This story puts Scott and Stefan’s arc into the limelight, and puts things in motion. It covers how the two started out, and what brought them to present day.
Story 18 from ‘Flickering Lights’
All stories, in order, here
Day 1
Stefan entered the dungeon alert, poised to find fault. His bare feet made little sound, as he preferred it. It was always more fun to catch people unawares. He was bare-chested that day, finding it more to his taste than the leathers he typically wore. While exquisitely crafted, they were getting burdensome and all too often, stifling. Besides, his thick dark hair had reached well below his shoulders now. Enough of an adornment in its own right.
He paused at the first cell, sneering at its occupant. What a hideously ugly thing.
“What the hell is this supposed to be?” he snapped at his most recent assistant, a bespectacled man of slight build and nervous disposition.
He examined the clipboard, before looking back up, stuttering. “47-year-old male, a gift from Mistress Demona Sir.”
Stefan squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Absolutely nothing good could come of this. With terrifying speed Stefan lunged at the bars, sending the cell’s occupant scurrying to the back.
“What were your orders, you fucking prick?” he screamed. “How about I send you back to her with one less testicle?”
“Sir, the Mistress has asked – ” the assistant began with an urgent tone.
Stefan spun to face him. “I don’t give a fucking shit what that cunt wants! Transfer this repulsive THING to the dankest part of the dungeons and let it rot! Then you tell her she’ll have to suck my fucking COCK to get him back in one piece!”
The aide backed up a step, wondering for the fourth time this day how long he could keep this up. Although knowing what he was signing up for when he’d accepted the position, the promotion hadn’t exactly been welcome. He’d been perfectly content as a cleaner. Unfortunately, the temperamental man had torn through every more qualified candidate, either driving them away, or firing them in a spectacular fit worthy of selling tickets to. Eventually, there was no choice but to start scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Little Mister Spectacles had surprised them all, managing to last a month and a half so far. Most wagers had him only withstanding a week, or a few days at best.
He wasn’t a stupid man though, knowing when to keep quiet. Demona had asked for her misbehaving toy to be thrown somewhere dark and dank. Her own facilities were far too nice. In addition to this, Stefan was welcome to do whatever he wished with him. Perhaps her little plaything would think twice next time he considered peeing where he wasn’t supposed to.
“Y-yes Sir,” he nodded timidly. “Very good Sir.”
The two continued down the line, inspecting the current residents. Most belonged to guests who knew the resort’s owner well enough to keep out of his way. They cowered. They quivered. One even cried. Stefan considered her for a moment. Young and pretty, with long blond hair. She’d tried to cover herself with the straw she bedded on. It hardly did the job. What a ludicrous display. Bare bodies were a dime a dozen in this place, but her panic had aroused him. I could have so much fun with this one! Approaching the bars with a sinister grin he asked, “Is this one mine?”, not bothering to look at his aide. He kept his gaze firmly on herswhilst the man rifled through the pages, uncertain. “A Mister Redp- no, someone named Freeman.’ He looked up, adjusting his glasses. “I don’t recognize the name, Sir.”
“Mmm…” Stefan mused, titling his head slightly. “I might have a little talk with him later.”
He pushed himself away from the bars with regret. Certain regulars might not object to him playing with their pet, some even welcomed it, but not everyone would appreciate having their partner returned permanently altered. The cute little bondage sessions they were accustomed to were often no longer enough for the newly enlightened.
He considered his options, itching to abuse something but bored of his own stock. If he didn’t find someone soon, his tiresome assistant might just have to do.
Stefan placed his hands behind his back, still watching the nervous blond. Out of his reach, for now, Demona’s wretched offering was starting to seem more appealing.
He started to walk back towards the entrance when his annoying subordinate began stammering.
“There’s one more Sir!”
Stefan glared at him snarling. “I thought you said there were twelve!”
“M-my mistake Sir. One more Sir.”
With fist now clenched; Stefan was losing his patience. Good help was apparently impossible to find. This was the third one this year and it was only July. He was tempted to throttle the pest, but that would leave him with no one at all.
With luck, the last occupant would be precisely what he needed to blow off some steam.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he went that little bit further, past an empty pair of cells to the last one in the row where something out of the ordinary was waiting for him.
