Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Yes Master, My Master ❯ part 11 ( Chapter 11 )
[ 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: 589 | 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: 589 | Status: Completed
Play? The word seemed anything but fun to Quatre, when it was connected-even remotely-to Cassiel; or even Gabriel for that matter. The thought of the auburn haired master "playing" with his melancholy-looking pets, or Quatre himself, made the blond want to recoil far into the recesses of his soul. He wished his Trowa were around; he'd not let his little one be hurt.
With a pang of guilt, Quatre realized that he'd not thought of his green-eyed love for some time. Nor had any of the others invaded his thoughts: not Duo; Heero; Wufei; Rashid; his sisters or a number of his other friends and colleagues. Even the war hadn't been able to penetrate the wall of suffer that guarded and restricted where his mind wandered. He wondered how the war was going-he hoped that the other pilots were still among the living...Even if he'd never see them again.
Gabriel was standing, pulling on the silver leash to bring his unwilling lover to his feet as well. Quatre nearly staggered as he straightened his legs-he was stiff from sitting so long, and his feet were tingling uncomfortably as blood began to rush through his veins once again. Gabriel glanced down at his captive, almost a with a glare as he noticed Quatre's slight totter.
His eyes veiled by long lashes, Quatre stole a quick glance at Cassiel. The man was smiling broadly, revealing large, white teeth. The smile held no humor, nor anything else, save sadistic anticipation. That smile, that man, was not good. Quatre pitied his pets and was thankful, for the first time, to have Gabriel as a master.
"I'll show you where we can 'play,' in," Gabriel pulled Quatre towards the door and out once again into the better-lit corridor.
Quatre felt overly aware of Cassiel and his slaves' presence behind him as he blindly followed Gabriel back towards the bedroom. He tried to focus on his feet and the soft carpet beneath them, or the featureless walls rather than Gabriel's visitors, but he failed miserably.
So concentrated was Quatre's attention that he nearly ran into his dark haired Master when Gabriel stopped walking. Shooting Quatre the briefest of glares, Gabriel turned and focused on Cassiel. "Stop in here, old friend," Gabriel invited, though he still didn't sound in the least bit friendly.
While his master spoke, Sandrock's pilot forced himself to focus on his surroundings. Though still in the corridor, he found that they stood yet a ways away from Gabriel's-and perhaps his-lavish bedroom. They stood in front of one of the plain wooden doors. Did another torture chamber wait behind it?
Quatre didn't have too long to wonder for as soon as he'd begun the thought Gabriel pushed the door inward and strode into the revealed room, Quatre in tow.
The room turned out not to be another torture chamber, but instead a rather bare bedroom. The floor was unfinished wood, the ceilings and walls a plain, dirty white. Directly across the room from where Quatre stood behind his master, was another plain wooden door, identical to the one they had just passed through. It likely lead to a closet or such. The room had little furnishings-two futons were at opposite corners of the room, which was what led Quatre to believe that the room served as a bedroom. Each futon had a floor lamp beside it, and there was a wooden chest against one wall. Sitting on the two futons, apparently engrossed in their own worlds, were the two men who had originally beaten Quatre, before Gabriel "saved" him from them. That seemed so long ago....
"Master!" The two men exclaimed, jumping to their feet at Gabriel's unannounced entrance, their single word spoken in what sounded to be a failed attempt at unison. Gabriel glanced at each of them briefly, but did nothing else to acknowledge their presence as he pulled Quatre further into the room, allowing Cassiel and his slaves to enter behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, Quatre saw Cassiel glancing around with a bitter expression before gluing his reddish brown eyes on the second door of the room.
Gabriel also seemed to notice where his guest had directed his attention, for he nodded briefly and started over towards the second door, still forcing Quatre to follow. Reaching the door, Gabriel pulled it open, revealing not the closet that Quatre had expected it to be, but a stone walled room, much like the area that was an offshoot of Gabriel's sleeping chamber.
"Hent, Jorn, you as well," Gabriel commanded, entering the chamber, the leash tying him to Quatre firmly in hand. With more than a little reluctance and fear, the blond had no choice but to follow.
The interior of the room was much like Quatre had expected. The cold, damp air smelled faintly metallic from spilled blood and sweat. Squinting into the gloomy corners, the blond could see several manacles hanging from the dirty stones that made up the walls. The Arabian half expected to see a languishing skeleton withspiderwebs in the skull, but there was little sign of death in the room, aside from the smell.
Behind him, Cassiel grunted softly, and Gabriel turned, the light from the other room reflecting off his dark eyes and a small smirk playing across his lips. "Do you approve?" His soft voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.
