Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Exploited ❯ Chapter 1! ( Chapter 1 )

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

AN: Oh, man, where has this dropped off to? Well, it has come back... And I've changed a few things.. like... Milliardo isn't a virgin.. I

Disclaimer: ..

Pairings: 13x6, 1x2, 5x4x3 (omg, I think that is so neat.. I don't think I've ever seen it before...)

Warnings: Psychological madness, a bit OOC from some people, gay sex and slavery, romance- Milliardo is a nymphomaniac, but that satyr- is replaced for men. It all means a disorder of hypersexuality (constant, though fruitless effort to achieve sexual gratification)

Summary: The incredible intro of my favorite pairing..

Enjoy.

Chapter One


There were several things that may or may not be said at certain times of the day, to Treize Kushrenada. And, also, that issue of speaking of whatever whenever also came according to his mood which were all based on a series of habits and whatever happened that day.

For instance, today Milliardo wanted to ask, fearfully for the first time, after carefully watching his master for a whole month, one out of eight of training, about loosening the chain that held them together.

The real link between Treize and him, though, was the ginger-haired man's reputation as a loan shark, besides other things, and the blonde's family's debts. Despite the fact they had a hell of a lot of money, the loan from Kushrenada could have destroyed their foundation of living. Fortunately, most would guess, Treize had been quite taken- lustfully intrigued, that is- by Milliardo Peacecraft. The boy relinquished himself as soon as his second semester of school started, much to the family's mortification, and over that summer trained to be Treize's perfect servant, Milliardo eventually came to know a lot about his master.

Such as, drinking wine sometimes meant relaxation- sometimes irritability and a need for utmost obedience from Milliardo- sometimes a slump in which he would brood for awhile. Only that first habit allowed Milliardo for his chance to speak semi-peacefully with his master.

He waited a full hour, passing that time reading a small book, and then he was actually called by Treize. Milliardo heard him clearly, being just down the hall from the lobby where the fireplace burned and the rug was severed from the wall in an octagonal shape . In his grand chair Treize sat. Just before his instinctive response to kneel on the cushion kicked in, Treize caught his hand and pulled him around the waist. Idly, the man flicked away the waistband of his pajamas and licked him at his base.

Now, he was a growing boy. Certain things were out of balance in his body, like control, his lack of control, actually. And Treize surely had ways of taking away his control.

Treize... was in a fantastic mood, sipping wine and sucking him off, yet Milliardo didn't get his hopes up. He was just too light-headed with anticipation to say anything yet.

"I might just let you come today," growled Treize, and Milliardo's knees invariably collapsed. The master stood up and instead shoved Milliardo into his chair, another first for the boy, and began to suck him again.

Besides the habits and circumstances of the day, something that tied in with the mood, was the level of Treize's mood. That factor was most determinable, fortunately. In the level he was in now, it is like a good song. A much-awaited situation but very much short-lived. Level One Master mode came after this appropriately named level- Sugar Daddy. Level One left no room at all for Milliardo's suggestion. Brood Level gave him at least a reprieve from his usual voyeuristic punishment sessions.

It had barely been two minutes, but Milliardo's need to orgasm was rapidly deteriorating his chain of thoughts, and the fierce sucking at the tip of his penis, pull and push of the skin of his cock, was not helping. He grabbed his master's wrist, managing to still them before Treize, with dark furious eyes, enveloped him whole. When the man realized Milliardo resisted his pleasure, he stopped and delivered a horrible attack to the boy's right thigh.

Treize was ALMOST angry; if he was really mad Milliardo would be over his knee already, gagged with his fingers, having blow after blow rain down on his bottom. But, Treize gazed steadily, eyes quickly darkening, a reaction that meant that Treize Kushrenada was entering Master Mode Level One. Milliardo had to think fast, or else he'll miss this chance...

"I-I wanted to ask you something, Mr. Trieze." Milliardo, since they first met, had always called his master Mr. Treize, unless the other said otherwise, which meant that he actually hardly ever called him Mr. Treize- instead mostly master. "You're always... at work. Matter-of-fact, I assume it went well today?" And when you come home, you only want to 'play' with me.

"I told you I sealed a Bexan opium route," murmured Treize with narrow eyes. "Hadn't you been listening?"

Milliardo nodded quickly, knowing anything he might say would be taken the wrong way. "Well, I'm lonely here..."

"I always come home, my pretty bitch." That's what Treize had begun to call him on a daily basis, at which every time the blonde would blush. "Get to the point," i.e. Milliardo had less than fifteen seconds.

"I would like to go to school, Mr. Treize," the boy blurted and quickly continued on," I won't join clubs or be unfaithful to you. Just something that can pass the," fucking,"time around here when you're gone. You wouldn't have to worry about me, either-" And if you don't let me go I'm going to gouge your freakin' eyes out, Milliardo added mentally. The spite still rang in there, which subconsciously believed Treize was pure evil.

