Into the Spider’s Web

By K.

 

Part One

 

 

Inside the smoky bar, it was just a couple hours before closing time.
Blues music was playing softly in the background - sounded like Billie
Holiday wailing like a lost soul.  Outside, it was raining, a cold,
thin, whispery sounding rain that spoke of secrets.  The bartender
dozed behind the counter, and only one booth was occupied.

Greg sat there.  Half in, half out of the light, he looked tired;  his
eyes were more than a little bleary and a tear dropped onto one
cheek as the stale smoke from one too many cigarettes curled around
him like a blanket of depression.  He peered across the table at the
silhouette sitting across from him.  He knew who was sitting there,
but there in the gloom it seemed like the other was only a figment of
his imagination.  He shook his head, wearily.  "Damn, I feel old." 
The other started to reach forward, then stopped before the light
could touch him.  ("How _did_ you get hooked on all this?")  The words
came out in a hoarse whisper and seemed to echo inside Greg's head.

"I was totally clueless, fresh out of high school.  Thought I was sooo
freakin' worldly, and didn't know a damn thing.  Decided to do like
Kerouac and see the States by hitching rides 'cross country."  He
stopped talking when his bark of laughter turned into a coughing jag.
"Damn.  Oh, I saw the sights, all right..."

                              *******

He'd been on the road for a couple weeks, just another skinny 17
year-old who'd decided to have an adventure before settling down to
further study in college.  Armed with a backpack, a bedroll and a
teenager's total belief in his own indestructibility, he'd already
hitched rides through six states.  He had money (count on his mother
to see to that) but he was determined not to spend any more than he
had to.  It was more fun that way, seeing how far he could go before
he had to break into his stash.  Besides, most of the drivers he got
rides from treated him to a meal before dropping him off.  The
truckers were especially good people.  You could always count on a
trucker for a pack of cigs, a meal, and some interesting conversation.

Nevertheless, the last couple of days had seen slim pickings as far as
rides were concerned.  Out in the middle of nowhere, he'd been walking
for hours without seeing a car - even though he was on one of the
interstates.  He'd even had to sleep under the stars, once under an
overpass when it was raining.  There wasn't even a farmhouse to be
seen.  "Shit!  Welcome to the Twilight Zone!  Maybe this wasn't such a
good idea..."  He removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose
and shook his head.  "What am I saying?  Kiddo, if you hadn't decided
to go walkabout, it would have been Burger Heaven for you!  'Wouldja
like fries with that?'  Fooohaw!"  He shuddered in mock horror, put
his glasses back on, and shouldered his pack once more.

Around noon Greg stopped long enough to eat a protein bar that one of
the drivers had given him.  "Tastes like chocolate-covered cardboard,
so it must be good for you!"  He screwed his face up in disgust, and
washed it down with a warm sports drink.  "I've got to find another
ride!  I'd kill for a grease bomb right now.  Hell, I'd even make it
myself!"

The sky began to get darker and the wind picked up as he trudged on. 
"Great.  Another freakin' rainstorm headed my way."  This time, there
was no overpass, no friendly tree to shelter under.  "Thanks mom...
for forcing me to take that poncho, no matter how much I didn't want
it!"  (And I'd rather die than admit that to your face, too.)  Wincing
at the day-glow yellow color, he hurriedly slipped the poncho on and
pulled on the strings to tent the hood to keep the rain off his
glasses.  Having them fog up was a pain, but he knew that if he took
them off he wouldn't be able to see past his hand - especially when it
was getting darker by the second.  By keeping the backpack under the
poncho, at least there'd be dry clothes to change into... if he found
a dry spot to spend the night.

Part Two

 

It was after six o'clock and Greg was beginning to get worried.  There
wasn't a single shelter to be found anywhere.  "Never an overpass when
you want one.  Not even a stinkin' tree or billboard that I could lean
against, and I'll be damned if I try to sleep in a squat!  Looks like
I'm going to have to keep moving - but right now, I'd even settle for
a car going back the other way!"  It didn't help matters that he was
getting soaked even with the poncho on.  The rain seemed to ping-pong
off the pavement, and his jeans were plastered to his legs from the
knees down.  Still worse, the wind had shifted and now the rain was
coming at him head on.  He tried walking backward, but soon gave it up
when a pothole caused him to lose his balance.  "Shit!  Shit!  Shit!!"
Arms windmilling, he barely managed to stay upright.  "Great.  Wonder
freaking lovely."  He shivered and wiped the water off his face as
best he could.

It was then that he caught the rumble - not thunder (thank God)- it
sounded like... a car!  Someone else was traveling this God-forsaken
stretch of road!  Eagerly, he turned around to face the approaching
vehicle, his hand out in the hitch-hiker's salute.  As the car came
over the rise, Greg could see that it was big and black... a real
monster with burning yellow headlights.  For just a moment, Greg had
the strangest urge to get off the road and curl up in a little ball. 
Something whispered in his mind that this was not a good thing, that
he was better off wet and walking.  "Don't be a baby!  You're cold,
you're wet, (ah-choo!) and this may be the last chance you get tonight
to get warm, dry, and fed!"  Mustering up what remained of his
tattered bravery, he watched the car draw closer.

For a split second it seemed that the driver was going to pass him by
without stopping.  The headlights looked like the eyes of some wild
animal sizing him up before pouncing.  As the vehicle slowed down, it
veered slightly until it was pointed right at him.  Greg's heart was
hammering his chest like a bird trying to break out of a cage.  With a
sigh, he watched it come to a stop mere inches from his feet.  He
tottered weakly over to the driver's window.

He couldn't see through the heavily tinted glass.  The driver looked
at him with hooded eyes, taking in the poncho and the scared-hopeful
look of a baby owl wearing glasses.  The window slowly purred down,
classical music spilled out into the night.  "Good Lord!  What are you
doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"  (Whoa - he sounds like
James Bond!  Wonder what he's doing out here, himself?)  A gut
wrenching sneeze stopped Greg from replying.  "Don't just stand there
gaping like a goldfish, lad - go 'round the other side and get in!" 
The lock on the rear passenger door clicked open punctuating the
offer.  "Th-th-thanks, mister!"  The interior of the car, he noticed,
was done in butter-soft leather.  Greg took one look at that pristine
leather and backed into the seat, pulling the poncho off and setting
it on the floor to keep the leather dry.  "S-s-sorry 'bout that, man!"
He sneezed again and shivered.  The driver looked at him in the
rearview mirror, and passed a coat over the seat.  "You must be
freezing!  Here, wrap this around yourself and get warm.  There's a
flask in the pocket - I think you need to warm up your insides as
well!"

The coat covered most of his body like a caress.  Greg tented the coat
over his legs using his pack to keep it dry.  "N-nice!  Camel hair?"
"Cashmere."  He searched the pockets, found the flask and pulled it
out.  The silver seemed to wink invitingly at him.  Greg unscrewed the
top, wiped his mouth with his last clean and dry handkerchief, took a
cautious sniff of the contents and then drank.  The first mouthful
burned all the way down, and he sputtered.  "Wow!"  "Easy, lad!  Small
sips.  Very small sips."  There was a smile in his voice, and a raised
eyebrow indicated his amusement.  Greg took a smaller sip, then
another.  This time, the liquid went down smoothly, and he sighed as
incredible warmth seemed to spread all through his body.  Between the
flask and the coat, his shivering had tapered off, and he yawned. 
"Scuse me!  I haven't gotten much sleep lately. How far are you
going?"  "I have a little place down the road.  It's not much, but I
do so enjoy getting out of the city!  You rather startled me, standing
there like that.  There isn't another dwelling for at least fifty
miles.  Quite lucky that I came along when I did, eh?"

(Fifty milesssssss) There was no reply from the back seat.  Glancing
in the mirror, the driver noticed that Greg was fast asleep.  He'd
removed his glasses, and they were clutched in one hand while the
other stroked the material of the coat for comfort.  He noted the
flask had been capped tightly and placed on the seat.



Part Three

 

 

Greg woke slowly from dreams that were less than pleasant.  One
involved something about being held underwater...  He turned over
lazily, hands pulling the covers over his head for just a few minutes
more peace and quiet before his mom called him to breakfast.  "Wait a
minute!"  The events of the last month came rushing back, including
his moment of terror as the black car came towards him. He bolted
upright in the bed and then fell back as the mother of all headaches
hit him right between the eyes.  His dad had migraines, and Greg
wondered if this was the start of another family trait, like bad eyes
and a tongue that operated faster than the brain did.  "Ohhhh, my
aching head!"

"Brandy has been known to do that to the uninitiated...," his
mysterious host chuckled.  Turning his head slowly, Greg now noticed
the wingback chair near the foot of the bed.  He winced as the man
cracked open the curtains to let a little light into the room.  The
stranger then walked over to a low table, poured something into a
teacup, and brought it over to the bedside.  "Here, lad, drink this. 
It tastes rather foul, but it will make that head of yours stop
ringing."  Greg sat up cautiously and looked down.  He wasn't wearing
his traveling clothes; instead, he found himself wearing silk pajamas.
"Ehrm.  Yes.  Well, we couldn't very well put you to bed wearing
soaking wet things!  Your glasses are on the table to your right, and
your rucksack is hanging in the closet."

Greg fumbled on top of the table, his hand instinctively closing on
his glasses.  He put them on and accepted the steaming cup from... he
looked up at the rest of the man standing before him.  The man wasn't
that tall, although he appeared a few inches taller than Greg.  (He's
a lot older than he sounded last night.  Must be as old as my Dad, at
least!)  Blue-gray eyes stared back at him, one eyebrow raised in
amusement at the scrutiny.  "Now, drink that beef tea before it gets
cold.  I assure you that you will feel better.  And no matter how vile
it tastes, I assure you it isn't poisoned!"  He was right - the "tea"
tasted like someone had taken a pot roast, pureed it, and then
decided to strain it through the football team's sweat socks.  Greg
drained the cup, set it on the night table, and sank back weakly into
the pillows.  "Rest a bit longer, and when you are feeling more
refreshed we shall have a chat.  Should you need the 'facilities',
your bathroom is through the door on your left.  I will be downstairs,
if you need me."  "Th-thanks, mister."  Greg's eyes were already
closing.  "My name is Cedric."  Hands removed the glasses from Greg's
face, and as he drifted off to sleep he felt the butterfly touch of a
hand brush gently across his forehead.

This time there were no nightmares, no remembered dreams of any kind;
and for that, Greg was extremely grateful.  He stretched slowly,
taking inventory of how he felt before even thinking about sitting up.
 Thankfully, his headache was gone - although he wasn't sure the 'tea'
or the rest had effected the cure.  He reached out his arm, found his
glasses, sat up, and took notice of his surroundings for the first
time.

The room was at least three times the size of his bedroom back home. 
Judging from the contents, his host was definitely not hurting for
money.  The bed alone looked like it belonged in a castle - Greg
supposed it was a King; he'd never seen a bed that required a mounting
block to get in and out of it before!  Even fully stretched out, he
couldn't reach both sides of the bed - a real novelty for someone who
slept in a twin bed at home.  "You know, I could really get used to
living like this!" he mused as he climbed out of bed.  His bare feet
padded into what his host (Cedric?) had called 'the facilities'.  A
bathtub big enough to sleep in, a huge shower, a vanity with double
sinks, and... two toilets!?  One had a seat; the other had what looked
like faucets.  Eyeing that one suspiciously, he used the "normal" one
and then looked into the mirror over the sinks.