Quatre turned his head slightly to see the red clad man, who was grinning broadly. "Oh definitely," he said, his voice rumbling and loud, reminding Quatre of thunder. "It seems you've got a nice set up here-perfect for playing."
With a jerk, Quatre was pulled further into the room. Stumbling, he followed his master to the corner of the room, where Gabriel carefully lit a candelabra, immediately bathing the room in soft, flickering light.
"Strip," Gabriel commanded Quatre softly, pulling him towards the center of the room then stopping. The blond glanced at his dark haired master, then slowly began fumbling at the buttons on his tight pants with trembling and numb fingers. Gabriel let his leash go slack enough for him to slide the tight leather off his pale legs. Cool air hit the boy's legs and thighs, raising goosebumps on the smooth skin. Shivering slightly, and blushing uncomfortably as he felt the hungry eyes of Cassiel on him, Quatre tried to shrink into himself.
Using the leash, Gabriel pulled Quatre over to the nearest wall, leaving the leather pants pooled on the floor. Grabbing Quatre's arm in a grip that was firm but not ungentle, the dark haired man forced the boy's arm up over his head to latch a manicle **manacle** around his wrist. Though the circle of metal was loose around Quatre's skinny wrist, it was not so loose that the blonde could slide out of it and the chain it was attached to held so little slack that Quatre couldn't stand comfortably without moving closer to the dirt encrusted wall. As his slave reluctantly shuffled forward, Gabriel took the Arabian's other arm and, pulling Quatre even closer to the stones, locked the other manacle around the boy's wrist.
Swallowing, Quatre lowered his head, the fine hair on the top of it brushing against the wall. He wasn't certain what was going to happen quite yet....he knew he was in for some pain. Perhaps more than any Gabriel inflicted, if Cassiel was the one to torture him at least. What he wasn't certain about was the other people....Cassiel had two slaves and Gabriel had ordered his "helpers", as Quatre thought of them, to come as well-though whether they were there to inflict or receive pain, Quatre didn't know either.
There was faint footsteps as Gabriel left his ward to return to his guests, leaving the nervous Quatre staring at the ground, his wrists entrapped in the cold metal circlettes. Gabriel spoke, but his tone was too soft for Quatre to understand the words, and then the footsteps were returning, two pairs of them this time.
Callused hands ran over Quatre's back, causing the Winner to shiver involuntarily, and tense up. But the touch was light, gentle...yet undeniably Cassiel's. Quatre clenched his teeth, waiting for the large man to hit him or dig his dirty nails deep into the blonde's flesh.
Without an iota of pain, the hands continued their journey over Quatre's backside, tracing, Quatre realized after a moment, the scars that Gabriel and his henchmen had inflicted upon him when he arrived. He'd nearly forgotten those scar, those marks of slavery, but they were undoubtedly still visible on his pale, sun starved flesh.
"Pretty much healed," Cassiel rumbled, pausing in his inspection of Quatre, his large hands still resting with an odd sense of being gentle, on the Arabian's lower back. "You've been going soft on him-I'm surprised he passed your rigid standards as to who is worthy of being one of us."
"I've not gone easy on him," Gabriel replied softly, his voice filled with familiar calm that Quatre found incredibly reassuring for some reason. "But Quatre is sweet and it hurts him more to see others in pain-or to cause others pain."
There was an almost tangible silence before Cassiel spoke again, his voice even deeper sounding this time. "You're training him." he stated flatly, and Quatre wondered why that seemed to come as such a surprise to the man, or perhaps he was just reading the older man's voice wrong.
"Of course." Gabriel said plainly.
Quatre shivered gratefully as the large hands were removed from his back, even though that let the cold air hit his flesh once again. Perhaps that was all that was required of him, perhaps the two sadists would do nothing further to him. But no...there had to be something further, else Gabriel wouldn't have chained him to the wall.
"Well, you do move fast, Gabriel," Cassiel snorted. "I've not even begun to train mine-it is far too much fun to keep them for play. Care to come and see?"
"Surely," Gabriel answered even as they moved away from Quatre, leaving him with the cold feeling of dread a lump in his stomach and his teeth clenched. He refused to let his gaurd **guard** down, he knew that the end had yet to be reached. "But for the record," Quatre continued to listen to the voices, even as they grew softer. His ears had to strain to pick up his master's soft tenor, while Cassiel's was likely to be easy to hear. "Hent and Jorn," The two men that had first beaten him, Quatre reminded himself automatically picturing the blond man and his taller companion. "are excellent to play with-and they will never have it in them to become angels, so I need not worry about scaring them."
