Ai No Kusabi Fan Fiction ❯ Ai o Juten ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Author's Note:

Ok, here we go. This scene stretched out, and so here you have two chapters posted together, because I promised the sex, and I don't intend to go back on that.

That said, I hope you enjoy reading!


Chapter Four

Fuck.

Ever since he'd taken Riki for his own the expletive haunted him, and that morning had been no exception. Riki had made him laugh, but Iason decided it was prudent to tell Riki he'd wanted to be in Iason's bed. Why else would he have performed so eagerly the night before?

“Your delusions are really something,” Riki said, dismissive, still struggling, though Iason hardly noticed it. The mongrel was no match for his superior strength after all. “There is no part of me that wants to be here, you jumped up toaster!”

“You lie to yourself, pet. It was charming, but you earned this night in my bed just as you earned my silence and the pet token. Do not deny it now.” Even after several hours, Iason was still pleased by the way Riki had obeyed his command the previous evening.

Riki pulled a strange face, and Iason tilted his head, as if he would see directly into the mongrel's mind. “Tell me, then, if I am wrong,” he challenged.

When the mongrel did not respond other than to tighten his lips, Iason looked to the ring on his finger, intending to make him react one way or another. “Wait!” Riki cried out loudly, his eyes wide in the grey light. “Don't!”

“Why not?” Iason demanded, and to his surprise Riki groaned beneath him, wincing.

“You're so stupid!” he accused, and Iason sighed, this time reaching to touch the control that would make the pet writhe beneath him. He wondered what it would feel like, with their bodies in such close contact. “No!” Riki yelled desperately, his hand closing around Iason's wrist, and again Iason hesitated. Clearly the pet was conflicted about something. “I'm trying...” he whined, his dark eyes gleaming. Then: “You're really going to make me say it, aren't you? You really don't know?” The pet gave an exasperated little growl that was actually quite endearing.

“Riki...” Iason warned. He had already allowed the mongrel to toy with him far longer than he should, and yet –

“I'm lonely, okay?” Riki said suddenly, his eyes closed now as if to deny Iason the chance to see those words in them. “Now you can laugh at me again,” he said, his voice gone dull and brittle. “I'm done.” Riki shivered. “Just... put me back in my room. Chain me up.”

“Lonely?” Iason echoed, speaking the word as if he were tasting it with his tongue. Just as with pain, he had no notion of the reality of it, and yet he understood the definition and all its connotations very well. These human things were like treats kept behind a glass window. He was surprised enough by the revelation to let Riki up from the bed, and the mongrel immediately strode to the door, which of course did not open for him.

Iason turned onto his side to look at his pet, standing there in the gloom. “And you thought I could ease this,” Iason asked, curious, trying to sound encouraging, “this loneliness in you?” He wondered momentarily if there was a way to make Riki describe it to him. Melancholy was valued by poets of old; it must have some purpose.

“Yeah, well...” Riki said quietly, refusing to look in Iason's direction. Instead he waited at the door like an animal waiting to be let out. Eventually, he grumbled to himself, and Iason had the strangest sensation, as if he had missed some kind of non-verbal cue. He analysed it in less than a tenth of a second, and dismissed the result as illogical. Why would the mongrel walk away if he desired Iason's touch? “Look who's wrong again, huh? I should have known better.”

“You're not swearing,” Iason pointed out, changing the subject slightly. He was finding this particular interaction surprisingly difficult to navigate. Riki did not seem to follow the rules in any way whatsoever, not even the rules of his own desire. It was natural for a pet to want to be near its Master. Riki's refusal to co-operate even on the most basic level was simultaneously fascinating and infuriating.

“Fuck you,” he said, as if Iason had reminded him, turning around at last, his eyes blazing with more familiar rebellion. “Put me back into solitary. Anything's better than hanging out with mechanical man.” He banged on the door with his fists, as if it would open to his frustration.

“I do have to work,” Iason allowed, but he also considered the pet's admission of loneliness. “I will instruct Daryl to spend time with you today.”

To his surprise, Riki did not seem to find that a fitting compromise. “Poor bastard has nothing to say. You've got him right where you want him, don't you?” he accused, shaking a finger in Iason's general direction. “Don't think I'm ever going to go that way you sick fuck.”

Immediately, Iason was amused, and his lips quirked upwards. “Oh, I should hope not,” he said meaningfully. For a fraction of a second it occurred to him to wonder why he had been made capable of amusement, yet not melancholy. “But he will be company, if that is what you want. That is why he is here.”

“Great,” Riki grunted, his words laced with sarcasm. “All for my benefit, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Iason said simply. It was the truth. Then he frowned. “Don't you understand anything?”

