Count Your Teeth

Metropolis City 2nd Precinct - Missing Persons Division Attending Officer: Lieutenant Boris Levin Case No. MPD-006189 THE FOLLOWING IS A CERTIFIED TRANSCRIPT OF EVENTS CAPTURED ON VIDEOTAPE (EVIDENCE TAG #FTG0425) ANONYMOUSLY RECEIVED AT THE METROPOLIS CITY POLICE HQ ON WEDNESDAY, 25 AUGUST, 198X, TIME UNKNOWN. Date of Transcript: 28 August, 198X Law Enforcement Transcriptionist: Karina Briefton /// [Starting Timecode: 11:14:20] >>INT. ROOM, metal foldout chair placed center frame, flanked by two 120-volt floodlights. >>VICTIM seated in chair. Male. Caucasian. 16 y.o./170cm/56kg (estimated). Naked. Black collar around neck. Brown canvas bag over head. Blood visible on right side of bag. Victim's ankles are tied to legs of chair, arms bound behind back. Victim shows obvious signs of malnourishment and suffers multiple contusions/lacerations on body.             Suspect (off-screen): Just about got it. >>Camera comes in and out of focus. Zooms in on victim. Victim shows obvious signs of physical distress, struggling against restraints.             Suspect (off-screen): Testing, testing. Is this thing on? (laughs) Okay. Looks like we're ready to go. Time for your big debut. >>SUSPECT enters left of frame from behind camera. Male. Race unknown. 16 y.o./165cm/56kg (estimated). Brown hair. Green jacket, blue jeans, sneakers. No identifying characteristics as seen from rear. [B.L. 30/08/198X: Forensic report came back negative. Suspect remains unidentified.] >>Suspect approaches victim.             Suspect: Look at you, all bundled up like a babushka. >>Removes canvas bag. Victim cowers under floodlights. Contusions on face, blood dripping from fresh wound on right ear. [B.L. 30/08/198X: Victim's family has positively confirmed the identity of missing person Sebastian Shwagenwagens.]             Suspect: Ta-da! Now, why don't you start by introducing yourself to the camera, hm?             Victim: My... My name is S-Sebastian -- please, Chaz(?), I-I don't want to do this. [B.L. 30/08/198X: It was the best the transcriptionist could come up with during playback. Might be short for "Charles." Will run a check on criminal records of any CHARLES in the county. 02/09/198X: No new leads. 15/09/198X: No new leads.]             Chaz: (wags finger) Come on, you can do it. We practiced, remember?             Victim: (Unintelligible) >>Clicking sound followed by faint buzzing sound. Victim appears more distressed.             Chaz: Unless you want another reminder?             Victim: (shakes head) >>Suspect exits frame behind camera.             Chaz (off-screen): Then let's try it again.             Glam: My name is Glam.             Chaz (off-screen): Much better. (clapping) Now, Glam, you want to tell us what you've been up to?             Glam: I-I'm being kept here against my will. I was kidnapped on August 14th, after playing at a concert at -- [Timecodes 11:16:15 - 11:19:04 missing] >>Footage begins again with suspect walking off frame, shaking out right hand. Victim now suffers a split bottom lip.             Chaz (off-screen): What did I say about blabbing? That's not what anyone needs to hear, Glam. Now stick to the script.             Glam: I needed help. And Chaz helped me. He's helping me to... to... to get better.             Chaz (off-screen): Let's hear you recite your lessons. I want to make sure you've been paying attention.             Glam: (fidgets) I should clean up after myself (buzzing increases, victim gasps) b-because I'm a big boy.             Chaz (off-screen): And?             Glam: And that it'll be better n-not to fight you -- not to fight this.             Chaz (off-screen): Interesting choice of words. What is this? (emphasis added)             Glam: (with difficulty) M-my educational process. >>Clicking sound, buzzing decreases.             Chaz (off-screen): Very good. Give us another one.             Glam: A-anything I do to you, y-you'll do worse to me.             Chaz (off-screen): Another one.             Glam: (lowers head) My family... They -- they're not good for me.             Chaz (off-screen): (clears throat)             Glam: (cringes) They don't love me, and I'm no longer (unintelligible)             Chaz (off-screen): Come on, Glam. Speak up. >>Two audible clicks. Buzzing sound increases. Victim appears in greater physical distress. [B.L. 30/08/198X: The hell is that? Sound dept. is still running it through the database.]             Chaz (off-screen): (annoyed) Fine. Moving on. What other lesson have you learned?             Glam: (shakes head, confused) I... I don't know what else... to say!             Chaz (off-screen): Jesus Christ, Glam, you're smarter than this. Think hard. (laughs) >>Three clicks, buzzing stops. Camera shakes then zooms in on victim's downturned face. Piercing seen on right ear. [B.L. 30/08/198X: The family's confirmed their son didn't have that before. Looks amateur done.]             Glam: That Chaz... loves... me. He's the only one... who will ever love me.             Chaz (off-screen): And just how do I love you?             Glam: You m-make me better. Make me stronger.             Chaz (off-screen): Little vague, Glam. I want to hear something more specific. What do I do to you? (emphasis added)             Glam: You h-hurt me.             Chaz (off-screen): Hey --             Glam: Punch me.             Chaz (off-screen): That's not what --             Glam: Beat me. Choke me. Starve me. Rape me.             