"First, I don't worry at all about you. Second, I could care less that you are lonely without me, only that you obey my every command." Milliardo wilted, shrinking back into the seat. "But, I'll let you go." Treize's mouth twitched.

There was a catch he was holding in as he stood up and replaced the flannel bottoms back on Milliardo- since the mood was broken and all. He tugged Milliardo downwards, and the slave kneeled, and Treize again took his rightful seat in the chair. In this traditional setting, Treize visibly relaxed.

"But," Here it comes, "the only way you are able to stay is if you can make five male friends by the Friday of the first week. Of course, they have to meet my standards."

Bastard. "Why only guys?" Milliardo asked, with obvious edginess that hopefully went unnoticed.

It didn't. And Treize smoothly entered Master Level Two, or the Asshole Level, which the heathen would go to ridiculous measures just to embarrass his slave- whether it be punishment or somthing else. This time, he calmly poured the rest of his wine onto Milliardo's silver hair, dying it pink, and made the hard cushion the boy was seated on uncomfortably spongy with wetness. Finishing his glass, he reached on the other side for the whole bottle, pulled the cork, and just as easily poured the rest of it. He smiled at his red-streaked work of art before answering, "Because, girls would be simple towards a boy so...becoming a sight such as you."

Milliardo was angry as he stood. One thing that turned Treize on, he believed, was the way he quickly rose to anger- of course, Treize had a quick temper as well, he just looked calmer about it. He could hardly see straight or hear correctly or think judiciously before he branded his fist into Treize's jaw and had the other fist strike him just soon after.

Remember the swift, agonizing punishments? Those were because of the times Milliardo had fought Treize. When they got going, it wasn't a few slaps and taps on the chin, rather like two bears. Treize had introduced the ethics of kneeling when the master and slave had their first fight. Milliardo had pushed Treize, and the man pushed back and had angrily hit him again. Treize came out of the battle with a deep bite mark on his arm, a scar was still there, and Milliardo was hit so many times with a taming stick, he stood all the time for two weeks. Even when finally learning to kneel, he kept his behind a bit elevated above his feet so it wouldn't be harmed.

Now, their biggest fight had been when Treize first touched him, groping slightly on his behind at the end of June. The boy's elbow connected so well that blood spurted from the smitten nose, and the owner jointed to it cried out. This was the first time Milliardo had seen the man in Murder Mode, a master level that didn't even have a number, and Treize would transform to his Spilnexian form and wanted him- or anybody else unlucky enough- dead. Throwing knives, chairs, unluckily well-aimed fists, it was a wonder Milliardo came out alive. He thanked God, Buddha, Allah, and whoever else allegedly watched over him that that iron, still hot, had landed lightly on his chest and not his face or lower than the waist.

Now he prayed to those deities all at once again, for he had locked the door to his room, and, mindlessly, Treize was punching through it.

Since they first met, they were in pretty decent shape, but Treize made it totally unforgettable that hard work payed off, and both of them worked out every day. When the muscles were too tired of dumbbells and 45-pound bars, they ran..miles after mile.. And ran...And ran...If the flame-haired man decided to kick the door, it'll be over.

Milliardo actually got on his knees and specifically chose God to pray to, seeing as how Roman Catholics ruled most of the religious, even if they were a bit nuts.

Please... Just let him forget all about it... They said God was almighty right? That was just as mighty as Milliardo could believe him to be. It'd be a downright miracle, that's for sure.

A hole finally fell through-PLEASE!!- but Treize had calmed down while using the door as a personal hit-sack-THANK YOU!! - and he stared down with a deep frown and wild eyes.

Then-Holy shit, there is someone up there!!- Milliardo's master had his cellphone ring just then, and Treize answered with such a forceful flicker of his finger that it snapped away and he left the hole to go get it. His angry, arguing voice shook the walls and the slave chanced opening the door.

"I don't deal with fucking slave trades across planets, countries, or wherever else!...How much?" Treize asked, voice softening a great deal and a look of puzzlement crossing his face as he leaned against the corridor wall. "So he wants me to get everything ready for him.... Are you sure he can risk paying me that much, Une? Alright..." The ginger-haired master caught Milliardo with a tranquilizing stare that made Milliardo's knees buckle, again. He hadn't charged at him.. so everything must be alright then. For now.

"Voria... Ah, no wonder... Their draconic hominids are quite something... Now what makes you think I have the time to go all the way to Voria of the Southern Quadrant- The third colony of Bex? That's much better...Section-Milliardo, write this down," he ordered suddenly, and the boy immediately set off on the task and came back with pen and a clipboard," Bex, Section 5, Community 8, House number 3566....There's only ONE, correct?.... Nice talking to you, Une, and send Noin my regards or whatever and that I've unblocked her number now." He hung up.

Noin had been Zechs's fiance and had called incessantly when she found out the news of his enslavement. Presumbly, Treize eventually blocked her number.

Milliardo, after the six and his little reminiscence of Noin, couldn't move. He stood there, pen poised above his calligraphy, every muscle fiber screaming with adrenaline and an instinct of the 'flight' response. This has happened before, and this must be an ability Treize rarely could do.

