Author: Chauni
E-mail: ChauniMaxwell@mechpilot.com
Website: www.oocities.org/asukalangley2nd/
Warnings: Yaoi, Yuri, Lemon, BDSM,
AU, Language, Mind Control, Wufei POV (prologue), Duo POV (the rest), Slight
Dorothy bashing (depending on who’s speaking), NC-17
Pairings: 2x1, 5xSolo, DxR, 4x3/3x4
(maybe?), 1xSolo/Solox1
Disclaimer: No, I don’t own GW or the
boys, and I bet they’re glad about it now.
I want to make one thing known right now; I don’t come to these things for me.
Granted, they’re amusing and fun to watch, especially in the way that everyone falls all over themselves to make good impressions, or the random displays of grace and shyness all in one, but they aren’t my thing.
Personally, I always wanted someone who wants to belong to me, rather than has to because I just happened to be the highest bidder. Though mind you, that’s just my personal opinion, one I never try to push onto other people. Hell, I don’t care what they think, never have and never will.
The hallway to the main attraction was lined with people, most adorned in sleek leather or vinyl, a couple of the men in suits. I could feel the eyes of several on me, running over the embracing leather pants I had picked and the loose wine button down shirt, my hair in the familiar long braid down my back and tied with the subtle lace whose color matched my pants. I heard a few mention my name, mention my stance and how confident I looked as my footfalls echoed in the marble hallway.
I wasn’t going to argue with them. Confident? Yeah, that was me.
Every thirty feet, a small pedestal rose into the air, naked expanse of flesh standing atop it in poses elected by the onlookers. Hands, groping as if testing a melon or fruit at the grocery store, pinched a thigh here, an ass cheek there, driving small squeaks or silence from the poor slaves. I could see the fear, the anticipation in their eyes, in their faces, and I simply shrugged and walked down the hallway. My eyes drifted to a small blonde boy on my right, with large aquamarine eyes that leaked small tears down his pale, flushed cheeks, and I had to pull my eyes away with a great deal of will; he had been cute, after all.
I entered the main hall, noting the seventy or so chairs that had been set up in makeshift aisles. Most people had been flocking together in the hallway, so now, now I had this small corner to myself, to sit and reflect on everything around me. The smell of the flesh, the feel of the leather, the heavy weight of an erotic tension; it had been awhile.
Most people I had found came to such things on a matter of social obligation only, as I was one of the prime cases. Twice a year, I attended the Catalonia’s slave auctions, and twice a year I came home empty handed. I never bought, and never sold; even though I had the third most famous BDSM household in the United States, I never found the desire to purchase my slaves or submissives.
And famous is in no way the same as “largest”. I only housed a total of seven slaves and six submissives in my home, and I loved every one of them. Each served me and my colleagues for a year, each were trained and cared for with their own special needs, each was special.
Perhaps it was the personal touches that made me famous.
My eyes, that entrancing shade of violet that I’m pretty damn proud of, looked up to witness the lithe body of a young man coming towards me. He was…breathtaking to say the least; long waterfall of obsidian hair over naked pale flesh, full lips that spoke not a word, arm tensing lightly as he held a tray with full wine glasses atop it. The way he moved was hypnotizing, with an unconscious sway of his narrow hips and a stealthy walk that reminded me of a thief. His flesh was oiled, slick, fine, and the jeweled ring around the base of his arousal made me smile just a bit.
His eyes haunted me though; jade and beautiful they were, but flat, like nothing lived inside them.
I took an offered glass and brought it to my lips, tasting the bitter drink as it marked it’s way down my throat. That’s when I heard the clicking.
I always knew when Dorothy was approaching; it was those damn heels. Granted, half the other people in this place were wearing high heels, but something with the way they fell when she walked in them, like she was the goddess of authority and dominion, struck my ears on a different level.
“Good evening,” I said, taking a bow and kissing her offered hand in one fluid movement. She had dressed formally today, a long straight burgundy dress that was low cut enough to let me know she was wearing no bra. That sunbeam hair of hers was done up into several clips, while the ends drifted down her bare back in loose curls, showing off the diamond earrings and gold choker she had chosen for the evening. Behind her, kneeling obediently at her feet with her soft blue eyes downcast, was her personal pet, Relena, though only a handful of us knew her name. I had to admit, she looked rather nice, covered in soft powders and a few pieces of jewelry, a golden belly chain, non-piercing nipple-rings, a thick satin collar that matched her Mistress’ dress, and a few others that I don’t think I’ll mention.
“I’m so glad you could join us, Mr. Maxwell,” she purred in that natural way she does. Half the time, I don’t even think she realizes how it sounds.
“You know I could never pass up something like this,” I replied, my eyes drifting over to the longhaired boy who was still passing out wine. She always did have beautiful slaves. “Especially with the scenery.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Her hand found it’s way into the long length of Relena’s hair, lightly twisting and playing with it; I think it’s a nervous habit of hers. “I must speak with you following the auction, if you would. It’s…important.”
Hm. I had always enjoyed Dorothy’s company; something about her cynicism and sarcasm always appealed to the joker inside of me. But…this was different…I…didn’t feel right this time.
“Of course I will,” I answered, and mentally kicking myself all the while.
“Good,” she replied, beginning to walk away to converse with several other guests. “Meet me in my office as soon as everyone’s gone. Enjoy, Mr. Maxwell.”
Shit.
