest hint of some horrible pleasure that Waylon would be reluctant, if not unable, to explain. Something in the deranged intimacy of the act caused his own flesh to stir. At the feeling of Waylon's dick beginning to press against the seat of his trousers, Eddie's hand snapped away from Waylon's balls, and clenched down firmly at the base of Waylon's cock, making Waylon buck his hips in the moment before the pressure became a fierce pain that forced his tumescence to wither.
"Don't." Eddie snarled. "I couldn't imagine that I would have to be the one restraining you. It's hard enough, having to restrain myself." With his other hand, he grasped Waylon's chin, and forced their gazes to meet. "But I suppose you are ready, aren't you? To quit all these simple, childish games. For me to make an honest woman of you, and you an honest man of me."
He swung himself back over the trusses, and found one of his knives. He pricked the shiv against his finger to test its sharpness, and sucked the blood away as it oozed from the cut. His voice as red as the blood on his lips, he said, "The incision will hurt, darling, but the conception will no doubt make it bearable."
The heavy hesitance in his words, the way he described certain acts as if they were irreproachably lewd, discomfited Waylon greatly. Would this be more bearable, if his voice were less breathy, less strangely prudish? No. It would be as horrible regardless. He looked away from the disfigured Groom.
"Do you think some music might help? It would give you something to focus on, something that is not the pain." Eddie gestured towards a stereo, with a shrug. "No, it is our wedding night. I've deprived myself for so long, I won't deprive myself of your screams now.
"If that's so, you may ask, 'Eddie, darling, why would you gag me so?'" He chuckled, resting the knife's blade in his hand. "It's simple, my love. I don't want you to bite your tongue off." His grin was wolfish, as though suggesting that he would much rather he be the one to pull it from between Waylon's lips himself.
He pulled the trusses forward, bringing Waylon forward until the Groom stood between his thighs, the heat of him a sharp contrast to the cold air that raised goosebumps on his skin. Eddie looked to Waylon's eyes again, and wiped away the tear he saw there. "You can't imagine how happy you make me."
His hand swept down, along the crook of Waylon's thigh, before firmly gripping his scrotum, his knife sweeping in and severing everything at the root. Waylon screamed above him, pure and raw animal noise behind the gag that veiled the pure intensity of it from Eddie's ears. Now, but for that last veil hiding her sounds from him, she was perfect. Now that he'd done this, they had precious hours together before she bled out; but that was time enough.
For a moment, it almost seemed as though he was stopping up the blood spurting out of Waylon. He put his hand to the stump of his penis, wetting his hand with the blood, the flow almost coating it in moments. He stroked himself, lazily, smearing blood all over his cock. He used his other hand to drag Waylon closer to the edge of the table, with a grunt.
Waylon whimpered.
Eddie jammed his fingers inside Waylon's inguinal canal, ripping out the testicle that he'd fit there and cutting it away. Waylon bucked his hips in absolute agony, biting down hard on the bow-tie and trying to deprive Eddie of what he wanted most - his screams. Even when he heard the sad plop of his testicle hit the floor, he did little more than sob. The worst was over, he imagined. He wouldn't lose control of himself.
Eddie forced his two fingers back in, scissoring them roughly in a vain attempt to widen the opening, while his other hand forced Waylon's hips to still. He'd only laid with two women, and only the second was encouraging enough to show him how to move his fingers, riding them like she couldn't his softening cock. He couldn't recall what happened to her after that, but the carnal knowledge remained. He added another finger, thrusting up into the hot, wet depths of his bride, and Waylon's whimpers of pain were so much more satisfying than any woman's delicate sighs or breathy moans. In the tender haze of love that clouded his vision, he saw the way Waylon's eyes roll back in his head as he struggled to stay conscious through the pain as a testiment to how much pleasure he gave him.
He lined himself up against the makeshift entrance he'd prepared for himself, before pausing, thoughtfully. His cock was already the hardest it had ever been, but the blood had started to go dry and tacky. He stroked himself, adding fresh red to the darkening tarry brown and black, and thrust into Waylon.