Looking back at him was a young boy wearing too-large pajamas.  His
hair, unruly at best, was sticking out in tufts, and his eyes,
magnified by the glasses looked bruised and scared.  He rubbed the
back of his neck and winced.  "God, I look like I'm eight years old!"
 He opened the numerous drawers and doors (it's not snooping if you
don't know where anything is).  He took out a new toothbrush, paste,
soap and several towels, and then padded back to the bedroom to get
his pack.  "He said my stuff was in the closet... there's only two
doors in this room... I wonder..." He went over to an armoire, opened
it, and found his things.  Reaching in, he pulled out a clean pair of
black jeans (new enough to pass for 'dressy' pants if need be) shorts,
socks, and a gray polo shirt.  "Now, shower or soak?  Soak, I think. 
I had a shower last night!"

As the tub filled, Greg opened the various bottles and jars in the
cabinets.  Some smelled so flowery that Greg capped them quickly
before his eyes could start itching.  Sniffing cautiously at a bottle
marked 'bath salts', he decided to add them to the tub.  They had a
clean, light scent that was very subtle.  Greg stripped out of the
pajamas, folded them neatly, and placed them on a little stool that
was near the tub.  He put his glasses safely on the sink and stepped
into the hot water.  Talk about heaven!  Tight muscles relaxed and
loosened as Greg soaped up.  Using a hand-held attachment he carefully
washed all traces of life on the road from his hair.  Sheepishly, he
even tried the conditioner, hoping that it would help him look a bit
more human.  Who knew that taking a bath could feel so good?  At home,
all he usually had time for was a shower - and a quick one, at that. 
Now this... this felt so decadent that he felt like one of the Roman
emperors!

After a long soak, Greg decided that he'd better finish making himself
presentable before going downstairs to join his host.  As the water
drained out of the tub, he replaced all the bottles and jars in the
cabinets, brushed his teeth and hair until they sparkled, and got
dressed.  He quickly made the bed, straightening the covers with an
almost obsessive precision.  (If mom could only see this!  She'd
probably ask where her real son was!)  As he looked for his shoes, he
noticed a pair of leather slippers had been set out for him.  "Guess
my shoes are still soaked."  The slippers felt as though they had been
made especially for him.  He went back into the bathroom for a quick
inspection of the room and himself.  "Hello, Cinderfella!"  He saluted
his reflection with a big loopy grin and headed out to find the
stairs.

His room was at the end of a long hallway, and as Greg walked on, he
couldn't help noticing the artwork on the walls.  Oils, pastels and
watercolors of every possible size made the hallway seem like an art
gallery.  "This guy must really be loaded!"  Greg found the staircase.
It was wide, curving, and had beautifully carved banisters.  "I'd love
to try sliding down that" he thought, and just as quickly decided
against it.  There was always the possibility of a large vase (that's
"Vahz" to you, sonny) at the other end.

As he stepped down onto the first floor, Greg could hear music coming
from behind one set of doors.  He felt suddenly shy as he opened them
and looked in.  Cedric was playing a piano, his back to the door.  The
concentration and passion he played with held Greg completely
spellbound.  He didn't dare move or make a sound, and stood in the
doorway until the piece had been completely played.  It was only then
that he was able to clear his throat to let the older man know he was
there.

"Ah, Gregory!  There you are!  I was beginning to get a bit worried. 
You've slept the clock 'round for two days!  Feeling hungry?"  "How
did you know my name?"  Cedric raised one eyebrow and looked at him. 
"Oh.  You found my wallet and ID.  Two days?  I slept for two days!??
What was in that tea you gave me?"   Greg heard his voice crack under
the strain.  "Steady on, lad!  That tea was nothing more than a beef
concentrate, similar to your bouillon.  I can assure you taht was all
that was in it.  You've been on the road, and tramping about the
countryside is not conducive to a peaceful night's slumber.  Sooner or
later, your body had to shut down in order to recharge.  Now, shall we
go into the dining room?"  Greg's stomach, tired of being ignored,
decided to speak for itself.  "I believe that was an affirmative?" 
Cedric smiled, placed an arm around Greg's shoulder, and led him into
the dining room.

There on a sideboard stood chafing dishes, warming trays, a bowl of
fruit, and pitchers of juice and milk.  "I didn't know what you would
prefer, so I had the staff set out a little of everything.  Now, don't
be shy, eat!  And I trust it will be more appetizing than those
ghastly protein bars you've been noshing on - or I shall have the
cook's head!"  Greg stopped in his tracks.  Things were beginning to
spook him.  This Cedric was either smarter than Sherlock Holmes, or he
was some kind of demon or something!  "Very considerate of the
environment not to throw your litter on the ground, although it does
make for messy pockets, eh?"  Greg grinned weakly and closed the gap
between himself and the food.  His host joined him at the table, but
rather than join Greg in eating he merely nibbled on some toast and
tea.  He picked up a copy of The London Times and opened it.  "Meals
should be consumed in silence to allow for proper digestion and
appreciation of the food."  He glanced sternly at Greg before
retreating behind his paper.  There had been a flash of something in
his eyes that made Greg pause.  Here was a man he didn't want angry
with him!  For the next half hour he ate in silence.  His thoughts
kept spinning around like hamsters in an exercise wheel.  The one
thought that kept coming up was a simple one.  "What have I got myself
into?"


Part Four

 

Finally he could eat no more.  With a sigh, Greg wiped the last little
bit of egg off his face onto a napkin and looked up.  Sensing he was
through, Cedric re-emerged from behind his wall of newsprint. 
"Better?  Don't bother clearing your dishes, that's what staff is for.
 Now, shall we go into the library?  I think a chat is in order."

When they went into the library, Cedric sat on what could only be
thought of as a throne.  Sure, there wasn't a speck of gold or jewels
on it, but the high-backed ornately carved chair held a kind of power
that Greg could feel - even from a distance of several feet away. 
"Sit down, lad!  It's difficult to carry on a conversation when one
person is hovering like an anxious hummingbird!  I promise not to
bite."  He motioned Greg over to a seat almost directly in front of
the 'throne'.  "Now, tell me how you came to be tramping down my
stretch of lonely road."  Although the words were pleasant, Greg heard
the unspoken command "And be quick about it, and leave nothing out!"

For the next two hours, Greg talked about his life.  Cedric asked
pointed questions when he thought something was discussed less than
candidly.  Greg talked about his high school graduation and how he was
not so sure that college was something he wanted to do.  "I just don't
feel like I belong there.  In some ways, the kids I went to school
with are still kids, and I... I dunno... I..."  He sputtered off to a
stop, shrugging his shoulders unable to find the right words.  It felt
like he'd been talking for years, and he sighed as he massaged the
bridge of his nose.

"Gregory."  He looked up, and Cedric's gaze held him spellbound.  "I
know what you want.  You want something more out of life, something
better than what you have.  Since we've met, I've been watching you. 
You're not like other boys - in you resides a level of innate quality
most rare in a young man not 'to the manor born'.  Why did you remove
your raingear before getting into the car?"  Greg started like a
frightened deer.  "Why!?  Cedric, the interior of that car was
leather!  I know what water can do to fine leather like that!"  "And
why such particular care with the coat of a stranger?"  "If I let
someone borrow something of mine, I would hate to have it returned
wet, stained or damaged!  And just by touching that coat, I could tell
that it cost a lot of money!  Quality feels different than KMart!"  He
was rewarded with a small smile, one that seemed to warm the air
around him.  "Indeed it does, my boy, indeed it does!"

"When I left England, I vowed never to return.  Suffice it to say, as
the younger son, I was not about to receive my fair share of filial
booty when father died.  I've made a little niche for myself here in
The Colonies, done quite well in the business world, but I've been
terribly alone.  Would you believe that you are the first 'outsider'
to see behind these walls?  I've kept this place as a haven from the
common rabble that I have to deal with in town.  It's my fortress of
solitude."  Greg snarked, and Cedric caught his eye again and winked.
 "Not that I'm comparing myself with your Superman chap, mind you, but
the principle is rather the same."

"When you entered the car and took such pains with the belongings of a
stranger, I made a rather snap decision.  Did you know that you were
being weighed in the balance at that point?  Had you sloshed your way
in without removing your wet gear, I would have turned the vehicle
around and dropped you off in town without a backward glance.  But
you, dear boy, you surprised and delighted me!  I haven't felt that
sensation in more years than I care to count.  I know how you feel
about continuing your education in an academic setting, but how would
you feel about continuing your education in the arcane world of
aesthetics?"

Greg felt a buzzing in his ears as a shiver (was it dread or a feeling
of excitement?)ran down his spine.  "Wh-what do you mean?" he gulped.
"What would you say to becoming by protege?  In teaching you the
finer things in life I will, in a sense, see my lineage continued -
even though you are not my blood, I believe we share the same spirit.
I must warn you, however, that once we embark on your tutelage, you
will see it through to completion.  And whatever the lesson, I will
brook no resistance from you.  In the beginning, you will find me a
lenient teacher.  As you progress, errors will be dealt with in a much
sterner fashion."  His eyes seemed to glow, and Greg could only stare
as his emotions whirled inside him.  "A much sterner fashion." 
Suddenly the room seemed much colder.

                              *****
                            Interlude

("You didn't have to accept what he offered.  You couldn't have known
what might be in store for you.  Why didn't you just say no thanks and
hit the road?")  Greg removed his glasses to massage his stinging
eyes.  "Don't you think I've asked myself that question a thousand
times since then?  I was young!  I was stupid!  And I was hungry for
the attention, hungry for the finer things in life!  What chance would
I have of getting them if I went back home to the community college? 
None!"  He gulped down the dregs in his glass, wincing as he heard
the thin thread of hysteria that was creeping into his voice.  "I just
didn't know the price I was expected to pay.  God, if only I could get
into a time machine and go back to that kid and pull him out of
there!"

("So you stayed.  Didn't your parents worry about you?")  Greg sighed.
 "Cedric had it all thought out.  I'd call home or write at least once
a month - just like before.  I told them that I was going to work part
time for a small laboratory that did research work.  Since I was
interested in chemistry and there were small companies all through the
area, it was a plausible explanation.  He even got me a post office
box in town.  I could tell that mom and dad weren't worried - hell,
they even sounded relieved that they wouldn't have to fork out any cash
for college expenses!  Not that I could blame them, money was tight.
And with both my sisters needing braces, I was just in the way..."

                               ******

Culture.  Refinement.  Quality.  How to tell the best of the best
using all senses.  Lessons held in French, in deportment, the proper
clothes for any occasion, the proper ways of speaking to the different
classes.  How to invest.  What trends were worth watching and what to
ignore.  Developing the proper 'nose' for wine, and memorizing the
subtleties of the different vintages.  Greg found himself soaking up
ideas and sensations the way a desert plant soaks up rain.  He
discovered a side of himself that he never suspected existed - he was
a true sensualist.  The lessons were rough, but bad missteps were few
and far between.  Sometimes his French accent made the tutor wince,
and when it came to ballroom dancing he was a little less than
graceful (those two subjects were the only ones where Cedric
surrendered control - but he introduced Greg to the tutors as "my
ward").  He went through the days in a state of perpetual excitement,
greedy for each new experience.