Chaz (off-screen): Knock it off -- (Overlapping speakers 11:22:10 - 11:22:18) >>Suspect approaches victim and kicks chair over backward. Heated off-mic exchange between subjects. Suspect strikes victim three times then resets chair. Soft off-mic exchange between subjects. Suspect pets victim's hair, then walks behind camera again. [B.L. 03/08/198X: This sick son of a bitch never shows his face. He's either really lucky or he knows exactly what he's doing.]             Chaz (off-screen): (out of breath) Let's try that again. What do I do to you? >>Victim doesn't respond. Clicking sound, buzzing resumes. Victim startles, sits up straighter.             Glam: You... (voice cracks) You're changing me.             Chaz (off-screen): Changing you? How?             Glam: I think things and f-feel things I never did before.             Chaz (off-screen): Aw, Glam, I'm blushing. Never took you for a romantic.             Glam: (glares at camera) I-I don't like it! I don't want to change.             Chaz (off-screen): But you're becoming who you're supposed to be, Glam. What's so bad about that?             Glam: It's messed up.             Chaz (off-screen): That's just a matter of perspective.             Glam: It's scary.             Chaz (off-screen): Yeah, the world is scary. But I'll show you how not to be scared anymore.             Glam: (turns head to the right) It h-hurts.             Chaz (off-screen): (sighs) It always hurts when you're born. Why do you think babies cry? I'm giving you a new life, helping you be the person you were meant to be.             Glam: (louder) I already had a life! I was Sebastian Shwagenwagens. (blinks, startled) I mean, I am. (emphasis added)             Chaz (off-screen): Not much of a life, if you ask me. They kept you like a pet in a fucking cage before. I'm setting you free.             Glam: (struggles against binds, snarls) I don't feel very free!             Chaz (off-screen): Baby steps, Glam. Baby steps. Like they say, you have to learn how to crawl before you can walk. Walk before you can run. Run before --             Glam: I hate this!             Chaz (off-screen): (long pause) You don't mean that, Glam. You just don't understand yet. I wish I could make this easier for you. I really do. It doesn't always have to be so hard. Don't I make you feel good?             Glam: (no response)             Chaz (off-screen): Answer me, Glam.             Glam: You... make me feel good. Sometimes.             Chaz (off-screen): When I do what?             Glam: (blushes, looks down) T-touch me, gently. Kiss me.             Chaz (off-screen): Do you like it when I touch you?             Glam: (nods)             Chaz (off-screen): I can't hear you.             Glam: (whispers) I like it.             Chaz (off-screen): When I kiss you?             Glam: Yes. >>Three clicks, buzzing increases. Camera zooms in on victim's face. Victim exhibits flushed skin, labored breathing. [B.L. 30/08/198X: Possibly electrocution? 04/09/198X: Closer analysis points to remote-controlled device inside rectum. Jesus Christ.]             Chaz (off-screen): Tell me how it feels when I touch and kiss you.             Glam: (licks lips) I get hot all over l-l-like I have a fever. Dizzy. Crazy. (shakes head) That's it, I feel like I'm g-going crazy.             Chaz (off-screen): (hums) I can relate. Love makes people crazy. Do you feel that way when I fuck you, Glam?             Glam: (nods shakily)             Chaz (off-screen): Do you like it when I fuck you?             Glam: (sharp gasp) (shakes head) >>Camera pans down to victim's groin, comes in and out of focus. Victim is fidgeting, trying to keep thighs together.             Chaz (off-screen): (clicks tongue) Don't lie to me, Glam. There's no point in hiding what you’re feeling. Now let's see it. Come on. >>Multiple clicks. Buzzing rises and falls in cyclical pattern. Victim, with hesitation, spreads legs. Victim is visibly aroused.             Chaz (off-screen): There you go. >>Sound of cloth rustling off-screen. Sound of zipper sliding.             Chaz (off-screen): (labored breathing) God, you're beautiful. Look how you're squirming for me. Do you wish I'd fuck you now?             Glam: No, that's not -- (gasps, looks away)             Chaz (off-screen): I know it's been a while. You miss my cock, is that it? You miss the way it feels when I'm inside you. I know that little hunk of plastic isn't enough for you. >>Multiple clicks; buzzing increases and maintains at maximum volume.             Chaz (off-screen): You want the real thing, don't you. (laughs) Just imagine the look on your parents' faces when they see you like this.             Glam: (looks confused) My parents? W-what do you --             Chaz (off-screen): What'll they think when they learn their little pet's turned out to be such a perv?             Glam: I-I thought you said you were recording this for -- (panicked) Who else is going to see this?             Chaz (off-screen): (laughs) Don't know. I haven't decided yet. But don't you think your family would want to see you again? You keep saying they do.             Glam: (voice breaks) N-no! You can't! You can't! Please! For the love of God! (struggles)             Chaz (off-screen): (labored breathing) You're so fucking hot when you beg, you know that?             Glam: Father! (cries) I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I n-never should've lied to you!             Chaz (off-screen): Don't you fucking apologize to him, Glam. You don't need him anymore. It's just you and me now. (sighs) I love you, Glam.             