A lot of people say Dorothy is…off balanced. I can’t say I disagree or agree, more or less because I don’t wish to choose sides. Let’s just say she’s interesting…very interesting. Perhaps that’s why I keep coming back to see her.
When I finally arrived at her office, I was met with the customary jumble of papers and pens atop her desk, only it seemed to triple to this frightening mountain that threatened to topple over at any second due to the slave auction. Shrugging lightly, I walked across the plush brown carpet to lie down on the couch and make myself comfortable until she returned.
I didn’t wait long, thank God. I had been ready to go home an hour ago, but I just had to agree to meet her, didn’t I? Me and my big mouth.
She slipped into the room, hair undone and trailing behind her in the most graceful of fashions. She had gotten rid of the dress and stiletto’s for a pair of leather pants so tight they looked like she had to cover herself in butter just to get them on, and a billowing white shirt. In one hand, she clutched at a leash, one that wasn’t needed in the least with the way Relena followed her, but it was there nonetheless.
I sat up a bit on the couch, finding it a bit difficult with the leather pants on the leather cushions. I struggled for a split second, then rose to my feet, even as she strolled past me to sit down in her chair behind that mammoth desk. Without apparent thought, she began to play with the end of the leash, her eyes never wavering as they watched me take my seat.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Duo,” she said, her voice betraying a hint of eagerness. Hmm, that got me to wonder, that and the dropping of the formalities.
“What is it you wanted to tell me, Dorothy?” I think I might have been a bit rude with that, jumping on the matter, but I was tired and really longing for my bed and several of my subs. Frankly, these auctions were really cockteases.
“Hm, I’m glad you’ve jumped on the matter,” she replied, dropping the chain to prop both elbows on her desk and interlock her fingers. She reminded me of an evil business character in some comic book I may have come across years ago. “As one of the most renowned Masters in the BDSM world, and one of the most famous Houses, I thought I would let you try out something new, something I have invented.”
She was gloating, horribly so at that. She was smart, don’t get me wrong, but damn, could she gloat like no other.
“And what would that be, Dorothy?”
“I have made…the perfect slave.” And the smirk that gripped her lips as my eyebrows quirked never wavered once.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my braid swishing back and forth as I shook my head.
“It’s just like how it sounds,” she said, leaning back and laughing lightly. “A slave that never talks back, never disobeys, never thinks of anything else in the world other than pleasing his master’s every waking desire.”
“It sounds like you made a robot,” I commented, snorting softly.
“Not exactly,” she purred; back to that again. “But think about it, Duo, think about it fully. Someone who will do anything and I do mean anything you ask, without a second thought. Who can’t even think or dream of going against your will. Someone who never needs a safeword, never says no-”
“Hold it, right there!” That was my breaking point, as a few unhappy people knew. “No safeword?! Where is the protection in that? You sound like you took away every basic right they have to be nothing more than a toy for us! They can’t even think for themselves? Damnit, Dorothy, what have you done?”
“They don’t need a safeword because they don’t understand the meaning of stopping, of going against whatever you say. They stop when you say stop,” she rambled, and I controlled all will to scream at her. Was she that blind? “As for what I’ve done, I did nothing more than hand them all an offer that they willingly accepted.”
“Quit talking in riddles and tell me what you’ve done!”
“Please, do calm down, Mr. Maxwell, or I will have to have you removed,” she sighed, speaking in a condescending, patronizing tone.
Panting slightly, I complied, still fighting every urge to scream. “Dorothy, please explain,” I muttered through grit teeth.
“I approached each of the people with an offer, complete servitude in my home for five years, all expenses paid, and every desire you ever lusted after met,” she replied. “But it was an experiment, Duo, and there were…things involved.”
“What…things?”
“Mind control,” she whispered, like it was some secret we were speaking of in a room full of people.
“What?!”
“Mind control, a form of brainwashing, permanent hypnosis almost.” She leaned back in her chair, fingers slipping down to stroke her pet’s hair. “They wake up everyday where the only desire in their heads is to please their master, and go to sleep everyday with that same thought. They know no other life.”
“You cannot be serious.” I honestly thought it was some sick, twisted joke; goddamnit, it just had to be! She was playing God with these people.
“Oh, I am, Mr. Maxwell, quite serious.”
“They can’t be happy, Dorothy,” I said, still trying not to scream. “They can’t…You can’t…”
“Duo, really, you need to calm down,” she replied, waving one hand back and forth. “They are happier than can be; their lives are simple and filled with love.”
“They have no thoughts of their own! They have nothing of their own!”
She sighed, a bit melodramatically, and lightly smirked. “Spend a week with one, Duo, here, in my house. You don’t even have to leave the room, just sit and play with one, and tell me he isn’t happy.”
“He?” I muttered.
She laughed and I could feel a small blush slipping into my cheeks. Of course she knew, everyone knew. “As if I am ignorant of your preferences, Duo. Come now, I have the perfect one, young and thin and muscular and Japanese. His name is Heero, Heero Yuy.”
I didn’t want to say yes, not at all. But I thought about it, deep and hard. Perhaps such a thing wasn’t all that bad; I know if my entire life was built around something as simple as that mantra, I could never find myself in any sort of worried. But they entire idea of robbing someone of freewill…I couldn’t forget that.
“No, Dorothy,” I growled. “I refuse to be involved in something like this shit.”
Her slim arm moved, and I knew she pressed a button even without having to see it. Less than a minute later, the door slipped open by the hand of a young, clothed, Asian man (obviously not part of the BDSM submissive crowd), and I caught my very first sight of Heero Yuy.