                               ******

"I lost all track of time.  Shit, I was having such a good time, I
didn't want to go back home!  I kept in touch, and sent little
presents back for birthdays and Christmas, but I told my folks that I
didn't want to leave - I'd gotten a full time job, and the project I
was working on was at a critical stage.  They heard what they wanted
to hear; what I wanted them to hear - that I was happy, healthy, and
staying out of trouble."  (<snort>) "Yeah, I know.  I was like one of
those butterflies that try to drink the dew off a spider's web.  I
thought I was invincible.  By the time we got to the 'special lessons'
I was completely caught off guard.  When they started, I thought I was
in Heaven.  And that's when things really went to Hell."

Part Five

 

 

Had it been only a year?  There had been many changes, and sometimes
Greg didn't recognize himself.  He had come a long way from that kid
tramping around the countryside.  He'd grown.  Still..  in the wee
small hours of the morning, there were times when he would wake up
sweating from dreams he couldn't - or didn't - want to remember.

One day, Cedric called him into the library.  "Gregory, have you ever
thought about sex?"  "Well, sure!   Everyone who's breathing thinks
about sex at least once in a while!"  Greg giggled a little nervously,
unsure of where this was leading.  "And what is sex, Gregory?" 
"What!?  Sex is... um... you know, when a guy boinks a woman!" 
"Boink?"  "Yeah, sex is what men and women do together - you know,
first you kiss, then you pet, grope, undress, pop it in her..."  "That
is the most disgustingly pedestrian thing I have ever heard!  'Boink!'
How totally crude!"  Cedric glared sternly at Greg, who stood pale and
shaken before him.

"Sex is more than mindless copulation.  Sex is an experience that
knows no boundaries - it is the ultimate pleasure, the ultimate pain
that anyone can experience.  Sex is a dance - a dance of control, of
power, of manipulation.  Sex can be used as a reward, used to punish,
used as payment or as a thank you.  There is no right or wrong to it."
He stared into Greg's eyes; his voice a soft purr, his words
frightened and excited strange feelings within the young man.  "A man
of power knows how to be the master - but he must also know how it
feels to be the slave, as well.  And I do believe that it is time for
you to begin the next phase of your education.  We will begin in the
morning.  And be on time."  Greg swallowed with difficulty around the
lump in his throat, left the library, and fled up the stairs as though
the Hounds of Hell were after him.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, and when he did sleep Greg found
himself haunted by shapes that were less than human.  He heard
Cedric's voice again, distorted and whispering, "The ultimate
pleasure, and the ultimate pain... Control, manipulation, power... You
will be both slave and master."  Greg squinted into the mist, trying
to make out the forms swirling around him.  Suddenly, the figures
pressed in closer.  There, in the mist, women - well... half-woman,
half-cat... surrounded him.  Their lower bodies were feline, with
tails, and fur-covered.  The patterns on the fur also covered the rest
of their bodies, but Greg could see that they were topless, their
breasts round and full.  Their eyes were cat-like, their nails long
claws.  They wound themselves around him purring, teasing, kissing and
stroking every inch of his body.  Just as he went to reach for one of
the she-cats, the mood of the group changed.  The hands that had just
caressed now slashed across his chest, drawing blood.  Teeth turned
into long fangs that tore into his back, his legs... He watched
helplessly as one of the women tore what was left of his slacks off
and sank her teeth into his groin, ripping and snarling.  The pain!!!
He screamed, and the scream seemed to go on forever.  Greg could still
feel the pain and hear the scream as he catapulted into consciousness.
With his heart racing, he looked beneath the covers.  His pajamas were
intact, but the dream was so vivid that he felt compelled to strip in
front of the bathroom mirror to look for any damage.  Thankfully,
there was none.  "Phew!"  Greg laughed weakly as his shaky hands tried
to pick up his hairbrush.  "Man, I NEVER want to have another dream
like that for as long as I live!"

As he re-entered his bedroom, Greg noticed a tray had been laid out on
a small table.  Lifting the cover, he found oatmeal, toast, honey and
fresh fruit.  For once, he was grateful that he didn't have to go
downstairs for breakfast.  He found his hands still trembled as he
ate, although most of the night's horror had faded.  His relief
evaporated when he noticed the card resting beneath his glass.  "You
are expected to present yourself in the study promptly at 9 o'clock. 
Tardiness is not an option.  Failure to comply with my command will be
punished accordingly."  Glancing at his wristwatch, Greg saw that it
was only 8 o'clock.  An hour?  What would happen in an hour?  His
stomach lurched and, head pounding, he barely made it into the
bathroom before throwing up.  Weakly he cleaned up, checked his
reflection in the mirror, and went back to the table.  Thankfully,
there was a piece of toast remaining.  Greg didn't know what to expect
downstairs, but something told him that he had best not approach it on
an empty stomach.

Part Six

 

At the appointed time, Greg stood nervously outside the study. 
Mustering up his courage, he slowly pushed open the double doors and
went inside.  "Close the doors, love,"  a very feminine voice called
from the shadows.  "What - who?"  Greg stammered and looked around. 
There, reclining on a chaise was one of the most perfect women he had
ever seen.  She was what his dad called a 'Pocket Venus' - barely five
feet tall, but with the kind of curves that made you forget her
height.  She had a peaches and cream complexion, a very faint dusting
of freckles on her nose, and strawberry blonde hair that curled softly
around her shoulders.  Greg was stunned.  (Wow!  She looks like an
angel!)  The angel scooted over on the chaise and patted it gently. 
"Don't be shy! You must be Greg.  My name's Caroline.  Come sit by me,
there's nothing to be afraid of!"

She had one of the most musical voices that Greg had ever heard - he
wanted to keep her talking, touch her skin, and see if she was wearing
any perfume.  In short, he'd been bit - not the way his nightmare
went, but bitten by the love bug.  He started toward her, not even
aware of where he was going, and tripped over his own feet.  Greg
blushed, but Caroline seemed not to notice his gaffe.  Her smile grew
tender as he sat down beside her.  "There now! That wasn't so bad, was
it?"  She stroked his hair and laughed lightly when he jumped.  "My
goodness, you are a skittish young thing, aren't you?  I promise I
won't hurt you, and I think you will enjoy our time together."  Her
eyes traveled down his body like a caress.  "Yes, I think we will both
enjoy our time together!"

"Greg?"  Her voice was soft and slightly hesitant.  "Have you ever
kissed a girl before?"  "Uh, a girl, sure!  But," he blushed and
mumbled "but I've never kissed a woman!"  She looked up at him shyly.
"Would you like to kiss me?"  She tilted her face up toward his and
caressed his neck as he leaned forward.  The kiss he gave her was
almost as light as a butterfly and lasted for only a second.  "That
was sweet.  Would you like me to kiss you?"  He nodded wordlessly and
closed his eyes.  His glasses were lifted off and set somewhere safe.

Greg waited, every nerve quivering.  The kiss was firm, sweet, and
tasted like strawberries.  Caroline put her hand lightly on his neck
and nibbled his lip gently.  Leaving his lips, she proceeded to rain
gentle kisses down on his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, and down
his neck.  She nibbled on his neck, then kissed it and nibbled on his
ear.  Her sweet, warm breath tickled his ear as she whispered, "So
lovely!  So many sweet places to kiss!  So many different flavors of
kisses are waiting for you to discover them!  Will you let me teach
you, Greg?"  His eyes fluttered open, and all he could do was moan
softly and nod.  He felt on fire - every nerve ending was tingling and
it was hard to breathe.  Half his mind whimpered he was dying, but the
other half didn't care.  He felt like he was drowning in her eyes as
he reached for her.  Caroline gathered him up in her arms, but instead
of kissing him again she cradled him murmuring soothing sounds as her
lips brushed his neck.  "Shhhh, hush, love.  You are a sensitive one!
I promise to go slower next time.  There will be plenty of time for
all I have to teach you."  Slowly his breathing returned to normal.

It felt right lying in her arms, feeling Caroline stroking his
forehead.  "I've never felt anything like that before!  If a kiss can
do that to me, what's going to happen later!"  Greg's voice came out
in a cracked whisper and he could feel his lip start to quiver. 
(Dammit, I am not going to cry!  I don't want her to think I'm a
baby!)  "It's all right.  You just need to build up to it, lovey. 
After all, a weight lifter doesn't start out with 500-pound weights;
he works up to it slowly.  After luncheon, I want you to take a small
nap.  Let your body process your feelings.  And I will see you back
here at 5 o'clock - we'll have another lesson before dinner."  Greg
shook his head.  "I couldn't eat! I d-don't think I want to see
anyone, anyone other than you, I mean!"  "You must keep up your
strength, love.  If I sent a bowl of soup up to your room, would you
try to eat it for me?  Please?"  Mutely, Greg nodded and fled back to
the safety of his room.

                                *****

"It was then that I knew I wold do anything for her.  Hell, if she had
asked me to eat crushed glass, I would have!  Here was a real, live
woman, and she was interested in me!  Me!  Geeky, freaky Greggie - the
kid none of the girls at school gave a second glance.  I wanted to
please her; I wanted to learn every inch of her!  Her 'lessons' kept
me off balance and wanting more.  The funny thing was, we didn't get
around to the actual act of sex for some time - I had to learn how to
control my own responses before she would teach me how to control...
how to love a woman.  I can still feel the wild wet touch of her
tongue on every inch of my body; feel the sting of her love bites, the
ticklish feeling of her breath on the back of my neck, and the touch
of her hands... All I have to do is close my eyes and I can still feel
how satiny smooth her skin was.  I can still smell her perfume... I
learned... Oh, God what I learned!  The little indentation at the base
of her spine, how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how sensitive
toes could be, the million and one places and ways to touch another
person and to be touched.  Cedric was right - sex was so much more
than just 'popping it in'.  I couldn't believe that I had ever thought
that was all there was to sex!  But Caroline never laughed at me,
never treated me like a loser.  She listened to me, guided me, and I
think that she may have even loved me a little."

                                *******

They were lying together on the bed in one of the guest rooms.  Greg
felt completely relaxed.  Making love was definitely becoming his
favorite way to spend an afternoon, an evening, the night, and even
(gasp) morning!  He curled up behind Caroline, spooning her, and
stroked her side gently.  He softly whispered, "Whatcha thinking?"  As
he gently kissed her neck, she pressed back against him.  "I was just
thinking how I shall miss our little lessons."  His heart grew cold. 
"M-m-miss them!?  You can't leave me!  Caroline, I love you!  You've
been everything to me and I don't want to lose you!  I love you, and I
know you love me, too!  Well, don't you?"  Panic-stricken, Greg tried
to hold on to some sebmlance of dignity.

"Greg!  Oh, lovey!"  Caroline turned over so that she was facing him.
 His eyes were large, wounded, and as fiercely as he resisted them,
tears were welling up.  He pulled her closer - so close that there
wasn't an inch of her that didn't touch some part of him.  She gently
took his face in her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes. 
"Listen to me, love" her eyes were luminous in the candlelight.  "As
much as I want to be with you, I cannot after tonight.  You have
learned so much, my sweet, so very much!  But you have learned all
that I can teach you, and there are still more 'flavors' of love for
you to sample.  Some are nicer than others, Greg."  She shivered
slightly and a shadow crossed her face.  "But you need to learn all
the flavors and colors of love - this is what your master has decreed.
Yes, I said 'master'.  Didn't you understand what you were taking on
by becoming his protoge?  Cedric is your master.  I only hope that he
realizes just what a treasure you are, and treats you accordingly. 
One thing you must remember at all times, lovey... whatever is done to
the body does not have to be done to the mind or the spirit.  Submit
to the lessons, learn well, but never forget that you are stronger,
better and *more* than what the lessons are.  And I want you to be
strong for me, if not for yourself.  Promise me, Greg!"  Her voice
dropped down to a fierce whisper as her hands tightened in his hair. 
"Promise me you'll be strong!"  Greg nodded, and Caroline pulled him
closer crushing his lips with hers.

