SBB 2015 ENTRY #2: CAGED (4/4)
Title: Caged
Pairing: none
Rating: R
Warnings: sexual & psychological abuse of a child, rape, violence, slavery
Final Word Count: 30,203 words
Sometime later that year, a special tournament was held for a feast day. This tournament had even greater prizes for the masters of the winning slaves. Of course, that meant that all the matches were scheduled to be even harder than usual.
Key was determined to win big that day. If he could rake in enough prizes, he would be able to win Sanghoon free of his debt, split earnings with Sungki or no. But Key would have to win very big in order to do that.
Nevertheless, he was going to try.
He’d become sort-of friends with Biter over the past year (although not really friends- Key knew he couldn’t afford to really like anyone except his master). Biter seemed to have taken a personal interest him, perhaps because he was so young. Biter, who’d begun his own career in the arena at the age of a solid eighteen, did not like watching youngsters compete. He felt it immoral.
Key didn’t think the arena had any room for morality at all, but maybe that was just him.
He was listening to Biter now as they waited for Key’s third match of the day. He had so far fought and killed one mid-rank gladiator and one baby wyvern. He’d gotten burned by the wyvern, which was disappointing. He needed to do better.
“....and good luck,” said Biter finally, concluding his critique of Key’s botched wyvern-fighting. “You’ll need it, young’un.”
Key nodded, smiling a little at Biter, and got to his feet. The others in the waiting room eyed him askance, like they didn’t know what to do with him. They never did. Key was amazed at how many fighters still underestimated him just because he was ten years old. Hadn’t they learned better by now?
Biter gave him a final clap on the shoulder, and Key went out onto the sands.
It was still broiling hot, of course, despite the fact that it was a snowy winter outside. The arena, Key had learned, was bespelled to always be swelteringly hot. He hated that. It made it easier to tire and get hurt.
He spotted his opponent almost immediately and had to suppress a churn of fear. He recognized the woman. Her name was Bonebreaker, from the joy she took in showing off her fighting skill by slowly snapping her opponents’ bones before killing them. She had survived six whole years in the arena, which was deeply impressive.
She was a top-rank fighter, not a mid-rank, the first Key had ever faced.
He tried not to hyperventilate with fear. He knew he was no match for her, fighting skill to fighting skill. He would have to outsmart her, then. Biter had always maintained that intelligence was often worth just as much on the sands as technique. Key saw no reason to disbelieve him.
Bonebreaker grinned at him, a wild joy in her eyes, and charged.
Key ran.
He did not usually run from his opponents. He had less stamina than most of them due to his youth, and understood that it would be death to tire himself out first. But engaging Bonebreaker directly wouldn’t work, and Key needed time to think
Use your environment. Younghwan’s advice, not Biter’s, but still useful. What was his environment? Sand. How could he use sand?
Key glanced over his shoulder. Bonebreaker was catching up.
Use your enemy’s weaknesses. This time, a memory from the Sanctuary. What was Bonebreaker’s weakness? Could he distract her, derail her, confuse her?
Yes, he realized suddenly. He could.
Key pretended to tire, to gasp, to slow. He deliberately tripped and rolled over, sprawling uselessly in the sand. Just as he tried to get up, more clumsily than usual, Bonebreaker caught up to him and kicked him in the face.
She used all her strength to do so. Key’s nose would have broken if he hadn’t seen it coming and jerked backwards away from her foot. As it was, he was going to have a nasty bruise on his forehead in addition to the burns from the wyvern.
He pretended the kick had hurt more than it had and writhed screaming in the sand, crossing his eyes to give weight to the illusion of being concussed. He was fortunate she had tried to kick him in the face; it made his act more convincing.
Bonebreaker grinned a sadistic grin and knelt. Key concealed his glee. Bonebreaker was about to commit her three fatal mistakes.
Mistake number one: giving in to sadistic desire to snap bones and torture him rather than go for a clean kill.
Mistake number two: needing to be kneeling and close to Key to break bones because sand was too soft for her to crush them standing and at a distance.
Mistake number three: underestimating Key because of his youth and inexperience. He doubted she would have tried this were he any other of the career gladiators. No one got to be top-rank and survive for six years by being this stupid.
Key flopped like a fish on the sands away from her. She grasped his left thigh and shin and twisted, cracking his kneecap. Key screamed. She grinned.
Then he rocketed himself forward into a sitting position, dragging his other leg around through the soft sand to give himself leverage, and punched her hard in the windpipe.
She doubled over, choking, but managed to draw her sword and thrust it at Key. He tilted sideways and it only sliced a thin gash on his side. He drew his own sword as he leaned and spun it in his hand so that it faced forward and slashed up her belly.
Or, well, would have slashed had she not been wearing armor, like most of the higher ranking regulars.
Key yelped and flung himself sideways as she cut at him again. He stabbed back in turn, this time aiming for her unprotected mouth, and managed to bash through several of her teeth and slice open her lips.
She snarled, bleeding heavily from the mouth. Key wasted no time in ducking as she swung at him again. He flung a handful of sand into her face as he went, and she cursed as it got into her eyes.
