For You I Suffer
In days to come, I would look back on my time with Treize with an almost fond nostalgia, for this night would introduce me to horrors of which I could never have dreamed. In the future, it would not be the smell of wine that sickened me, but the mellow tang of leather. And for the rest of my days the sound of a whip snapping the air would cause me to fear for my very life.
She started with the feather, stroking it slowly over my skin. I bore it well as it caressed my cheek and did not flinch even when it traveled down the more ticklish part of my side. I even managed to bite back a moan as it passed over my lips and flicked with teasing lightness over my nipple. And if I gasped slightly when my cock was subjected to the feathery caress, you could not be but proud of the muted restraint of my inhalation.
"I have been watching you for a while now, Duo," she said absently, her head cocked slightly to the side as she regarded the goose flesh that followed in the wake of the feather with mild curiosity. "I have seen how you respond so deliciously to the slightest touch, whether from the baron or some odious peasant." She laughed quietly as I shivered when she used the tip of the feather to toy with my navel. "I had wondered if the touch of an animal might similarly stoke your passion, whether you were such an unrepentant slut that even a beast might make your flesh stiffen."
Alas, I proved her horribly right, my stoicism lasting no longer than the third such journey of the ostrich's plume about my person. The fine filaments of plumage stroked over my body like the touch of a dozen skilled lovers, and by the fourth time Dorothy repeated the pattern, I longed for those teasing strokes with all the whorishness I had learned. The blond noblewoman's laughter tinkled brightly against the walls of her suite as my hands clenched helplessly in their bonds and my moans of longing rose in volume. My nipples had hardened within their golden prisons, and when the feather found the sensitive furrow of my ass, my cock strove to escape its own bondage as it stood at full attention.
"Wonderful." Her tone dripped with satisfied derision as she rewarded my shameful display by stroking the feather up and down the jutting column until I feared it was only my cockring that kept me from spilling over the insidious shaft of plumage.
"P-Please, my lady," I whispered, loath to ask my tormentor for anything yet longing desperately for release. Of course, I knew such a wish was the height of futility. I could only hope that once I was returned to my master, he would be merciful and make swift work of me. Until then, I tried to resign myself to the ever rising tide of need that suffused my body as the feather continued its maddening work.
One might try to guess what my reaction was when the touch of the feather against my stomach was replaced by the harsh crack of the leather riding crop Dorothy held in her other hand. Any who surmised that I cried out in surprise would be correct. But if the supposition was that the sound was one of pain or fear, a more complete misreading of my nature could not be found. The groan of need that I had managed to repress during the feather's coaxing rose helplessly from my chest at the crop's stinging kiss. The desire that before had only simmered burst forth into a raging conflagration that caught me unprepared for its intensity.
"Even this then?" Dorothy asked, her lips twisting into an expression that seemed caught between a smile of derision and a grimace of disgust without being able to choose where to settle. "Amazing," she breathed in wonder.
The second time the crop struck, this time on my left butt cheek, my passion rose even higher. I took a shaky breath as every ounce of awareness flew to the stinging reminder lingering on the curve of my ass. Again the crop fell, now against my right nipple, and the slightly firmer blow caused a vibration in my golden clamp that left me gasping. This time I could not deny the twinge of pain that accompanied the blow, but the surge of lust it engendered was still the more potent sensation.
"You truly are the most wretched of creatures, Duo. Do you even know the difference between a lover's touch and a more violent caress? Or is it merely sensation you crave no matter what form it might take?"
I could do nothing but groan in reply as the crop fell once more. Dissatisfied with my lack of response, Dorothy set forth to answer her own question. The riding crop's erratic assault continued - this time choosing my right flank as its target, the next the blade of my left shoulder, then the inside of my left thigh - and each time it fell against my skin the force was a bit harder, the resulting sting that much harsher. The randomness of the blows left me in the most peculiar state of anxious anticipation. Every stinging touch of the crop caused my body to tighten with the urge to flee while causing such dizziness to burst in my head that it left me breathless. Stars danced before my eyes as my body flooded with exhilaration and the overwhelming need to spill my passion upon the fine carpet beneath my feet. The heady scent of leather filled my senses, and my ears strained for the rushing sound of air as it parted before the crop in the hopes that it might reveal from where the next blow would come.
