Master of Slaves

A/N: Ah! I’m so sorry for the late update! School has me its slave!

Dedication: I want to wish Sparks3712 a happy belated birthday!
And a big hug to elfgirl83, Thornangel, Ruid, Mai, sheartrigger, Dekorx_Ao, SofaLeonhart, SofaAlmasy, cloudstrifejen, ame85, Itavita, BoredomIsDeadly, Chemotaxis and xxperfectxdrugxx for being ever faithful reviewers! You guys are the reason I keep writing! You’re all so inspiring!

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Master of Slaves
By: Baby Chiba

Chapter 7: The Devil’s Playground

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The master of the manor endured a fierce night, full of fleeting sleep and fitful episodes. Never had he been felt so haunted in his own home. His dreams turned nightmarish as the night sprites invaded his mind and tortured him with conjured images of his withered slave.

So as dawn broke, so did he.

His resolve was set.

Something had to give.

Anxiously striding down the corridors of his manor it chilled him through to his marrow. The walls seemed to sing with secrets of tragedy, it hung thick in the air like the morning fog. A home turned hollow as it gave reverence to the House of Agamemnon.

As Seifer threw open the door to Squall’s cell a chill swept through him, as if a demon had been dwelling over Squall’s shrunken form, sucking his energy and now that it had been sapped, took its exit to find another unfortunate soul.

Squall slowly pried his eyelashes apart. He hadn’t been sleeping, but somewhere between the states of consciousness and unconsciousness. He’d been there for the past few days, unable and unwilling to stabilize himself in one state. It was easier to endure his torture this way, falling through reality, yet always cognizant of the rage that inspired him and kept him alive. His hubris is what drove him, kept him determined. If it had been his body commanding him, he would have succumbed and eaten days ago as he surely felt that his stomach was eating itself.

And though the boy was kissing death’s feet, his face remained passive as ever as it veered towards his captor.

Something had to give.

Seifer hesitated briefly at the sight. It was frightening, but his resolve was unwavering. The blonde thrust a key into the lock of Squall’s collar none too gently and unhinged it.

“ Get up.” The blonde uttered abruptly taking a step back from the stoic brunet.

Squall remained unresponsive.

“ Come on, let’s go!” Seifer ordered sharply gesturing for Squall to stand.

The brunet’s heart was lodged in his chest. His pulse sped up and it made him dizzy, his body unable to handle his animate state. He lifted his head and made a move to unfurl himself from his fetal position, however, his throat filled with a vile taste as he found he was incapable of lifting his limbs. They had grown too heavy in his imprisonment. He felt as if they’d been weighed down by a thousand human hands.

Steel eyes glazed with panic and Seifer caught it.

It disturbed him to see such uncharacteristic emotion swimming in crystalline eyes.

He couldn’t help but feel guilt. It should have never come to this.

“ Look at you… you can’t even stand on your own.” Seifer spat out, seemingly repulsed.

For the first time in days Squall reached full consciousness, which included his body. He shied from the vulnerability of not having control of his situation, however, not having control over his body was an entirely different matter. He was useless, and he had rendered himself that way. The realization that this was the consequence of his rebellion immobilized him. He’d never been so frightened in his life…

Seifer’s thoughts seemed to be on the same wavelength as his and he vocalized it.

“ You couldn’t even leave if I wanted to release you. Not in this state…” The blonde trailed off with a hint of sympathy, looking over Squall’s malnourished body before turning to leave.

He was right.

In retrospect this entire rebellion had been an awful idea, blinded by his anger he had not thought anything through.

He trembled.

This all felt like a nightmare…

He looked at the open door to this grotesque mausoleum. It mocked him. His nerves screamed at him to run, escape, but he couldn’t move. This cell really would become his mausoleum…

He ducked his head and his chocolate locks obscured his eyes, obscuring a tear that forced its way from his eye down his cheek.

Seifer reentered and approached him with a blanket. He knelt to the hard stone ground and gingerly arranged the blanket on top of Squall’s quivering form, then scooped him up in his arms as easily as if he were a rag doll.