He took advantage of her brief distraction and jammed his sword into her throat with all his might.
Blood sprayed everywhere. Key grunted with distaste. He’d come to dislike going for massively bloody ways of death, but they were convenient, so it was hard.
Bonebreaker’s body thumped to the ground. Key grinned, a curl of pleasure licking up through him. He’d managed to kill a top-rank fighter! It would probably make his next match ridiculously difficult due to his wounds- especially the broken kneecap- but still.
He smiled at Bonebreaker’s corpse. It had been so satisfying to watch her die.
~~~
It turned out that Bonebreaker had been his last scheduled match of the day, which was fortunate, because Key wasn’t sure he could have survived another match given how damaged he was.
When Sanghoon picked him up from the arena outskirts, he was grinning.
“Key, my sweet!” Sanghoon said, and picked him up, swinging him around. Key giggled and grinned back. “The betting was heavily against you today, did you know that?” He set Key down and ruffled his hair. “I won an enormous amount by gambling on you.” His grin grew wider. “Even after we give Sungki his share, we have enough to pay back the Duchess!”
Key’s eyes widened. “Really?” he breathed, ecstatic.
“Really!” confirmed Sanghoon and knelt down and hugged him right then and there, in broad daylight, in public. Key clung back, love shining through him as he felt Sanghoon’s pride and pleasure through the bond.
It occurred to him, suddenly, that if they’d paid the Duchess off, Key didn’t have to fight anymore as a gladiator. He whispered this realization into Sanghoon’s ear.
Sanghoon drew back, expression shifting. “You want to stop fighting, little one?”
“...yes?” said Key hesitantly. Hadn’t this been temporary? He felt Sanghoon’s irritation through the bond and flinched. He hadn’t meant to displease his beloved master.
Sanghoon sighed. “What if I want you to keep fighting, my pretty Key?” he said quietly.
Key swallowed. It wasn’t really a question, he knew that. “If you want me to, then I will,” he said, because how could he do otherwise? It wasn’t right to want something other than what his master desired of him.
Sanghoon smiled again, and stroked his cheek. “That’s my good little kitten,” he breathed, and stood up. “Come. It’s time to go home.”
Key followed him towards the carriage lot. He felt vaguely dissatisfied with the idea of continuing as a gladiator. That was unacceptable. He was disappointed in himself for being a bad slave and feeling something other than what his master wanted him to feel. He reached out for the bond, let it cut into him. He would have to do better.
Besides, maybe the life of a gladiator wouldn’t be so bad. Key had gotten used to it over the past year. He’d even enjoyed killing his opponent today, something he’d never done before. He could take pleasure in that again, and in doing well. It might even become fun.
~~~
The year passed, and things changed.
Key did indeed try to learn to enjoy being a gladiator. He made himself take pleasure not only in the kill, but in the fights as well. He fought to win, of course, but he also began trying to perform for the audience as he did so and put on a show. He found he liked the audience screaming approval at him. It pleased Sanghoon to have everyone appreciate his slave’s skills, and how could Key argue with that, or the satisfaction of a job well done?
It was not always possible to show off, of course. Key wasn’t good enough yet for that; he still had to focus on fighting well enough to stave off certain death. But he was getting there.
As he got better, the prizes he won for Sanghoon became larger, as did the rewards Sanghoon reaped at the gambling tables by betting on him. Sanghoon began looking about for a larger apartment in the well-to-do section of the city, and associating with the rest of the nouveau riche. Sometimes, he brought Key with him to formal gatherings and the like so that people could fawn all over his prize slave. Key enjoyed being so paraded about; Sanghoon always dressed him in fine clothing and emanated an intense pride at him through the bond which was wonderful to feel.
~~~
It was a year and a half or so after Sanghoon had paid the Duchess off when the bond finalized.
Key was midway through eleven. And there were weird things happening to him, like his limbs starting to grow to awkward proportions, making it difficult to keep up his progress on the sands. But the weirdest things involved his feelings for Sanghoon.
Key had always felt Sanghoon’s attraction to him, though he’d never really understood it. There began to be small moments here and there, however, where he’d feel that formerly-alien possessive lust, and something hot and shivery of his own would unfurl in response.
He asked Sanghoon about it. Sanghoon just smiled and ruffled his hair and told him it meant he was growing up.
And then, one night, that hot and shivery feeling changed everything.
It began as it always did when Sanghoon had sex with him. They started by kissing. Ordinarily, Key enjoyed it the same way he enjoyed having his hair petted or his hand held; it was nice, but nothing special.
This time, it felt different. He felt acutely aware, in a way he never had before, of the slick press of Sanghoon’s mouth against his, the way their lips brushed together, the rough, slow licks of Sanghoon’s tongue through his mouth. Sanghoon was sitting in bed with Key straddling his lap, and Key felt hyperaware of every point that their bodies touched, every curl of Sanghoon’s fingers, the heat of Sanghoon’s chest.
Out of some never before felt instinct, Key ground his hips forward into Sanghoon’s lap, and moaned openly at the delicious friction against his hardening cock.