They made love again - not gently, but with a fierce kind of
desperation that saw the two of them clinging together in the center
of a whirlwind.  There was no tenderness, only a terrible sense of
urgency as they tried to memorize every inch of each other's body. 
Hands carded through hair, mouths left red marks on every inch of
skin, and fingers sought to memorize parts of bodies as if reading
Braille.  No more words were spoken in that room that night; the only
sounds were soft cries, moans of pleasure and pain, and an occasional
sob.  Finally exhausted, they fell asleep tangled together like
survivors of a shipwreck.



Part Seven

 

The next morning, Greg woke up alone.  The other side of the bed was
already cold - the only trace of Caroline was the faint smell of her
perfume that clung to the pillow.  Greg buried his face in her pillow
and tried not to sob as he realized that she was really gone.  As he
clutched the pillow like a life preserver, he heard the faint rustle
of paper.  Trembling fingers reached into the case and pulled out a
folded note.  Her perfume lingered on the page, and he fought tears as
he read:  "Greg, darling... Remember that I love you, and remember
everything I told you.  Be strong for me Greg, please be strong!  All
my love forever, Caroline."  He staggered blindly into the bathroom
and shredded her note before flushing it down the toilet.  Greg had a
feeling that, if it were found, both of them would be in serious
trouble.

After completing his morning washing up, he reentered what had been
their sanctuary.  A rap on the door, and a mute servant brought in a
tray containing his breakfast and another note.  This one, in Cedric's
elegantly upright hand, was not comforting.  "Today will be your last
day of freedom for some time, Gregory.  The grounds are at your
disposal, and I suggest you call your family to say that you will be
incommunicado for a while.  Tomorrow you are to present yourself down
in the wine tasting room. You are about to enter a completely
different world, my boy - the world of masters and slaves, pleasure
and pain.  Do not disappoint me."

                             ********

"I think I went a little crazy at that point.  I remember taking off
at a run, heading for the woods that were on Cedric's property.  I
guess I was trying to escape, but there was no conscious thought -
only the animal instinct to flee the predator.  I made it to the
woods, reached the fence line... There on each side of the fence lay
the singed bodies of little birds, mice, and other unidentifiable
creatures.  The bastard had an electrified fence!  None of the tree
branches leaned over the fence line, and none of the trees were closer
to the fence than ten feet.  I knew that I was probably being watched,
so I began running the perimeter.  I pretended that I was running a
workout for track.  I don't have any idea how far I ran that day, but
every step was taken to the deadly hum of that damn fence.  I ran
until I came back within sight of the house, and cut back to a walk to
try and slow my breathing.  I didn't dare look at the house - I had to
pretend that everything was normal as I did a post-track cool down. 
By that time I was completely exhausted.  Once I was inside, I went up
to my room, showered, put on a pair of shorts and crawled into bed.  I
didn't think I would ever sleep again, but I did.  I didn't move for
the rest of the day... and slept through the night, too.  That's why
booze and pills are so seductive - you just shut down, and all your
troubles melt away.  No dreams, no worries, just blankness.  Peace."

                             ********

Greg woke slowly the next morning.  Every inch of his body felt
bruised, battered, and protested his treatment of it the previous day.
There was another breakfast tray and another note.  "After dining you
are to bathe, dress, and present yourself in the wine tasting room. 
From there you will be taken to the place where you shall begin the
next phase of your education.  Do not disappoint me, Gregory. Your
tutor has been given my permission to chastise you as he sees fit -
within certain parameters, of course.  I can assure you that you will
not be permanently harmed."

(Not be permanently harmed!?  God, what have I got myself into?)  Greg
trembled and looked at the tray nauseously.  He really didn't think he
could eat, but somehow managed to choke down half the food and keep it
down.  He went into the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of antacid
liquid, chugging it straight from the bottle.  It seemed to help a
little, and Greg cautiously stepped into the shower to clean up as
commanded.  (Cedric, my master?  I don't believe it... don't want to
believe it!)  He dried off and dressed carefully - no wrinkles, no
loose threads now!  His heart was pounding rapidly and he was
breathing heavily as if he'd just run a marathon.  In the mirror, his
reflection stared at him like a drowning man.  Greg didn't look
eighteen... from his body posture and expression you would have
thought he was a three year old who had just lost his parents. 
Somehow this raw vulnerability made him angry.  "Dammit, I won't let
anyone see me like this!  If Cedric wants me to be afraid, I'm not
going to give him the pleasure."  Greg took a deep breath and slowly
exhaled.  "Caroline said that I needed to be strong when the time
came.  Looks like the time is here, and I'm going to have to stop
acting like a little baby.  Caroline, this one's for you" he thought
to himself as he descended the stairs to the cellar depths.

The cellar was dimly lit as Greg made his way slowly to the wine
tasting room.  He could see candles flickering through the open door.
"Come here, now!" snapped a deep baritone voice.  Greg gasped and
literally levitated through the doorway into the room.  "Stand still
and let me look at you.  You will stand with head lowered, feet
slightly apart and hands clasped behind your back.  This will be your
'ready' position when standing.  Is this understood?"  Greg gulped
nervously and stammered, "Y-y-yes!  Yes sir!"  "Excellent!  You begin
well, boy!"  The voice fairly purred with what Greg could only hope
was not a sign of something more dangerous to come.  "Very nice,
indeed!"

A pair of hands reached around from behind and fastened a collar
around Greg's throat.  "You will wear this collar for the first part
of your training.  A good master must first learn how to be a good
slave, and I have a feeling that you will make an excellent slave,
boy.  Well?  What do you say now, boy?"  Greg hissed as a hand swatted
his butt.  "I don't know!  Ow!"  Again the hand connected with his
butt.  "When I give you a compliment, what do you say, boy?  Or do you
enjoy being disciplined?"  Greg whimpered a faint, "Th-thank you, sir!
 I'll try harder, sir!"  "I know you will, boy.  I can see that I have
an intelligent slave to train.  You may look at me now, boy.  Look at
your new master."

Cautiously, Greg raised his head and looked forward.  The man standing
before him was very tall, at least seven feet.  He was massive -
muscles rippled and gleamed in the candlelight.  The man (THE MASTER!)
wore a sleeveless leather tunic over leather pants.  Greg looked up to
the giant's face and gasped.  His master wore a mask that reminded
Greg of the ones worn by an executioner.  It covered his hair and the
upper part of his face but left the lower face visible.  The mouth was
wide, with the lower lip full and curled downward.  His eyes were dark
- so dark that they seemed to have no pupill... or that they were
inhumanly designed to see in pitch darkness.  Greg gulped audibly and
quickly lowered his head feeling faint and shaken.

"Very nice indeed, boy!"  His voice rumbled in the small room.  "Learn
your lessons well, and we'll get along just fine.  But know this,
boyo," he lifted Greg's chin so he had to look into those deadly eyes.
"Cross me in any way - be disobedient, or let the thought of running
away cross your mind... and I promise you that you'll regret it.  Make
me angry, and I might forget Master Cedric's orders not to do
permanent harm!  Do we understand each other?"  Greg tried to speak,
but all that came out was a strangled squeak.  Panicked, he
frantically nodded and hoped that would be enough.  "Good enough for
now."  A leash was clipped onto the collar.  "You'll make a good pet!
Now, you will walk on my left side, head down and hands behind your
back.  I don't approve of your clothes - we are going to  put you in
something more appropriate."  He tugged on the leash and Greg was
pulled forward, almost trotting to keep up with the giant.

He was led further and further into the darkness below the mansion
through corridors that seemed to go on forever.  Finally, Greg was
jerked to a stop by a sharp tug on the leash.  The giant opened a door
and pushed Greg inside. "Take off yer clothes, boy."  "Wha?  All of
them?  Even... OW!"  He gasped as something lashed across his back. 
"You dare to disobey so quickly?" his temporary master roared out his
displeasure.  A lash came down across his back again and again.  "I'm
sorry, sir!  I'll do what you want!  Please, sir!"  Greg's voice
trembled as he tried in vain to avoid the stinging whip.  As quickly
as it began, the beating was over.  "Be quick about it, boyo, or we'll
go on to round two!"  With trembling fingers and tears blurring his
vision, Greg removed first his shoes, shirt and pants... hesitated for
a second... and pulled off his underwear and socks as well.  "Glasses,
too, boyo - you're going to have to earn them!"  Greg handed his
glasses over to the master, who then tried to look through them. 
"Oooh, yer almost as blind as a bat then, aren't you?  Well, you won't
be using them  much... and this will give you an added incentive for
obedience, now won't it?"   Greg stood mutely while the giant circled
around him.  "Not much meat on yer bones, but I have to admit what
you've got is nice and firm.  Very nice!"  Greg felt a blush start in
his chest and spread upward.  "Th-thank you, sir!"  "Good boy!  Now,
in the corner you will find yer new clothes.  you may put them on now
and kneel until I give you further orders."  He pushed Greg toward the
small parcel and slammed the door shut and locked it from the outside.

Greg stumbled forward and then froze in shock at the 'snick' of the
lock engaging.  He could just make out the parcel lying three feet
away, and moved cautiously over to it.  He knelt down, opened the
wrappings and gasped.  Lying on a thin blanket were four leather cuffs
and what looked like... (he moaned softly) it looked like a cross
between an Indian breechcloth and the loincloth that Tarzan wore in
all the old movies.  His ears strained to hear if the giant was coming
back.  Greg quickly fastened the cuffs on his wrists and ankles and
stepped into the loincloth.  He then knelt on the blanket facing the
door with with his head down and his arms by his sides.


Part Eight

Kneeling in that gloomy cell, Greg felt his consciousness being
stretched and then constricted.  He tried to listen for any kind of
sound, felt the softness of the loincloth and the stiff cold feel of
the leather cuffs on his ankles pressing into the skin on his thighs.
His back itched and stung where he had been whipped, but he didn't
dare reach back to see if he had welts.  The sound of his breathing
seemed too loud for just one person, and the walls seemed to retreat
and advance in pulsing waves.  He'd lost all track of time as he sat
and waited, and he held onto Caroline's words as if they were a
lifeline thrown to a drowning man.

The door to his prison opened suddenly.  "Right, boy!  Very nice! 
Now, stand at the read."  Greg staggered to his feet on half-asleep
legs.  "Ready for the next lesson?"  "Y-yes sir!"  Once more the leash
was attached to his collar, and he was led into another room.  "Right.
Now, stand here, and raise your hands shoulder high like yer
surrendering."  Greg hurried to comply and gasped as two chains snaked
down from the ceiling.  The giant quickly secured the ends of the
chain to the rings on the cuffs.  He then clipped two more chains to
the ankle cuffs.  Except for his head, Greg was now totally
immobilized. 