Cassiel let loose a deep chuckle, and Quatre could picture a smile forming on the square face that was already permanently imprinted in his mind. "Oh, that makes much more sense, Gabriel, much more."
With a pang of guilt, Quatre realized that he'd not thought of his green-eyed love for some time. Nor had any of the others invaded his thoughts: not Duo; Heero; Wufei; Rashid; his sisters or a number of his other friends and colleagues. Even the war hadn't been able to penetrate the wall of suffer that guarded and restricted where his mind wandered. He wondered how the war was going-he hoped that the other pilots were still among the living...Even if he'd never see them again.
Gabriel was standing, pulling on the silver leash to bring his unwilling lover to his feet as well. Quatre nearly staggered as he straightened his legs-he was stiff from sitting so long, and his feet were tingling uncomfortably as blood began to rush through his veins once again. Gabriel glanced down at his captive, almost a with a glare as he noticed Quatre's slight totter.
His eyes veiled by long lashes, Quatre stole a quick glance at Cassiel. The man was smiling broadly, revealing large, white teeth. The smile held no humor, nor anything else, save sadistic anticipation. That smile, that man, was not good. Quatre pitied his pets and was thankful, for the first time, to have Gabriel as a master.
"I'll show you where we can 'play,' in," Gabriel pulled Quatre towards the door and out once again into the better-lit corridor.
Quatre felt overly aware of Cassiel and his slaves' presence behind him as he blindly followed Gabriel back towards the bedroom. He tried to focus on his feet and the soft carpet beneath them, or the featureless walls rather than Gabriel's visitors, but he failed miserably.
So concentrated was Quatre's attention that he nearly ran into his dark haired Master when Gabriel stopped walking. Shooting Quatre the briefest of glares, Gabriel turned and focused on Cassiel. "Stop in here, old friend," Gabriel invited, though he still didn't sound in the least bit friendly.
While his master spoke, Sandrock's pilot forced himself to focus on his surroundings. Though still in the corridor, he found that they stood yet a ways away from Gabriel's-and perhaps his-lavish bedroom. They stood in front of one of the plain wooden doors. Did another torture chamber wait behind it?
Quatre didn't have too long to wonder for as soon as he'd begun the thought Gabriel pushed the door inward and strode into the revealed room, Quatre in tow.
The room turned out not to be another torture chamber, but instead a rather bare bedroom. The floor was unfinished wood, the ceilings and walls a plain, dirty white. Directly across the room from where Quatre stood behind his master, was another plain wooden door, identical to the one they had just passed through. It likely lead to a closet or such. The room had little furnishings-two futons were at opposite corners of the room, which was what led Quatre to believe that the room served as a bedroom. Each futon had a floor lamp beside it, and there was a wooden chest against one wall. Sitting on the two futons, apparently engrossed in their own worlds, were the two men who had originally beaten Quatre, before Gabriel "saved" him from them. That seemed so long ago....
"Master!" The two men exclaimed, jumping to their feet at Gabriel's unannounced entrance, their single word spoken in what sounded to be a failed attempt at unison. Gabriel glanced at each of them briefly, but did nothing else to acknowledge their presence as he pulled Quatre further into the room, allowing Cassiel and his slaves to enter behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, Quatre saw Cassiel glancing around with a bitter expression before gluing his reddish brown eyes on the second door of the room.
Gabriel also seemed to notice where his guest had directed his attention, for he nodded briefly and started over towards the second door, still forcing Quatre to follow. Reaching the door, Gabriel pulled it open, revealing not the closet that Quatre had expected it to be, but a stone walled room, much like the area that was an offshoot of Gabriel's sleeping chamber.
"Hent, Jorn, you as well," Gabriel commanded, entering the chamber, the leash tying him to Quatre firmly in hand. With more than a little reluctance and fear, the blond had no choice but to follow.
The interior of the room was much like Quatre had expected. The cold, damp air smelled faintly metallic from spilled blood and sweat. Squinting into the gloomy corners, the blond could see several manacles hanging from the dirty stones that made up the walls. The Arabian half expected to see a languishing skeleton withspiderwebs in the skull, but there was little sign of death in the room, aside from the smell.
Behind him, Cassiel grunted softly, and Gabriel turned, the light from the other room reflecting off his dark eyes and a small smirk playing across his lips. "Do you approve?" His soft voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.
Quatre turned his head slightly to see the red clad man, who was grinning broadly. "Oh definitely," he said, his voice rumbling and loud, reminding Quatre of thunder. "It seems you've got a nice set up here-perfect for playing."