He was young, barely into his twenties, pale with unruly short blond hair and green eyes. His body, naked, soft, and a little overweight, was suggestive of a man who lived on cheap processed foods with little exercise. Curious. Guests of this establishment typically reflected a social class that could afford to be here.
Though his appearance was interesting in itself, what really caught his eye was that he was standing. It was obvious that the stiff military posture did not come naturally. He was trying so hard, utterly determined to face Stefan with unwavering resolve.
Intriguing. No one had ever stood up to him before.
With a bemused look, Stefan made a subtle gesture to his assistant who promptly unlocked the heavy iron gate.
He entered the small space, mindful of the straw beneath his feet. Even the most masochistic of slaves wouldn’t soil their own bed, though one could not be too careful.
The boy was nervous no doubt, fearful even. His body shook, but the tensed fists at his side, and the defiantly raised chin fought it.
As Stefan moved closer, Scott’s breath quickened. He’d thought himself ready to face the notorious dom but now, wasn’t so sure. Stefan was a few inches shorter than him and much slighter, yet his power charged the air like an imminent storm. Would looking him in the eyes be seen as a threat? Insubordination? Or, would averting his eyes earn a greater punishment?
Bruises of varying sizes and shades dotted the young man’s body. Many were from small clamps, others from vigorous, enthusiastic bondage and punishment. Angry red streaks crisscrossed over his back and buttocks, some deeper than most dominants would risk. This was a man who could tolerate pain, and often.
Stefan’s cursory inspection complete, he stood once again before the unwavering youth.
“TEETH!” he suddenly barked, loud enough to startle the boy.
Uncertain of how to respond, Scott’s eyes darted back to the commanding figure. With hesitation, he began to lift his quivering lip, but not quickly enough.
Eager to punish, Stefan lashed out at him with a crop, hitting him hard on the side. Harder than he was used to. Wide-eyed, Scott let out a cry and bolted upright, baring his teeth as much as he was able.
Stefan nearly screeched with glee. His reaction had been almost cartoonish, with exaggerated movements and expressions. He hadn’t just snapped to attention, he did in a way that you could almost hear the ‘ping!’ sound effect. His eyes looked like they were about to fall out, and the sound from his mouth regurgitated forth like a projectile vomit. Stefan nearly burst out in gleeful laughter. How was it that someone clearly used to pain was still responding like it had been the first time he’d ever been struck?
“ENOUGH!” he shouted, burying the tell-tale excitement. The threat in his voice, almost palatable.
Not chancing aggravating the irritable dom further, Scott snapped his mouth shut, averting his eyes once again, a hint of sweat appearing on his temple.
Stefan thought for a moment and then made a subtle indicative nod towards the man behind him, not taking his eyes off this new object of interest.
“Who does this thing belong to?”
The man makes a quick check of his papers.
“Mistress Donia, sir.”
“Is she on the premises?”
“I believe so, sir.”
Stefan appeared to be in deep thought, still considering the man before him.
“Get her in my office.”
Stefan leaned over his large, obscenely expensive ebony desk to examine some papers. It sat deep in the oversized office to make himself more imposing. The lavish décor, much of which depicted explicit and violent sexual acts, were designed to put guests ill at ease.
The sound of the door opening drew his attention away from the documents before him. Looking up, Stefan took in the sight of a mistress he was only vaguely familiar with. With shoulder-length black hair, a red and black PVC corset and knee-high black PVC stiletto heels, she was a walking stereotype. A pin-up from ‘Dominatrix monthly’. Her brightly colored red lips were pressed into an angry scowl, black-lined eyes severe and piercing. She was haughty and strong, emphasized by a long, braided leather whip hanging down from her clenched hands.
Walking to the middle of the room, she stopped, shifting her weight to one foot, and placing her free hand firmly on her hips. A position of power. Stefan seemed unimpressed.
“Why have you summoned me?” she demanded in a deep booming voice.
“Drop the act, Donia. I want to talk business.”
She lifted her chin in arrogance, eyeing him with suspicion.
Stefan ignored it and got right to the point. “Who’s the boy?”
Puzzled by the question, Donia faltered. “What boy?”
“The kid you’ve got downstairs. Who is he?”
“Scott?”
“I don’t give a shit what his name is, who is he?”