"It is important for a master to assess the sensibilities of his
slave.  You will have to note the smallest details - is the slave
rebellious by nature?  Is he hypersensitive?  Thin skinned?  Easily
chilled, easily overheated?  Step forward, pup, and tell me what sort
of slave we have here."  Greg startled as a figure emerged from the
murky gloom.  The person circled around him and came to a stop
directly in front of Greg's quivering body.  The "pup" was a young
man, younger and shorter than Greg.  He, too, was dressed in cuffs,
collar, and loincloth.  "Yes, sir!  You have a raw slave here,
potentially rebellious, but highly trainable."  He circled behind Greg
again and continued talking.  "I assume you used the 'welcome' lash on
him?"  A slender finger traced a path along his back, and Greg
shuddered.  "Tender skin, not easily broken, but easily marked. 
Highly tactile.  Not easily overheated, but may have difficulty
dealing with colder temperatures."  Warm breath tickled the back of
his neck, raising goose bumps on both arms.

"Excellent, pup!  Resume your position."  Without a sound the 'pup'
resumed the ready position.  The giant approached Greg and ran the
handle of the lash over different parts of his anatomy.  "All part of
the 'getting to know your pet' phase of any good relationship. 
Observe your 'pet' and their reaction to different stimuli.  Some
'pets' can only tolerate light discipline while others require a
heavier hand.  Always watch their eyes as well as their bodies - a
slave may mask their feelings by showing no emotion, but they can't
mask what they think as easily."  He tilted Greg's head back and made
him look into those doll-black eyes.  "You, boyo... You're scared, but
a part of you is more excited than you've ever been in yer life." Greg
gulped, closed his eyes and moaned softly.  "Mmmm... Such a pretty
picture, eh, pup?"  "Oh, yes sir!"

"Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin - you can be
pleasured until it becomes agony, and you can be 'disciplined' to the
point where the pain becomes ecstasy."  The giant pulled a wooden
chair from the shadows and sat down in front of Greg.  "Pup, attend!"
bellowed the giant.  Pup snapped to attention and quickly went to the
giant's side.  "You need a spanking, lad, don't you?"  The other boy
started, glanced at Greg and then knelt beside the chair.  "Oh, no,
sir!  I've been good!  Please, sir!"  "SILENCE!  That little outburst
alone is worth a spanking!  Off with yer trous and be quick about it!"
The pup stood and silently peeled the loincloth down, then kicked it
aside.  His hands were balled into fists and he trembled - but he
stood there and didn't move.  "Over my knee, pup!"  The boy looked
over at Greg, mutely trying to tell him something, but all Greg could
do was watch.  "NOW!  Move it!"  Pup lay across the giant's lap and
grabbed the chair legs. 

"Can you see 'im all right, boyo?"  He growled at Greg.  The tableau
was within his field of clear vision, so he quickly answered "Yes
sir!"  "Right, then.  Being disobedient is punishable by no less than
five and no more than twenty swats.  A paddle may be used, but I
prefer to feel those tender cheeks start to burnin' with my own two
hands.  Now, pup... I think that you need ten swats.  And you are
going to count them!  Right... now!"  His hand whistled down and
contacted the boy's cheeks with a loud slap.  Greg winced as he saw
the giant's handprint show up on those white cheeks.  "One, sir!" 
"Two, sir!"  With each slap his butt began to glow a little brighter.
 Greg watched the boy's face.  He was embarrassed, humiliated,
hurting... and something more - excited.  The pup was pressing into
the giant's lap with each falling hand.  "E-e-eight, sir!"  "N-n-nine,
sir!"  The pup moaned as he gasped "Ten, s-s-sir!"

Rather than let him up immediately, the giant fondly tousled his hair.
"You see, boy?  The pain and the humiliation of being spanked in front
of another adds a bit o' spice.  Doesn't it, pup?"  "Yes, oh yes, sir!
Thank you for disciplining me, sir!"  Greg noticed that the other boy
squirmed on the giant's lap.  His face was flushed and sweat-streaked,
and his breathing was slow to return to normal.  The giant rubbed the
red cheeks, stroking them as if the boy were a kitten curled up in his
lap.  "Such a good pup!  Right, then - get your trous on and go to
your corner."  "Yes, sir!"  The boy shakily stood up, wobbling like a
newborn colt.  As he pulled up the loincloth, Greg noticed that the
other boy had a hard on.  The other boy felt Greg's attention on him,
turned, and blushed.  He then retreated into the dark recesses of the
room as their master once again turned his attention to Greg.

"I bet yer wondering how pain can make you feel so good, eh, boyo? 
Well, I think that you are ready for a little taste of it.  But I
think I'm going to leave you hangin' while I do it."  He raised the
chains that held Greg's arms until they were fully extended.  "A
little extra tension to heighten the tension.  And I think we'll start
you with ten swats as well.  You don't have to count them this time,
boyo.  I just want you to feel."  A blindfold was placed over Greg's
eyes, cutting him off further from reality.  He felt the giant's hands
tug at the loincloth until it was around his ankles.  Greg heard the
giant step back, and then... silence.  It was all he could do just to
stand there.  Every nerve ending vibrated as he listened for any
little sound to tell him where the giant was - and what he was doing.

The first slap came out of nowhere.  Greg's body jerked against the
chains, but was firmly held in place.  "Shall I tell you how you look,
boyo?"  The voice was whispering, and seemed to come from everywhere
at once.  "With your hands in the air like that your chest is
highlighted by the lights in the room.  By taking yer trous down
before starting I can tell how much is enough - and how much is too
much.  And I'm not just talking about that lovely round bottom of
yours, either!"

The second slap felt harder than the first, and Greg let out a muffled
squeak.  (I... don't... want... to give him the pleasure of hearing
me!) 3... 4... 5... each one was harder and came faster than the last,
each one came out of nowhere.  At first, all Greg could feel was the
pain.  He began to notice other sensations.  His butt was growing very
warm - it felt like it was next to a bonfire.  The suspense of not
knowing what would happen next, the idea that the pup might be
watching his humiliation and enjoying it were having a strange effect
on Greg.  his breathing grew shallow and rapid.  He could feel every
nerve in his body as if he had been electrified.  Under the blindfold
colors and lights pulsed behind tightly shut eyelids.  6... He tried
biting his own tongue to keep from crying out or moaning.  7... The
fire in his cheeks had spread and now he could feel himself fully
erect, his penis throbbed in time to the pulsing of his blood.  8...
9... He couldn't help it, couldn't hold back the groan that had been
building up inside him any longer.  "Yer almost there, aren't you,
boy?" whispered the giant.  10!  With the final stroke, Greg's body
jerked uncontrollably against the chains as wave after wave of
pleasure washed over him, sending him over the edge into an orgasm
that was unlike any he had ever felt with Caroline.

Exhausted, dazed, and more than a little stunned, Greg slumped in the
chains.  His butt was still throbbing and he could hear the blood
beating inside his ears.  "Foosh, boyo!  They said you were a
sensitive one, but I never would have believed it if I hadna seen it!
 We're going to have fun, you and I..."  He ruffled Greg's hair and
tweaked his nose, then stroked down his belly as if Greg were the
family pet.  "It's gonna be fun findin' ways to push yer buttons,
boyo!" he purred.  The giant unlocked the chains from Greg's legs,
removed the blindfold, and unlocked the chains holding his arms.  Greg
wobbled once, and slumped down to the floor unconscious as his eyes
rolled back.

                              *********

"I don't know how long I was out - a minute?  Hours?  When I came to,
I was back in my cell, the loincloth was on, and I was lying on my
side on top of a mat with the blanket over me.  It was all I could do
just to lie there - I was shaking like I had a fever.  There was a
plastic cup of water near me and I drank it all.  I could still feel
his hands on me everywhere.  Every nerve throbbed, and I think I could
have killed for some aspirin.  I felt emptied out.  Gutted.  But the
monster was right - I had been more excited by what he had done than
anything I'd ever felt before.  Just the thought of him carrying me
back to my cell like a rag doll was enough to make me shiver.  And the
fact that someone was watching the whole time?  Whoa!"


Part Nine

 

Their master carried out his promise to 'push Greg's buttons'.  Every
new experience was first felt with blindfold on and then with
blindfold removed.  Paddles, whips and flails, clamps, restraints...
Throughout it all, he kept up a running commentary on the merits of
each device or appliance used on Greg.  There were pros and cons for
each item - who it was best used on, what was the maximum number of
strokes that could safely be administered, and danger signs to watch
out for.  He spoke of the need for 'safe words' - words that allowed
the slave a way to go only as far as they could handle comfortably. 
Greg understood the need for them, but made it a point of honor that
he never used the safe word.  He wanted to see how far he could push,
how far he could take the sensations without being overwhelmed. 
Sometimes their master demonstrated technique on the pup, but mostly
he used Greg himself as his canvas.  Through it all, he could feel the
pup's eyes on him, watching silently from the shadows.

One day, after a particularly intense session, Greg was startled by
the sound of his cell door opening.  As he hurriedly knelt, he saw the
giant toss the pup into the cell by his neck.  The boy landed hard and
lay still.  Greg gasped in horror.  Instead of welts, the boy's back
was criss-crossed by scores of bloody cuts.  "He pushed too hard,
boyo!  And unlike you, he doesn't have a protector watchin' out for
him!  Here!"  He tossed a small first aid kit to Greg.  "Use the salve
on his back three times a day and he shouldn't scar or get infected. 
Cover his back with the gauze, and wash his back thoroughly each time
before you put any salve on it.  Understand?"  "Y-yes, sir!" stammered
Greg.  "Well?  What are you waiting for?  Fix him!"  The door slammed
and was locked.  Greg spread out his sleeping mat and eased the other
boy onto his stomach.  Thank God, he was still breathing!  Greg turned
the boy's head to the side and ran to the sink basin in the corner for
a wet washrag.  He applied some of the medicated scrub that was in the
box to the cloth and gently began cleaning the boy's bloody back. 
After soaping it thoroughly he ran back to the basin for a fresh wet
cloth to rinse off the soap.  The other boy moaned but didn't wake up.
(It's just as well - I couldn't bear looking in his eyes right now!)
Greg took the salve and applied it gently to the broken skin and
covered the boy's cuts with gauze.

At mealtime Greg received another mat and blanket, more washrags, and
a thermos along with his stew and bread.  "When he wakes up, give 'im
the broth... if he wakes up."  The giant sighed and nudged the pup's
limp foot.  "Ya should never have pushed my buttons, pup!  I took it
too far this time!"  He shook his head sadly and left the cell.

The next few days were spent taking care of the pup's wounds.  Greg
was worried.  The boy's back was healing, but he hadn't moved for two
days.  It was as though he had decided not to be there in that body
anymore.  Greg tried to sleep close to the pup - close enough to feel
his breath on his own cheek, in case the pup should have trouble
breathing.  Even so, he wasn't getting much sleep.  Without the
'lessons' to keep him occupied he forced himself to do exercises and
talked out loud to the pup.  He wasn't sure if the boy could hear him,
but Greg hoped that somehow he would be able to bring him back.

On the third night, Greg was awakened by a sound.  He listened... the
pup was crying softly, trying not to make any noise.  Greg's breath
caught in his throat.  "Shhh.  I'm here.  It's all right, shhhhh..
Don't cry, please don't cry!"  Carefully avoiding the bandages, Greg
scooted closer and pulled the pup to him.  He could feel the other boy
trembling as he put his head on Greg's chest.  The sobs slowed down,
hitched, and then slowly died.  Greg stroked the pup's hair to soothe
him.  They spent the rest of the night that way as sleep reclaimed
them.