Glam: No...             Chaz (off-screen): Do you love me, Glam?             Glam: (cries) >>Suspect steps in front of camera, stands before victim.             Chaz: Do you love me?             Glam: (cries) >>Suspect kneels in front of victim. [Ending Timecode: 11:27:52] /// Case: SUSPENDED Status: CONFIDENTIAL Notes: NO PROGRESS HAS BEEN MADE IN THE RECOVERY OF THE MISSING PERSON. VICTIM'S PARENTS HAVE EXPRESSLY ORDERED THAT ALL EVIDENCE PERTAINING TO THE CASE NOT BE DISCLOSED TO THE PUBLIC, AND ALL COPIES OF THIS VIDEO RECORDING BE DESTROYED. THIS TRANSCRIPT IS THE ONLY EXISTING RECORD. Sebastian's mouth hung open in a long, breathless gasp. He strained forward in the chair as far as he could go, forgetting the pain in his shoulders, in his wrists where they were bound tightly behind his back, the fresh cut on his lip and dull throbbing of his ear. Even the insidious vibrator that still buzzed away in his ass. All of it fell away at the overwhelming sensation of Ches's mouth on him. Ches's tongue on him. He struggled against his binds, twisting and wriggling in an attempt to get away. But there was nowhere to escape. Not with Ches's head buried in his lap, hands cupping his ass as he suckled his cock like a thirsty drunk at his bottle. His expression was one of total concentration, brows creased and drawn downward, as though he were fighting with the cock in his mouth rather than sucking it. He was this way with everything he did to Sebastian, unsatisfied with simply taking what he wanted, and instead having to wrench it from him cruelly to leave no doubt as to who was in charge. But you've already won, Sebastian wanted to say. All he could manage was a cracked whine. Ches slid him in up to the hilt, brushing his pubes with his lips and ensconcing the head of his cock within the slick, tight walls of his throat—and when he hummed, Sebastian's cries devolved into a shameful moan. It was a vulgar sound, like that of a dying animal. Fitting, as that was just how he felt. He wanted to curl up in a hole and die, to be spit on by any onlooker who came to witness the despicable thing he'd become. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his shoulders shook as he sobbed through the blowjob, his body burning with arousal and self-loathing in equal measure. He panted with lust while cursing his own depravity in the same breath. Ches was right to call him a pervert. At Ches's back, the camcorder's red light continued to glow, recording the sinful act for perpetuity, his pitiful form captured in miniature within its unfeeling lens. Locked away in this dingy basement for the past week had been a nightmare, but at least it had been his nightmare and his alone. Now the thought that it would be shared with the outside world—his family—sent acidic guilt pumping through his gut. After they'd seen him reduced to this, he'd never be able to face them again. They'd probably never want to face him again either. At that moment, Ches's tongue rippled along the underside of his cock, twirled around the glans, and probed his slit. Wicked pleasure entwined itself around his guilt. He'd have rather Ches bitten down on him than blow him—at least that would have felt more deserving. As it was, however, his hips bucked on automatic, having no choice but to drive himself deeper into his own personal heaven-clad hell found within Ches's mouth. His next lowing moan was cut off by a pained squawk as Ches suddenly reached up and grabbed his right ear. Ches drew off the end of his dick with a lewd pop, as he used his grip on Sebastian's ear to haul himself up, ignoring his plaintive whines. "Naughty, naughty, Glam. You can't keep seducing me like that. It's distracting me from my work." He thumbed the earring—a silver stud—as he looked at it in wonder. "Got a little caught up in the moment there." His eyes moved from the piercing to Sebastian's fearful stare. "But I told you we weren't finished with this, remember? C'mon." As Ches untied his legs with a few deft tugs, the implication of what he'd said gradually sank in, and Sebastian balked as he was hoisted from the chair by the arm. "W-wait! You can't seriously—" "Trust me. If one piercing already looks this good, you'll look amazing with two." Ches half-pulled, half-dragged Sebastian in the direction of the room's only table. "Or maybe six," he mused. Six?! The strength went out of Sebastian's legs at the suggestion, but Ches carried him easily the rest of the way before lifting him up onto the table. His bottom slipped on the smooth, metal surface, and he blushed at the reminder that lube liberally coated his ass. The piercing kit was still there, its lid open to reveal the collection of heinous little instruments inside, as sharp and threatening as they had been that morning. Sebastian's ear throbbed at the memory. Ches shoved him onto his back. With his arms bound behind him, wrist to opposite elbow, his chest was thrust forward unnaturally, and his head hit the table with a sharp clack. He saw stars. His collar was then clipped to something at the end of the table, while his ankles were once again strapped down in such a way that forced his legs apart over the table's edge. That didn't stop Sebastian from trying to close them, however, but it proved futile, and he collapsed in place, breathing hard. It didn't take much to wind him. He'd lost track of how many days it'd been since he'd last eaten anything substantial. Two, three—no, far more. Nearly a week. He had to wonder why Ches even bothered with so