The crime boss was from Spilnex- and his middle name was Spulnix, go figure- and the creatures, hominids, were mysteriously listed on the Endangered Race List of Solar System Porse, Eastern Quadrant- how he got to Second Earth of the Northern Quadrant was beyond anyone's cerebration. Digressing, to help with their issue of endangerment, the government prohibited explicit characterization of their race. Such as paralyzing some victim every once in a while with just a stare.

That information certainly did shit-diddly for Milliardo and still wouldn't of helped when Treize knocked him out.

And Milliardo had a dream, one of those annoying prophetic ones that came to his race of Peacecrafts- not race exactly, more of a bloodline of telepathic powers and the like. Somehow, the stronger the ability was the more difficulties it came with. His sister Relena, for example, couldn't have a vision- prophetic insight Mr. Darlian always said -without losing all her senses, in the meaning of hearing seeing, etc., that could last for hour or days. His dad was tormented by muscles spasms. His mother? Swollen blood vessels that one day gave her an aneurysm. His step-mother was weak and only twitched a bit. And she deserved worse than that...

Milliardo himself, for whatever reason his visions came with a strong aftereffect.

Oh... The embarrassment... Thank....whoever... That his visions came usually at night.. when Treize was rarely around...

He himself had episodes of hypersexuality...satyriasis to be more specific... His passion would rise to such an extent his vision would be rendered useless by the onset of hormones. Milliardo would awaken only to take care of a chaotic need to relieve himself.. Over..and over...and over.. When this had first happened he had set his alarm clock, which had been ordered to chime at exactly five a.m., even earlier to four-thirty. Just in case Treize decided to come in early, or late, and take a look at him. A night never went by that he didn't pass out after having several orgasms, so it was critical to get cleaned up.

It was bad enough he had a naturally high libido and Treize emitted Spilnexian hormones and he was a Half- a common occurence of being a hermaphrodite. It wasn't having two different sexual organs. He looked entirely male, but on the inside he had dormant eggs.

Well, back to the vision, the lead character was a small, scrawnier than chicken bone child. Tied to each ankle was the child's braids, and Milliardo saw by the artificial sky and the overall nastiness of the alleyway in which the child stood that this was a colony. The poor kid must be homeless.

"Hello, little boy," said someone, a man filthier than an underground sewage rat. The vision began to shift, as if it was a television and a kid decided it'd be fun to rub a magnet over it. Coming a little faster than last time, the vision would be stopped short because of his racing heart.

"Where's Solo?" The boy asked, obviously not in the mood for formalities. "You said you'd bring him here.."

Milliardo noticed something abnormally stunning: the soft swirl of violet in the boy's eyes. Walking in his vision, or gliding since he really wasn't there, his heart ached at the uneasy shift of those eyes. When a bit of light hit them, they glowed and spun faster. The boy wasn't human.

And the dirty guy wasn't either, growing a third eye from the middle of his head that sprung from a horn-like appendage, sprouting a couple more fingers on each hand, another row of teeth appeared in the back of the regular bottom row. The vision shifted worse than last time, and stayed shifted.

"I did bring him," the man whispered, spit flew on the nearby building and disintegrated the brick and the ground as the saliva trailed down. The vision began to grey and fuzz over...And the throbbing of his heart could be heard over the conversation.

Unexpectedly, the boy's hair flipped up, twirling and flickering around like lightening zapping upwards, and the monster was just as surprised as Milliardo was. "Where's Solo!?" he screamed, eyes filled with tears and hair still suspended.

Instead of a sly answer, the monster lunged, and Milliardo swore on everything that his heart stopped, but the boy side-stepped out of the way, almost nonchalantly, if his eyes weren't pouring tears.

"I ate him, you little shit, and I'm gonna eat you too!" Hissing, the creature slithered on the ground towards the boy, who stood there shaken, in shock.. and not looking as if he was going to move. In some odd feeling, Milliardo went before him as some shield. Of course, as just some ghostly spectator, the beast slithered straight through, and before Milliardo could turn around to see what happened to the boy who was Solo's friend, the vision blurred off.

Of course. Now, he'll spend the next two weeks worrying over some kid he doesn't even know from a vision that could've happened a hundred years in the past while at the same time explain to Treize God-of-the-World Kushrenada why he hid the fact that he was a raging nymphomaniac in male form after visions (since men suffering from satyriasis actually tried to have sex with women, while Milliardo was lucky to squeeze his hands over himself). If he had sex with anyone, the problem will last for days, and days, and days- he'd go insane.

Milliardo could just see that smug face now...Actually, he could see Treize face, and besides being amused, the man was completely engrossed with Milliardo's utterly engorged erection.

"Did you have a nice dream?" he asked, trailing a hand up Milliardo's quivering thigh.

Not wanting to face the fact that he was completely embarrassed and detested the way Treize teased him, the boy knuckled him hard in the nose, causing blood to drip from his nostrils, and Milliardo ran.

God decided to take a break just then.