Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Yes Master, My Master ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Spider_Queen 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.20.2001 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 917 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.20.2001 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 917 | Status: Completed
Note: Just a quick "thank you" to Masamune for playing beta reader on this. Arigatou!!!! Other than that, here is a bit of a break from the dark, DARK stuff-my attempt at making the characters more three-demensional (amoung other things). Thanks.
Quatre stared at the blank ceiling, a faint expression of confusion on his face. He didn't understand what was going on...The man, Gabriel, whipped him, raped him, and then whipped him again. This much, Quatre understood.
The man was a sadist. He derived sexual pleasure from causing other people pain. Quatre certainly did not share the sick fetish, but he understood it.
What happened after the beating, however, he didn't understand in the least.
He had been untied and brought back into the room with the soft bed and tapestries that he'd first awakened in after Gabriel "saved" him from the other two men. The pale demon-like man had put Quatre on the bed, and carefully spread salve over the whip marks that had been given to him with equal care. It stung, but on some level it also helped to eased the pain. After dressing the his new wounds, and checking the old ones, Gabriel had left Quatre alone to sleep. This confused Quatre to no end-first this man causes him pain, promises to break him, but then takes care of him afterward? This made little sense. It almost seemed like the sadist cared for the young pilot.
Tired as he was, exhausted really, Quatre couldn't sleep. He didn't even really try. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling trying to sort through everything.
His eyes drifted closed, yet sleep remained miles away. Without really meaning to, Quatre pictured Trowa, with his expressionless, yet somehow caring face, half covered by his unibang. Trowa, who would wrap the shorter pilot in his arms and hold him tight, safe from everything. Trowa that would stroke Quatre's hair when he couldn't sleep, making the blond Arabian feel more like a cat then a human and want to purr. Trowa....
The painfully beautiful images nearly brought new tears to Quatre's eyes, and did bring a small, half smile to his lips. He missed Trowa-he missed Duo, Heero, Wufei, Sandrock...he even missed Relena. Any familiar face, familiar sensation. Anything that could drag him out of the spiderweb of nightmares that he was caught in, and away from the spider, Gabriel.
"Why?" he whispered to himself. Gabriel had said that Quatre could be "one of them," One of who? One of what? And why would Quatre want to be like the sadistic creature anyway?
Quatre shook his head from side to side, trying to block out any pictures that were conjured. Quatre, whip in hand, ragarding regarding some young helpless boy chained nude to a wall. Quatre, watching from the shadows as his laughing companions beat a child till he was nothing save a blood covered body, sobbing on the ground. Quatre coming into someone's home, his arms grabbing someone else's, swinging a screaming boy over his shoulder, taking him away from all that was comfortable and familiar.
Quatre's shaking grew more violent. No! Never! He would NEVER become like that; he would never let himself slip and fall to that level. He would never be broken. He would die first, die before he could hurt someone, before he could change into something else, something different.
"Can't sleep, little one?" the sound of Trowa's nickname for Quatre falling from the vile lips of a sadist brought Quatre's eyes open with a start. He didn't bother to conceal the glare, hurt and anger that was buried within their depths. Though he definitely noticed Quatre's reaction to his words, Gabriel's expression remained exactly the same-false care and sympathy directed at the boy he himself had intentionally hurt.
Turning his head slightly away, the blond Arabian pointedly closed his eyes, with every intention of ignoring the sadistic man.
Gabriel quietly sat down, Quatre could feel his weight on the edge of the bed. "You must be awfully confused and lonely right now," Gabriel's voice was quiet, not that whisper he had first used, nor the cold voice that Quatre had grown accustomed to. This time he sounded different, more genuine.
It scared Quatre. He didn't trust the other man one bit, he didn't want to, yet it was obvious to him that Gabriel wanted him to for one reason or another.
Slender fingers brushed over Quatre's hair, causing the fine strands to shift gently and Quatre to flinch away slightly. Once again, a perfect picture of Trowa was conjured up in the young pilot's mind, but he shoved it away angrily. He could not associate this shadow of a man with his beloved-he refused to see any good in this person who beat and raped him.