many security measures anymore. Sebastian barely had the energy to hold himself up, let alone resist or, God save him, run away. Stepping up between his legs, Ches leaned one hand on the table and looked him over like an artist before a blank canvas. "Don't worry. I'm a reasonable guy. We'll just do one more." He winked at him. "For now." With his other hand, he dug into Sebastian's ass to retrieve the vibrator. It slid out with a sickly squelch and a suction of air, and Sebastian yelped as his hole was left stretched and clenching fitfully around the now emptied cavity. Ches dropped the vibrator on the floor where it continued to buzz and wriggle like an angry hornet. "This is all just part of your transformation. There's only so much I can tell you about the person you're becoming, Glam. But until you actually see it for yourself? Well, like they say..." He turned aside with a shrug, rifling through the kit and snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "Seeing is believing." The moment the needle came into view, Sebastian jerked, squirming side to side. "N-no. Please, Ches." A fresh sob broke over his voice. "N-not again." Ches rolled his eyes. "It's always no this and no that with you." Holding the needle in one hand, he groped Sebastian's left chest with the other as he spoke. "I'm gettin' really tired of hearing that word. Hasn't anyone ever told you life gets a lot more exciting when you learn to say yes?" The rough latex dragged uncomfortably at his skin during the bizarre massage, and when his fingers closed around the nipple—and pinched hard—Sebastian yowled. "You've been going along with your little makeover for a while now. Remember when you came over that first time? It's amazing what a little mussed-up hair and some denim can do. You already looked like a completely different person." He fondled and tweaked the nipple between two fingers until it pebbled, the memory evidently playing itself in real-time behind his wistful gaze. "But that was just the start, wasn't it?" "Ches..." He was having trouble breathing around the strain in his chest. The clatter of the kit being knocked over drew his attention, and when he looked up, Ches had climbed onto the table with him, knees straddling his stomach. "I made you who you are, Glam," he crowed. "I gave you your music, your new look. Your fucking name. That was all me. And I'll keep making you into who you're meant to be." His erection tented the front of his pants, and for a moment Sebastian almost hoped that Ches might abandon this cruel exercise in favor of raping him again. But he only took his hand off of his nipple long enough to unclasp a pair of forceps and close them over the pert flesh. With a click, the forceps were locked in place. "Both inside and out." Sebastian cringed, tears pricking his eyes. "Please. Don't do it." But Ches was already lining up the needle to the side of his nipple, its point probing the sensitive nub. He pleaded silently with a desperate shake of his head. It was all happening so fast. Ches's tongue peeked out from his tooth gap, and he narrowed his eyes. They were past the point of no return. "Don't—" he choked. "Just make sure to breathe, babe." Then Ches drove in the needle, in one swift, unforgiving stab. Fire flared where he was pierced, and he arched off the table with a shout. Amidst the conflagration of pain, a jolt of sensation—almost pleasant—raced down from his nipple to bury itself in his groin, and his cock gave a halfhearted leap. The worst of it was over as quickly as it had begun. Once the initial burn faded, he was left with lines of fire that tendriled out from his chest and simmered along his skin. Distantly, he registered Ches still working on the piercing, an elbow on his ribs pinning him in place as he fed the shaft through the hollow needle before slipping it out, then screwed on the end piece. Lastly, he released the forceps. The fresh rush of blood to the mutilated flesh brought with it a fresh rush of stimulation, and Sebastian gasped again, looking through tear-stained eyes down at the monstrosity that was now his nipple. It was puffed up, red and angry, and now sporting a silver barbell through its center. A thin trickle of blood leaked from one side, gliding down the curve of his outer ribs. The sight alone nearly made him pass out, and he dropped his head back, face crumpling in defeat. "Holy shit, you look like a fucking rock star." Another shot of exquisite pain flashed through his system when Ches's tongue lapped at the fresh piercing, drawing it into his mouth where it clacked against the back of his teeth. Sebastian wailed pitiably, before Ches straightened and wiped at his blood-smeared lips. "Gonna have to disinfect that," he mumbled to himself. The cool of an antibacterial wipe burned as it soaked into the open wound, a final fuck-you to punctuate Sebastian's torture. His work done, Ches hopped down from the table, humming happily. Sebastian breathed a small sigh of relief, the ordeal finally over. Salty tear tracks flaked down his temples, and his mouth was incredibly dry. He tried to wet his lips with his tongue, but it was rough as sandpaper, and the cut on his lip stung when touched. He really wanted a drink of water, but he didn't dare voice it for fear of giving Ches more reason to hurt him. At the moment, he was busy picking up the scattered belongings of the piercing kit from the floor. When Ches came back to the side of the table again, Sebastian could sense him standing over him, watching, but he refused