Donia let her guard down a touch, realizing he wasn’t after her. “He’s just some kid. College dropout. Run of the mill pain junkie.”
“How can he afford you?” Stefan enquired with narrowed eyes. Clearly, there was more to this story.
Donia accepted the veiled compliment but knew he’d said it to stroke her ego. He wanted something. There was little point in hiding the truth. Stefan would twist it out of her, one way or another. She relaxed her shoulders and loosened her pose, knowing she was already defeated.
“He can’t,” she sighed. ”He helps me with the business, and I throw him some freebies.”
With a glint of interest, Stefan tilted his head slightly. “How did he end up here?”
Donia’s fearsome visage softened as Stefan noted the barest hint of a smile.
She’s impressed with the kid he thought, which piqued his curiosity.
“He’s smarter than he looks and dedicated. Read everything he could to figure out ways to boost business. Even managed to improve my website. That kid increased my profits tenfold in a matter of months,” she said with notable admiration. “This was his reward” she shrugged.
Stefan showed a glimmer of a smile. This just keeps getting better and better. A man-child with useful talents, and stubborn determination. His excitement was beginning to show.
“What about his life? Has he got many ties? Responsibilities?”
Donia snorted lightly. “He’s a loser. Sleeps on some guy’s couch. Does odd jobs that barely feed him, and spends any extra on me.”
Stefan rose from the desk, planting his hands firmly on the surface. A blazing fire sparked to life in his eyes, a predatory smile forming on his lips.
“Let’s make a deal” he purred.
****
At the precisely requested time, Scott was brought to Stefan’s office by his nervous assistant, who Stefan immediately dismissed with an angry gesture. “You were supposed to send him in ALONE – Fucking moron!” He was quickly forgotten as Stefan’s attention turned to his newly purchased prize, who was now anxiously inspecting the décor. Scott’s eyes fell on one painting in particular. It depicted a man crying out in agony while graphically being penetrated by a red-eyed bellowing bull. Very little had been left to the imagination, including pools of seeping blood. If the viewer was meant to feel discomfort, it was working.
The dom approached from the desk; hands clasped behind his back. He took the young man’s chin firmly in one hand, snapping it away from his paralyzed horror. He tilted it downward so that their eyes met. If it weren’t for the dom’s powerful stance and snarling face, it might have looked comical. Scott was a good five inches taller. Most people were.
Stefan scowled. “You belong to me now” he said, before placing a weighted leather collar around the young man’s neck, adorned with a single, thick metal ring at the front. The burden was immediately noticeable, surprising the young blond. It was designed to remind one of their station, not as a comfortable accessory.
Scott’s breath had quickened, and there was fear in his eyes, but he made no objection. Or was it fear? His pupils were slightly dilated, as if excited. Curious again. He should have wondered why there’d been a sudden change in ownership, but seemed oddly accepting. As if he’d known all along that this was going to happen.
If that was so, then the boy was a fool. He would learn very soon that this arrangement wasn’t something to be happy about. His new life would be anything but pleasant. The days of flogging and petty humiliations were over.
Stefan hooked two fingers through the ring on his collar and yanked it hard, dragging his not-quite-finalized possession to the papers positioned on the desk.
The lengthy document was in essence, a purchase. Ownership of his mind and body. Scott would now be required to stay at The Manor and endure anything the dom could dream up. What little life he had before, forfeited.
Scott looked briefly at the top sheet, grabbed the nearby pen, and signed the last page with no further examination of the contents. He then gently put the pen down and returned to his stiff stance, staring off into the distance.
For what would not be the last time, Stefan was speechless. A raging fire ignited within, bubbling to the surface, erupting into pure, unadulterated fury. He had intended to sweat the stupid boy with the contract’s endless stream of lofty and unreasonable demands. There were conditions within that were clearly illegal, many outrageously dangerous, even blatantly life-threatening. The contract was intended solely as entertainment for the sadist. He’d expected to giggle as he watched the poor sap reduced to a quivering, sobbing mess, but he hadn’t even glanced at the words. His hasty scrawl had robbed Stefan of some considerable mirth.
Eventually, with sufficient begging and pleading, the real contract would be revealed. Though nearly as criminal, it would seem a relief after the first, only this oddity, this idiot, by ignoring the words, was either exceptionally stupid or dangerously self-destructive.