"This same thing happened to me too, you see," Gabriel was saying as he stroked Quatre's head. Despite himself, the young blond found himself intrigued by the other's words. "I, also, was taken away from my family-a small family that consisted of my mother, my father, my older brother and myself. My father ran a small bread store in Vienna, we lived behind it. My brother and I used to love to help make the bread, and then watch it bake in the great ovens. Our home was always filled with it's warm aroma," The tall man paused in petting Quatre, and sighed. To his surprise, Quatre found himself wishing that Gabriel would continue-both with his story and with the gentle fingering of Quatre's hair.
There was silence for a moment, then Gabriel gently picked up a strand of Quatre's golden locks and rubbed it between two fingers. "I was just turning sixteen when it happened," his voice grew softer yet suddenly held some true emotion in it-darkness, unhappiness, a tint of anger. "Men, dressed in all black, stole me off the street while I was walking to deliver a loaf of bread to one of my father's loyal customers. They hit me, hurt me; I cried and screamed and they showed no mercy. Then their Master came. He came and helped me-oh, he hurt me too, but he taught me. He taught me history, and the truth about pain. He taught me about honor and loyalty. When he died-for he was quite old by the time I was ready-I took his place." Gabriel leaned forward overQuatre's body, as though to be sure the other boy heard the next words that he spoke. "I searched for someone then, someone who could take my place when I died-and now, after countless failures,I have finally found you."
Quatre shuddered involuntarily at the melancholy story. He had felt compassion for his captor growing somewhere deep within his soul, but it evaporated with Gabriel's last words. The sweet blond could just picture what happened to the "failures" He could picture the other two men that had beaten him pounding into young crying boys, slamming fists against them till they bled. The crack of bone, and later the broken bodies, sprawled lifeless on the floor of the room that now held his blood on it's one-time white walls. It was not something that Quatre wanted to think about.
Gabriel sat back, his weight shifting the bed slightly, though Quatre could still feel the other's eyes on him, the warmth of his body as the sadist remained close. "What are you thinking, little one?" The man asked after several moments of silence.
Quatre answered automatically, the thought that he should remain quiet not passing into his mind until after he had spoken. "I'm thinking about how horrid fate is," he said truthfully. "About those 'failures' you spoke of; about how you could do this to someone, even when it had been done to you," Tears weld in Quatre's closed blue eyes at the last, but he shut them away with difficulty.
"Ah," Gabriel shifted again, then spoke as though the young man had asked him a question. "I can do this to you," the dark haired man said, watching the boy carefully for a reaction. "Because my Master also taught me to enjoy it. And I do enjoy it."
The small boy restrained a shudder-he didn't want to show any reaction. He didn't want to have any reaction; he just wanted to be left alone. He just wanted this to be a nightmare, not reality. He just wanted to be back with his friends and family.
"You still don't see why I do this, do you?" The long haired man asked, catching Quatre's thoughts in the boy's tense muscles and the silent fury and pain that radiated from him. "No, I don't suspect you'd know of us," Quatre's interest was once again caught by the short, softly spoken line that seemed to be direct more at Gabriel himself, rather than Quatre.
Gabriel stretched himself out on the soft bed beside Quatre, making the Gundam pilot feel very uncomfortable in doing so. "Let me tell you a story, little one, and then perhaps your pain will make more sense...."
"No," Quatre spoke up, his voice still hoarse from screaming, his word surprising both himself and Gabriel, though Gabriel's only reaction to it was a glance in the poor boyÕs direction. "I don't want to hear a story," Quatre didn't want to hear anything more-he didn't want to understand how someone would love causing another being such exquisite pain. "I want to be left alone,"
Gabriel didn't move for a long moment, and Quatre began to think that he wouldn't go-why should he, after all, when Quatre could do nothing to force him to. Quatre couldn't do anything-even lying, unbound, on the soft bed, he was all too aware of that fact. The welts that covered his body still stinged-a painful reminder of what had happened earlier, and of how he could do nothing to prevent it.
At last Gabriel stood. "I won't tell you this now, then," he said softly. "But you will learn it. You will hear it. You will become a Master one day."
The man left as softly as he had approached, and Quatre tightened his eyes closed, the pictures of him hurting people once again springing to his eyes. He couldn't, he wouldn't-not ever, not for any reason.
