(no subject)
Previous Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5i, 5ii, 6
----<3
I remember the night I came upon you for the very first time, clear as crystal. You were something wondrous among filth. Like a shining penny in the gutter. As I have mentioned before, you were a slave to the drink.
But by God you were seventeen and beautiful, you were something different to all the others. I knew it the second I saw you slumped and woebegone against the cold, dark alley wall behind a squalid nightclub. As my foot steps decreased from around a shadowed corner, my heartbeat quickened as I was overwhelmed with an unusually forward anticipation-to become apparent in foresight, the very first time our eyes met…
I wanted you, I wanted to touch you, taste you, make something of you and lift you up where you belonged. Above all I wanted just to know you. For all my self righteous manner, for all my carnal urge suppressed and the seduction with which I could entrap you, I let you play the aggressor.
However, the biting question, the frustrating enigma is, why? I had the ability to make you mine with no more than a glance, mine was the power that could bind you to me, then why did I simply not take what I wanted? It was merely the plain fact, that I did not want to. You were bathed in the cleansing light of a lonely white streetlamp when I approached you, and you breathed your clouded name into the air, simply, completely-
“Bam”
And something had pulled from deep within me to cause this unusual change… I saw that you were crying. Had I been concentrating perhaps, I would have heard it over the cars on a distant highway and the music rumbling behind us.
What do I love the sight of most, may you ask? Reading and crying. There is something so brutally honest in these acts. In reading the written word, do we not have a single chance to lie?
No, there are no lies. Nothing is given by the reader, only his attention. Much is true also to the act of crying. No one can cry in sincerity and protect their soul, the soul cannot lie. There is merely emotion and truth. That is what took me by the heart; I saw your honesty, the soul of it.
You hated what you were, and I knew I had the power to deliver you. And have I not done so? I brought you where you belong, and as my consort nothing was spared in making you the prince you were born to surely become. Ah, I make it sound as if it was a duty, do I not?
Rest assured, sweet one, that is not how it was in the least. After all, for all my harshness, have I not adored you? And loved you...been captivated by you…doted upon you…
It would seem that I had grown cold to you in our latest years, would it my love? For that I am sorry. Deeply, completely and to my entirety I am. And though I am to blame for the tough teachings I put you through, I knew of no other way. I was not taught to be gentle, nor caring or kind.
I hadn’t the luxury in my early years of darkness. Much like a child whose parents could not care for him, I also had no role model from which to learn affection to one’s own childe. There are reasons, my dove, that intimacy and gestures of my undying love are difficult to communicate for myself, perhaps I should tell you something from my past…perhaps then you would understand, oh forgive me my darling…
…………
I had been with the Master over some months, and the ghosts of my past were beginning to fade away like a bad dream. Was it the fear of facing that past again that kept me from venturing to my home town once more? Perhaps.
There were nights when Master Vuori would allow me leave of my studies to rest, (these occasions where, however, a rarity) in which I would lye among the down comforter and many embroidered pillows of my four poster bed, and try and recall her face. Had I forgotten her already? What was her name? Where her eyes green as mine? And what of my Jesse? It was a fool’s pastime. I would come to forget them soon.
My life at the manor was a bittersweet paradox unto itself. I never went hungry, I had a woman specifically employed to see to that, I wore beautifully stitched clothes, had hundreds of enthralling novels and my chamber was like something from a fable.
Yet none of it made me happy, no amount of fine wine or food could make me smile, my bedroom was ultimately lonely all be it lavish and no book could keep me inside its little world long enough to have me forget.
I found out fast in those days you had only yourself to rely on, and trust was something I could not afford in a place where a white god ruled over his children like a monster.
As for the Master, he was accommodating yet strict. He was so cold and frightening, like a war general he often glared at me and caused me to quiver to his whims.
I was a young man not far from seventeen when it started. It was one such evening that I was allowed a night’s leave of my study to my leisure, that’s when it began. I lay across my bed settled peacefully into a book, the fire was stoked enough for early January and such was the warmth of my surroundings I wore just a simple white nightshirt.
Now, it would not have been uncommon for Master Vuori or my elder brothers to have come to my room for my tuition on an ordinary evening, but as this was a free night I was quite taken by surprise when a knock sounded to my door.
“Luja, thank you boy” It was my Lord. He would have been within the room without the knock, were it not for he fact I had bolted the door previously. I hurried to let him enter or I would surely face a good reprimand for my slowness to obey.
“Yes, sir”
“What have I told you about locking your door, child?” the articulate and irritable nobleman scorned.
“Apologies, my Lord. It is just I am not as decent as appropriate…” he merely scoffed.
Letting him in I did my best to not look embarrassed and ashamed by the exposed flesh of my white legs. I was a modest young one, and would remain so for quite a while to come.