“You are not interested in the contents!?” Stefan bellowed, enraged. “Do you have any idea what you just signed away!?’’
Clenching his jaw, broadcasting his commitment and resolve, Scott remained silent, staring resolutely forward.
“SPEAK!!!” Stefan blasted, his voice rising to a piercing shriek.
“I do not know the contents of the contract, Master.”
“You just agreed to give up your life entirely and live HERE as my personal plaything.”
“Yes Master!’”
“Donia said you were a loser! A run of the mill pain junkie who can barely handle his own life. What makes you think you can handle me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.
“You’re either stupid, or suicidal, and I don’t want either in my service!” Stefan spat, before grabbing the contract, aiming to rip it in half.
“No!” Scott shouted with firm resolve and finality.
“Excuse me?” the enraged dom viciously snarled, seeing red.
With a gall that should have earned him the worst of beatings, he stared Stefan straight in the eye and declared. “That contract is fine, Sir.”
“This is not some game!” Stefan shouted. “I will not be flogging you for your pleasure, or titillating your senses! Go back to your Mistress! I have no confidence whatsoever in your mental state!”
“I AM NOT NAÏVE!” Scott shouted back, refusing to break eye contact.
Now he’d crossed a line. No one talked back to Stefan, and most certainly not a measly slave. He reached for a nearby lamp, tearing the cord from the wall, torn between wanting to beat the boy senseless or strangle him with the cable until he choked his last breath.
“Mistress Donia is safe,” Scott said in a much quieter voice, but with the same conviction.
Stefan stopped. “SAFE? The marks on your body say otherwise!”
Encouraged by Stefan’s sudden attention, Scott continued with a certain disenchantment that only came from experience. “They all are.”
He paused for a moment, looking for the right words. “Safe I mean. It’s not real. I mean, the pain is real, but rest is just a script.”
“There’s always a safe word. Always a ritual. Time between lashes. Limits. Boundaries. It’s too predictable.” Scotts explanation wasn’t particularly eloquent, yet Stefan was listening.
“You’re BORED?”
“No. Well, yes. Sort of. I mean, it’s fun, but…’ he began, then paused. “There’s no real danger.”
Scott felt encouraged. With the dom now listening, Scott chanced his next remarks. “I’ve heard of you. I know your reputation.”
“Really?” Stefan replied with narrowed eyes, still gripping the lamp.
“I manipulated Mistress Donia to get myself here.”
Stefan’s eyes widened enough for Scott to know he had his full attention.
“I’m the one who pushed her to take me here. I went out of my way to learn what I could about running a business, then boosted her customer base to give her the reason she needed to reward me.”
“I wanted to end up in your hands.”
Dumbstruck, Stefan slowly lowered the lamp. This kid was also devious.
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“I need more than that!”
Scott looked at the lush carpet beneath his feet, considering his next words carefully before looking back at the dom with calm sincerity. “I just want something real to rise above.”
“And you think you can get that from me?”
“Will you hurt me?”
“Oh yes.”
“Torture me?”
“I will make you wish you were never born.”
“Treat me like garbage?”
“Oh my God yes!” Stefan replied with a chuckle.
Scott then squared his shoulders once more with absolute confidence. “Then I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Stefan might have underestimated the amount of fun he could have with this one. He seemed so determined to better himself through pain and suffering. He would likely last longer than anyone ever had, though would soon learn the hard way there is a limit to human endurance. In the meantime, this really would be amusing.
“How old are you?”
“’21, Sir.”
“You’re just a child. What the fuck do you know?”
Scott remained silent, still strong. Still sure of himself.
Stefan sauntered over from around the desk, predatory. It was time to throw him in the water and see if he could swim. Stefan jabbed his fingers into Scotts chest forcing the man to step back.
“On your knees” he commanded. The slave obeyed.
Their eyes never lost contact. Scott was no fool, nor a novice, despite the opinion of the man before him. He knew from the intensity of the gaze, his eyes were to remain locked on his.
Upon hearing Stefan unbuttoning his fly, he froze. He’d been expecting an insult, an unreasonable command, a slap, or a formality in which to express his promised devotion. Instead, Stefan pulled out his cock and began fondling it, watching, waiting for the boy’s eyes to wander, and disappointed when they didn’t. He would’ve enjoyed slapping his idiot face hard enough to leave a mark.