When the pet refused to communicate after that, Iason activated the ring for pleasure and made him come back to the bed. There were at least a couple of hours before Iason would rise, and it seemed a good way to put them to use, watching as his pet writhed in carnal abandon, feeling the way his body heated up, brushing lips over the racing pulse in his neck.

His nipples were as sensitive as ever to Iason's touch, and he amused himself by rolling them tenderly in his fingertips, relishing the way the mongrel's eyes widened, dark liquid pools of sheer invitation. Come on in, they said.

Although he had derided it the first time they met, Riki's sensitivity to his touch was one of the things which had ensured his fate. Iason wondered if he would be able to make his pet come again just from teasing him like this. The mongrel's hands slid up Iason's forearms, so he held Riki's wrists to the bed with one hand, continuing his teasing with the other.

The mongrel moaned and wriggled, then arched up into his touch, desperate. “Why don't you just do it?” he whispered, and there was a clear thread of frustration in him now. “What else did you bring me here for? To torment?”

Iason dismissed Riki's suggestion out of hand, but the other... “I like tormenting you,” he confided, full of dark joy. “You suffer so well and beautifully under my hand.”

He would come like this, Iason knew. All he had to do was continue. “No, it's not enough,” Riki argued, his body twisting now as he tried to hold back. “I won't fight if you don't tell, I promise. Just take what you want, then let me go. Please...”

Iason withdrew his touch, startled into it because he wondered suddenly if, against all odds, the mongrel was right. Perhaps this wasn't enough. Iason had kept pets before Riki, but he could take them or leave them. He'd changed them regularly because it showed him in a good light. It showed he had taste and discernment, but, ultimately, Iason's pets had been little more than a pretty piece of scenery, like a vase of cut flowers. Riki was different to any of them. His sensitivity, yes, but also his determination to feel everything set him apart. His vitality drew Iason with all the inevitability of night following day.

Iason did not caress him at all now, except to press fingers against his lips, as if he would be able to touch the sighs and moans that came from them. When he ordered it, Riki performed for him, unable to gather a refusal with the encouragement provided by the ring, and he wondered about something as he watched.

When it was over, and the pet was spent, Iason watched him. “Are you still lonely now?” he wanted to know.

Riki's eyes suddenly shone, and Iason could not be sure if it was a physiological response, or the effect of the rising sun, which streamed golden now through the window. “More so,” Riki said, turning his face away, all hollowed out, and those were his last words before Iason left that morning. He stalked back to his room in silence, and submitted to being chained to the centre of it without a murmur of protest or a single expletive.

Troubled, Iason instructed Daryl to spend the whole day with him, unless he became violent. He would check in on them later, when he had performed enough calculations to take a long enough break.

Settling back in his seat much later, Iason began with the recording from the moment he left, seeing the furniture had situated himself within the pet's room, out of reach should he attack. Riki did not acknowledge him, and Iason was able to fast forward a few hours of nothing before it began, then he watched in interest.

“You're wasting your time,” the mongrel said at last, without looking at the furniture. “You can't – or rather, won't – help me.”

“I am to keep you company.” Daryl's soft respectful voice barely carried. He really was perfect furniture, so docile and deferential that Iason often failed to realise he was even there. Perhaps, considering that, he was not the best choice to assuage the pet's professed loneliness.

“That's all right,” Riki replied, sounding bored. He had his back to the camera, so Iason switched the angle to a hidden one, which brought up the mongrel's face, dark eyes flashing like polished jet. “Go away.”

“I cannot disobey Master Iason,” Daryl said quietly.

“Oh, right. So I noticed.” Riki's mouth was a thin straight line. “Got one of these on you too, has he?” As he spoke he ran his fingers over his soft cock, contained by the 'D' ring. Iason was mildly surprised Riki hadn't figured the furniture out by now. He was not as stupid as he pretended to be. This should be interesting! Iason waited to see how Daryl would answer, beginning to feel slightly entertained.

“No...” This barely a whisper as the furniture drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them.

“No? Well, what is it, then?” Riki queried. “Something worse? What could possibly be worse?”

The furniture did not move or speak, and at last Iason saw the moment Riki comprehended the exact nature of Daryl's predicament. “Oh, no... no...” He stood up, twitchy, clearly unsure what to do with his deduction.

“How?” Riki demanded, his voice louder now, pacing around on the length of the chain that held him like a caged lion. “Why? What for? Did they grow tired of toying with you?”