“Fuck,” hissed Sanghoon, eyes blazing. “Yes, fuck, Key-yah, finally.” He slid his large hand down to Key’s crotch and rubbed his fingers there. Key shuddered and moaned again at the sensation, tipping his head back and shivering harder.
How had these things never felt this good before?
Sanghoon kissed his way down Key’s throat, wet, open-mouthed biting kisses that made Key writhe and spill more obscene noises into the air. He clung hard to Sanghoon’s shoulders as his hips began to stutter to some irregular rhythm, sending hot spikes of pleasure shocking through his spine.
Sanghoon stripped him, then, and every scrape of his nails against bare flesh made Key cry out and long for more. It didn’t help that he could feel Sanghoon’s desire flooding through the bond as well, mixing with his own and setting his skin on oversensitive fire.
“So pretty,” breathed Sanghoon, catching Key’s hardening little nipples in his teeth, twisting them about and blowing on them. “My own pretty, darling Key.”
“Master,” moaned Key, barely getting the words out through the overwhelming haze of hot pleasure swelling through him, intensified by the bond linking them both together.
Sanghoon growled, at that, deep and rough and low, and Key whimpered. He felt close to the edge of some precipice, shaking apart at his core and about to explode. It felt unbelievably good. He wanted to feel this way forever.
Sanghoon’s hands were fumbling at his own leggings, unlacing them and shoving them down his hips. Then he grabbed Key’s hair, winding fingers through the soft strands, and pushed Key backwards, yanking his head down.
“Suck,” he ordered, and his anticipation burned through the bond into Key’s own soul, driving the flood of desire even higher.
Sucking people off had never been something Key had liked. He found it very different now. The large, hot, heavy weight of his master’s cock in his mouth fanned the flames of the shivery lust in his belly. Key let out a low, wanton noise, then choked and had to withdraw. He nuzzled his face into Sanghoon’s cock in apology and drew a long lick all the way from the underside of the base up the shaft to the tip. Sanghoon made a sound halfway between a moan and a snarl, and forced Key’s head forward again.
Key eagerly swallowed him down, cheeks hollowing at the mouthful, and began to suck. Sanghoon’s hips began to buck as he fucked himself into Key’s mouth. Key closed his eyes for a moment, treasuring the sensation, thighs quivering at the intensity of the desire running through them both. Then he opened them again as he took Sanghoon’s cock deeper and deeper into his mouth and throat, gazing with fevered, sensual awe upon his beautiful master.
Then he cried out, choking again on Sanghoon’s thrusts, and felt himself fly over the edge, body convulsing with white-hot, electric pleasure beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
The bond flared between them, hot with orgasm, melting his pleasure with Sanghoon’s own until Key was no longer sure where the lines between them lay, and making Key scream out the unbearable feeling of burning with pleasure too great to endure in a merely human body.
Sanghoon dragged him up and kissed him, hard and rough and full of teeth. Key opened his mouth, yielding, and kissed back, wanting nothing more than to drown in Sanghoon’s touch forever and ever and ever.
“Mine,” snarled Sanghoon as his hips ground against Key’s thighs, the word low and guttural. Key, too far gone for words, felt his surrender burn through the bond instead, giving everything he had and was and more to the master who owned him.
Then Sanghoon came as well, biting down hard on Key’s shoulder as he shuddered out the after-shocks of his lust.
They lay there in silence for a while, breathing hard and covered in sweat and fluids. Key felt light, drifting, at peace in a way he’d felt before only in snatches. This was deeper, more permanent.
Sanghoon eventually curved his fingers through Key’s hair. Key arched into the touch, an eager joy filling him at the contact. He wanted it more than anything. He wanted Sanghoon more than anything.
“My beautiful little kitten,” murmured Sanghoon with a touch of awed wonder, cupping his palm over Key’s cheek. Key nuzzled his face into the touch, closing his eyes with pleasure. He had fallen into a state of mind beyond thinking, where he could only desire Sanghoon and act upon that desire. But that was all right. He didn’t need to think unless Sanghoon wanted him to.
“You’re mine now,” Sanghoon whispered, the incredulously pleased softness still marking his voice. “The bond has tightened to its full extent and cannot be undone. You’re mine.”
Key purred, voice emerging from his throat broken and wrecked from his earlier cries. He could no longer feel the bond tightening about him as an alien force. He was the bond, now, an extension of Sanghoon’s desire, an object for him to own and possess and command. Key had made his utter submission to his master, and nothing, nothing, had ever felt better.
~~~
It was difficult, after that, for Key to regain his equilibrium and function in daily life. All he wanted to do was curl up at Sanghoon’s feet and bask in his master’s presence. Of course, that wasn’t possible. He had to fight, because Sanghoon had told him to.
But Sanghoon had told him to, and so Key slowly, painfully, figured things out out. His first several matches and training sessions after his submission and the bond’s finalization did not go well. Key could barely focus on anything, mind straying to thoughts of his master rather than staying on what he was doing.