“Suck it!” he snarled with such force. Scott was taken aback.
The boy’s eyes moved downward, taking in the sight of the dom’s sex. His lip curled in horror, repulsed by the thought of what he’d been asked to do. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t even curious.
Stefan gleefully gave him the punishment he deserved for hesitating. A hard backhand across the cheek, knocking him sideways. Carrying through, he grabbed a chunk of his hair yanking Scott painfully back.
“SUCK IT!!” he screamed, pulling him into position.
Scott did as he was told.
3 weeks
Days soon turned to weeks. Scott began to wonder if he’d gotten in over his head. Stefan’s cruelty knew no bounds. Shattered again, he slid off the cold metal slab deemed as his bed and onto the rough straw below, letting out a cry as its scratching edges bit into his already red raw skin. He needed to reach the corner designated as his toilet, but found himself unable. With a choked sob, he released a hot stream of urine to the concrete below, beyond caring that his body was wet.
Today’s session had nearly broken him, but he refused to give in. Not even when his new master had dislocated each of his fingers, first at the base and then further down each knuckle. He’d shown ‘mercy’ eventually by putting them back in place and splinting them. It was his fingers that concerned Scott the most at the moment. Not the burning agony of his excessively flogged skin, nor the soreness in his groin that resulted from Stefan inserting a metal rod that had sent an electrified jolt through his nether regions. He’d risen above that then, and would rise above this now.
The sound of a metal gate being opened alerted Scott to Stefan’s return. Not now, it was too soon. The dom’s bare feet made little sound; that’s how Scott knew it was him. Guests did not try to hide their approach.
In a panic, Scott thrust himself up to a standing position, forgetting for a moment to take care with his hands. He stifled a cry, bit back his sobs and clenched his jaw, resolute. He refused to fall apart where Stefan might see him. As his master came into view, Scott tried to quiet his trembling.
The smaller man studied him with cold, cold eyes. This kid shouldn’t be awake, much less standing. A sudden snarl communicated his annoyance.
“Prepare room three!” he screamed to his assistant.
“Sir,” the bespectacled man pleaded. “He’s too-“
“SHUT UP!!!” Stefan snapped, making it clear from his glare the man could get the same treatment. “Just do it!!!”
As Stefan stormed off, Scott hazarded a grin. He’d won. For a few minutes, anyway.
6 weeks
Weeks became a month, and beyond, Scott now digging into his task with relish. As his throat closed around Stefan’s stiffened shaft his lips and tongue greedily sought the base. His eyes remained averted from the dom’s own, mindful not to show too much enthusiasm. This was meant for Stefan’s pleasure only, not his. Sensing his master’s growing excitement, his pace and intensity grew. His tongue, painting lines of wet around the shaft, his head bobbing up and down with vigor. Scott’s lips never rested, always seeking, caressing as he moved. Stefan’s deep-throated growl rose to a terrifying crescendo, crying out in climax. This kid learned fast. Surprisingly fast. It was the best head he’d had in ages.
He looked down at the boy, who was fighting the nausea which always overcame him at the taste of the dom’s seed. Each time, his revulsion was less than the last. Pity. It was far more fun to watch him gag. Remembering that first time when he’d thrown up still gave Stefan the giggles.
He wondered if Donia had truly realized his worth. If she had, she might not have accepted such a low payment. She’d only seen him as a useful tool for improving her business, but he was so much more than that.
For one thing, the boy didn’t seem to have a limit when it came to pain. He’d used every tool in his arsenal, yet he just kept fucking going.
It wasn’t to say he didn’t suffer though. Far from it. If anything, he was more sensitive than the usual playthings. Even a dull little clamp to the nipple caused an impressive reaction. His eyes would fly open wide, his body tense, and his cries piercing. He was the single most reactive slave Stefan had ever abused, which to him, was fucking hilarious! God only knows how he withstood ten or twenty more pinching his flesh!
He was also surprisingly useful. When he wasn’t utterly broken, slumped on the bed, that is. Whether he was polishing his master’s car, or running errands, he did it with determined efficiency, perfectly, every time. It was a bit annoying at first. Stefan had looked so forward to finding fault and punishing him for it.
