Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Yes Master, My Master ❯ part 12 ( Chapter 12 )
[ 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: 2.3K | Visits: 593 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 12.20.2001 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 593 | Status: Completed
Quatre's legs trembled slightly as he stood melded against the cold, gritty wall, as though to melt into it and escape the hell that Gabriel and Cassiel were creating. His eyes were squeezed closed so tightly the tears had formed-or perhaps they were caused by the whimpers; yelps and occasional screams that permeated the air and rang in his ears. The blond tried to concentrate on the rough stone pressed beneath his cheek, how it itched and stung, but his mind's eye refused to give him that luxury, instead conjuring up images of welts appearing on the victim's pale skin to accompany each small sound of pain.
It was obvious to the blonde Arabian that the two masters were torturing Gabriel's older playthings-he could hear the yelps as the whip or cane or rod contacted with the slaves' bare skin, causing Quatre to press his body even closer to the dirty stones, drawing some security and strength from the cold and unmovable hardness.
Why did Gabriel and his friend have to do this? He'd prefer be tortured himself, raped and beaten, over hearing the screams of other victims, even if the other victims had hurt him in before-Quatre was not one for revenge.
His heart ached with sympathetic pains for the victims. With each whimper, he felt that a piece of his soul was dying-he was growing more uncaring, more calloused. Quatre whimpered himself, trying instinctively to draw his arms around himself, even though the restraints made that quite impossible. Now-familiar thoughts of self-examination filled his mind-who was he now? Had he changed in the short time that he'd been with Gabriel? And how much more was to he change before Gabriel either let him go, or killed him. Perhaps there was some way that he could get Gabriel to kill him, release him with death. If he were bad enough, would the dark haired demon kill him? Perhaps-more likely, Gabriel would hurt someone else, kill his precious Trowa.
Trowa. Quatre felt a stab of guilt-he'd not thought of him for some time-or, perhaps it just seemed long. Quatre had no sense of time, no way to tell whether it was night or day. Gabriel slept when he was tired, ate when he was hungry, not necessarily following the path of true day. When Gabriel left, Quatre was alone, locked in the bedroom, with few options. Time passed slowly...time didn't seem to pass at all. The blond wondered what day it was in the outer world...
Trowa would have moved on though. The other Gundam pilots as well-if the war was still raging, as Quatre expected it was, then they had other things on their minds-things more important than if the Winner heir was still alive, and if he was where he might be. They'd have long ago given up on him-grieved perhaps, and maybe his visage still haunted their dreams, but they would think he dead. It was just as well, Quatre decided, pressing closer to the stone, new tears forming at the thought of being forgotten. The blond would never escape, and those who might remember him didn't need to think he was alive. They didn't need hope for him.
There was a scream-loud and hoarse, as though the person yelling was playing a murder victim in an old movie. It chilled Quatre to the bone, and he shivered uncomfortably, goose bumps rising on his bare flesh, his thoughts dissolving like sugar in water. There was the sound of laughter-a deep sort of laughter that echoed off the barren walls and resonated through Quatre's bones. Cassiel was having his fun...
Rage burned in the little Arabian, eating at the remaining self sorrow and pain that he felt. He could feel the sadistic pleasure emanating from the larger demon, the hatred that Cassiel directed towards Gabriel; Quatre and his own two slaves. His hunger for pain ate at Quatre's mind and the blonde's legs felt brittle and weak under the force of it. Like a fire, Cassiel's feelings burnt deep into the blonde's soul and Quatre hissed, clenching his hands into tight fists in an attempt to ignore the malicious feelings. Why is it that he was so certain someone would die before the day was out?
As he struggled to get his breathing back under control, Quatre came to realize that the two masters had stopped their playing with the older pets and were even then walking back towards the young Gundam pilot.
"Quatre," Cassiel purred in the shorter man's ear, his voice deep; husky and rather frightening to the young Winner. "You don't appear to be having any fun," he drew the last word out, his large hands lightly touching Quatre's bare behind. Quatre swallowed and shivered in something nearing fear. For a while, the young blonde had thought nothing could scare him anymore, not after the pain he'd witnessed and felt. But he was wrong-Cassiel truly scared him. "You want a turn, don't you?"
Slender fingers ran lightly across Quatre's shoulders, letting the blonde know of Gabriel's presence behind him. Somehow, the thought that the slender dark haired man was near comforted the Arabian, though he didn't know why. He knew that Gabriel would not stop Cassiel in causing his pet pain-Gabriel would very well initiate the beating-but something told Quatre that the younger of the masters wouldn't allow things to go to far for the Gundam pilot.