He wanted to hate the man whose arms carried him out of his prison. He wanted to despise the man that put him in that prison. However, as he felt the heat emanating from the man’s body, the live pulsating beat of a heart close to his, the gentleness with which Seifer handled him, he was lulled into a passive state. He closed his eyes and curled closer into that inviting warmth, warmth he’d been deprived of for countless days.

As Seifer carried his slave and felt him relax in his arms he couldn’t help but smile tenderly down at the messy chocolate locks splayed against his chest. Once they reached outside he felt Squall stir slightly, and again when they stopped in front of his carriage to nod at his servant mounted on the horse.

He stepped inside the carriage and sat down on the cushioned seat then laid Squall against him so that he was propped up and capable of seeing out the window. He was too weak to fight Seifer over his position. He was forced to lean back and relax against the hard muscle of Seifer’s chest pressed fully against his back.

Seifer tapped the side of the carriage and it rocked with the initial pull of the horses and then sped off down the cobblestone streets of Galbadia.

Squall was reeling just as well as the carriage that carried him. He didn’t understand Seifer’s intentions, and that unsettled him, but even more was the motivation…
He didn’t want to wrap his head around the notion that his captor, this slave tamer, who lacked humanity, was showing him compassion.

Compassion…

His train of thought quickly diminished as exhaustion overwhelmed him.

He didn’t want to think.

He didn’t want to care.

Not right now.

He just wanted to exist.

And so that mask of stoicism so eloquently wrapped his face and he blankly stared out the window, watching the markets of Galbadia unfold before his eyes for the very first time.

Squall remained still. The only indication of life from him was the subtle press of his back into Seifer’s chest with the rhythmic pattern of his breathing.

Seifer studied him from his position behind the boy with all seriousness.

“ Where do you think you’d go if I released you? Hm?” Seifer asked earnestly, no sarcasm or anger in his tone.

Squall blinked.

“ What do you expect to do? Do you even know what’s out there?” Seifer continued inquiring rhetorically.

Squall closed his eyes.

He couldn’t answer.

His heart lurched as Seifer chastised him. He weakly felt anger at the stab made to his pride. How dare Seifer make him feel ashamed for wanting to escape when it was only natural?

Seifer gently combed his fingers through Squall’s messy locks, and Squall’s heart lurched violently in response at the hypocrisy those elegant fingers dealt.

That touch that chastised yet pacified him with their feather light strokes.

“ You’ve never seen lands like these before. Galbadia is cruel. You wouldn’t last out here.” Seifer stated distantly, his fingers threading into Squall’s locks then pausing.

“ I’m gonna show you just how cruel it can be.” Something shifted in his calm baritone voice.

Squall opened his eyes, hearing what remained unspoken.

And it made his hairs stand on edge…

As if on cue the slave markets started to unfold before him. The wealthy and poor littered the streets. Squall had never seen so many people squeezed in vicinity before. They reminded him of cockroaches, scurrying about the garbage trying to catch the best morsels before the others. But these morsels were human beings and that sickened him. They were chained, hogtied, and restrained in numerous exploitive ways on the stage, held by merchants shouting out extravagant prices and conducting bids. They were exposed to humiliating examinations before feral eyes. Their limbs and bodies contorted in ways that seemed inhumane. Hair pulled, mouths pried open, flanks spread apart, holes stretched, faces prodded… it was a zoo of humans.

Seifer’s thick voice cut through his reverie, “ be thankful you were spared this part of the process. I took you as you were.”

His voice had a hard edge to it.

A young boy, restrained in a stock, was at the mercy of two merchants that roughly pried apart his ass cheeks for all to gaze upon his puckering entrance. Fingers were forced inside as part of the demonstration. The boy’s face contorted in pain and his eyes watered in utter humiliation.

Squall’s jaw clenched.

The brunet couldn’t see it but Seifer’s eyes narrowed.

“ I never put you on display, nor will I ever.” His words emphasized as his arms girded Squall tightly against his chest.

His words struck Squall. And for the first time since his captivity, he felt relief.

The carriage took them past various stages with similar public demonstrations and slave exhibitions, each one painfully striking a cord in Squall.