A single crystal tear leaked from one eyes and ran down his cheek and along his nose as he gave into exhaustion.
Review? next part will be up soon (I think-this is my favorite story right now, so I'll probably be writing more soon)
Quatre stared at the blank ceiling, a faint expression of confusion on his face. He didn't understand what was going on...The man, Gabriel, whipped him, raped him, and then whipped him again. This much, Quatre understood.
The man was a sadist. He derived sexual pleasure from causing other people pain. Quatre certainly did not share the sick fetish, but he understood it.
What happened after the beating, however, he didn't understand in the least.
He had been untied and brought back into the room with the soft bed and tapestries that he'd first awakened in after Gabriel "saved" him from the other two men. The pale demon-like man had put Quatre on the bed, and carefully spread salve over the whip marks that had been given to him with equal care. It stung, but on some level it also helped to eased the pain. After dressing the his new wounds, and checking the old ones, Gabriel had left Quatre alone to sleep. This confused Quatre to no end-first this man causes him pain, promises to break him, but then takes care of him afterward? This made little sense. It almost seemed like the sadist cared for the young pilot.
Tired as he was, exhausted really, Quatre couldn't sleep. He didn't even really try. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling trying to sort through everything.
His eyes drifted closed, yet sleep remained miles away. Without really meaning to, Quatre pictured Trowa, with his expressionless, yet somehow caring face, half covered by his unibang. Trowa, who would wrap the shorter pilot in his arms and hold him tight, safe from everything. Trowa that would stroke Quatre's hair when he couldn't sleep, making the blond Arabian feel more like a cat then a human and want to purr. Trowa....
The painfully beautiful images nearly brought new tears to Quatre's eyes, and did bring a small, half smile to his lips. He missed Trowa-he missed Duo, Heero, Wufei, Sandrock...he even missed Relena. Any familiar face, familiar sensation. Anything that could drag him out of the spiderweb of nightmares that he was caught in, and away from the spider, Gabriel.
"Why?" he whispered to himself. Gabriel had said that Quatre could be "one of them," One of who? One of what? And why would Quatre want to be like the sadistic creature anyway?
Quatre shook his head from side to side, trying to block out any pictures that were conjured. Quatre, whip in hand, ragarding regarding some young helpless boy chained nude to a wall. Quatre, watching from the shadows as his laughing companions beat a child till he was nothing save a blood covered body, sobbing on the ground. Quatre coming into someone's home, his arms grabbing someone else's, swinging a screaming boy over his shoulder, taking him away from all that was comfortable and familiar.
Quatre's shaking grew more violent. No! Never! He would NEVER become like that; he would never let himself slip and fall to that level. He would never be broken. He would die first, die before he could hurt someone, before he could change into something else, something different.
"Can't sleep, little one?" the sound of Trowa's nickname for Quatre falling from the vile lips of a sadist brought Quatre's eyes open with a start. He didn't bother to conceal the glare, hurt and anger that was buried within their depths. Though he definitely noticed Quatre's reaction to his words, Gabriel's expression remained exactly the same-false care and sympathy directed at the boy he himself had intentionally hurt.
Turning his head slightly away, the blond Arabian pointedly closed his eyes, with every intention of ignoring the sadistic man.
Gabriel quietly sat down, Quatre could feel his weight on the edge of the bed. "You must be awfully confused and lonely right now," Gabriel's voice was quiet, not that whisper he had first used, nor the cold voice that Quatre had grown accustomed to. This time he sounded different, more genuine.
It scared Quatre. He didn't trust the other man one bit, he didn't want to, yet it was obvious to him that Gabriel wanted him to for one reason or another.
Slender fingers brushed over Quatre's hair, causing the fine strands to shift gently and Quatre to flinch away slightly. Once again, a perfect picture of Trowa was conjured up in the young pilot's mind, but he shoved it away angrily. He could not associate this shadow of a man with his beloved-he refused to see any good in this person who beat and raped him.