He couldn’t get rid of the desire to only ever think about Sanghoon. He didn’t want to. But he found he could shift the desire away when he needed to. Once he realized that it would always come back- that focusing on other things didn’t remove the fact of his belonging to Sanghoon- it became easier to flip the mental switch that allowed him to do more than kneel at his master’s feet and drown in his mere presence.
His performance both in the arena and in real life recovered. Everyone assumed he’d just been sick or something for a bit. Key didn’t disillusion them. What he was to his master was Sanghoon’s choice to disclose, not his.
Other things did not recover. Before the bond’s finalization, Key had had some stray feelings, here and there, for people not his master. Biter, for instance. After the finalization, Key could not spare the energy to feel anything for anyone else. Everything he was belonged to Sanghoon, and he was incapable of betraying his master by peeling pieces of his heart away to give to other people.
He could still pretend to feel things for others, of course, and did. It was useful. But it became only a pretense.
Similarly, he ceased to care about anything other than Sanghoon. His growing appreciation and pride at performing for an audience and making the crowd scream approval at him withered away. Now when he showed off his skills, he showed off for Sanghoon alone. Nothing else mattered. The satisfaction he’d taken in making successful kills turned to satisfaction in pleasing his master rather than satisfaction in his own hard work.
Because, after all, his hard work belonged to Sanghoon, just as everything else did.
~~~
Some of the career gladiators were religious. These gladiators often would make a quick sign of obeisance to whichever deity they worshipped as they strode out onto the sands. Key had always felt that this was more than useless; he could not see that the religious gladiators had any higher of a survival rate than the non-religious ones.
It was perhaps whim that made him decide to follow this practice. He went out onto the sands, ready to face his last opponent of the day. He was tired and sore and bleeding from a deep gash in the arm from where he’d made a mistake and gotten cut open by a beast’s claw. What he really needed, he thought, was a boost of reassurance that he would do well.
He let his mind briefly flicker across the thought of his master, as it always did. That, of course, reassured him. Sanghoon wanted him to win, so he would. That was the end of it. Key knew this was the reason he’d been so successful thus far. He would never have made it without Sanghoon.
And he felt suddenly vaguely ungrateful for not thanking Sanghoon enough for it. So as he went out onto the sands, he raised one hand in the salute of the ancient sun god. He folded one of his fingers down, however, altering the salute.
Because it wasn’t for the sun god. It was for Sanghoon, his own god, the sun that had named him and owned him and permitted him life.
Then Key turned his attention to the fight.
~~~
That night, however, Sanghoon expressed his disapproval of Key’s gesture.
“I know you only wished to honor me,” he said as they lay together, preparing for sleep. “But it will raise awkward questions if you continue to make an incorrect salute to the sun. Don’t do it again, little one.”
Key felt tears prick his eyes. He had displeased his master. That was unacceptable.
“Yes, master,” he said quietly. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”
“Good kitten,” said Sanghoon, and stroked Key’s cheek. “You obey me so well.”
Key leaned into the touch. It didn’t help his feelings of inadequacy. He hadn’t done very well in the arena that day. Oh, he’d won, of course, but he’d gotten really injured and once even tripped as he tried to fight that final opponent. And on top of that, he’d done something to displease Sanghoon. He wasn’t worthy of being his master’s possession. He had to do better.
Sanghoon, of course, felt his self-hating misery through the bond.
“Oh, my sweet,” Sanghoon breathed. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened today. The majority of the time, you please me very well.”
“I should do better, though,” whispered Key, gazing back at him with unhappy eyes. “I should please you all the time. I don’t deserve to be owned by you.”
Sanghoon gave a gentle chuckle and tugged him into his arms. Key buried his face in the dip between Sanghoon’s collarbones, drinking in his master’s scent.
“You are only an object, little kitten,” Sanghoon said, holding him close. “You are my toy and my tool and my slave, not a person in your own right. Must a mere thing prove itself? Or is it its owner who judges the object’s worth and deems it worthy of possessing?” He rubbed the back of Key’s thighs, soothing. “I understand that you are not perfect, my sweet. I have always known that you will disappoint me some of the time. Even actual people make mistakes, you know. I have chosen to take you for my own regardless of your inadequacies. As long as you keep on as you have been and make an effort to please and obey me, you need not blame yourself for failing every once in a while.”
Key breathed out, soothed by these words. As long as the master he worshipped was so understanding and kind to him, he didn’t have to hate himself for not being perfect.
“Thank you, master,” he said, and licked at Sanghoon’s skin. “I love you.”
Sanghoon laughed quietly and rolled them over. “Oh, you precious little thing, you,” he said, which made Key’s insides explode with pleasure at the compliment. Sanghoon dipped his head and kissed Key, long and fierce and hard, making Key’s head swim from glorious lack of air.
Yes, thought Key in utter contentment as the kissing turned to touching turned to Key begging to be fucked senseless. Yes, this is perfect. This is how life is supposed to be.
And as he eagerly took Sanghoon’s cock deep inside of him, he felt very, very lucky that his master, his god, had deemed him a thing worthy to be owned.
~~~
It would be twelve long years before anything challenged that contentment.