He was overwhelmed with a mixture of guilt and relief as he was only observing from the safety of Seifer’s embrace the plight of these people. His earlier torment paled in comparison. He paled as he thought about the paradox of his situation. He same man that claimed his freedom kept him safe in his embrace.

Squall didn’t know what to think anymore…

Soon the scenery turned extravagantly hedonistic and crude. Vast stages were adorned with elaborate contraptions and devices used for the most sordid acts.

Squall wanted to retch, and probably would have if he’d had any substance in his stomach. Instead he tasted the bitter bile rising in the back of his throat at the sight.

Seifer felt him tense and leaned forward and delicately brushed his lips against Squall’s hair and ear in an act of comfort though he enjoyed the brunet’s discomfort. It meant he was getting it…

Hot breath grazed his ear as Seifer spoke gravely, “ This is the heart of the Galbadian playground. A lawless place where masters play as they please with their possessions.”

The thick cords of Seifer’s arm muscles girded him tight. Just thinking about his Squall perched upon one of wooden devices, exposed to all the hungry eyes and hands made him scathe with anger. No eyes but his own would lie upon the beauty in his arms.

The playground was the unofficial title given to the premise by merchants and practitioners alike. It was a hedonistic hellhole. One Seifer rarely ventured, and preferred to avoid at all costs. Because of the nature of his work he was forced to condone the playground, to curb his tongue, however he’d given Irvine an earful on several occasions for ‘playing’ there.

An area autonomous to any Galbadian authority attracted the vilest creatures in the country. The unlimited liberties bestowed upon masters bred the most disgusting depravity. The playground allowed for the most outrageous violation of humanity, violations no humans should be subjected to…

They made Seifer grimace in disgust.

And now Squall was going to live it vicariously through the eyes of some unfortunate soul.

And how his eyes deceived him. It seemed a sin to bear witness to the things they perceived.

Columns of flogging stages paved the path into the playground. Each stage decorated by writhing slaves, shackled and spread for the tail of the whip. There wasn’t a limb left untouched. There wasn’t a body left un-bloodied. One master sadistically whipped his slave’s inner thighs. The young girl convulsed behind her gag, her arms pulled inhumanely tight behind her back and her legs spread and bent. He aimed to close and struck her genitalia. Squall snapped his head to the side, though he couldn’t escape the sound of the whip slicing the air.

In trying to escape his eyes found a revolving wooden platform that spun round and round. The naked slaves made to clutch the uniting inner pole while their elevated ruddy buttocks were facing the crowd. Some masters held wooden paddles, others held whips, some used just their hands to spank and abuse their slave’s bottoms as they came around on the merry-go-round. Any available hand was encouraged to join in, not just the respective masters.

Next to it was a tent constructed for the sheer purpose of exhibition and humiliation. It resembled a circus. It was divided into sections by short fencing. Within each section there was a master and various numbers of slaves. In one section a master was brutally impaling a long rod into a boy’s ass, in another there was a master letting anyone who asked a turn to ride his slave. There was one man thrusting his cock into the slave’s mouth and one in his ass. In another section there were six slaves engaging in an orgy. Their respective masters yelling lewd commands of them…

Thrust harder

Spank her

Lick him

Bite her

Fuck him

Make her come!

Squall felt his pulse spike and his wide eyes began to water.

His vision was swimming with the sight of naked bodies writhing in abandon.

Degradation surrounded him.

The air in the carriage seemed to grow thin, the foul scent of bodily secretions seeping in through the cracks.

The brunet barely registered Seifer’s arms tightening around him.

Clusters of bodies moved against one another, individual limbs became indistinguishable as they melded into one.

A pyramid of human bodies humping anything their pelvises touched. Every bodily orphus filled with something, a finger, a stick, a tongue, a penis…

The exhibition of such intimacies felt utterly vile to Squall.

There was no beauty here…

He couldn’t bear to witness anymore. This was torture.

His shrunken stomach curled. He wanted to retch.

His forehead collapsed against the cold glass of the window. It was only then that he realized he’d broken out into a cold sweat and Seifer was stroking his fingers nimbly along Squall’s spine.