to open his eyes to look. As impractical as it was, he entertained the thought that simply feigning sleep might keep Ches's attention off of him. At least for a minute more. He whimpered when a gust of cool breath blew over his piercing, and he heard Ches chuckle. A hand on his head made him startle. Ches shushed him, carding a gentle hand through his hair. "There, there. You just lie there for a minute. You did good, babe. You've earned a bit of a rest." He stepped away. At last, a break. After the harrowing morning, Sebastian felt like a candle burned at both ends. There'd first been the shock of Ches's return, the painful piercing of his right ear, being beaten and humiliated in front of the camera, a brief but dizzying blowjob, then immediately followed by a second more painful piercing. Still disoriented from the whirlwind of the day's events, and hurting all over, he didn't know whether he had it in him to face whatever else Ches might possibly have in store for him next. For now, though, he was left in relative peace. He exhaled shakily, letting all the tension seep out of his tightly wound muscles one by one—thighs, torso, shoulders, neck, jaw. He was learning very quickly to treasure these moments when they presented themselves, a rare and welcome reprieve from the nearly endless chain of torture he'd endured since his arrival. A torture that came in many forms. Physical torture was the most obvious. He could easily catalog the list of traumas in the aches and pains that riddled his body. He flexed his fingers to get some feeling back into them. Lying on top of them like this had made them go numb, and their tips stung with phantom flames. He hissed as the barbell in his nipple shifted. Psychological torture came next. Strung-out and pushed to his limits, he was a frazzled ball of nerves, locked in a cycle of paranoia and helplessness that cut into him as badly as any blade. Control, privacy, his very sense of self: these were all denied him. The lies Ches told him that he kept insisting were true—they pecked away at Sebastian's sanity, made him doubt everything he'd known. And the way Ches played him with an insidious blend of pleasure and pain until the two were nearly indistinguishable, making him want—stop it! He dodged that particular line of thought and tried to move on. There was a change taking place within him, one that he didn't want to acknowledge. Where logic had once flown linearly, it now folded back on itself, forming circuitous loops and labyrinths that he was close to losing himself in. Here, up was down. Right was wrong. And it was no longer accurate to say that to be freed from Ches was to be freed from suffering. The past few days of solitude were no less a form of torture than being hit. The wounds it left were just harder to see. Initially, he was relieved to be away from Ches and his fists. He'd passed the first day recovering from the one-two of being beaten ruthlessly and then kissed. The passion of both had been equally staggering, but he found himself replaying the moment with a kind of perverse fascination, like watching a car wreck in the hopes of seeing someone crawl out of it alive—or in a body bag. Once he'd exhausted the distraction the memory served, he'd tried to banish himself to the unfeeling world of sleep. At least there he could escape his whirling thoughts and constant pangs of hunger. Fears of Ches's unexpected return kept him from drifting any deeper than slumber's shallow waters, but he still tried to relish the time alone, brief as it might be. By the second day, however, Sebastian—against his better judgment—had actually begun...to miss him. It was sickening to even put into words, a blasphemy he could barely admit to himself. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He had never truly been alone his entire life. As cold and unfeeling as Shwagenwagens Manor had been, the constant supervision and scrutiny had been a source of companionship. In a way. Having gone through so much of his life operating out of fear of punishment or hope for reward, when left to his own devices, he didn’t know what to do with himself. So when Ches finally came bounding down the stairs, whistling a gay tune and waving the stolen video equipment with a grin, there was one undeniable moment when Sebastian had been happy to see him. "God, I love seeing you like this, Glam." Ches had reappeared at the foot of the table, standing between Sebastian's spread thighs, a single finger tracing a path up his stomach, across his chest, and circling his left nipple. He looked at the piercing as though the bruises and blood were a work of fine art. "You look like you're just ready for the ravaging." There was a sultry undertone to his words, and Sebastian shivered with anticipation when he felt a hand knead at his thigh. At least this he could understand. This he knew how to handle. His erection, which had all but disappeared since the interrupted blowjob, gave a hopeful twitch, thinking that Ches was going to pick up where he had left off. He was ashamed to admit that he was actually looking forward to it. Pleasure following pain. Pain following pleasure. It was the one pattern of Ches's that he'd finally begun to figure out, the one behavior that he could rely on with any degree of certainty. Even that small sliver of understanding gave him some advantage in their otherwise wildly imbalanced dynamic. Mewling a grateful sigh and nodding in agreement—only because he knew that Ches liked it when he was agreeable, and nothing