<< Part Three | The End
Pairing: none
Rating: R
Warnings: sexual & psychological abuse of a child, rape, violence, slavery
Final Word Count: 30,203 words
Sometime later that year, a special tournament was held for a feast day. This tournament had even greater prizes for the masters of the winning slaves. Of course, that meant that all the matches were scheduled to be even harder than usual.
Key was determined to win big that day. If he could rake in enough prizes, he would be able to win Sanghoon free of his debt, split earnings with Sungki or no. But Key would have to win very big in order to do that.
Nevertheless, he was going to try.
He’d become sort-of friends with Biter over the past year (although not really friends- Key knew he couldn’t afford to really like anyone except his master). Biter seemed to have taken a personal interest him, perhaps because he was so young. Biter, who’d begun his own career in the arena at the age of a solid eighteen, did not like watching youngsters compete. He felt it immoral.
Key didn’t think the arena had any room for morality at all, but maybe that was just him.
He was listening to Biter now as they waited for Key’s third match of the day. He had so far fought and killed one mid-rank gladiator and one baby wyvern. He’d gotten burned by the wyvern, which was disappointing. He needed to do better.
“....and good luck,” said Biter finally, concluding his critique of Key’s botched wyvern-fighting. “You’ll need it, young’un.”
Key nodded, smiling a little at Biter, and got to his feet. The others in the waiting room eyed him askance, like they didn’t know what to do with him. They never did. Key was amazed at how many fighters still underestimated him just because he was ten years old. Hadn’t they learned better by now?
Biter gave him a final clap on the shoulder, and Key went out onto the sands.
It was still broiling hot, of course, despite the fact that it was a snowy winter outside. The arena, Key had learned, was bespelled to always be swelteringly hot. He hated that. It made it easier to tire and get hurt.
He spotted his opponent almost immediately and had to suppress a churn of fear. He recognized the woman. Her name was Bonebreaker, from the joy she took in showing off her fighting skill by slowly snapping her opponents’ bones before killing them. She had survived six whole years in the arena, which was deeply impressive.
She was a top-rank fighter, not a mid-rank, the first Key had ever faced.
He tried not to hyperventilate with fear. He knew he was no match for her, fighting skill to fighting skill. He would have to outsmart her, then. Biter had always maintained that intelligence was often worth just as much on the sands as technique. Key saw no reason to disbelieve him.
Bonebreaker grinned at him, a wild joy in her eyes, and charged.
Key ran.
He did not usually run from his opponents. He had less stamina than most of them due to his youth, and understood that it would be death to tire himself out first. But engaging Bonebreaker directly wouldn’t work, and Key needed time to think
Use your environment. Younghwan’s advice, not Biter’s, but still useful. What was his environment? Sand. How could he use sand?
Key glanced over his shoulder. Bonebreaker was catching up.
Use your enemy’s weaknesses. This time, a memory from the Sanctuary. What was Bonebreaker’s weakness? Could he distract her, derail her, confuse her?
Yes, he realized suddenly. He could.
Key pretended to tire, to gasp, to slow. He deliberately tripped and rolled over, sprawling uselessly in the sand. Just as he tried to get up, more clumsily than usual, Bonebreaker caught up to him and kicked him in the face.
She used all her strength to do so. Key’s nose would have broken if he hadn’t seen it coming and jerked backwards away from her foot. As it was, he was going to have a nasty bruise on his forehead in addition to the burns from the wyvern.
He pretended the kick had hurt more than it had and writhed screaming in the sand, crossing his eyes to give weight to the illusion of being concussed. He was fortunate she had tried to kick him in the face; it made his act more convincing.
Bonebreaker grinned a sadistic grin and knelt. Key concealed his glee. Bonebreaker was about to commit her three fatal mistakes.
Mistake number one: giving in to sadistic desire to snap bones and torture him rather than go for a clean kill.
Mistake number two: needing to be kneeling and close to Key to break bones because sand was too soft for her to crush them standing and at a distance.
Mistake number three: underestimating Key because of his youth and inexperience. He doubted she would have tried this were he any other of the career gladiators. No one got to be top-rank and survive for six years by being this stupid.
Key flopped like a fish on the sands away from her. She grasped his left thigh and shin and twisted, cracking his kneecap. Key screamed. She grinned.
Then he rocketed himself forward into a sitting position, dragging his other leg around through the soft sand to give himself leverage, and punched her hard in the windpipe.
She doubled over, choking, but managed to draw her sword and thrust it at Key. He tilted sideways and it only sliced a thin gash on his side. He drew his own sword as he leaned and spun it in his hand so that it faced forward and slashed up her belly.
Or, well, would have slashed had she not been wearing armor, like most of the higher ranking regulars.
Key yelped and flung himself sideways as she cut at him again. He stabbed back in turn, this time aiming for her unprotected mouth, and managed to bash through several of her teeth and slice open her lips.
She snarled, bleeding heavily from the mouth. Key wasted no time in ducking as she swung at him again. He flung a handful of sand into her face as he went, and she cursed as it got into her eyes.