With a jerk, Quatre was pulled further into the room. Stumbling, he followed his master to the corner of the room, where Gabriel carefully lit a candelabra, immediately bathing the room in soft, flickering light.
"Strip," Gabriel commanded Quatre softly, pulling him towards the center of the room then stopping. The blond glanced at his dark haired master, then slowly began fumbling at the buttons on his tight pants with trembling and numb fingers. Gabriel let his leash go slack enough for him to slide the tight leather off his pale legs. Cool air hit the boy's legs and thighs, raising goosebumps on the smooth skin. Shivering slightly, and blushing uncomfortably as he felt the hungry eyes of Cassiel on him, Quatre tried to shrink into himself.
Using the leash, Gabriel pulled Quatre over to the nearest wall, leaving the leather pants pooled on the floor. Grabbing Quatre's arm in a grip that was firm but not ungentle, the dark haired man forced the boy's arm up over his head to latch a manicle **manacle** around his wrist. Though the circle of metal was loose around Quatre's skinny wrist, it was not so loose that the blonde could slide out of it and the chain it was attached to held so little slack that Quatre couldn't stand comfortably without moving closer to the dirt encrusted wall. As his slave reluctantly shuffled forward, Gabriel took the Arabian's other arm and, pulling Quatre even closer to the stones, locked the other manacle around the boy's wrist.
Swallowing, Quatre lowered his head, the fine hair on the top of it brushing against the wall. He wasn't certain what was going to happen quite yet....he knew he was in for some pain. Perhaps more than any Gabriel inflicted, if Cassiel was the one to torture him at least. What he wasn't certain about was the other people....Cassiel had two slaves and Gabriel had ordered his "helpers", as Quatre thought of them, to come as well-though whether they were there to inflict or receive pain, Quatre didn't know either.
There was faint footsteps as Gabriel left his ward to return to his guests, leaving the nervous Quatre staring at the ground, his wrists entrapped in the cold metal circlettes. Gabriel spoke, but his tone was too soft for Quatre to understand the words, and then the footsteps were returning, two pairs of them this time.
Callused hands ran over Quatre's back, causing the Winner to shiver involuntarily, and tense up. But the touch was light, gentle...yet undeniably Cassiel's. Quatre clenched his teeth, waiting for the large man to hit him or dig his dirty nails deep into the blonde's flesh.
Without an iota of pain, the hands continued their journey over Quatre's backside, tracing, Quatre realized after a moment, the scars that Gabriel and his henchmen had inflicted upon him when he arrived. He'd nearly forgotten those scar, those marks of slavery, but they were undoubtedly still visible on his pale, sun starved flesh.
"Pretty much healed," Cassiel rumbled, pausing in his inspection of Quatre, his large hands still resting with an odd sense of being gentle, on the Arabian's lower back. "You've been going soft on him-I'm surprised he passed your rigid standards as to who is worthy of being one of us."
"I've not gone easy on him," Gabriel replied softly, his voice filled with familiar calm that Quatre found incredibly reassuring for some reason. "But Quatre is sweet and it hurts him more to see others in pain-or to cause others pain."
There was an almost tangible silence before Cassiel spoke again, his voice even deeper sounding this time. "You're training him." he stated flatly, and Quatre wondered why that seemed to come as such a surprise to the man, or perhaps he was just reading the older man's voice wrong.
"Of course." Gabriel said plainly.
Quatre shivered gratefully as the large hands were removed from his back, even though that let the cold air hit his flesh once again. Perhaps that was all that was required of him, perhaps the two sadists would do nothing further to him. But no...there had to be something further, else Gabriel wouldn't have chained him to the wall.
"Well, you do move fast, Gabriel," Cassiel snorted. "I've not even begun to train mine-it is far too much fun to keep them for play. Care to come and see?"
"Surely," Gabriel answered even as they moved away from Quatre, leaving him with the cold feeling of dread a lump in his stomach and his teeth clenched. He refused to let his gaurd **guard** down, he knew that the end had yet to be reached. "But for the record," Quatre continued to listen to the voices, even as they grew softer. His ears had to strain to pick up his master's soft tenor, while Cassiel's was likely to be easy to hear. "Hent and Jorn," The two men that had first beaten him, Quatre reminded himself automatically picturing the blond man and his taller companion. "are excellent to play with-and they will never have it in them to become angels, so I need not worry about scaring them."
Cassiel let loose a deep chuckle, and Quatre could picture a smile forming on the square face that was already permanently imprinted in his mind. "Oh, that makes much more sense, Gabriel, much more."