Greg woke first, a bit surprised to find a weight on his chest. 
Peering nearsightedly down his chest, Greg saw the pup was still
asleep.  (So I didn't dream it last night!  He finally decided to come
back!)  This was the first time he'd really looked at the other boy
closely.  His hair was blonde and finely textured.  It clung to his
head in layers that reminded Greg of a baby chick's feathers.  His
eyelashes were long, dark and thick, and he had the kind of mouth that
made you want to nibble on his lower lip.  (Where did *that* come
from?)  He absently stroked the pup's hair.  The other boy shuddered,
gasped, and opened his eyes.  Pale blue eyes stared blankly into
Greg's eyes.  "It's all right.  You're going to be ok."  The other boy
closed his eyes again and swallowed.  "Thought I dreamed you." he
whispered.  "I want to die.  Why didn't you let me die?"  A tear
dripped down onto Greg's skin.  "Shhhh... You're not going to die. 
You're not alone!  Shhhh..."  He stroked the other boy's arm, stroked
his hair, tried to find a way to stem the flow of tears.  Greg sat up
and pulled the pup into his lap gently.  He cradled the younger boy in
his arms and rocked back and forth like a father soothing his child. 
The boy's sobs slowly quieted and he rested his head in the hollow of
Greg's neck.  His lips brushed softly against Greg's neck, sending a
shiver coursing through his body.

Greg turned his head toward the pup just as the boy raised his head. 
Their lips met by accident.  The pup moaned softly.  "Does your back
hurt?" Greg whispered with concern.  "A little.. not much..."  The pup
took Greg's face in his hands and looked into his eyes.  "I heard you
calling me.  Why did you bring me back to this?"  Greg fell into the
pup's sad eyes.   "I care about you.  I've felt you watching me, and
I've watched you.  We've been through a lot together, and I..."  He
closed his eyes and leaned toward the pup.  This time, the contact was
deliberate.  The pup's lips parted, allowing Greg's tongue easy
access.  The taste of his mouth was sweet, and Greg nibbled on his
lower lip gently before kissing away the pup's tears.  His hands
traced the boy's features, stroked his hair, his shoulders, and traced
lightly down his chest to his flat belly.  Greg's mouth came back to
the pup's soft kissable lips, and it felt like coming home.

                            **********

"I'd never kissed another boy before, never thought that it could be
as sweet as it was.  His skin was different than Caroline's -
different than any girl's - smoother, warmer, firmer.  His smell was
different, too.  He smelled like fresh-cut hay, and his sweat had a
salty tang to it.  Trying to stop touching him was like trying to eat
only one potato chip - it just couldn't be done.  I felt him
touching me, tasting me... It felt so right!  Even though I knew I
would always love women, I was learning that I could want a man just
as much.  It was a strange feeling.  But right there, right at that
moment, I was more in love with him than I had ever been in love with
anyone else."

Part Ten

 

Their master allowed them to stay together after each day's lessons
were completed.  The two boys explored each other's bodies with
interest.  Every day brought something new.  They tested each other,
examining every sensation, learning each other's signs of arousal and
savoring each other's excitement.  One day, Greg knelt before the pup.
 As he kissed and stroked his hands along the boy's pale skin, he
pushed the loincloth to the floor.  His hands moved lower... "I've
never really looked at it closely before... You're beautiful, you know
that?"  Greg blew softly on the pup's skin causing a tremor to go
through him.  The pup moaned softly as Greg gently pushed him down on
the bench.  He licked and nibbled gently, tracing patterns on
sensitive thighs and ticklish belly.  Slowly, teasingly, he blew
lightly on the other boy's rising penis.  Trembling hands caressed
Greg's hair and pulled him closer.  Greg's breath caught in his throat
as his mouth first came in contact.  The skin was warm, silky, and had
a sweet musky smell.  He ran his tongue over every inch, memorizing
every tender area.  He licked the tip and was rewarded with another
moaning sigh.  Greg looked up as he continued lavishing attention on
the tender flesh in front of him.  The pup's eyes were almost closed,
his head tilted back against the wall.  His mouth hung open as he
panted.  Greg opened his mouth and slowly, carefully, took the pup
completely into his mouth.  His lips rubbed against the tender flesh
as he sucked and licked the entire length.

(So sweet, so warm, oh yessssss...) Greg closed his eyes, letting the
feeling take completely over.  He released almost all the pup's
length, then shifted his tongue and went deep.  The pup moaned in
protest as contact was almost lost, then whimpered as Greg lavished
attention on him.  Fingers twined in his hair, flesh warmed and firmed
under his touch.  Greg lightly cupped  the other boy's balls, rolling
them gently, tickling his thighs with light fluttery strokes with the
other hand.  "Soooo good!  Oh god, ohgodohgodohgod, yesss!  I...
I'm... ahhrgh!"  The pup thrust harder into Greg's mouth, touching the
back of his throat as he came.  Greg swallowed reflexively at first,
then again and again as he milked the other boy dry.  (Wow.  Hoo boy.
Wow.)  He licked and cleaned the pup gently and carefully and then sat
on the bench beside the still panting youth.  Greg turned his head and
stroked the pup's hair as he planted fluttery kisses on his face. 
"Man!  That was so... wow."  The pup glanced down at Greg's now tented
loincloth.

"Let me..."  Shyly, the pup began stroking Greg's body.  Eyes closed,
it was as if he were a blind sculptor and Greg was a statue he was
carving.  His hands and lips were busy as they covered every inch of
skin.  Greg moaned softly as the pup found the sensitive place at the
base of his neck.  A tongue gently stroked the skin, teeth lightly
nipped at his collarbone.  The feeling was indescribable!  Each nipple
received lavish attention as the pup licked, sucked, pinched and blew
on it in turn.  (God, yessss!)  Fingers teasingly tickled their way
down his belly, lips nibbled along ribs, tongue circling and sampling
his navel.  Greg was almost beside himself with the pleasure.  He
couldn't think - couldn't speak as his head rolled against the wall. 
He whimpered as the pup stroked his legs and nibbled his thighs before
removing Greg's loincloth.  "P-p-please!"  Greg's hands were gripping
the edge of the bench convulsively as he felt the pup sampling his
balls with teeth and tongue.  With a soft moan, the pup kissed the
weeping tip.  His tongue stroked and teased the sensitive ridge under
the head making Greg's penis dance.  "N-n-now!  God, please!" Greg
could hardly breathe as he felt the indescribable sensations the pup
was creating.  Soft lips encircled the head of his rod teasing before
parting enough to fit him in.  (God... Oh, God!  Not like Caro... so
good... both good... as good!  So ohhhhh...) Greg was squeezed and
stroked, licked and nibbled like a piece of candy that the pup was
determined to make last a very long time.  "Mmmmm... I can't... Don't
stop... Oh god!!!"  Greg's hands buried themselves in the pup's hair,
urging him on.  The pup responded by humming deep in his throat as his
tongue cradled Greg's length.  The vibrations caused by the humming
sent Greg over the edge and he screamed as he came in the pup's mouth.
The pup lavished as much gentle attention on his now spent manhood as
Greg had on him.  Greg reached out with trembling hands and pulled the
pup onto the bench with him.  The younger man curled up on the bench
and rested his head in Greg's lap.  His eyes began to close of their
own accord as Greg stroked his hair.  Before he slept, he whispered,
"M'think I love you..."

                             *******

(You loved him, didn't you?  I mean, really, really loved him.)  Greg
sighed.  "I loved the feel of him, I loved loving him... I don't think
I knew what love meant back then.  I cared about him, yeah.  But there
was always a part of me that whispered that I shouldn't love him - we
were only temporary, and I didn't want to get hurt.  So instead, I
hurt him."  He shook his head tiredly.  "I never even knew his name...
but I ended up  hurting him in ways I could never take back.  That's
when I knew that I wasn't a good person.  I didn't deserve anyone's
love.  I deserved to be punished and treated like an object - a toy
and not like a human being."

             

           
Part Eleven

 

Something changed.  Whether it was determined by the changing of the
seasons or they had passed some secret milestone, neither of them
knew.  But one day when they were led out of their cell, they were
taken to a different area and a different master.  Where the first had
been a giant, this one was between Greg and the pup in height.  He,
too, wore leather pants, but his shirt of crisp linen and his tall
black boots reminded Greg of pirate movies.  The mask, however,
was the same.  "Hello, boys!" purred the new master.  "Starting today,
we're going to see just how far we can go.  If you've ever thought of
becoming an actor, role-play should be easy for you.  It's not really
an accurate term; role-play is more like role-immersion.  The
slave/partner must learn how to erase themselves... to become the new
person desired by the master.  In this way, new doors and new
experiences will open up to you.  Rest assured, this will be harder by
far than anything that you have been through already!  But the
rewards, the pleasures, the sensations are so greatly enhanced that I
suspect that role-play will become a large part of your repertoire..."

                                *******

"Things started out a lot like acting school - 'feeling the part',
character development, motivation, how to use body posture and voice
to create the character desired.  Some of the exercises were just
plain silly; after all, how many times will you run into someone that
wants you to be a tree?  We weren't allowed to play off each other. 
One of us would go through the exercises while the other watched.  It
was hard for me to step outside myself to let the character take over.
I got the lash several times for breaking character!"  (And still you
stayed?  Why?  What could have been so important to keep you there?) 
"I couldn't leave the pup alone - he needed me.  I needed him!  I
needed his approval, his looking up to me..."  (And to have sex with
him?)  Greg wiped his face with his handkerchief.  "Would you believe
we never went further than oral sex?  Neither of us was willing to be
mounted, but blowing each other didn't really seem like SEX like it
did with Caroline.  It helped to relax us both, and it was fun, too,
trying to see how long you could hold on.  It was just another game,
something to do..."

                              *******

Some roles were easier to take on than others.  Greg understood and
could lose himself in the student before the headmaster, the
hitch-hiker, the naughty boy caught by the babysitter... But learning
how to react as the secretary or 'Daddy's little girl' was harder to
do.  Greg had a hard time picturing himself as a girl - even with two
sisters to use as examples.  But the pup took to those types of roles
like a duck takes to water.  Their master said it was because he was
the more feminine of the two boys.  He had a vulnerable side that made
you want to take care of him, to cuddle him.  Sometimes it got on
Greg's nerves, but he was never whiny or pouty around Greg - the pup
saved that for the master.  Greg thought of him as a kid brother -
someone who was sometimes a pain to be around, but needed to be
watched out for.

Greg's back itched.  He knew he was going to be punished - he heard
the edge creep into the master's voice.  "How many times do you need
to be beaten before you learn?  You MUST be able to lose yourself in
ANY role your masters desire of you!  What will it take to drum this
into your thick head?  Eh?"  Greg knelt, head down.  (Pull yourself
away... remove yourself from here...)  The first stroke of the knotted
lash sent fire coursing along his spine.  (It hurts!)  Again the lash
snaked out catching him under the ribs.  Greg sucked in a breath of
pure agony.  (No sound!  Makes it worse!  Oh, God!)  Again!  And
again!  Greg whimpered in spite of himself.  "Submit!  Please submit!
He'll kill you if you don't!"  The pup's pleading voice cut through
the pain.  Greg felt something twist inside as the lash came down
again.  He screamed, and tears began streaming from his eyes.  The
lash was withdrawn from his back.  The handle was placed under his
chin forcing his eyes to meet their master's.  Steely eyes stared into
bruised pools of pain.  "Has Pammy learned her lesson?  Is she going
to disobey Daddy again?"  The damned voice dripped honeyed acid as he
purred, "Well?  Is Daddy going to have to spank you again, Pammy?"