"This same thing happened to me too, you see," Gabriel was saying as he stroked Quatre's head. Despite himself, the young blond found himself intrigued by the other's words. "I, also, was taken away from my family-a small family that consisted of my mother, my father, my older brother and myself. My father ran a small bread store in Vienna, we lived behind it. My brother and I used to love to help make the bread, and then watch it bake in the great ovens. Our home was always filled with it's warm aroma," The tall man paused in petting Quatre, and sighed. To his surprise, Quatre found himself wishing that Gabriel would continue-both with his story and with the gentle fingering of Quatre's hair.
There was silence for a moment, then Gabriel gently picked up a strand of Quatre's golden locks and rubbed it between two fingers. "I was just turning sixteen when it happened," his voice grew softer yet suddenly held some true emotion in it-darkness, unhappiness, a tint of anger. "Men, dressed in all black, stole me off the street while I was walking to deliver a loaf of bread to one of my father's loyal customers. They hit me, hurt me; I cried and screamed and they showed no mercy. Then their Master came. He came and helped me-oh, he hurt me too, but he taught me. He taught me history, and the truth about pain. He taught me about honor and loyalty. When he died-for he was quite old by the time I was ready-I took his place." Gabriel leaned forward overQuatre's body, as though to be sure the other boy heard the next words that he spoke. "I searched for someone then, someone who could take my place when I died-and now, after countless failures,I have finally found you."
Quatre shuddered involuntarily at the melancholy story. He had felt compassion for his captor growing somewhere deep within his soul, but it evaporated with Gabriel's last words. The sweet blond could just picture what happened to the "failures" He could picture the other two men that had beaten him pounding into young crying boys, slamming fists against them till they bled. The crack of bone, and later the broken bodies, sprawled lifeless on the floor of the room that now held his blood on it's one-time white walls. It was not something that Quatre wanted to think about.
Gabriel sat back, his weight shifting the bed slightly, though Quatre could still feel the other's eyes on him, the warmth of his body as the sadist remained close. "What are you thinking, little one?" The man asked after several moments of silence.
Quatre answered automatically, the thought that he should remain quiet not passing into his mind until after he had spoken. "I'm thinking about how horrid fate is," he said truthfully. "About those 'failures' you spoke of; about how you could do this to someone, even when it had been done to you," Tears weld in Quatre's closed blue eyes at the last, but he shut them away with difficulty.
"Ah," Gabriel shifted again, then spoke as though the young man had asked him a question. "I can do this to you," the dark haired man said, watching the boy carefully for a reaction. "Because my Master also taught me to enjoy it. And I do enjoy it."
The small boy restrained a shudder-he didn't want to show any reaction. He didn't want to have any reaction; he just wanted to be left alone. He just wanted this to be a nightmare, not reality. He just wanted to be back with his friends and family.
"You still don't see why I do this, do you?" The long haired man asked, catching Quatre's thoughts in the boy's tense muscles and the silent fury and pain that radiated from him. "No, I don't suspect you'd know of us," Quatre's interest was once again caught by the short, softly spoken line that seemed to be direct more at Gabriel himself, rather than Quatre.
Gabriel stretched himself out on the soft bed beside Quatre, making the Gundam pilot feel very uncomfortable in doing so. "Let me tell you a story, little one, and then perhaps your pain will make more sense...."
"No," Quatre spoke up, his voice still hoarse from screaming, his word surprising both himself and Gabriel, though Gabriel's only reaction to it was a glance in the poor boyÕs direction. "I don't want to hear a story," Quatre didn't want to hear anything more-he didn't want to understand how someone would love causing another being such exquisite pain. "I want to be left alone,"
Gabriel didn't move for a long moment, and Quatre began to think that he wouldn't go-why should he, after all, when Quatre could do nothing to force him to. Quatre couldn't do anything-even lying, unbound, on the soft bed, he was all too aware of that fact. The welts that covered his body still stinged-a painful reminder of what had happened earlier, and of how he could do nothing to prevent it.
At last Gabriel stood. "I won't tell you this now, then," he said softly. "But you will learn it. You will hear it. You will become a Master one day."
The man left as softly as he had approached, and Quatre tightened his eyes closed, the pictures of him hurting people once again springing to his eyes. He couldn't, he wouldn't-not ever, not for any reason.
A single crystal tear leaked from one eyes and ran down his cheek and along his nose as he gave into exhaustion.
Review? next part will be up soon (I think-this is my favorite story right now, so I'll probably be writing more soon)