The fingers drew away abruptly, leaving Quatre chilled in their wake. He inhaled deeply and clenched his teeth until they ached from the pressure-even without sensing the nearly tangible glee that Cassiel was experiencing, the blonde could tell what was to happen next.
To his surprise, the crack of a whip didn't come-instead his lower back exploded into pain as Cassiel slammed his fist against the small of Quatre's back. Had the Gundam pilot not been pressed against the wall already, his would have lurched forward. Instead, all he could do was grit his teeth as the rough stones of the wall cut into his still soft skin and try not to make any noise.
Cassiel paused briefly after the first shot...Quatre kept his eyes shut and his teeth clenched, waiting for the next to fall on his defenseless body. His breathing was ragged with fear and anticipation and his cheek stung where it connected with the stones as the pain in his back began to fade away. And then, with little warning, the auburn haired demon struck again.
Cassiel's first blow had been painful, but his next put it to shame. Still using his large hands the tall man inflicted a series of punches to Quatre's back that caused the blonde's knees to buckle and tears to leak from his eyes and slide down his face. The pain was tantalizing and drew Quatre into it depths, like quicksand. The young Arabian floundered, gasping for air, unaware and uncaring of the fact that he had broken his promise to himself, and was whimpering piteously. Cassiel's blows became a stream of constant discomfort-there was no break between them, it didn't matter where he struck...it was all the same to Quatre.
Slowly, he felt the pain ease, bringing him back from the brink of unconciousness, and the pilot realized that Cassiel had stopped hitting him. Faint voices cut through his pain-addled brain, acting as lifelines, pulling him back from the dark abyss within his mind. A soft voice was speaking, and while the blonde could make out none of the actual words, the voice lulled his senses and calmed his sobs.
Quatre carefully opened his eyes, blinking uncertainly in the dim light of the dungeon. He took several deep breaths-he could feel his heart racing in his chest, like that of a frightened rabbit...
"...not have you kill him," The voice he could now recognize as Gabriel's swam through his head, calming the remaining rapids that Cassiel's beating had caused. "He is mine, and I wish to keep him." On some level, Quatre was flattered by the words, relived at the very least. He'd not expected Gabriel to actually care about him-and perhaps the dark haired man didn't, but it was a comforting thought.
There was a trickle of liquid down Quatre's arm, tickling the blonde lightly, and drawing his attention. Twisting his head slightly, chin scraping against the wall in such a way that Quatre was certain drew blood, the blonde looked up at his wrists, suspended above him. They were red, bruised and bleeding; his hands hanging loosely in the shackles-he'd unintentionally put all his weight on them for the vast majority of the beating, and now couldn't feel his fingers. The sight of his raw wrists and the thin trail of crimson flowing slowly down his pale arm unnerved the most fragile of the Gundam pilots, and foolishly Quatre tried to get his feet firmly under him again.
With the movement, the bruises Cassiel had riddled his body with, came aflame, taking Quatre's breath away. Why did it have to hurt so much? Had he done something to deserve this? Gritting his teeth with a bravery many people would shy from, Quatre faced the pain, his bare feet finding the cold floor and locking his knees to hold himself up. His fingers tingled uncomfortably as the pressure was taken off his wrists, and the blood that had been trickling down his arms started flowing easier.
Exhausted and in pain from the would-be simple movement, Quatre closed his eyes once again, leaning against the wall for support.
"Quatre," His name was whispered into his ear, ruffling the Winner's grungy pale hair. Thin fingers fumbled with the clasps of the manacles as the blonde tensed up. Soft lips brushed against the curve of his ear as Gabriel continued speaking. "Don't worry little one," the soothing whisper came as the blonde's right hand was released. "It will all be okay." The second wrist was released and Quatre found himself standing on his own. His feet ached, as did his blood-covered hands…he was so tired…Standing was too much effort. Abandoning his attempts to remain upright, the boy sagged against the wall, not even trying to contain the harsh sob of pain that accompanied his movement.
"It'll be all right," Gabriel repeated, kneeling beside his captive, who shuddered involuntarily. It would be all right? How could it ever be all right? Quatre was dying, if not physically from the beatings and pain his body was forced to endure, then certainly mentally. He was losing who he was, he wasn't even fighting anymore...his memories and cares were fading into a dark, pain ridden presence. How could it be all right?