Daryl flinched at each question, then looked up. “No, you are mistaken. I was always meant to be furniture. I was very young when I was chosen. I do not feel desire. I do not know what it is to feel...” He faltered. “I mean, I do not miss it.”

“That's so not the point,” Riki muttered, angry.

“Master Riki,” Daryl said, and the mongrel suddenly leapt at the furniture, only the length of his chain holding him back as Daryl rose in terror and pressed himself back against the wall, out of reach.

“I don't want to see you! Get out!” the mongrel snarled, furious, and Daryl offered a single apologetic look to the camera before fleeing the room.

When he was alone, Riki turned and looked into the camera. Iason switched to it easily, relishing the darkness in his pet. He was extraordinary!

“So you probably think that's funny, right? Especially after this morning. Well here's funny: if I ever get the chance I will fucking make it my job to kill you. Cunt. Look that fucker up in your internal dictionary. It'll say Iason Mink.”

That appeared to be all he had to say on the matter, since he seated himself beneath the camera with his head in his hands for most of the rest of the day. Iason checked upon him often, and apart from relieving himself, he did not move. And for most of the rest of the day, Riki was not far from Iason's thoughts. The kernel of an idea had begun, and Iason could not seem to stop thinking of it.

In fact, for the next few days, Iason thought of it almost constantly, until it ceased to shock him and instead became something intriguing. He decided it would be a kind of psychological test concerning the pet's loneliness, and that Riki would perform for him in a completely different way. There were a few things he would need, and all of them were easily obtainable during a short break partway through his work. The decision made, his day seemed to stretch out longer, his perception of time skewed, so that when he could leave, he almost hurried back to his abode. The usual sedate stroll took him exactly one minute fourteen seconds less than usual.

When he returned, he walked straight to the pet's room door, opening it, then stood in the doorway with his arms folded. At last, Riki glanced in his direction, and it was as though the mongrel could see his intention straight away. He jumped up and backed away as Iason stepped inside the room.

“Fuck me!” he said, then: “Shit! Why are you giving me the eye?”

If he realised, then that only made it easier. Iason smiled. “You have been asking for it since I brought you here.”

“No, I haven't!” Riki denied, shaking his head, his arms spread out as if to defend himself, but Iason did not venture far beyond the doorway. There were considerations to be taken care of before the act could be carried out.

“Fuck you,” Iason said, his voice serene but a fair approximation of Riki's nevertheless. “Fuck me, fuck this shit up. Always that word, over and over again.” Iason smoothed the material of his white gloves. “Do you know what a parapraxis is, Riki?”

“I swear, so what?” he demanded, ignoring the polite question. “You're not supposed to take it as an instruction!” He smiled strangely. “Or is that how you're programmed?”

“Free me!” he shouted, just as if he were swearing. Despite himself, Iason smirked, then advanced on Riki, enjoying the way the panic flared in those dark eyes.

“You will be good, won't you, pet?” he queried.

“Fff...” Riki said, but did not say the word. “No!” Something seemed to occur to him, and he relaxed marginally, edging his way around the wall to put distance between them. “You? Get your hands dirty? You wouldn't...”

“Well,” Iason deliberated, inclining his head in confirmation. “You're quite right about that.” He raised his voice a fraction. “Daryl!”

Immediately the furniture was by his side, ready to be of assistance. “Yes, Master.”

“Not him!” Riki yelled. “I won't! You can't make me!” Calmly, Iason activated the ring for pain, and his pet fell to the floor immediately. “Ahhh...!!!” he screamed. “Bastard!”

“Clean him,” Iason instructed the furniture, his voice cool. “Inside and out, as if he were to attend a party.”

“Yes, Master.” As they exchanged words, Riki writhed on the floor in misery, all of his resistance forgotten.

“He should be easy to handle now,” Iason noted. “Come and tell me when you have him secured, and I will release him from the pain.”

“Yes, Master.” The furniture bowed and went over to the mongrel, speaking softly, helping him up despite how Riki had attacked and then ignored him over the course of the past week.

“And Daryl,” Iason said as he watched the furniture assisting Riki to hobble out of the room, whimpering. He stepped back.

“Yes, Master?”

“Do it thoroughly,” he said. “I want no taint on him when you return him to me.” He paused as Daryl assured him it would be as he wished. Something occurred to him, and he was suddenly reminded of the feeding session, and how the pet had reacted when sustenance was put into him regardless of his wishes.

“Leave the door open so that I can hear,” Iason said at last. “Close it when you need to.”