He took advantage of her brief distraction and jammed his sword into her throat with all his might.
Blood sprayed everywhere. Key grunted with distaste. He’d come to dislike going for massively bloody ways of death, but they were convenient, so it was hard.
Bonebreaker’s body thumped to the ground. Key grinned, a curl of pleasure licking up through him. He’d managed to kill a top-rank fighter! It would probably make his next match ridiculously difficult due to his wounds- especially the broken kneecap- but still.
He smiled at Bonebreaker’s corpse. It had been so satisfying to watch her die.
~~~
It turned out that Bonebreaker had been his last scheduled match of the day, which was fortunate, because Key wasn’t sure he could have survived another match given how damaged he was.
When Sanghoon picked him up from the arena outskirts, he was grinning.
“Key, my sweet!” Sanghoon said, and picked him up, swinging him around. Key giggled and grinned back. “The betting was heavily against you today, did you know that?” He set Key down and ruffled his hair. “I won an enormous amount by gambling on you.” His grin grew wider. “Even after we give Sungki his share, we have enough to pay back the Duchess!”
Key’s eyes widened. “Really?” he breathed, ecstatic.
“Really!” confirmed Sanghoon and knelt down and hugged him right then and there, in broad daylight, in public. Key clung back, love shining through him as he felt Sanghoon’s pride and pleasure through the bond.
It occurred to him, suddenly, that if they’d paid the Duchess off, Key didn’t have to fight anymore as a gladiator. He whispered this realization into Sanghoon’s ear.
Sanghoon drew back, expression shifting. “You want to stop fighting, little one?”
“...yes?” said Key hesitantly. Hadn’t this been temporary? He felt Sanghoon’s irritation through the bond and flinched. He hadn’t meant to displease his beloved master.
Sanghoon sighed. “What if I want you to keep fighting, my pretty Key?” he said quietly.
Key swallowed. It wasn’t really a question, he knew that. “If you want me to, then I will,” he said, because how could he do otherwise? It wasn’t right to want something other than what his master desired of him.
Sanghoon smiled again, and stroked his cheek. “That’s my good little kitten,” he breathed, and stood up. “Come. It’s time to go home.”
Key followed him towards the carriage lot. He felt vaguely dissatisfied with the idea of continuing as a gladiator. That was unacceptable. He was disappointed in himself for being a bad slave and feeling something other than what his master wanted him to feel. He reached out for the bond, let it cut into him. He would have to do better.
Besides, maybe the life of a gladiator wouldn’t be so bad. Key had gotten used to it over the past year. He’d even enjoyed killing his opponent today, something he’d never done before. He could take pleasure in that again, and in doing well. It might even become fun.
~~~
The year passed, and things changed.
Key did indeed try to learn to enjoy being a gladiator. He made himself take pleasure not only in the kill, but in the fights as well. He fought to win, of course, but he also began trying to perform for the audience as he did so and put on a show. He found he liked the audience screaming approval at him. It pleased Sanghoon to have everyone appreciate his slave’s skills, and how could Key argue with that, or the satisfaction of a job well done?
It was not always possible to show off, of course. Key wasn’t good enough yet for that; he still had to focus on fighting well enough to stave off certain death. But he was getting there.
As he got better, the prizes he won for Sanghoon became larger, as did the rewards Sanghoon reaped at the gambling tables by betting on him. Sanghoon began looking about for a larger apartment in the well-to-do section of the city, and associating with the rest of the nouveau riche. Sometimes, he brought Key with him to formal gatherings and the like so that people could fawn all over his prize slave. Key enjoyed being so paraded about; Sanghoon always dressed him in fine clothing and emanated an intense pride at him through the bond which was wonderful to feel.
~~~
It was a year and a half or so after Sanghoon had paid the Duchess off when the bond finalized.
Key was midway through eleven. And there were weird things happening to him, like his limbs starting to grow to awkward proportions, making it difficult to keep up his progress on the sands. But the weirdest things involved his feelings for Sanghoon.
Key had always felt Sanghoon’s attraction to him, though he’d never really understood it. There began to be small moments here and there, however, where he’d feel that formerly-alien possessive lust, and something hot and shivery of his own would unfurl in response.
He asked Sanghoon about it. Sanghoon just smiled and ruffled his hair and told him it meant he was growing up.
And then, one night, that hot and shivery feeling changed everything.
It began as it always did when Sanghoon had sex with him. They started by kissing. Ordinarily, Key enjoyed it the same way he enjoyed having his hair petted or his hand held; it was nice, but nothing special.
This time, it felt different. He felt acutely aware, in a way he never had before, of the slick press of Sanghoon’s mouth against his, the way their lips brushed together, the rough, slow licks of Sanghoon’s tongue through his mouth. Sanghoon was sitting in bed with Key straddling his lap, and Key felt hyperaware of every point that their bodies touched, every curl of Sanghoon’s fingers, the heat of Sanghoon’s chest.
Out of some never before felt instinct, Key ground his hips forward into Sanghoon’s lap, and moaned openly at the delicious friction against his hardening cock.