Cool hands gently touched his bare body, turning him away from the wall and laying him out facing into the room. Though the hands were careful and the touches light, it was an agony for the beaten teenager to endure. Tears that Quatre had long ago forbidden once again rose in his eyes and his stomach knotted. And then he was on his side, and the hands were gone. His bruises throbbed, but the pain was bearable and held little of the sharpness that it had before.
Quatre carefully opened his eyes once again, looking into the room for the first time since the torture had begun. The evidence of pain was clear-three figures were shackled up to the wall. The smallest two-Cassiel's poor pets, stood straight, their eyes lowered to the floor with a kind of quiet, almost dignity despite being naked with their arms forced over their heads. In the dim light, Quatre could see the old scars the criss-crossed their skin in various states of healing-none were less than a day old though, of that Quatre was certain-and nearly relieved.
The third man against the wall was in a position much like the one the pilot had been in only moments earlier, though facing into the room. His knees were buckled, leaving all his weight on his wrists, and his head hung forward, lanky blonde hair obscuring his face. His body was smeared with blood, which still oozed from several welts across his bruised chest and legs.
The last of the slaves made Quatre shudder. It was Gabriel's bald helper, of course...he was standing upright, his hands locked together over his head, his naked body untouched for the day. Though his head was lowered, Quatre could see that his eyes were open and locked on the small pilot laying on the dirty floor. Quatre stared back openly-pity and guilt swimming in his blue eyes. The bald man was not against the wall, but instead positioned in the center of the room. Just like all the children Gabriel had sacrificed had been. Just like the boy Quatre killed had been.
Gabriel was straightening, and Quatre tore his eyes away from the other victims to lock instead on his master. Gabriel was staring at Cassiel, who stood, thick arms crossed over his chest, with a frown. "Quatre is sweet," the pale demon told his older companion. "So sweet that he loses more through the pain of others than his own."
"Go ahead," Cassiel's deep voice interrupted Gabriel's softer one.
Watching the younger master, Quatre saw a small smile play across Gabriel's voice shortly before the tall man started over towards his bald servant, straight hair rippling with the wind caused by his brisk gait. As he neared the restrained man, his servant raised his head. "Master." He croaked, his voice scratchy either from fear or lack of water. His dark eyes reflected the fright that his soul must have felt.
"Hent." Gabriel responded softly, and Quatre could almost hear the apologetic smile that the dark haired man was wearing in his voice. His voice lowered so that Quatre had to strain his ears to hear the next words that the dark haired master spoke. "No one lives forever."
It was obvious to the blonde Arabian that the two masters were torturing Gabriel's older playthings-he could hear the yelps as the whip or cane or rod contacted with the slaves' bare skin, causing Quatre to press his body even closer to the dirty stones, drawing some security and strength from the cold and unmovable hardness.
Why did Gabriel and his friend have to do this? He'd prefer be tortured himself, raped and beaten, over hearing the screams of other victims, even if the other victims had hurt him in before-Quatre was not one for revenge.
His heart ached with sympathetic pains for the victims. With each whimper, he felt that a piece of his soul was dying-he was growing more uncaring, more calloused. Quatre whimpered himself, trying instinctively to draw his arms around himself, even though the restraints made that quite impossible. Now-familiar thoughts of self-examination filled his mind-who was he now? Had he changed in the short time that he'd been with Gabriel? And how much more was to he change before Gabriel either let him go, or killed him. Perhaps there was some way that he could get Gabriel to kill him, release him with death. If he were bad enough, would the dark haired demon kill him? Perhaps-more likely, Gabriel would hurt someone else, kill his precious Trowa.
Trowa. Quatre felt a stab of guilt-he'd not thought of him for some time-or, perhaps it just seemed long. Quatre had no sense of time, no way to tell whether it was night or day. Gabriel slept when he was tired, ate when he was hungry, not necessarily following the path of true day. When Gabriel left, Quatre was alone, locked in the bedroom, with few options. Time passed slowly...time didn't seem to pass at all. The blond wondered what day it was in the outer world...
Trowa would have moved on though. The other Gundam pilots as well-if the war was still raging, as Quatre expected it was, then they had other things on their minds-things more important than if the Winner heir was still alive, and if he was where he might be. They'd have long ago given up on him-grieved perhaps, and maybe his visage still haunted their dreams, but they would think he dead. It was just as well, Quatre decided, pressing closer to the stone, new tears forming at the thought of being forgotten. The blond would never escape, and those who might remember him didn't need to think he was alive. They didn't need hope for him.