As Stefan watched his new favorite toy screw up his face in disgust, he wondered. This kid might actually make a decent assistant. Might be worth giving him more challenging tasks, to see how he fares.
Having overcome the revulsion, Scott looked up at him and smiled, proud of himself.
Stefan snarled, lashing out with a fist to knock him unconscious. As the kid slumped to the floor Stefanwinced. He really needed to stop doing that. Scott wouldn’t be much use to him as a drooling half-wit.
Why did he have to ruin a perfectly good blowjob by smiling?
6 months
Six months after the deal with Donia, Stefan was in his suite, throwing an unholy temper tantrum,grabbing anything he could get his hands on, launching it hard against whatever surface seemed most likely to break it. The floor was littered with shards of porcelain, glass and objects that survived the violence.
One painting, ripped from the wall, was proving irritatingly robust, which only infuriated the man further. Intent on seeing it destroyed, he picked up a shard from a shattered vase, not even registering it slice into his palm.
“‘Your bath is ready, Sir,” came the voice of his newly named personal aide.
Stefan stopped mid-action. “Bath? WHAT BATH?!?”. What the hell was he on about? He then spotted the glass and whiskey bottle Scott was balancing on a platter. Was that his favorite, single malt? How had the slave known?
Scott, utterly nonplussed by the violent display, set everything down on a small table, poured a precise amount, and handed it to the stunned dom.
“Pierre is prepared to give you a massage when you are ready.”
Stefan stood dumbstruck, nearly at risk of spilling the expensive liquid. He hadn’t asked for any of these things. It was like the boy had read his mind before the thoughts had even formed.
The two words came tumbling out before he could stop himself. “Thank you,” he murmured.
There was a moment’s pause. It was Scott’s turn to be surprised. Stefan had never thanked him for anything.
Knowing he could not take back what was said, the dom downed the shot then eyed the servant carefully.
“What of that long-legged scrawny one? The man at the bar?” he asked, wondering if the servant had witnessed the devious trick that ‘Rowan’ had pulled.
“He left the grand hall for some time, but security has informed me he’s returned to his place at the bar. There’s been no sign of any trouble. They’re keeping an eye on him just in case.”
Thankfully, he hadn’t seen what had happened. Either that, or he was a better liar than Stefan suspected. He searched the slave’s eyes for signs of mistruth, but only mere professionalism looked back at him.
Stefan examined the empty glass, turning it over in his hand then tossed it back to Scott. “Help yourself to one” he muttered.
As an afterthought, he added “Then get back to your duties!” only without the usual characteristic bark behind his words. The kid had impressed him, this night.
1 year
Stefan sat in the same office that Scott had signed his life over one year ago, groaning. Staff, and their petty complaints!
The kitchen had lost another cook, and they were two waitresses short for the next event and one was threatening to quit over the warning she’d received about gaining too much weight. What did she expect? The rubber uniforms they were expected to wear weren’t very forgiving, and Stefan was not about to order her a new one. Those things were expensive! Besides, he refused to allow a fucking cow to represent his carefully cultivated brand. They were meant to embody perfection!
One overly delicate resident was moaning about the conditions, and cleaners wanted more pay for the bodily fluids they had to deal with. It was made abundantly clear in their interviews what they’d be faced with, they could hardly feign appalment now!
“This is more trouble than it’s worth! This place is for ME! MY playground! Why the fuck do I have to sit here and deal with this crap? Salaries, duties, hiring, the fucking lot of it!”
He collected the offending papers, about to crumple them into a ball before he paused. To Scott’s surprise, he threw the whole stack of them in his direction instead. Surprised, the servant scrambled to catch the flurry.
“See what you can do with this!!”
“Sir?” he asked, grabbing at the last few.
“JUST TAKE CARE OF IT!!”
Stunned, Scott clasped the pile to his chest and meekly replied. “Yes Sir.”
Later that day, Stefan was observing the boy with various members of staff. Scott turned out to beassertive, but likeable. In many cases he’d been able to resolve the issues with mere words. The staff responded well, seemingly happy with the arrangements. In a matter of hours, every single item in the weighty pile had been addressed, with no loss to Stefan, financially or in staff retention. People were, well, pleased.