“Fuck,” hissed Sanghoon, eyes blazing. “Yes, fuck, Key-yah, finally.” He slid his large hand down to Key’s crotch and rubbed his fingers there. Key shuddered and moaned again at the sensation, tipping his head back and shivering harder.
How had these things never felt this good before?
Sanghoon kissed his way down Key’s throat, wet, open-mouthed biting kisses that made Key writhe and spill more obscene noises into the air. He clung hard to Sanghoon’s shoulders as his hips began to stutter to some irregular rhythm, sending hot spikes of pleasure shocking through his spine.
Sanghoon stripped him, then, and every scrape of his nails against bare flesh made Key cry out and long for more. It didn’t help that he could feel Sanghoon’s desire flooding through the bond as well, mixing with his own and setting his skin on oversensitive fire.
“So pretty,” breathed Sanghoon, catching Key’s hardening little nipples in his teeth, twisting them about and blowing on them. “My own pretty, darling Key.”
“Master,” moaned Key, barely getting the words out through the overwhelming haze of hot pleasure swelling through him, intensified by the bond linking them both together.
Sanghoon growled, at that, deep and rough and low, and Key whimpered. He felt close to the edge of some precipice, shaking apart at his core and about to explode. It felt unbelievably good. He wanted to feel this way forever.
Sanghoon’s hands were fumbling at his own leggings, unlacing them and shoving them down his hips. Then he grabbed Key’s hair, winding fingers through the soft strands, and pushed Key backwards, yanking his head down.
“Suck,” he ordered, and his anticipation burned through the bond into Key’s own soul, driving the flood of desire even higher.
Sucking people off had never been something Key had liked. He found it very different now. The large, hot, heavy weight of his master’s cock in his mouth fanned the flames of the shivery lust in his belly. Key let out a low, wanton noise, then choked and had to withdraw. He nuzzled his face into Sanghoon’s cock in apology and drew a long lick all the way from the underside of the base up the shaft to the tip. Sanghoon made a sound halfway between a moan and a snarl, and forced Key’s head forward again.
Key eagerly swallowed him down, cheeks hollowing at the mouthful, and began to suck. Sanghoon’s hips began to buck as he fucked himself into Key’s mouth. Key closed his eyes for a moment, treasuring the sensation, thighs quivering at the intensity of the desire running through them both. Then he opened them again as he took Sanghoon’s cock deeper and deeper into his mouth and throat, gazing with fevered, sensual awe upon his beautiful master.
Then he cried out, choking again on Sanghoon’s thrusts, and felt himself fly over the edge, body convulsing with white-hot, electric pleasure beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
The bond flared between them, hot with orgasm, melting his pleasure with Sanghoon’s own until Key was no longer sure where the lines between them lay, and making Key scream out the unbearable feeling of burning with pleasure too great to endure in a merely human body.
Sanghoon dragged him up and kissed him, hard and rough and full of teeth. Key opened his mouth, yielding, and kissed back, wanting nothing more than to drown in Sanghoon’s touch forever and ever and ever.
“Mine,” snarled Sanghoon as his hips ground against Key’s thighs, the word low and guttural. Key, too far gone for words, felt his surrender burn through the bond instead, giving everything he had and was and more to the master who owned him.
Then Sanghoon came as well, biting down hard on Key’s shoulder as he shuddered out the after-shocks of his lust.
They lay there in silence for a while, breathing hard and covered in sweat and fluids. Key felt light, drifting, at peace in a way he’d felt before only in snatches. This was deeper, more permanent.
Sanghoon eventually curved his fingers through Key’s hair. Key arched into the touch, an eager joy filling him at the contact. He wanted it more than anything. He wanted Sanghoon more than anything.
“My beautiful little kitten,” murmured Sanghoon with a touch of awed wonder, cupping his palm over Key’s cheek. Key nuzzled his face into the touch, closing his eyes with pleasure. He had fallen into a state of mind beyond thinking, where he could only desire Sanghoon and act upon that desire. But that was all right. He didn’t need to think unless Sanghoon wanted him to.
“You’re mine now,” Sanghoon whispered, the incredulously pleased softness still marking his voice. “The bond has tightened to its full extent and cannot be undone. You’re mine.”
Key purred, voice emerging from his throat broken and wrecked from his earlier cries. He could no longer feel the bond tightening about him as an alien force. He was the bond, now, an extension of Sanghoon’s desire, an object for him to own and possess and command. Key had made his utter submission to his master, and nothing, nothing, had ever felt better.
~~~
It was difficult, after that, for Key to regain his equilibrium and function in daily life. All he wanted to do was curl up at Sanghoon’s feet and bask in his master’s presence. Of course, that wasn’t possible. He had to fight, because Sanghoon had told him to.
But Sanghoon had told him to, and so Key slowly, painfully, figured things out out. His first several matches and training sessions after his submission and the bond’s finalization did not go well. Key could barely focus on anything, mind straying to thoughts of his master rather than staying on what he was doing.