So beset was I with the conflicting sensations and emotions swirling within me that I cannot say the exact moment my sighs became winces and my moans sharpened into cries, but at some point I slowly began to realized that whatever pleasure the crop had offered was being consumed by a pain that only increased with every strike of the crop.
"My lady," I gasped, "if you would give me but a moment." I was ignored as the next hit left a noticeable welt against my hip. "My lady, please!" The blows ceased instantly, but my relief lasted but a fleeting moment.
"Ah," Dorothy sighed, "there it is." She had dropped the feather at some point and reached out with her now free hand to place her fingers against the throbbing line on redness on my hip. "You have such beautiful, fair skin, Duo." She looked up into my eyes and the icy blankness I saw in her blue gaze frightened me beyond anything I had ever experienced before this moment. "Such an wonderful canvass you shall make."
With horrible realization, the full import of her plans became clear in my mind. She moved around me toward the metal vase and withdrew another whip, a brutal looking flog with narrow strips of leather tied into large knots at the ends of each strip. She flicked her wrist with surprising skill, sending the strips of leather soaring away from her in a perfect arc. She walked around me in a full circle, trailing the flog over my skin so that the leather traced lines in the sheen of sweat that covered me.
I dared not let her out of my sight and strained my neck to follow her passage. So when she stood behind me once more, I managed to see the manner in which eyed my back, her gaze narrowed into glacial slivers of blue. Her beautiful visage turned dark, and my heart began to thud heavily with a rapidly quickening pace as I felt a sudden and an overpowering sense of danger. Though I had thought myself past that trauma, I suddenly felt fingers tightening around my throat, robbing me of both sanity and breath. Yet I somehow still managed to squeak out an expression of the burning agony that bloomed in my back when she applied those knots of leather against the vulnerable expanse of flesh.
The force of the blow felt like a dozen large rocks had been hurled against my back. I cried out, feeling bruised and battered. But the first hit was nothing to the second, and even that paled against the third. And yet there were to be far more encounters between the awful whip and my body. She took aim at my side and I feared that my ribs might not withstand the onslaught. A blow against my stomach left me winded and sore as though a man had pummeled me with angry, meaty fists.
And still she went on, circling me around and around, striking out at my ass, my legs, my shoulders. A blow against my knee caused it to buckle at the pain and the manacles dug mercilessly into my wrists as they took my full weight, cutting off the flow of blood to my hands and pinching nerves. A tear escaped to course down my cheek as I again begged for her to stop, but she ignored my pleas, aiming a viciously hit again the top of one foot before reversing direction and sending the knots against the back of a rapidly numbing hand.
"And yet your disgusting flesh still signals its pleasure. Incredible!" she exclaimed, brushing the leather strips over my distressingly stiff cock. "What manner of creature so enjoys being punished, hmmm? Does your beloved master know what a disgusting thing you are? Or is it his hand that doles out the punishment while he claims your body?"
The insinuation of her words filled me with anger. Who was she to malign Heero in so infamously? I shook with rage and the motion only increased my agony. A streak of pain in my side renewed my fear that she had broken a rib and I was unable to respond to her verbal assault as I struggled to catch my breath.
"Do you beg as he hits you? Do you plead for more as his rod tears you apart?" She laughed and caught the back of my thigh with the flog robbing me of my last hope of support. "Just how much more can you withstand before your desire overwhelms you?"
"No!" I shouted, desperate to disabuse her of her mad notion. I did not even consider or care that I was being disobedient, the most cardinal of sins I could possibly commit. "No, the baron would never treat me like this! I am not enjoying this. I beg of you to stop!"