If the boy kept this up, he could probably deal with more without sacrificing the time needed to continue working as Stefan’s personal assistant.
Stefan crossed his arms over his chest, thinking.
The next day after a vigorous session in his personal gym, Stefan spotted Scott bringing him a post-workout shake. He downed it in a single gulp and then beckoned him to follow with a subtle gesture. They exited into the hall of the wing Stefan commanded. Most rooms there were assigned a purpose, but rarely used.
He directed the young man to a suite furthest from his own, unlocking the door. With a look of near boredom, he turned to Scott and said, “It’s yours.”
There was a stunned silence.
“A dungeon isn’t appropriate for the new head of staff,” Stefan muttered.
The damned kid had the gall to actually smile. Head of staff? That position didn’t even exist!
“This doesn’t absolve you from your duties to me!” Stefan shouted in warning. “It’s only when I’m busy and not in need of your services! Nothing else has changed!”
Scott wisely nodded and waited for him to storm away, swearing, presumably to counteract the brief moment of niceness. As soon as his master was out of earshot, he entered the room, grinning wildly. Closingthe door, Scott waited a moment before letting out a whoop of uninhibited excitement.
I made it!! I made it as high as there is!!!
1 year 10 months
Scott stood where he was once bound in the cold, subterranean room, subject to Stefan’s torture. He’d been called to deliver refreshments, not to her, but to him only.
A flash of jealousy passed over Scott’s face as he watched Stefan discard a high-powered vibrator in favor of his own throbbing organ. Watching Stefan thrust himself into her was exciting, admittedly, but where was the fear? The reverence in her eyes?
Little about the scene suggested that this was Stefan’s best. The woman just lay there like a corpse. Not even a cry, much less a scream flew from her lips. The electrodes from the TENS machine were only stuck to her pelvic region, and so few tools sat on the trolley.
This wasn’t torture, it was garden variety kink, though he wouldn’t dare say that to the man’s face.
Scott made a mental note to find Stefan someone more suitable. More deserving of the master’s talents. Someone who wasn’t expecting, or perhaps, even wanting to end in his clutches. This thirty-something year old wasn’t scared enough. No wonder Stefan had been at it so long. Maybe he just couldn’t get it up.
Scott’s face flushed as he watched the man at work. There wasn’t a scrap of fat on him, just the firm outlines of individual muscles, flexing, exuding power with might. His tight buttocks clenched as he drove himself into the woman with force. Scott knew what that felt like once, the sadist’s cock slipping in and out of him, though it had been anything but pleasurable. It had been so long since he last did that. The boy didn’t need to be raped anymore to know his place.
If only he would do it just one more time.
Scott felt his face turning red. He was deeply confused. He’d never had a single sexual thought for a man in his life. Hadn’t even thought it possible. He’d been exclusively attracted to girls since he was physically capable of doing so.
This man though, this legend in his own right, was unique. Where others labored to be like Gods, shouting affirmations into the mirror that they were in fact so, this man simply was. He’d never known a moment of doubt, or uncertainty. A great and terrible dragon, Stefan commanded the eyes of all, striking both fear and lust in all who dared to gaze at him.
If he would just turn, see the lowly slave standing there and command him to relieve the need this woman had failed to, Scott would gladly fall, take his throbbing cock into his mouth and-
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE!?” Stefan shouted, bristling with annoyance. The servant had been so preoccupied with his fantasy, he hadn’t even noticed Stefan finish. Scott tore his eyes away from the sight of his master’s still erect sex, unable to stop the reddening of his cheeks. With luck, the dom wouldn’t think much of it.
Scott swallowed nervously and backed into the door, scrambling for the knob as he hastily departed, thinking just me and my hand again tonight.
****
That day had marked a change in the master’s viewing of him. He’d retreated from using him in the one way Scott most enjoyed. One by one, other people took his place, on their knees.
Though Scott still served him, as always, servicing had ceased. Had Stefan seen the yearning in his aide’s eyes? Was he so repulsed that he created a distance? How long before he’d get rid of him? Scott cried himself to sleep on more than occasion.
None of these thoughts were the truth. When Stefan had seen the kid that day, the first thing that came to mind was a desire to take him. To feel his flesh in his hands, the warmth of his body. To bury his loins in the kid’s quivering ass and hear him cry out in euphoria.