The gentle touch which once seemed so invasive was now a welcome touch.

Suddenly there came a rapping at the carriage door. Squall abruptly pushed back into Seifer’s chest trying to sink into it. He wanted to put as much distant between what lie on the other side of the carriage door and himself. To his dismay the carriage slowed to a halt and the door creaked open.

Irvine flashed a devious smile upon seeing Squall before stepping inside the cozy carriage cabin and shutting the door.

There was no way he’d ever forget the face of the man that took him form his native lands. And as much as he wanted to curse, shout, spit, and attack this man, he couldn’t. Squall was too exhausted, too distraught over everything that had transpired over the past week.

Relinquishing to weakness he let his head droop against Seifer’s broad shoulder, resigning all thought.

At the small resignation to lean against him Seifer surged with pride. Though making eye contact with Irvine soured his mood.

“ I see you let the cat out of his cage. Did you get him de-clawed? Or just decided to take him sight-seeing?” Irvine chuckled, settling into a seat across from Seifer and Squall.

Seifer narrowed his eyes dangerously, “ I could ask the same of you.”

Irvine cringed, knowing what was implied behind the hostile statement.

“ It was strictly business.” He nervously fidgeted with the brim of his hat.

The blonde shot him a sharp penetrating look. Squall could even feel it over his shoulder.

“ I swear on your slave’s life.” Irvine urged, putting his hands up defensively.

Seifer eyed him wearily. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught Irvine cavorting in the playground under false pretenses.

“ The devil’s playground is a wicked temptress, you’d do best to refrain from business in this part of town.” The blonde chastised, readjusting Squall onto his chest.

Irvine beamed a charming smile and shook his head at his friend’s reproach. His smile faltered as he glanced out the window of the carriage.

“ Well, what do you know, it’s the devil himself.” Irvine spoke lowly.

Irvine’s tone made Squall look over along with Seifer out the window.

A tall man with inky black hair and piercing eyes stood out among the crowd. His mere presence demanded an audience, equip with an aura so strong it seemed to consume every organic thing surrounding him. As was such, an eager crowd of masters with slaves attached at the hip encased this man.

Squall felt his penetrating aura permeating the carriage.

This man was dangerous.

Seifer audibly growled, recognizing the man as the Count of Monte Cristo.

The Count was entertaining himself with a young boy quivering in trepidation. The boy was made to suspend in the air by his wrists, his toes barely grazing the ground. The boy’s back was to them but a myriad of welts, bruises and red gashes decorated his pallid skin. The Count ran a shiny blade across the boy’s flesh lightly, teasingly, before he lacerated him. The boy held no gag as his cries could be heard through the carriage. As the weight of the boy’s body slowly spun him to face the trio in the carriage, Seifer gasped.

Squall immediately veered to glance at Seifer, the strong reaction surprising. He hadn’t reacted to any of the other activities on the playground.

“ And the devil is as black as he painteth…” Irvine uttered somberly, not a trace of his earlier merriment present.

“ That’s Nida.” Seifer snapped, recognizing the slave as one that had gone through his home.

Squall considered this. The man wasn’t heartless after all, at least not where it concerned his slaves, past or present.

“ Seifer stay out of it.” Irvine warned, knowing his friend’s intentions.

“ This is sick!” Seifer hissed baring his teeth.

In that moment he resembled a wild animal about to strike.

Irvine tried to reason with him, “ Seifer we sold him, he isn’t your responsibility anymore.”

“ This goes against everything I stand for as a slave tamer. This is torture, not discipline!” The blonde snarled.

Squall felt the blonde’s body tensing.

“ Leave it, there’s already enough bad blood between the two of you. If you spill blood on the playground there will be hell to pay!” Irvine retorted insistently.

“ As if we aren’t already in hell.” Were the blonde’s last fierce words before he was sliding Squall off of him and barreling out the carriage door.

Irvine aggressively scratched at the back of his head, growling low in his throat, “ Obstinate fucker, will he never listen?”

Squall sat up propped against the seat, the blanket still concealing his naked limbs, though Seifer’s exit left him feeling more vulnerable than ever.