"Nonsense." Her denial held no more emotion than if she were shooing away a fly. "Your body betrays you with the truth." I whimpered as the knots landed at long last against my quivering cock. The blow was much softer than others had been, but the resulting pain was threefold. I twisted away, raising one knee to try and block the hit that was sure to follow. My eyes had shut tightly in fearful expectation, so it was a moment before I heard the rustling sound of leather against the metal of the vase. I cracked open one eye not sure if I wanted to see what was coming. She was returning the whip to its place and I moaned with gratitude, more tears slipping from my eyes as I was flooded with heartfelt relief that this awful ordeal was finally over.
When one assumes, one is made into an ass. My mother's voice whispered the platitude in my ear as I watched in horror as Dorothy removed yet another length of leather from the vase. This one had a sturdy handle and likewise bloomed into a multitude of thin strips. Each one ended in a knot, but these were much smaller than the last ones had been. I felt a small measure of comfort at the sight of them, supposing that the smaller size would translate into less agony.
Such was my surprise at the sheer magnitude of my miscalculation that the scream I released at the first touch of those knots against my side shook the very walls of Dorothy's suite. Where the larger knots had bludgeoned, these sliced, cutting away thin strips of flesh. I struggled to inhale, the new wounds oozing blood and stinging at the movement of my ribs. My eyes stretched wide, and I could only stare at my cool, blonde tormentor, silently asking ‘Why?'
Dorothy stepped back after that first assault to admire the four red gashes that stretched like claw marks from just beneath my armpit nearly to my waist.
"Hmmm, perhaps a bit more," she said, her tone absent as though she were speaking only to herself. And it was just as well if she were, for my ability to speak was sorely impeded as she matched her previous stoke with masterful precision. The leather knots landed exactly where they had before, and my side quickly grew wet with blood as the gashes were etched even deeper into my skin.
Several more times the whip lashed out, catching me at thigh, buttocks, and back. My skin began to cool from the slick of red that streaked across my body. The coppery smell of my own blood melded with the scent of leather to fashion a sickening aroma that threatened to empty my stomach as my throat filled with bile. Too shocked by what was happening to even contemplate protesting, I tried to hold back my helpless cries. I was filled with the irrational notion that I must somehow be as perfect in enduring this trial as I strove to be at all things. But when the lash fell across my chest, ripping one of the clamps from my nipple and leaving ragged flesh in its wake, my resolve failed utterly.
"Ahhgg!" I yelled, abandoning all thoughts of dignity and poise. "My lady! Spare me, I beg of you!" My chest ached from the motion of my frantic gasps. My lips were dry and slack from the effort of breathing and I could taste the stinging saltiness of my tears as they fell upon my cracked lips. "Please stop," I whispered, the strength to speak abandoning me.
"Stop? You want me to stop?" Her tone was genuinely curious. I looked into her eyes and shivered as I saw nothing there. "Are you not enjoying the feel of my toys against your skin? Do you not love me just a little for giving you this pleasure, just like you surely loved my cousin when he made you his?" Her tone suddenly grew more heated, the abrupt show of emotion only adding to my confusion. "When he owned your very soul? Surely you remember how much he loved you, even as you betrayed him!"
Her cousin? Betrayal? My entire body sang with agonizing shoots of pain, and I could not gather my thoughts enough to ask her what she meant by her cryptic comment, though she hardly needed encouragement to continue.
"He told me how you moan so prettily for him," she spat, "how you showered him with your precious tears when he filled you. He told me how much you loved it when he controlled your very breath, how he knew you would not mind death if only he deigned to give it to you!"
Treize! How could I have forgotten that she was his cousin? Dorothy's mother had been a Slaburry noblewoman but had married a Calderashian lord. Terror filled me as her beautiful face flushed, becoming mottled with rage. She cracked the whip without warning, catching me across the face and cutting my lip. Her fingernails dug into my jaw as she trapped my face in her grip and prevented me from turning away in self-defense.
"And then, after all he did for you, you cried rape to your precious trainer and the baron. Now my cousin is banished from this backwater country, forced to return home in disgrace. And with him went all my plans to become the wife of one of the most powerful men in Slabbury."
This time she used her own open palm to deliver the blow to my other cheek. My head tilted back painfully, the staggering force of her anger scrambling my thoughts so that I was unable to feel the proper at the truth of her desire to marry her own cousin. I could feel the warmth of her handprint against my cheek and abandoned all hope of salvation. Spittle flew at my face as she snarled.