I had let my hair fall in tresses about my thin face in my carelessness and lowered guard, which I quickly attempted to tie back once more in his presence. I rushed a formal bow to him as was to his liking.
“No need for that” he said taking up a seat on the large ornamental armchair in the corner of the room adjacent my bed.
His voice was lower, deeper, less sharp and hurried. He reclined and removed his gloves in a relaxed manner. His hands, I always remember his hands. They were white like snow, they were terrifying white.
“May I ask…that is, Master…was I not relieved of my studies this evening..?” I struggled not to stammer looking always in his eyes, fearing a swipe if I refused.
“That is correct,” He grinned. It was unlike any smile I had seen on him, there was no smirk of malice, no self righteousness nor grimace of his sharp teeth in it. He seemed genuinely in good spirits for once, it made me uneasy “tell me, how do you find your work of late?” he clutched at the arms of the chair enthusiastically.
“I-I find it well, sir” I stuttered remaining standing before him.
“And the others?”
“Introverted, m-my Lord”
He pondered this, or something brought to attention by it. His eyes began to look me up and down, he began to grin more.
“You are…very beautiful, Ville” He said hushed and husky. I do not know what I was more taken back by, the disturbing intimacy he spoke with or the fact he had finally called me by name.
I said nothing as he told me to take a seat, which I did rather awkwardly upon my bed. My heart saw worry and panic as he stood nearer me.
“You posses the radiance that I first saw in Henri when he was your age,” and he placed his white hands to my face and began untying my rich brown hair as I sat trembling at his touch “such beauty…too much for one as young as you..” his voice trailed to whispers as he buried his hands into my hair and began to stroke my cheek softly.
It was not my fault, oh mercy please understand the guilt I felt…I tried so hard to make it stop.
“W-what of Henri…” I shuddered closing my eyes so afraid of what I was feeling. My eyes closed I knew something was wrong about this as I felt his kisses colder than his hands touch my neck slowly and more frequent.
With my mind I begged him just to stop but he wouldn’t. My knuckles went white with the strength at which I held onto the sheet bellow me.
“Henri…mm yes…” he laughed quietly burning eyes sheathed by his eyelids, kiss fingertips ghosting my throat lips pressed to my jaw in a whisper “he knows I will have my way…whatever I wish it to be..” I quaked and wanted nothing more than to break from him, but my body would not allow it.
“I could see to it you have everything you desire, anything…” his voice altered gently as he continued his whispers into my pulsing waxen throat “For eyes as piercing, for tresses as rich as these, anything…”
It was not until his hands were at the buttons of my shirt and his lips were upon my collarbone that I pulled from him back onto the bed in timid uncertainty of what was happening and how I would react.
He became enraged when I refused his advanced onto my mattress.
“You know better than this!” he hissed eyes now with their full fire glaring into my own causing hot salt tears to stream like flares down my trembling face. I knew full well when he pinned me to my bed that I could not shut my eye from him, not so long as he stared.
And such being, I was forced by my own eyes to stare deep into the cold heat of his as he continued to kiss me and violate what was not his to touch. He began roughly to disrobe his lower half.
I didn’t dare struggle as I felt him rip up my clothing and force his way inside me without ceremony or care for comfort. The sharp pains I felt slowly began to die away only to reappear again in unpredictable pattern.
“Lye still” he ordered me. I could not have moved if I had wanted.
I would have given my soul to be able to shut my eyes, but I could not.
My breathing became shallow as I gave way into panic and shock, against the crushing and loathsome embrace of the monster above me and the disturbing contrast of the softest quilts bellow. I felt wetness, I knew then I must have been bleeding quite badly.
He would not cease his kisses which became hungrier as he moved on, the pricking of his teeth to my small chest and shoulders so deep that he seemed to wish to devour me.
Whimpering slightly at the awful intrusion into the most private parts of me as he quickened his pace, I could barely breathe and became faint with the adrenaline fear had released.
After what seemed to be hours of burning pain and feverish sounds from my keeper, he gave forth into me and had withdrawn and departed from my chambers as quickly as he has entered.
I was left alone, weeping and frightened lying across my own bed, with nothing but blood running down my thighs and dark brown waves cut loose across the brightness of the upset quilt. My throne was broken, and my so called ‘beauty’ bared. That was the very first time he had perverted me, and it was that night he had taken from me an innocence that was not his to have taken.
It was not, however, the last time he would do such a thing. He would come to my bedchamber again and again in future, and each time the same things would transpire, but I would come to learn the best way to handle him.
-----------------<3
*phew* That took quite a while to churn out but after getting over a bit of writers block here i am :p
*cough-Withanewficinmindtoo-cough* I'd be really greatful for comments and/or improvements.