He couldn’t get rid of the desire to only ever think about Sanghoon. He didn’t want to. But he found he could shift the desire away when he needed to. Once he realized that it would always come back- that focusing on other things didn’t remove the fact of his belonging to Sanghoon- it became easier to flip the mental switch that allowed him to do more than kneel at his master’s feet and drown in his mere presence.
His performance both in the arena and in real life recovered. Everyone assumed he’d just been sick or something for a bit. Key didn’t disillusion them. What he was to his master was Sanghoon’s choice to disclose, not his.
Other things did not recover. Before the bond’s finalization, Key had had some stray feelings, here and there, for people not his master. Biter, for instance. After the finalization, Key could not spare the energy to feel anything for anyone else. Everything he was belonged to Sanghoon, and he was incapable of betraying his master by peeling pieces of his heart away to give to other people.
He could still pretend to feel things for others, of course, and did. It was useful. But it became only a pretense.
Similarly, he ceased to care about anything other than Sanghoon. His growing appreciation and pride at performing for an audience and making the crowd scream approval at him withered away. Now when he showed off his skills, he showed off for Sanghoon alone. Nothing else mattered. The satisfaction he’d taken in making successful kills turned to satisfaction in pleasing his master rather than satisfaction in his own hard work.
Because, after all, his hard work belonged to Sanghoon, just as everything else did.
~~~
Some of the career gladiators were religious. These gladiators often would make a quick sign of obeisance to whichever deity they worshipped as they strode out onto the sands. Key had always felt that this was more than useless; he could not see that the religious gladiators had any higher of a survival rate than the non-religious ones.
It was perhaps whim that made him decide to follow this practice. He went out onto the sands, ready to face his last opponent of the day. He was tired and sore and bleeding from a deep gash in the arm from where he’d made a mistake and gotten cut open by a beast’s claw. What he really needed, he thought, was a boost of reassurance that he would do well.
He let his mind briefly flicker across the thought of his master, as it always did. That, of course, reassured him. Sanghoon wanted him to win, so he would. That was the end of it. Key knew this was the reason he’d been so successful thus far. He would never have made it without Sanghoon.
And he felt suddenly vaguely ungrateful for not thanking Sanghoon enough for it. So as he went out onto the sands, he raised one hand in the salute of the ancient sun god. He folded one of his fingers down, however, altering the salute.
Because it wasn’t for the sun god. It was for Sanghoon, his own god, the sun that had named him and owned him and permitted him life.
Then Key turned his attention to the fight.
~~~
That night, however, Sanghoon expressed his disapproval of Key’s gesture.
“I know you only wished to honor me,” he said as they lay together, preparing for sleep. “But it will raise awkward questions if you continue to make an incorrect salute to the sun. Don’t do it again, little one.”
Key felt tears prick his eyes. He had displeased his master. That was unacceptable.
“Yes, master,” he said quietly. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”
“Good kitten,” said Sanghoon, and stroked Key’s cheek. “You obey me so well.”
Key leaned into the touch. It didn’t help his feelings of inadequacy. He hadn’t done very well in the arena that day. Oh, he’d won, of course, but he’d gotten really injured and once even tripped as he tried to fight that final opponent. And on top of that, he’d done something to displease Sanghoon. He wasn’t worthy of being his master’s possession. He had to do better.
Sanghoon, of course, felt his self-hating misery through the bond.
“Oh, my sweet,” Sanghoon breathed. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened today. The majority of the time, you please me very well.”
“I should do better, though,” whispered Key, gazing back at him with unhappy eyes. “I should please you all the time. I don’t deserve to be owned by you.”
Sanghoon gave a gentle chuckle and tugged him into his arms. Key buried his face in the dip between Sanghoon’s collarbones, drinking in his master’s scent.
“You are only an object, little kitten,” Sanghoon said, holding him close. “You are my toy and my tool and my slave, not a person in your own right. Must a mere thing prove itself? Or is it its owner who judges the object’s worth and deems it worthy of possessing?” He rubbed the back of Key’s thighs, soothing. “I understand that you are not perfect, my sweet. I have always known that you will disappoint me some of the time. Even actual people make mistakes, you know. I have chosen to take you for my own regardless of your inadequacies. As long as you keep on as you have been and make an effort to please and obey me, you need not blame yourself for failing every once in a while.”
Key breathed out, soothed by these words. As long as the master he worshipped was so understanding and kind to him, he didn’t have to hate himself for not being perfect.
“Thank you, master,” he said, and licked at Sanghoon’s skin. “I love you.”
Sanghoon laughed quietly and rolled them over. “Oh, you precious little thing, you,” he said, which made Key’s insides explode with pleasure at the compliment. Sanghoon dipped his head and kissed Key, long and fierce and hard, making Key’s head swim from glorious lack of air.
Yes, thought Key in utter contentment as the kissing turned to touching turned to Key begging to be fucked senseless. Yes, this is perfect. This is how life is supposed to be.
And as he eagerly took Sanghoon’s cock deep inside of him, he felt very, very lucky that his master, his god, had deemed him a thing worthy to be owned.
~~~
It would be twelve long years before anything challenged that contentment.
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