"My mother's reputation is in tatters, and it is only because of my father that my own standing has not been completely ruined. But I have been tarnished by proxy because of my connection with Treize." The former blankness in her eyes has been replaced by madness and I shivered in fear as I was subjected to the full brunt of her wild stare. "And so, thanks to you I must by force marry a bloody Calderashian, and marry well if I want to keep any position of consequence in Windshire. I had thought that fool Quatre would do as well as anyone for a husband. He is well-connected and has the baron's ear in many things, but you have endangered even that ambition."
"No," I gasped shaking my head and trying to ignore the dizziness caused by my loss of blood. "Of course he will marry you, my lady. He loves you."
"It is you he loves!" she screamed. This time it was the handle of the flog that she aimed at my face, and a strangled cry rose my throat as it caught my cheek. The edge of the handle ripped my flesh, leaving another hideous gash in its wake. Tears ran down my cheek and the salty moisture only increased my pain as it reached the wound.
"It is you he loves, not me. You have taken everything from me, you damnable whore!" Another crack split the air and the scene before my eyes waved out of focus as my thin skin of my brow split beneath the snap of the leather knots. "But I will not let my shame go unpunished, my dear Duo. Oh, no. You shall share every ounce of my humiliation. I swear it!"
The minutes pass as they always do, measured in the unfaltering path of the sun across the sky and the inevitable rise of the moon and stars. It is only our perception that makes it seems as if time fleets with joy or drags on in sorrow. But I had not even the luxury of that common misperception as my body slowly succumbed to the vicious torture being inflicted upon it. My seconds were marked by the snap of leather, my minutes by the newest cut opened in my skin. And the hours became the relentless devastation of my body that left me begging for the death the Slaburry ambassador had once offered me.
In some ways my abuse at Treize's hands had been worse. He had exerted control over my very life and had nearly broken my mind. By contrast, this torture was purely physical - the outpouring of hatred by a spoiled little girl - but it was in no ways easier to bear. Though the whips might not bring about my death, they promised to leave me shattered, a ruin of my former self fit for naught but a lifetime of pain and pity.
Dorothy did not try to own my thoughts as her treacherous cousin had done. Indeed, she spoke not another word to me, leaving me to spin wild, delusional fantasies of Heero coming to save me while riding on a white stallion, the beast breaking down the door of her suite with a might kick. Random snatches of madness flitted through my head as my body became fevered, causing me to sweat and shiver by turns. The snap of another rib was only a dull, distant throb in my side as I imagined the touch of my master's hand on my body, healing me from this agonizing pain. The stab in my gut as something soft within me gave way before the blonde's assault could be forgiven because Heero was holding me close and telling me in that wonderfully gruff way of his how much he loved me.
And yet, as Dorothy continued to apply her prodigious skill to breaking my body and I teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, my spirit began to falter. Why had Heero not come for me? Had I done something to displease him? Was he punishing me for some unknown disobedience? As though from a great distance, a muttering sound reached my ears and it was a long while before I would realize that the sound was my own voice, begging my master to save me.
The moments of my rescue will forever remain jumbled in my recollection, for by that time I was nearly insensible. Broken ribs threatened to cut through my side with every gasping breath, and the taste of blood filled my mouth as it bubbled from my lips. My right knee would no longer support my weight and I hung heavily from the manacles, the iron cutting deep gouges into my wrists. I heard Dorothy's harsh shouts and curses, her words dripping with shrill malice though I could not discern their meaning. I identified Quatre's shocked cry and the frantic worry in his tone, but all I could manage in response was to feel an aching pity for my beloved trainer that his affections for this insane noblewoman had been so ill used.
Anxious, fumbling hands held me gently, trying to avoid the worst of my injuries as I was freed from my bonds and lowered carefully to the carpet. But it was the feel of the soft fibers against the raw, oozing flesh of my back that ended my suffering. An inhuman scream rent the air, and I barely recognized the voice as my own before a wash of blinding agony drug me under at last into blessed darkness.