("Submit!" the pup's voice whispered out of the darkness.)  Greg's
voice quivered as tears streaked down his face.  "N-n-no, Daddy! 
I-I-I'll be good!"  He sobbed as his lips formed a pout.  He wasn't
'Greg'... wasn't 'boy'... Shattered.  His voice was pitched higher as
he begged, "Please Daddy, don't hurt me!  I'll be good!"  The eyes
that looked into his softened.  "That's Daddy's little girl!  Daddy
doesn't like hurting his little Pammy."  His free hand caressed Greg's
hair.  "Daddy's not mad, any more, Pammy.  Why don't you stand up and
show me the pretty dress you have on!"  The lash handle was removed
from under his chin.  Greg's eyes were almost closed as he stood up. 
He felt the curls on his head, felt the ribbon holding them away from
his/her face.  Her hands smoothed the party dress from the neck
ruffles, down the front, and fluffed out whispery skirts as she turned
in a slow circle in front of her daddy.  She smiled a little quivering
smile and curtsied.  "I... I love you, Daddy!"  "Daddy loves you, too,
punkin!  Come here, sweetie!"  Pammy skipped over to Daddy and gave
him a hug.  Daddy hugged his little girl and gave her a kiss on the
forehead.  Her eyes closed and sHe swayed.  The master held Greg by
the shoulders and watched his face.  Eyelids fluttered... blinked..
and opened slowly.  Greg's first sight was the master's smiling face.
"There, now!  Was that so bad?"  Greg's mouth opened, closed, and he
gulped.  "I don't know!  What... How..."  His eyes shifted and came to
rest on the pup.  Tears were coursing down the pup's cheeks, but he
smiled at Greg through his tears.

(He saw me give in.  He made me give in!  I could have lasted longer -
he's made me break my own rules!)  Greg was exhausted, but he was also
furious.  He hated losing control, hated being forced to give in.  He
looked at the pup, blankly.  The other boy felt something change
between them.  Slowly, the smile drained away from his lips.  His eyes
got larger, his lip quivered, and fresh tears bathed his cheeks. 
Silently he mouthed, "Please forgive me."  Greg just looked at him
with no expression, shuddered, and closed his eyes.  Their master,
sensing something was going on, released Greg's shoulders and tipped
his head back.  Greg's eyes snapped open, brown eyes meeting
silver-gray.

"Knowing when to submit is not giving up control.  Not submitting and
being hurt in the process is just plain dumb and could also prove
deadly.  A great actor submerges his personality to play a role, and
no matter how unlike his own personality the role is his performance
is completely believable.  The perfect slave also knows how to
submerge his personality to play the part desired by The Director. 
You have the potential to be the perfect slave, boy.  If you can learn
how to submerge yourself, to lock your Self away to play the role
desired, and then let your Self emerge intact afterward you will be a
lot happier."  He shook Greg, hard.  "If you ever are to become the
perfect master, you must know what it means to be the perfect slave! 
If you can't get that through your head, you might as well hit the
highway again.  Go home!  Be the nobody who has nothing - and never
will!  Do you want that, boy?  Do you want me to tell Master Cedric
that you really were nothing special?  That he was wrong about you? 
Well, was he wrong about you?"

Greg's eyes were as cold and blank as the master's.  "He wasn't wrong,
Sir!  And I'm not about to go back and become 'nothing'.  I may not be
the perfect slave or master now... but I assure you that you will not
be disappointed in the quality of my 'performances' in the future. 
May this slave ask a favor from his master?"  The master blinked at
the change in Greg's voice.  "What is it, boy?"  "Please put this
slave in separate quarters.  Having another sharing the same room is
too much of a distraction from the lessons."  Both of them heard, but
did not acknowledge the gasp or the whimpered "No!"  "Is this what you
want, boy?"  ('Please no!  Don't do this!  Please!  I'm sorry!  I'm
sorry!')  "Yes Sir, if you will allow it.  The pup and I should still
take our lessons together, but be separated afterwards.  There are too
many distractions when two slaves share a cell together."  ('Why? 
Why are you doing this?  Oh, God, why won't you look at me?')  Greg
coldly watched the master's eyes as he considered the request.  In the
background, the pup sobbed helplessly as he watched the two of them. 
Finally the master nodded.  "Have your things gathered together after
the lunch period.  We'll move you then."  Greg nodded and then knelt
down in front of the master and touched his lips to the shiny boots. 
"Thank you, Master!"  "Now go back to your place.  We're almost done
for this morning."  Greg stood and walked back to where the pup was
sitting and took his place beside him.  Although he could hear the
sobs he never looked, and he didn't speak to the pup for the rest of
the lesson.

When the lesson was over, both boys were led back to their cell to
await their meal.  Greg gathered up his meager possessions into a
single pile and wrapped them in his blanket.  As he rolled up his
sleeping mat, he felt the trembling touch of a cold hand on his arm. 
Greg looked down at the hand, and then looked at the pup.  "What do
you want?"  The younger boy was pale and shaking as if he had a fever.
His eyes were puffy, and tears kept streaming down his cheeks as he
searched Greg's face for some sign of affection.  "Why are you doing
this?  Was letting go really so bad?  I thought he was going to kill
you, and you were stubborn enough to force him to do it!  Don't you
understand?  By submitting you saved your life!"  Greg looked down at
the hand clutching his arm and slowly looked the pup full in the face.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll take your hand off me right
now.  Otherwise you're going to get hurt, and I'll get the lash for
damaging our master's property."  With a sob, the pup released Greg's
arm and curled up into a ball in the corner.

 

Part Twelve

 

"After lunch I was moved to a new cell.  Even though it was just
across the hall from the old one, I had my wish - I was away from him.
Being alone after living with someone so closely was hard on me as
well as the pup.  That first night I could hear him sobbing across the
hall.  I heard him the second and third nights, too.  Part of me
wanted to beg our master to put me back in that cell again, but the
stubborn part remembered that he was the one who made me break my own
rules.  He was the one that made me weak.  So I hardened my heart,
closed my ears, and stayed in solitary.  It did make it easier for me
to take on the vulnerable roles.  I could still feel that 'shift' that
caused me to break.  The pup finally stopped crying at night, or got
better at hiding it.  He didn't seem to be affected all that much, he
was a bit quieter than usual, but we had never been allowed to talk to
each other during the lessons... His eyes seemed bigger, and he seemed
to be younger than what he was - like he was running backward through
a movie projector.  I thought it was my imagination.  I thought he was
doing all right.  I didn't know how wrong I was."

                                *******

They had been separated for almost a month now.  Greg was kneeling,
watching their master put the pup through his paces.  As the master
put his hand on the boy's arm, Greg was shocked.  Although the pup had
never been as big as the master, he was clearly getting thinner.  The
master's hand was able to encircle his forearm completely, and the
boy's eyes were large - almost waif-like.  Greg looked closer at the
pup, more closely than he had in a long time.  The signs were there...
he was paler than before and his energy level was noticeably lower. 
There were gray shadows under his eyes, like he hadn't been sleeping.
For the first time in a long time, Greg was frightened.

When they were led back to their cells, Greg hesitated outside the
door.  The pup had gone into his cell without a sound and disappeared
into the shadows.  The master looked at Greg impatiently.  "Sir, may
this slave speak privately?"  "What is it, boy?"  Greg gulped, then
plunged in.  "The pup's physical condition appears to be deteriorating
Sir!  Has he been eating?  He really looks bad, Sir!  M-m-maybe..."
"Maybe what, boy?"  "Maybe he shouldn't be alone, Sir!  He... he looks
like he's dying!"  The master started to say something, stopped and
shoved Greg into his cell.  "Bloody hell!"  Without another word, he
practically ran down the corridor.

Greg could hear the sounds of others in the hallway, but he couldn't
make out any words.  He paced nervously inside his cell as he strained
for any clue to tell him what was going on.  (Why didn't I notice
something was wrong before?  Even without glasses I should have seen
something was wrong!  Why didn't he say something?  Why?  I'll tell
you why, stupid, because you cut him off like he was nothing!  Weren't
you supposed to look out for him?  A fine job you did of it, too!) 
Greg clutched the hair on both sides of his head.  "Shut up, shut up,
shut up!"  (Stupid)  "SHUT UP!!!"  Panic stricken, Greg threw himself
at the door.  "What's going on?  Let me out!  Please!"  He pounded on
the door, sobbing.  "Please!"

The door opened, and Greg backed quickly away from it into a kneeling
position.  The current master looked in.  "Grab your things, boy." 
Greg flew to obey and gathered everything into an untidy packet. 
"Sir?  Is he all right?"  Greg gasped as he was tossed into the pup's
cell.  The pup was lying on a cot in the middle of the floor.  His
face seemed to glow when he saw Greg.  He smiled a weak little smile.
 "You came back!"  Greg knelt by his side and stroked his forehead. 
"I'm so sorry!  I didn't know - I was too stupid to know!  Can you
ever forgive me?"  His tears fell upon the pup's lips, and Greg felt
the boy's hand brush against his cheek.  "You're here now.  That's all
that matters.  I know you didn't mean it.  I love you..."  His eyes
closed, and soon his soft breathing showed that he was asleep.  Greg
felt a hand on his shoulder and turned.

Both masters were standing there, looking at him.  The giant jerked
his head toward the cell door, and Greg followed them over to it. 
"All right, boyo... suppose you tell us what's been happening, eh?" 
Greg couldn't look at either of them and found it hard to speak.  "He
forced me to submit, he saw me weak, and I couldn't bear it.  So I
shut him out.  I wanted to punish him.  I didn't think this would
happen!  And I didn't notice anything different - his condition
changed so slowly that it wasn't noticeable until today!  It looks
like he's been eating almost nothing for weeks!"  Greg's chin started
trembling and his eyes filled with tears.  "If only I'd had my
glasses, I'd have noticed sooner... Or if I hadn't been so
stubborn..."  He started sobbing and threw himself into the arms of
the giant.  "I'm scared!  Don't let him die, please, don't let him
die!"  The giant looked down at Greg.  Something softened in his
expression, and he clumsily patted Greg's back to soothe him.  "We'll
try, boyo.  We'll try.  Looks like yer back on nursing duty.  We'll
get another cot and a stool for ya.  You're gonna have to pay close
attention to 'im for the next week or so.  We need ot be sure that
there's no permanent damage."

Part Thirteen

 

The pup slept on for the rest of the day and night.  Greg was
petrified.  He had no idea that anyone could love him so much that
they couldn't live without him!  But that's what the pup seemed to
have done ~ deciding that death was better than being alone.  A doctor
came in to administer an IV to start the rehydration process.  He left
after instructing Greg on what to do, how often to change the bags of
fluid and what problems to look out for.  "He'll be all right now,
won't he?"  Greg scanned the doctor's face anxiously.  "Now we wait
and see."