more—he willed his thighs to relax and let them roll open obscenely. A small voice from inside forgave him this trespass with the reassurance that his cooperation would at least be met with a reward. "There's a good boy." The approval in Ches's voice was almost as gratifying as a tongue on his cock, and Sebastian nodded again. Maybe it was easier to say yes, after all... A sharp slap on his right thigh shocked him out of his reverie. His eyes flew open and he looked down. Ches was studying something long and straight in his hands. It took him a moment to place the object, but when he did, he recoiled and his balls shrank. It was a ruler. Larger and meaner-looking than the one his father had wielded, the light gleamed along its metal edge as Ches turned it this way and that. "Y'know, when you said your dad hit you with a ruler, I thought it sounded pretty archaic." He slapped it down on Sebastian's other thigh. Not hard enough to hurt, but he still twitched. "But you gotta admit. It's got a nice ring to it." Three light taps bounced along his thigh, before ending with a swift fourth one just above his knee. "Clean," he added with a nod. Sebastian was already shaking his head, eyes round with panic. He twisted away as far as he could on the table, which, tethered as he was by his collar, wasn't very far. "W-what are you doing with that—" A bruising slap landed on the crest of his hip, and he yelped. "At least this has gotten your attention." Two more slaps landed, alternating between his right and left thigh. "See, sometimes I don't think you've really been listening. You're just going through the motions. Paying lip service." Whack, whack. Sebastian hissed as another pair struck his shins. "But something tells me you don't really mean any of it. Y'know?" Ches pouted as he gripped the ruler in both hands. They shook. "I-I do! I swear I do—" He nearly bit his tongue as a series of savage blows crisscrossed his thighs. "No." Thwhack. "Stop lying to me, Glam." Thwack. "You know you can't bullshit me. And you." Thwack. "Haven't been." Thwack. "Being." Thwack. "Honest!" Sebastian howled as the ruler left stinging brands on his inner thighs, the delicate flesh blooming red. His whole body bowed clear off the table. Strapped down at either end, he couldn't escape, couldn't do anything but suffer beneath the onslaught as it rained down on him like fire and brimstone. "Don't think I forgot about you whining for dear old daddy before." Scorn warped Ches's mouth. "It's like you haven't heard a single word I've said." He swung his arm back and aimed higher, striking Sebastian across his ribs. The thin flesh there split beneath the ruler's edge, and Sebastian screamed so loud he thought he'd tear his throat in two. "Or have I just been talking to myself this whole time?" "N-n-no. Ches, I—I'm sorry! I'll be good! I promise I'll be good!" "Save it, Glam." Ches pinched his throbbing nipple at the same time he delivered three more blows in quick succession on his right thigh. The sinister combination had him vacillating between trying to curl in to protect himself and arch away. The end result was a useless, contorted dance. Ches's tone was even as he continued, almost bored, despite the vicious torment he was inflicting. "I thought a few days alone might give you time to think things over." He turned to the side as though considering something, even as his next slap landed just to the right of Sebastian's shriveled cock. "But then I realized something." There was a pause in the torture, and Sebastian's stifled weeping filled the air. He trembled where he lay, pain sweeping up and down his body. "Deep down, I think you actually like it when I hurt you." Through the fog of nauseating pain, Sebastian's brain latched onto the damning statement, as insane as the boy who spoke it. "W-what? How can you—" A swift smack to his stomach silenced him. "No, no. Hear me out. What else could explain why you keep giving me excuses to hurt you?" He barked a laugh. "If you really didn't want me to, you'd be giving me a lot less hassle about this. Hell, you'd be embracing it by now." He stopped to tap the edge of the ruler against his lower lip as he contemplated this, piecing together his next words thoughtfully. "It all makes sense now. You liked it when your father hit you." "No." Ches spread his hands wide, a deranged smile on his face. "I bet you gave him a reason to beat you on purpose!" "No," Sebastian's voice cracked pathetically. "Yes, you did!" Ches snarled. "You probably handed him the ruler and practically asked him to hit you with it!" No! the voice in his head bayed with denial. Of course not! What sort of freak would he have to be to— But he paused, staring at Ches in shock. A memory materialized like a phantom in his mind's eye: It was the very day he'd snuck out for the concert, his final day of freedom. He'd stood before his father in the parlor room, the flimsy wooden ruler on the floor between them where his father had dropped it. Sebastian had picked up the ruler and—and held it out to him, waiting for him to take it. What Ches had said was true. But how could he have known? "Admit it!" "I—" His mind was racing, trying to reason away what he'd done. He was convinced at the time that he'd only done it out of a sense of power. He'd felt on top of the world, impervious to any of his father's abuses—invincible, untouchable. Handing his father back the ruler had been a challenge, not an invitation. Right? Now he wondered. Had he hoped his father would hit him again, just