Many thank you's
Dedicated to Sam for assisitance,
ta ra *waves and leaves the FC a pie*
----<3
I remember the night I came upon you for the very first time, clear as crystal. You were something wondrous among filth. Like a shining penny in the gutter. As I have mentioned before, you were a slave to the drink.
But by God you were seventeen and beautiful, you were something different to all the others. I knew it the second I saw you slumped and woebegone against the cold, dark alley wall behind a squalid nightclub. As my foot steps decreased from around a shadowed corner, my heartbeat quickened as I was overwhelmed with an unusually forward anticipation-to become apparent in foresight, the very first time our eyes met…
I wanted you, I wanted to touch you, taste you, make something of you and lift you up where you belonged. Above all I wanted just to know you. For all my self righteous manner, for all my carnal urge suppressed and the seduction with which I could entrap you, I let you play the aggressor.
However, the biting question, the frustrating enigma is, why? I had the ability to make you mine with no more than a glance, mine was the power that could bind you to me, then why did I simply not take what I wanted? It was merely the plain fact, that I did not want to. You were bathed in the cleansing light of a lonely white streetlamp when I approached you, and you breathed your clouded name into the air, simply, completely-
“Bam”
And something had pulled from deep within me to cause this unusual change… I saw that you were crying. Had I been concentrating perhaps, I would have heard it over the cars on a distant highway and the music rumbling behind us.
What do I love the sight of most, may you ask? Reading and crying. There is something so brutally honest in these acts. In reading the written word, do we not have a single chance to lie?
No, there are no lies. Nothing is given by the reader, only his attention. Much is true also to the act of crying. No one can cry in sincerity and protect their soul, the soul cannot lie. There is merely emotion and truth. That is what took me by the heart; I saw your honesty, the soul of it.
You hated what you were, and I knew I had the power to deliver you. And have I not done so? I brought you where you belong, and as my consort nothing was spared in making you the prince you were born to surely become. Ah, I make it sound as if it was a duty, do I not?
Rest assured, sweet one, that is not how it was in the least. After all, for all my harshness, have I not adored you? And loved you...been captivated by you…doted upon you…
It would seem that I had grown cold to you in our latest years, would it my love? For that I am sorry. Deeply, completely and to my entirety I am. And though I am to blame for the tough teachings I put you through, I knew of no other way. I was not taught to be gentle, nor caring or kind.
I hadn’t the luxury in my early years of darkness. Much like a child whose parents could not care for him, I also had no role model from which to learn affection to one’s own childe. There are reasons, my dove, that intimacy and gestures of my undying love are difficult to communicate for myself, perhaps I should tell you something from my past…perhaps then you would understand, oh forgive me my darling…
…………
I had been with the Master over some months, and the ghosts of my past were beginning to fade away like a bad dream. Was it the fear of facing that past again that kept me from venturing to my home town once more? Perhaps.
There were nights when Master Vuori would allow me leave of my studies to rest, (these occasions where, however, a rarity) in which I would lye among the down comforter and many embroidered pillows of my four poster bed, and try and recall her face. Had I forgotten her already? What was her name? Where her eyes green as mine? And what of my Jesse? It was a fool’s pastime. I would come to forget them soon.
My life at the manor was a bittersweet paradox unto itself. I never went hungry, I had a woman specifically employed to see to that, I wore beautifully stitched clothes, had hundreds of enthralling novels and my chamber was like something from a fable.
Yet none of it made me happy, no amount of fine wine or food could make me smile, my bedroom was ultimately lonely all be it lavish and no book could keep me inside its little world long enough to have me forget.
I found out fast in those days you had only yourself to rely on, and trust was something I could not afford in a place where a white god ruled over his children like a monster.
As for the Master, he was accommodating yet strict. He was so cold and frightening, like a war general he often glared at me and caused me to quiver to his whims.
I was a young man not far from seventeen when it started. It was one such evening that I was allowed a night’s leave of my study to my leisure, that’s when it began. I lay across my bed settled peacefully into a book, the fire was stoked enough for early January and such was the warmth of my surroundings I wore just a simple white nightshirt.
Now, it would not have been uncommon for Master Vuori or my elder brothers to have come to my room for my tuition on an ordinary evening, but as this was a free night I was quite taken by surprise when a knock sounded to my door.
“Luja, thank you boy” It was my Lord. He would have been within the room without the knock, were it not for he fact I had bolted the door previously. I hurried to let him enter or I would surely face a good reprimand for my slowness to obey.
“Yes, sir”
“What have I told you about locking your door, child?” the articulate and irritable nobleman scorned.
“Apologies, my Lord. It is just I am not as decent as appropriate…” he merely scoffed.
Letting him in I did my best to not look embarrassed and ashamed by the exposed flesh of my white legs. I was a modest young one, and would remain so for quite a while to come.