His nerves were on edge. He wanted Seifer back in the carriage with him! He did not understand why but his mind screamed for Seifer to return! He did not want to be left alone with Irvine or unattended in this hedonistic hellhole! All the horrors of what could happen to him scrambled through his head. And he could only watch in angst what transpired in front of him.

Seifer propelled himself steadily through the crowd of voyeurs, yanking or throwing bystanders gruffly out of the way. The Count’s back was to Seifer’s barreling figure, but the blonde stopped right before the man, just as he had finished sliding the knife through Nida’s skin once more.

Seifer almost choked on his own rage at the sight.

“ Release him.” His voice was smooth but dangerously low.

The Count turned at the voice, a sadistic smile curling his lips as he faced Seifer.

“ You’re out of line, this is my property, and I will do as I see fit to discipline him!” The Count spoke calmly purposefully trying to antagonize the blonde.

Seifer’s nostrils flared and he used every ounce of willpower not to pummel the Count where he stood.

“ If you want to get off on torturing young boys do it with your own slaves, this one is mine!” Seifer snarled through clenched teeth.

“ Ah see, I bought him, you’ve relinquished your title to him.” The Count taunted, running the sharp blade across Nida’s skin once more.

Seifer’s eyes dilated into orbs of glowing black.

“ And I’m reclaiming him right now.” His words were low and deliberate.

Both men stood in silence for a moment, eyes locked for dominance, vigilantly watching for a weak moment to overtake the other.

However, this was non-negotiable where Seifer was concerned. His hesitation had nothing to do with fear of the Count but had everything to do with prying eyes watching them.

“ Release him or I will make you.” Seifer commanded his lips pressed into a tight line.

The Count stood his ground for a moment, and then his eyes scanned the audience. Everyone was watching. Reluctant to lose face in public to Seifer again, he yielded.

His lips curled up and he growled before he sliced his blade through the air, severing the noose that held Nida’s wrists bound above him.

The boy fell unceremoniously into a heap on the ground. Seifer was by his instantly, shrugging his coat off and wrapping it around his abused body. Seifer gathered Nida in his arms and stood to leave, but just as he was, the Count dipped his head down to Seifer’s ear.

“ You are out of line! You will repay me doubly what you have taken from me. I will see to that…” He hissed venomously into Seifer’s ear.

The blonde steeled himself and strode back towards his carriage.

Squall gawked in silence at the blonde’s fierce display of dominance. Without so much as raising his voice he got a frighteningly powerful master to submit. Squall understood now why Seifer was the most revered slave tamer in the lands. People cowered in fear and people bowed in respect. The man was a walking contradiction.

And as Seifer returned with a wounded slave cradled in his arms Squall felt and odd combination of relief and respect. He just witnessed a master commit sacrilege in the playground for the safety of a slave. It was unheard of. And yet, no one disputed him.

Irvine moved to sit next to Squall, allowing Nida to splay out on the seat, his head cradled in Seifer’s lap. The boy moaned in pain and winced as Seifer grazed a few open wounds. Seifer hushed him and stroked the side of his face tenderly.

“ Seifer, Seifer… now what? You going to keep him?” Irvine breathed wearily.

Seifer looked up abruptly, one stray strand of golden hair flopping in front of his eyes, “ I’m going to heal him first.”

Squall blinked.

This side of Seifer was foreign to Squall. He was having a hard time wrapping his already racked brain around it all.

But as they rode back with nothing but Nida’s pained moans as their music, Squall realized that this was the first time he was around Seifer and the man did not try to touch him.

He did not notice him either…

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TBC…

Author Notes: I don’t know if anyone picked up on it, but I used one of my favorite lines from a song. Theatre of Tragedy – Black as he painteth! It’s my ode to TOT for being such a wonderful band! I hope everyone has read the latest installment of Arcane Crisis by Chemotaxis, the girl is brilliant! And everyone read Fcuked Up by xxperfectxdrugxx, it made my day!

Give me my fuel and I’ll give you those chapters ridden with sex scenes!

Love you all!!