so that he could feel the sting of the ruler? He shook his head at the notion, even as Ches continued. "You asked for it! Just like you're asking for it now!" A string of increasingly ruthless strikes cut across Sebastian's stomach, his thighs, shins, ribs—and when the flat of the ruler landed on his balls, Sebastian shrieked. Waves of excruciating pain pummeled his body, a klaxon of Stopitstopitstopit! blaring on repeat inside him. His head rolled side to side on the table, sweat dripping into his eyes and making them sting. Drool spilled from the corner of his mouth as he huffed fitfully, unable to get enough air. There were words somewhere amidst his mad babbling, crude and mangled things. Ches spoke over him, his arm never ceasing as he dealt out his discipline. "You know this is for your own good, you say you're willing to cooperate, but I'm getting pretty sick and tired of having to fight you every goddamn step of the way!" The whipping seemed to go on for hours, every blow swift and sharp and varied enough that his body never had a chance to adjust. His thighs burned like they were on fire, welts overlaid on top of welts, and he was certain he was bleeding from more than one place. His lips still formed words, but they were broken and hollow. His brain was spinning, overwhelmed by the paralyzing truth that there was nothing he could do to stop whatever Ches did to him. Begging him to stop wouldn't dissuade him. Fighting him was pointless. There was no reasoning with him, nothing with which to convince him. He had neither influence nor sway. Not an ounce of power. No options. Listen, said a small voice inside of him. But no, no, no, there was nothing to listen to. It was all just noise. Listen to what he's saying. It was madness. Insanity. His ears rang with his own screams. What he wants from you. He was going to die on this table. Be honest. You know the rules. How to make him stop? Give him what he wants. He had nothing to give. Pleasure follows pain. Just end this. Pain follows... End it all. "Fuck me!" A lull in the chaos. "Come again?" Ches laughed, wiggling a pinkie in his ear. "I gotta be hearing things." "F-fuck me, p-p-p-please, Ches!" he shouted to the ceiling. "I-I want you to take me r-right now!" The words stuttered out of him as he choked on his tears. "I want to—to feel you inside me. W-want your cock inside—w-want—" He was shaking so badly, he didn't know whether he was making any sense, but he tried anyway, selling his performance with a shoddy thrust of his hips. When Ches reached for him, he squeezed his eyes shut and begged even harder, desperate to stave off the pain just one second longer. "I can b-be good. M-make you feel good. I—" The chain was unclipped from the back of his collar, and he flinched as he was pulled up—into a hug. "Music to my ears," Ches purred. Dropping the ruler onto the table with a clatter, he turned Sebastian's face toward him and kissed him, the outline of his smile pressed against his lips. Sebastian sobbed quietly into the kiss, as grateful as a sinner taken in at the cathedral steps. Absolved of his sins, absolved of his punishment. The ropes that bound his arms were undone, and his hands fell slack at his sides. His fingertips tingled, scalded by the return of sensation. Once he'd been guided down from the table, his legs nearly folded beneath him. He clung to Ches who wrapped his steadying arms around him and urged him on softly. Together, they made their way to the bed, Sebastian pushing off Ches to stumble the final steps on his own and collapse at its side. He was winded by the short trek from the table, but he still had the wherewithal to position himself over the edge of the mattress, knees on the floor, legs spread. Serving himself up to Ches. The touch of cool linen was a balm to his overheated cheek, and he sank into its embrace with a thankful sigh. Behind him, he could hear Ches undress, and his heartbeat began to tick up—not out of fear or terror, but just a giddy anticipation of what he knew would deliver something other than pain for once. All he had to do was lie down and take it. He could do that. His eyes fluttered closed. He could do that. "No, no. Glam. Not like that. You don't have to do it like that." A soft hand was on his shoulder, and he allowed himself to be rolled over, the question already scrawling its way across his brow. But Ches was smiling warmly as he eased Sebastian down onto his back, legs still hanging over the edge of the mattress. Then he leaned over him, careful not to touch his injured thighs. "Here." He held Sebastian's chin. "Like this." At Sebastian's confused warble, Ches swept his tongue inside. It was nothing like the first time, violence supplanted by a tender want. Sebastian's brow creased with confusion, a small part of him wanting to turn away. But an even bigger part hissed at him not to fight it, to stay, to adapt—to learn how to reciprocate. He had asked for this, after all. Hesitantly, he pressed his tongue against Ches's, not knowing what to do besides mimic its writhing, lapping motions. Ches hummed his approval and grabbed the back of his head to press them closer together. Soon they were both panting around the kiss, Ches's tongue waltzing circles around Sebastian's while he stumbled to keep up, if only to match the passion of his partner. So caught up in the kiss, he didn't notice when Ches hefted one leg and braced it against his shoulder. Even the pleasure-pain that flared up when he leaned his weight against his whipped thigh was