Nothing could stop his screaming now. No will would be strong enough, even though Waylon had tried his hardest. To be strong. To hold on. For Lisa. Now he screamed shamelessly, in so much pain that he had no idea of how to respond. He pulled against the trusses, wriggling desperately to find some escape, but Eddie only took his movements for an uneven stutter of his hips and thrusted harder, forcing himself deeper and deeper into a hole never meant to accomodate him.
He had to stop, and pant, to admire how tight Waylon was - how soft and moist his flesh was, but so unwilling to yield. He could see the bulge of his own flesh, distorting Waylon's skin in a bulge. He stroked that bulge, forcing Waylon's mind back to the stab of white-hot pain that happened every moment that Eddie was inside him.
What a perfect virgin bride.
He pulled out of his bride, causing Waylon to gasp – and almost miss the pain that was so great he could barely register it, now that it was replaced by a dull, angry throb and the cramps of muscles and tissues never meant to be moved in such a way. Yet this time, he didn't try to scoot away as Eddie crawled into his lap and untied the tie.
“Darling...” Eddie sighed, out of breath. The hunger in his gaze was undeniable, but Waylon, for some reason, found himself unable to shy away from its firey power, drawn in as if by magic. He felt his swollen, cracked lips pucker in anticipation as Eddie leaned down, tilting his head for a deep kiss-
When he lunged like a snake, hand forcing Waylon's jaw open and teeth clashing against Waylon's tongue. The red taste of iron filled both their mouths as the blood pooled where Waylon's tongue used to lay, and that was now empty; as Eddie's desperate lips spread it across Waylon's mouth in a sloppy smear; as Waylon lost his will to do anything more than try not to gag on it. He slowly started to respond to Eddie's kisses with gentle movements of his own, pressing his red lips to the peak of Eddie's hair as the Groom moved down, leaving savage bites on his neck.
Unlike before, when Waylon was trying so desperately not to respond, now he made a desperate sound with each new wound in his skin – and he was leaving them, unlike the bruising kisses before. He could feel himself forgetting what it was that he was desperate for – desperate for Eddie to stop or desperate for him to continue. Whichever it was, each small cry made Eddie's teeth press harder. By the time that he made it to the bottom of Waylon's neck he was afraid that the man was going to tear a chunk of his flesh out entirely.
Eddie sat back, and looked at his bleeding bride with a sense of pride. His prick was still erect, drops of precum beading at his tip. He smiled, and wrapped a hand around Waylon's throat. Waylon expected the other man to crush his trachea and leave him for dead, but Eddie's intent was different. He pulled his newly bloody hand away, examining it with hooded eyes. He licked his own palm, sighing in obscene pleasure.
“It's only an honest woman that bleeds on her wedding bed.” He murmured, breathily, before climbing back off Waylon.
He forced himself back inside his bride, and while it was difficult at first, Waylon's wounds reopened and began to run with blood anew. He couldn't feel his hands or his feet anymore – had Eddie tied the truss too tightly? He couldn't bear to focus on what was actually happening to him – it was the details that struck him, as Eddie forced himself back inside, inch by bloody inch.
“Darling...” Eddie stroked his thigh, and the sensuous quality of the touch no longer felt unnatural to Waylon.
“I hope you're ready.” Ready for what?
Eddie grabbed hold of the truss that he'd tied Waylon to, and pulled Waylon's hole down on his dick. Waylon screamed, gutturally.
Eddie's pace was even more punishing once he put his entire body into it. He pulled Waylon unbearably close with each thrust of his hips, and buried himself in his bride to the hilt. Waylon could do nothing but choke out a wordless protest with each thrust inside him as Eddie wouldn't listen – as he refused to stop.
The Groom wrung his orgasm out of his bride's body, coming with a groan and spilling his seed deep inside Waylon's inguinal canal. He pulled away, a string of bloody come bridging his head to his bride. Waylon watched him, defeated but loathing, as he wiped off his dick on Waylon's jumpsuit and fixed his fly.
As he left, he pressed a kiss to Waylon's forehead, almost nuzzling against the other man. “Make us a baby, darling. I know that you can.”