Everyone finally left, and the cell was once again quiet and softly
lit.  Greg was completely beside himself.  What was going to happen to
them?  What would happen to *him*?  This was entirely his fault.  He
was the one who caused all of this.  He couldn't stand seeing the pup
in this condition, couldn't bear to be away from him for fear that
something else would happen.  He couldn't sit, couldn't stay still,
and yet was afraid to move too much for fear of waking the boy when he
was so sick.  (He could have died!  He still might die!  It's all your
fault... your fault... your fault...) Greg pulled on his hair as he
tried to stop the voice in his head.  (Stupid)  Sitting on a ledge
in the cell was a clipboard that the doctor had left behind.  He'd
also left a pen, several sheets of paper and a ruler for making the
gridlines for intake, output, temperature, and other measurements.

Concentrating on creating and marking out the charts helped quiet the
voice in his head.  At least now he had something to do!  He'd keep an
accurate record of everything that happened with the pup from now
until he got better again.  (What if he doesn't get better?  What if
he dies?)  Greg's hand stopped writing.  He looked at the ruler
intently - it was a wooden one with a metal edge guard.  Greg stared
at the ruler, catching stray bits of light on the metal edge.  He
tugged on the metal curiously, and flinched at the sharp stinging cut
that appeared across his fingertip.  (What if he dies?  What then?)
Suddenly he felt older than God and so tired that he could hardly do
more than look at the blood welling up from his finger.  If he dies...
I won't have to live with myself.  I won't have to live at all.  I've
heard that it's just like falling asleep, only you don't dream.  And
if there is a God and He lets the pup die... They say suicide is a
sin... but if the pup dies I deserve to go to Hell, because I'll be
the one who killed him.

                               *******

(What happened next?  Did things get better?)  Greg pulled himself
back from the pit his memories had opened up.  A hand reached out from
the shadows, took Greg's hand, and turned it over.  Gentle fingers
pushed back his watchband.  The same examination was done on his other
wrist - caring fingers pushed aside the shirt cuff and friendship
bracelets he always wore.  Thin white scars showed on both wrists,
barely visible on pale skin.  (So that's why you never get a tan,
isn't it?  Because they'd show up.  I always wondered...) Greg winced.
"Yeah."

                               *******

It had been a week of hellish nightmares; days spent obsessively
watching the pup for progress.  There wasn't very much.  For every
step forward, there seemed to be at least one step back.  Greg watched
the pup's face, looking for any signs that he was on his way back. 
There was no sign that he dreamed, no sign that anyone was in there. 
Greg slipped into a gray haze of depression that nothing seemed to
penetrate.  Throughout it all, the voice inside his head kept telling
him it was entirely his fault.  He stopped trying to argue with it -
after all, if he hadn't been so damn pig-headed none of this would
have happened.  The giant stopped by the cell a couple of times to
silently look in.  Greg wasn't sure if he was coming to see the pup or
himself... Not that it mattered anymore.  (If he doesn't open his eyes
today...it's been a week.  He should have started showing some
improvement by now.  The doc isn't happy, nobody's happy.  Tonight's
the night.  I don't care anymore.)


Part Fourteen

Once the decision had been made, Greg felt a sense of relief.  There'd
be no more waiting and watching, no more voices in his head.  He
leaned down and kissed the pup on his forehead.  "I'm so sorry for
everything that's happened to you.  I hope you get better, I hope you
come back... but I can't live like this.  If I hadn't been so evil,
nothing would have happened to you.  I don't deserve to live - but you
do.  You're a better person than I'll ever be.  I'm so sorry... and I
hope that some day you can forgive me."  Greg smoothed the pup's hair
and kissed his lips one last time.  His eyes roamed all over the pup's
face looking for any sign that he'd heard, but the pup remained still.
He could have been carved out of ivory - his breathing was so faint
that the covers were hardly disturbed.  Greg slowly backed away from
the pup, not taking his eyes off the boy for a moment.  This was going
to be his ultimate apology.  His hand felt blindly on the ledge and
closed around the ruler.  He moved to the deepest part of the cell,
the place the light was dimmest, and knelt down.  (I'm so tired...)

Greg looked down at the ruler and removed the cuffs from his wrists. 
(Can I?)  He let out a trembling sigh and dragged the metal edge
across his wrist.  A thin line of blood appeared.  (Not deep enough...
needs to be deeper.)  He pushed harder.  The cut opened up a little
further.  It didn't hurt, much.  He sawed the blade-like edge into his
wrist harder, wincing as the blood began to flow freely.  He put the
cuff back on that wrist loosely and started on the other.  Now that he
knew how hard to push, it seemed easier.  The blood flowed freely, and
Greg put the cuff back over that wrist.  Both were very loose - there
was no way they would stop the blood from flowing.  He leaned back
against the wall with his hands hanging down by his sides and waited
for his release.

The blood made little 'plopping' sounds as it hit the stones of the
cell floor.  It sounded like a slow rain falling on the roof back
home.  Greg smiled.  He was warm, safe, happy... so sleepy!  He rested
his head on the cool stones of the wall.  Time for a nap.  Everything
was going to be fine now.  His eyes closed slowly and his breathing
slowed as all his worries dripped out of him.  (So nice!  No thinking,
no worries, no more troubles...)  It felt like he was floating on a
cloud, just drifting along.  His head lolled forward, his chin came to
rest on his chest.  Just before the darkness claimed him, Greg
whispered, "Loved you, too."


Part Fifteen

Light.  There shouldn't be light, should there?  Cool... Not in Hell,
Hell's dark and hot.  "Open your eyes," whispered somebody's voice. 
(Don't want to.  Can't make me.  Go 'way!)  "Open your eyes, boy! 
Right now!"  (Who?  No.  Maybe this is Hell after all.  Leave me
alone!)  "Dammit, after the investment that's been made in you, you
WILL open your eyes!"  The world shook as something pounded at him. 
The boy's eyes flew open.  He looked around, blankly, as empty as a
newborn.  Looking down and to the side, he could see an arm wrapped in
bandages.  There was another arm swathed in bandages on the other
side.  (Mine?)  A blob moved into his line of sight.  (Crazy.)  As it
got closer, the blob changed shape and became human.  (Mommy?  Not
mom, not round enough.)  The boy watched as the blob developed arms,
legs, a torso... a head.  (Not a girl.  Man?)  He giggled.  (Cool!
It's just like Silly Putty!)

"That's enough!"  The boy's head was rocked to the side by an
open-handed slap.  (Not nice!)  A backhanded slap rocked his head in
the other direction.  (Hurts!)  He whimpered like a whipped puppy. 
There was no conscious thought, pain was all there was in the
universe.  The boy was slapped twice more.  Everything that he'd done,
everything he was came flooding back.  "No!  Let me die!" Greg
screamed and wailed like a newborn baby.  "That's enough out of you,
Gregory!  And I would like to know what the bloody hell you thought
you were doing?"  Cedric stared down at Greg, arms crossed over his
chest.  Greg gulped, sobbed, and tried to answer.  "I failed him.  I
let him down.  The pup was ready to die for me, and he probably has. 
He's better than me!  And I killed him!"

Cedric's hands grabbed Greg by the hair and forced him to look into
his face.  "Listen to me, you bleeding idiot - you were ready to kill
yourself over a boy who wasn't worth even *half* of you?  I find this
exceedingly appalling.  And for your information, the brat has pulled
through.  So you would have died for nothing!"  With a growl of
disgust, Cedric released Greg's head.  "You mean it?  He's not dead?
C-c-can I see him, please?"  Greg stared up at Cedric hopefully. 
"He's gone - he's been sent back to his owner.  I can see you don't
believe me."  His eyes narrowed as he frowned.  "I find it terribly
disappointing that you do not have complete faith in me.  I
anticipated this reaction, however, and brought this."  He pulled a
slim tape recorder out of a pocket and turned it on.

"If you are listening to this, you've decided to live."  Greg heard
the pup's soft voice as tears ran down his cheeks.  "I'm glad.  I
never thought any of this would happen.  I know you didn't mean to
hurt me, and I'm so sorry that I hurt you.  They're sending me back. 
I wish I could see you, but they won't allow it.  Take care of
yourself.  I love you."  Cedric turned off the tape player and shoved
it back into his pocket.  "Now do you believe me?"  Greg nodded and
stammered, "Y-y-yes, Sir!"  Cedric snorted.  "At least you still
retain your manners!"

"Sir?"  "Yes, lad?"  Cedric looked down at Greg as his hands nervously
picked at the sheets.  "What... What's going to happen to me now?  I
know I've let you down... I never knew that I could feel so strongly
about someone whose name I never knew!  And I never thought someone
who didn't know anything about me could love me that strongly, too!"

Cedric sighed.  "Everyone who has worked with you has reported to me
that you have more potential than anyone they have ever seen.  You
have inside you a greatness that has yet to be explored and
cultivated.  I do not want to lose my investment, nor do I want to
lose you.  But I don't think you have the maturity needed to fulfill
your destiny at this time.  Your weakest points are obedience and role
separation.  Until you are able to master these areas, you are
virtually useless to yourself and others.  It's your choice, Gregory.
Go home to your disgustingly middle-class family.  Turn your back on
everything that you've learned, ignore every advantage wealth and
power have to offer."  Cedric held Greg by the shoulders and pressed
him into the mattress.  His eyes bored into Greg's, pinning him like a
butterfly about to become a spider's dinner.

"If that repels you as much as I think it does," Cedric purred, "there
is an alternative.  You could become an apprentice in one of the many
chateaux that cater to the needs of masters.  Learn the business from
the inside out, so to speak.  I understand that you have never been
'completely intimate' with another man, and this raises your value."
Greg paled, suddenly nauseous.  "You will not be compelled to have
intercourse with any of the masters.  You will, however, be made
available for role-play as well as disciplinary scenes.  I suggest
that you learn to make use of any safe words that your 'employers'
care to give you.  Your employers will forward reports of your
progress to me, and your room and board will be taken care of by my
bank.  Well, Gregory?  What is your answer?"

                              *******

(What happened then?  Greg, don't tell me you accepted his suggestion!
Why?  In God's name, why?  It couldn't have been the money - I know
you better than that!)  Greg sighed.  It had been a long time since
he'd thought about what happened so long ago.  "You don't understand.
I'm not sure that I understand it even now.  I wanted to be so much
*more* than ordinary.  I wanted to be different.  I wanted to be
loved.  I wanted to be able to afford the best that life had to
offer."  He shook his head tiredly.  "They say the Devil is a
seductive beast, and Cedric seduced me as easily as a demon.  He
sucked me into the world of slaves and masters, and I needed it as
if it were a drug.  Cedric was right - whether slave or master there
was a lot of power involved.  I needed it!  I wanted it! Oh, God..." 
He put his head down on the tabletop and covered his head with his
hands.  A hand reached out to touch his hands.  (It's okay.) "It's not
okay!  You don't understand.  You have no idea what it was like.  God,
how can you stand to even look at me?  I have a hard time looking at
me!"  (None of that matters.  I care about you.  And your telling me
all this has helped me understand you like never before.  It's a part
of you, Greg, and it's made you who you are.)  Greg raised his head,
incredulous.  "After all of what I've told you, after everything I've
done, you still want to be with me?"  The bartender finally roused
from his nap with a start.  He looked at the clock, looked at the
still-occupied booth.  "Time to go home, guys."  (You heard the man. 
Let's go home.)

                               * FIN *

 

 

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