forgivable because his mouth was full of Ches's skilled tongue, smothering the flame of dissent in his mind—sending it lower, where it smoldered. Sebastian winced when Ches's cock breached him, breaking off the kiss to stifle a gasp. He'd been prepped all morning, stretched open by the vibrator, but the feel of the iron-hard rod of flesh wasn't exactly something he'd gotten used to. Hot and alive as it filled him—there was no comparison. He wrenched his face away, breath hitching in his chest, as he went stiff all over. Fabric bunched in the curl of his fists. "Here." Ches lifted Sebastian's hands and wreathed them around the back of his neck. "Like this," he husked, curling over to claim his lips again. He plunged in his tongue at the same time he plunged in his cock. Rolling his hips with slow, deliberate thrusts, he invaded him inch by agonizing inch until they were flush against each other. Sebastian whimpered into his mouth, feeding him every moan that was punched from him. This up close, he could see the curve of each eyelash as Ches kissed him. He glanced down with wonder to where they were connected then back up to Ches's face. It was the first time he'd ever seen Ches like this when they fucked, and he marveled at the blissed-out expression that steeped his features, gentled by sex's charm. He let Ches curl his arms beneath him, gripping Sebastian for leverage as he rutted into him. Sweat slid between their chests while Ches thrust again and again, seeking out his pleasure within the tight sanctuary of his inner walls, as though he were a treasure trove to plunder. A shift of his hips, and Ches's cock now brushed against a spot inside him that made Sebastian moan openly. His head fell back on the mattress. "You want me, don't you, Glam?" A string of kisses trailed down the corner of his mouth to the underside of his jaw. Nipped his Adam's apple. "Tell me you want me." The answer slipped free from him without a second thought: "I want you." The fire that had started in his thighs and now razed through his body must have cooked his brain, he thought. So eager to give Ches what he wanted in exchange for a release from the pain, he'd nearly forgotten that he wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. "I want you," he said again, the admission yet another incriminating nail in the coffin of his former self. He didn't know which was worse: that he had said it aloud, or— Because you actually mean it, Glam. Ches's cock swelled thicker with appreciation inside of him. "God, Glam..." he groaned. Arousal tingled in Sebastian's stomach at the realization that he had been the one to elicit this reaction. Ches was responding to him, sweating for him, moving for him. His head went fizzy, drunk on this small, infinitesimally small scrap of power over someone. And not just anyone, but Ches. The fact that he could inspire Ches's pleasure gave him a rush of heady titillation that he'd never felt before. It was, in a word, intoxicating. Now you're getting it. The voice inside him, the one that had guided him from the shadows, spoke with the sophisticated air of a young aristocrat. He could practically see the slicked-back hair and straight, tailored suit of the boy known as Sebastian, as he praised him. Praised him for his debauchery. Licking his lips, he tried again. "I want you so bad. Fuck me. Fuck me harder!" Ches obliged him, huffing like a bull as he slammed into him with abandon. His hands, which had idled behind Ches's neck, now found purchase. He clung to him, scratching red ribbons down his back as he moaned and writhed and begged Ches to fuck him, that's it, fuck him good, fuck him so, so good. He put as much passion into his cries as he could muster, verbally stroking his captor to completion. But he was getting caught up in the performance, unable to decipher where the charade ended and real pleasure began. His erection—when had that happened?—throbbed where it was sandwiched between them, and when Ches growled and bit down on his ravaged nipple, a bolt of excitement buried itself in the base of his cock. He arched against Ches, both master and slave to the pleasure they crafted. Together. See how much better it is when you're honest, Glam? "Cum in me! I want to feel you cum inside me!" Ches’s rhythm faltered as his orgasm neared, and Sebastian wasn't far behind, his moans following after Ches’s the way thunder trails a flash of lightning. The two intrinsically linked. Just a few seconds between them, two seconds, one second. Growing closer and closer in proximity with the approaching storm. It came with a crash and a brutal thrust of hips, a burst of heat and sweet friction. Ches’s fingers grasped painfully where they clutched him, crushing their bodies together, his pleasure unleashed like a violent tempest—and Sebastian welcomed the savagery of it. Met it, pulse for pulse. Ches grunted low in his throat, face screwed up with the effort of navigating his climax as though it might overtake him otherwise. He stilled, his release marked by a throbbing deep inside him. With it, the tension lifted from his face, the epitome of peace, and his mouth fell open around his name. It filtered into his ears, suffused his senses, taking root within the fertile earth of his soul. Where something new could grow. It'll be so much easier, Glam, now that you're honest about who you are. What you are. "Glam...my Glam..." Ches murmured as he held him, the name hanging in the air like the fading peals of departing thunder. Glam just clung to him tighter.