I had let my hair fall in tresses about my thin face in my carelessness and lowered guard, which I quickly attempted to tie back once more in his presence. I rushed a formal bow to him as was to his liking.
“No need for that” he said taking up a seat on the large ornamental armchair in the corner of the room adjacent my bed.
His voice was lower, deeper, less sharp and hurried. He reclined and removed his gloves in a relaxed manner. His hands, I always remember his hands. They were white like snow, they were terrifying white.
“May I ask…that is, Master…was I not relieved of my studies this evening..?” I struggled not to stammer looking always in his eyes, fearing a swipe if I refused.
“That is correct,” He grinned. It was unlike any smile I had seen on him, there was no smirk of malice, no self righteousness nor grimace of his sharp teeth in it. He seemed genuinely in good spirits for once, it made me uneasy “tell me, how do you find your work of late?” he clutched at the arms of the chair enthusiastically.
“I-I find it well, sir” I stuttered remaining standing before him.
“And the others?”
“Introverted, m-my Lord”
He pondered this, or something brought to attention by it. His eyes began to look me up and down, he began to grin more.
“You are…very beautiful, Ville” He said hushed and husky. I do not know what I was more taken back by, the disturbing intimacy he spoke with or the fact he had finally called me by name.
I said nothing as he told me to take a seat, which I did rather awkwardly upon my bed. My heart saw worry and panic as he stood nearer me.
“You posses the radiance that I first saw in Henri when he was your age,” and he placed his white hands to my face and began untying my rich brown hair as I sat trembling at his touch “such beauty…too much for one as young as you..” his voice trailed to whispers as he buried his hands into my hair and began to stroke my cheek softly.
It was not my fault, oh mercy please understand the guilt I felt…I tried so hard to make it stop.
“W-what of Henri…” I shuddered closing my eyes so afraid of what I was feeling. My eyes closed I knew something was wrong about this as I felt his kisses colder than his hands touch my neck slowly and more frequent.
With my mind I begged him just to stop but he wouldn’t. My knuckles went white with the strength at which I held onto the sheet bellow me.
“Henri…mm yes…” he laughed quietly burning eyes sheathed by his eyelids, kiss fingertips ghosting my throat lips pressed to my jaw in a whisper “he knows I will have my way…whatever I wish it to be..” I quaked and wanted nothing more than to break from him, but my body would not allow it.
“I could see to it you have everything you desire, anything…” his voice altered gently as he continued his whispers into my pulsing waxen throat “For eyes as piercing, for tresses as rich as these, anything…”
It was not until his hands were at the buttons of my shirt and his lips were upon my collarbone that I pulled from him back onto the bed in timid uncertainty of what was happening and how I would react.
He became enraged when I refused his advanced onto my mattress.
“You know better than this!” he hissed eyes now with their full fire glaring into my own causing hot salt tears to stream like flares down my trembling face. I knew full well when he pinned me to my bed that I could not shut my eye from him, not so long as he stared.
And such being, I was forced by my own eyes to stare deep into the cold heat of his as he continued to kiss me and violate what was not his to touch. He began roughly to disrobe his lower half.
I didn’t dare struggle as I felt him rip up my clothing and force his way inside me without ceremony or care for comfort. The sharp pains I felt slowly began to die away only to reappear again in unpredictable pattern.
“Lye still” he ordered me. I could not have moved if I had wanted.
I would have given my soul to be able to shut my eyes, but I could not.
My breathing became shallow as I gave way into panic and shock, against the crushing and loathsome embrace of the monster above me and the disturbing contrast of the softest quilts bellow. I felt wetness, I knew then I must have been bleeding quite badly.
He would not cease his kisses which became hungrier as he moved on, the pricking of his teeth to my small chest and shoulders so deep that he seemed to wish to devour me.
Whimpering slightly at the awful intrusion into the most private parts of me as he quickened his pace, I could barely breathe and became faint with the adrenaline fear had released.
After what seemed to be hours of burning pain and feverish sounds from my keeper, he gave forth into me and had withdrawn and departed from my chambers as quickly as he has entered.
I was left alone, weeping and frightened lying across my own bed, with nothing but blood running down my thighs and dark brown waves cut loose across the brightness of the upset quilt. My throne was broken, and my so called ‘beauty’ bared. That was the very first time he had perverted me, and it was that night he had taken from me an innocence that was not his to have taken.
It was not, however, the last time he would do such a thing. He would come to my bedchamber again and again in future, and each time the same things would transpire, but I would come to learn the best way to handle him.
-----------------<3
*phew* That took quite a while to churn out but after getting over a bit of writers block here i am :p
*cough-Withanewficinmindtoo-cough* I'd be really greatful for comments and/or improvements.
Many thank you's
Dedicated to Sam for assisitance,
ta ra *waves and leaves the FC a pie*