Up until that point, all of his instructions had been ordinary, expected. This one was different, and yet the furniture was so well trained he did not even bat an eyelid. It was good for him. Any other response to Iason's request would have necessitated him finding a new furniture to replace Daryl. The way he had gasped when Iason commanded the feeding session had been a source of worry for a while, but he was satisfied now. There was no issue with Daryl.

Iason went to seat himself in the lounge as Daryl took the pet away. A few minutes later he returned alone to say that Riki was restrained, and Iason touched the ring on his finger, releasing Riki from its effect. The door to the bathroom for the use of Iason's pets was left open, and he did not imagine the sob of relief that came from it.

The furniture went to continue with the task, and though Iason did not intend to watch, he listened intently. Soon after he had brought Riki to the tower, he had certain specific equipment installed in that bathroom. All academy pets were well used to enemas, and so there had been no restraints, but Riki was different.

Iason closed his eyes and imagined the harness the pet was currently restrained in, set to hold his lower body up while his head and his arms were close to the floor, manacled there. He could hear Daryl's soft tones, but not his words. He would be preparing the warm water as Riki watched, filling the bag with it. Now he would be –

“Please!” Riki suddenly said out loud. “I'm sorry, Daryl, but you shouldn't have called me 'Master.' I'm not one of them, you know.”

More soothing whispers and assurances, and then the pet cried out once. “Don't,” he said, but then Daryl must be doing his work regardless of Riki's plea, because a low moan drifted out of the bathroom door.

To the soundtrack of Riki's helpless groans and pleas to stop, Iason imagined the scene inside. All of that warm water, squeezed tenderly inside, filling him up to the point of pain. He imagined Daryl performing it, and as before Iason had a sudden urge to stride in and stop the furniture. Not to stop what was happening, but because no one should touch Riki but him. It should be him, causing Riki to make those enticing helpless noises. And the words he would say as he did it...

Yes, moan for me and beg me to end this . I will not. Do you feel how I own you now ? Every part of you is mine, despite your insubordination, despite your wishes, despite your protestations. If I could, I would inscribe my name on each of your organs. My pet...

Iason was pulled out of his daydream when the bathroom door was closed to continue with the second part of the procedure. Full of anticipation, Iason got up and prepared his gathered items, all of them contained in a small black leather valise. He laid them out in order on his bedside table as if he were to perform a ritual. Perhaps that is exactly how it would be. A ritual was a human thing too.

He retired back to the lounge to wait, having removed his bodysuit and his boots and gloves. He counted the seconds as they ticked away one by one. His internal clock was precise and incapable of error. Each passing second was a second closer. Iason luxuriated in this new sense of eagerness. It felt as though he fizzed with it, as if he could not properly rest until what he desired came to pass.

What was it about Riki? Iason had dealings with slum mongrels before. A vision of Katze presented itself immediately, and he discarded it. Greedy, grasping, desperate they were, useful in some ways, yet Riki did not encapsulate any of those adjectives. Proud, arrogant, superior. Oh, yes, those fitted him. And the more he became aware they would avail him nothing, the more he fell back upon them. Something about that delighted Iason. They were very alike, with the exception that Riki's superiority was imagined, while Iason's was engineered.

But was it imagined? Riki would be able to put a name to all of the sensations that were currently being awoken in Iason without referral. He lived as he felt, not as he thought. He was a being of endless nuance which the greatest artificial neural network could not hope to match. He had the spark, and while he shared it with many others, only in Riki did Iason see it expressed to its full potential, capable of burning even him, capable of destroying Riki himself.

Again, he was disturbed from his daydreams by the bathroom door. Despite his own thoughts of the past several minutes, Riki was subdued as he allowed Daryl to lead him out. Yet something about him had changed since he was taken. He'd become much more comfortable with his own nakedness, walking proudly, even if he was rather more quiet and malleable than usual.

His black hair stood up in unruly spikes because the furniture had trimmed it to perfection. His jet black eyes burned beneath his long eyelashes. His skin gleamed slightly with oils that Daryl had rubbed in to show the definition of his muscles and the lines of his limbs. Something had been done to accentuate the sparkle in the pet's eyes, the red of his lips, and the effect was quite beautiful. Daryl had not neglected anything, and Riki's cock gleamed with the same oil as the rest of him, standing hard and proud of his body.

The furniture had hold of his arm at the elbow, his wrists were manacled together with cuffs and a short length of chain. The effect was very pleasing indeed. Iason smiled his appreciation as he stood up.

“Will that be all, Master?” Daryl murmured respectfully.

“Oh, yes. You may retire, Daryl. We shall not need you again until the morning.”

With a slight bow, the furniture retreated, melting away until Iason and Riki were quite alone.


Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying this little dalliance.