There was a scream-loud and hoarse, as though the person yelling was playing a murder victim in an old movie. It chilled Quatre to the bone, and he shivered uncomfortably, goose bumps rising on his bare flesh, his thoughts dissolving like sugar in water. There was the sound of laughter-a deep sort of laughter that echoed off the barren walls and resonated through Quatre's bones. Cassiel was having his fun...
Rage burned in the little Arabian, eating at the remaining self sorrow and pain that he felt. He could feel the sadistic pleasure emanating from the larger demon, the hatred that Cassiel directed towards Gabriel; Quatre and his own two slaves. His hunger for pain ate at Quatre's mind and the blonde's legs felt brittle and weak under the force of it. Like a fire, Cassiel's feelings burnt deep into the blonde's soul and Quatre hissed, clenching his hands into tight fists in an attempt to ignore the malicious feelings. Why is it that he was so certain someone would die before the day was out?
As he struggled to get his breathing back under control, Quatre came to realize that the two masters had stopped their playing with the older pets and were even then walking back towards the young Gundam pilot.
"Quatre," Cassiel purred in the shorter man's ear, his voice deep; husky and rather frightening to the young Winner. "You don't appear to be having any fun," he drew the last word out, his large hands lightly touching Quatre's bare behind. Quatre swallowed and shivered in something nearing fear. For a while, the young blonde had thought nothing could scare him anymore, not after the pain he'd witnessed and felt. But he was wrong-Cassiel truly scared him. "You want a turn, don't you?"
Slender fingers ran lightly across Quatre's shoulders, letting the blonde know of Gabriel's presence behind him. Somehow, the thought that the slender dark haired man was near comforted the Arabian, though he didn't know why. He knew that Gabriel would not stop Cassiel in causing his pet pain-Gabriel would very well initiate the beating-but something told Quatre that the younger of the masters wouldn't allow things to go to far for the Gundam pilot.
The fingers drew away abruptly, leaving Quatre chilled in their wake. He inhaled deeply and clenched his teeth until they ached from the pressure-even without sensing the nearly tangible glee that Cassiel was experiencing, the blonde could tell what was to happen next.
To his surprise, the crack of a whip didn't come-instead his lower back exploded into pain as Cassiel slammed his fist against the small of Quatre's back. Had the Gundam pilot not been pressed against the wall already, his would have lurched forward. Instead, all he could do was grit his teeth as the rough stones of the wall cut into his still soft skin and try not to make any noise.
Cassiel paused briefly after the first shot...Quatre kept his eyes shut and his teeth clenched, waiting for the next to fall on his defenseless body. His breathing was ragged with fear and anticipation and his cheek stung where it connected with the stones as the pain in his back began to fade away. And then, with little warning, the auburn haired demon struck again.
Cassiel's first blow had been painful, but his next put it to shame. Still using his large hands the tall man inflicted a series of punches to Quatre's back that caused the blonde's knees to buckle and tears to leak from his eyes and slide down his face. The pain was tantalizing and drew Quatre into it depths, like quicksand. The young Arabian floundered, gasping for air, unaware and uncaring of the fact that he had broken his promise to himself, and was whimpering piteously. Cassiel's blows became a stream of constant discomfort-there was no break between them, it didn't matter where he struck...it was all the same to Quatre.
Slowly, he felt the pain ease, bringing him back from the brink of unconciousness, and the pilot realized that Cassiel had stopped hitting him. Faint voices cut through his pain-addled brain, acting as lifelines, pulling him back from the dark abyss within his mind. A soft voice was speaking, and while the blonde could make out none of the actual words, the voice lulled his senses and calmed his sobs.
Quatre carefully opened his eyes, blinking uncertainly in the dim light of the dungeon. He took several deep breaths-he could feel his heart racing in his chest, like that of a frightened rabbit...
"...not have you kill him," The voice he could now recognize as Gabriel's swam through his head, calming the remaining rapids that Cassiel's beating had caused. "He is mine, and I wish to keep him." On some level, Quatre was flattered by the words, relived at the very least. He'd not expected Gabriel to actually care about him-and perhaps the dark haired man didn't, but it was a comforting thought.