The thought had flown from his mind as quickly as it had tried taking root, but the damage was done, and Stefan, profoundly disturbed by its brief existence.
Since then, the servant was kept at arm’s length, ceasing any activities that could be construed as sexual, or even related. Scott’s first-rate blowjobs had to go, as did any sessions on Stefan’s table. Although they had been strictly about pain and tolerance, Stefan also received immense sexual pleasure from them.
He could see the hurt grow in Scott’s eyes in the weeks that followed, but refused to let it sway him, until, something changed.
Neither guilt, nor caring were words Stefan understood, yet they, in their most primitive form, led both to the hallway once more. Stefan’s steps were powerful and quick, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The out of shape servant was having trouble keeping up.
“I need someone resilient to try out a new toy,” he snapped, not bothering to address Scott directly.
Odd. The younger man thought. Stefan didn’t usually alert him in advance, preferring surprises, especially when they were painful ones. And resilient? It was too much like a compliment to have come from him.
Scott was led to one of the large rooms near the dungeons. Normally reserved for guests, they were typically equipped with an assortment of furnishings, depending on the theme, and a wide range of implements to play with.
This room though, had been stripped of all of the above. All that remained was an apparatus whichScott had never seen before, whose purpose was not immediately evident.
It consisted of six metal beams, radiating outwards like a strange metal flower. It rested, suspended from the ceiling, at about shoulder height. The thick metal cable that held it ran up and through a pulley, then back down where it was connected to a crank.
There were a number of smaller pulleys attached to the apparatus, each holding a red cable. One end of each connected to a crank of its own on the wall, scattered around the room. The other ends were carefully laid on the ground, each bearing a single, fearsome metal hook.
Stefan barked an order, indicating the gap in the center of the puzzling setup.
“Strip and lie face down on the ground, hands above your head!”
Scott did as he was told, nervous.
Stefan began to apply some sort of cream to his back. An antiseptic perhaps, considering the hooks.
One by one, he pinched thick areas of Scott’s spongy flesh, carefully inserting each hook. The depth had to be precise. Too shallow and the hook would tear right through him once his weight was added. Too deep and damage would be certain. Stefan had never used such a device, though he’d done his research. With each hook placed with satisfaction, Stefan cleaned any blood from the surface with an antiseptic wipe.
Scott, true to his nature, reacted strongly to each insertion, even crying out loudly a few times. He was never very good at hiding the pain. It made for good entertainment and Stefan found himself smiling, before wiping the tell-tale elation off his face.
When all was ready, Stefan stood up and started carefully cranking each cable to the required tension. It took several tries to get every one of them perfectly balanced. If even one was incorrectly set, Scott’s weight would send him plummeting, bloodied and out of commission, at least for a while. The point wasn’t to harm him, it was to give him a spiritual experience of sorts. A state of calm, even bliss once the initial pain started to fade. Stefan already knew he could tolerate the hurt, but it would be interesting to see how far he could transcend it.
Once satisfied the rig was perfectly set, Stefan began slowly raising him upwards. As Scott began toleave the floor, agony set in. Terrified to move lest it make it worse, his eyes flew wide as he fought to keep himself from hyperventilating.
He was only lifted a couple of feet before Stefan stopped, careful not to jar the lines while he locked the crank in place. He studied the boy for the moment, watching his initial shock wear off. Clear enjoyment started to take its place.
Scott’s breathing slowed as he felt himself drawn inward, lost in a now dull ache. The silence of the room enveloped him, the warm air wrapped around him, bidding him to relax. He closed his eyes, letting his new world wash over him. Tension left his body like mist dissipating in the morning sun. Peace unlike anything he’d experienced flooded his body and mind, giving himself over.
Stefan watched him succumb with fond admiration. He smiled, an unfamiliar warmth coursing through him, something akin to affection. Stefan quickly wiped his expression clean, lest the kid see it. Pulling over a chair, he fiercely denied the color rising in his cheeks, gritting his teeth before sitting down. Inscrutable once more, Stefan started his vigil, looking for signs the boy had had enough.
“Happy birthday Scott,” he muttered under his breath. Rise above it and shine like you do.
Flickering Lights 
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