There was a trickle of liquid down Quatre's arm, tickling the blonde lightly, and drawing his attention. Twisting his head slightly, chin scraping against the wall in such a way that Quatre was certain drew blood, the blonde looked up at his wrists, suspended above him. They were red, bruised and bleeding; his hands hanging loosely in the shackles-he'd unintentionally put all his weight on them for the vast majority of the beating, and now couldn't feel his fingers. The sight of his raw wrists and the thin trail of crimson flowing slowly down his pale arm unnerved the most fragile of the Gundam pilots, and foolishly Quatre tried to get his feet firmly under him again.
With the movement, the bruises Cassiel had riddled his body with, came aflame, taking Quatre's breath away. Why did it have to hurt so much? Had he done something to deserve this? Gritting his teeth with a bravery many people would shy from, Quatre faced the pain, his bare feet finding the cold floor and locking his knees to hold himself up. His fingers tingled uncomfortably as the pressure was taken off his wrists, and the blood that had been trickling down his arms started flowing easier.
Exhausted and in pain from the would-be simple movement, Quatre closed his eyes once again, leaning against the wall for support.
"Quatre," His name was whispered into his ear, ruffling the Winner's grungy pale hair. Thin fingers fumbled with the clasps of the manacles as the blonde tensed up. Soft lips brushed against the curve of his ear as Gabriel continued speaking. "Don't worry little one," the soothing whisper came as the blonde's right hand was released. "It will all be okay." The second wrist was released and Quatre found himself standing on his own. His feet ached, as did his blood-covered hands…he was so tired…Standing was too much effort. Abandoning his attempts to remain upright, the boy sagged against the wall, not even trying to contain the harsh sob of pain that accompanied his movement.
"It'll be all right," Gabriel repeated, kneeling beside his captive, who shuddered involuntarily. It would be all right? How could it ever be all right? Quatre was dying, if not physically from the beatings and pain his body was forced to endure, then certainly mentally. He was losing who he was, he wasn't even fighting anymore...his memories and cares were fading into a dark, pain ridden presence. How could it be all right?
Cool hands gently touched his bare body, turning him away from the wall and laying him out facing into the room. Though the hands were careful and the touches light, it was an agony for the beaten teenager to endure. Tears that Quatre had long ago forbidden once again rose in his eyes and his stomach knotted. And then he was on his side, and the hands were gone. His bruises throbbed, but the pain was bearable and held little of the sharpness that it had before.
Quatre carefully opened his eyes once again, looking into the room for the first time since the torture had begun. The evidence of pain was clear-three figures were shackled up to the wall. The smallest two-Cassiel's poor pets, stood straight, their eyes lowered to the floor with a kind of quiet, almost dignity despite being naked with their arms forced over their heads. In the dim light, Quatre could see the old scars the criss-crossed their skin in various states of healing-none were less than a day old though, of that Quatre was certain-and nearly relieved.
The third man against the wall was in a position much like the one the pilot had been in only moments earlier, though facing into the room. His knees were buckled, leaving all his weight on his wrists, and his head hung forward, lanky blonde hair obscuring his face. His body was smeared with blood, which still oozed from several welts across his bruised chest and legs.
The last of the slaves made Quatre shudder. It was Gabriel's bald helper, of course...he was standing upright, his hands locked together over his head, his naked body untouched for the day. Though his head was lowered, Quatre could see that his eyes were open and locked on the small pilot laying on the dirty floor. Quatre stared back openly-pity and guilt swimming in his blue eyes. The bald man was not against the wall, but instead positioned in the center of the room. Just like all the children Gabriel had sacrificed had been. Just like the boy Quatre killed had been.
Gabriel was straightening, and Quatre tore his eyes away from the other victims to lock instead on his master. Gabriel was staring at Cassiel, who stood, thick arms crossed over his chest, with a frown. "Quatre is sweet," the pale demon told his older companion. "So sweet that he loses more through the pain of others than his own."
"Go ahead," Cassiel's deep voice interrupted Gabriel's softer one.
Watching the younger master, Quatre saw a small smile play across Gabriel's voice shortly before the tall man started over towards his bald servant, straight hair rippling with the wind caused by his brisk gait. As he neared the restrained man, his servant raised his head. "Master." He croaked, his voice scratchy either from fear or lack of water. His dark eyes reflected the fright that his soul must have felt.
"Hent." Gabriel responded softly, and Quatre could almost hear the apologetic smile that the dark haired man was wearing in his voice. His voice lowered so that Quatre had to strain his ears to hear the next words that the dark haired master spoke. "No one lives forever."